place,” Dallas said.
The house wasn’t as old as Hannah’s. Originally built in the shotgun style, you could see straight through from front door to back door as one room opened straight into the next. It was obvious that over the years—and with the advent of electricity and air-conditioning—the house had been enlarged. Now additional rooms branched off to either side.
They walked through the dining room to get to the kitchen, but Dallas noticed that there were doors leading off both sides of the dining room.
“Yeah, thanks. I inherited it. Property values down here are killer now. I’ve had a lot of friends sell out, move up to the center of the state then wish they were back here, only they can’t afford it. Key West kind of gets in your blood. I’ll never let this place go,” Holloway said. “It was originally built by my however-many-greats grandfather around 1875.”
“Nice,” Dallas said. “Really nice.”
The dining room, furnished with a table that sat eight, a cupboard and a buffet, had seascapes on the walls.
The kitchen had been remodeled. There was a granite island in the center, with four stools around it, pots and pans hanging from the overhead rafters and brand-new appliances.
Holloway stopped when he got there and looked around as if surprised he had been followed. Dallas stopped so short that Hannah crashed into him.
She steadied herself with her hands on his back.
He was startled to discover that he liked her touch.
“I love old houses,” he told Holloway.
“Yeah? Well, then Key West is the place to be. People tend to think of South Florida as a twentieth-century invention. Not down here. We’ve got some of the richest history in the nation—and one of the largest concentrations of old Victorians anywhere,” Holloway said proudly.
Dallas nodded. “I actually grew up here.”
“No kidding?” Holloway asked.
“No kidding. I left when I was sixteen. I’ve gotten back every chance I could since, though.”
“You living here now?” Holloway asked.
“I’m assigned here for now, yes.” Dallas nodded.
“Oh, right. You’re a Fed. You could wind up anywhere,” Holloway said.
He took lemonade from the refrigerator and glasses from the cupboard. When the glasses were filled, he indicated that they might as well take a seat at the granite island.
“So what can I do for you?” he asked. He looked at Hannah with a frown, as if wondering what she was doing there.
“I wanted to ask you what you saw this morning, Mr. Holloway,” Dallas said.
“Bentley—just call me Bentley. We’re still casual down here,” Holloway said with a smile. “What did I see? A bunch of crime scene tape.”
“You didn’t see or hear anything before you came out and the police were already on the scene?” Dallas asked.
“Sorry. I was sleeping. I woke up when I heard the ruckus out back. Went on out to watch. I wish I could help. I really do,” Holloway said.
“Bentley, you can help,” Hannah said, speaking up with a smile. “I’m pretty sure after the man was attacked he stumbled through your yard into mine. They’ve searched my property and the alley. Would you mind if they searched your yard, too?”
Before the man could answer, Hannah touched his arm. “I know it’s an intrusion. But I’d be grateful. I found him, Bentley. I can’t tell you how that felt...to bend down and see him there, dead. Please?”
Holloway stared down into Hannah’s beseeching turquoise eyes.
Dallas was sure he couldn’t have refused her or remained unmoved.
Holloway shook his head ruefully and looked at Dallas. “Since Hannah asked...go ahead. Look wherever you need to look.”
“Thank you,” Dallas said. He wondered how she’d known the scenario the cops had settled on. It was almost as if she’d known what happened when Rodriguez was killed.
“Thank you, Bentley,” she said, smiling. “You’ll help put my mind to rest.”
Dallas swallowed the last of his lemonade. “I’ll step outside, then, and let the techs know to get started.”
Leaving the two of them in the kitchen, he went outside and walked half a block toward Duval, then turned around and retraced his steps. He tried to envision what had happened—and where.
He moved slowly, checking for signs of blood on both the sidewalk and the grass.
He knew he wasn’t going to find anything like the kind of high velocity spatter a bullet created. According to Dirk, Rodriguez’s jugular had been nicked, leading to a fatal loss of blood.
But Rodriguez had cut his attacker, as well.
He gave up searching for blood drops and walked through the yard. If Rodriguez had crashed through the hedge, he should be able to see where.
The door to the house opened, and Hannah came out. He paused. He should thank her. She had gotten him the clearance he needed to examine Holloway’s property without a warrant. If there was evidence he had to find it now, and getting a warrant would take time.
“Here’s my theory. I think he came from the street...that way,” she said, and pointed to the right. She wasn’t looking at him as she approached. “He heard his attacker coming up behind him. He was with a group of new...friends, but they took off when he was attacked from behind. He got away and ended up here. Somewhere along the way he drew his knife and fought back, managing to slice his attacker, which gave him time to get away. He gripped his throat and staggered through the hedge and into my yard.”
Hannah walked to what had to be the exact spot where the dying man had gone through the hedge. As he followed her, Dallas could see the trail.
“Here,” she said softly, coming to a stop by a lounge chair near the pool. “Here’s where he scared Shelly and Stuart half to death. But he must have heard the killer coming, so he staggered out to the alley. He needed to lure the killer away. But I think the killer saw where he went and never even came through my yard, so Shelly and Stuart never saw him.”
Dallas stared at her. She didn’t appear to be in a trance, hadn’t claimed to be a psychic, but somehow she seemed to know exactly what had happened.
Of course, any good detective would have figured out the course of events; the evidence was clear.
She wasn’t a detective, yet she had homed in so exactly on the truth....
She walked from the pool through the yard, her footsteps faltering. She wasn’t staggering the way a dying man might have done, she was just following the path Dallas knew he had taken.
Dallas followed her out to the alley. She stopped just outside the crime
