Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            Tom walked as close as he could without knocking the tech off the ladder. The tech held a small wireless camera. “Was it active?”

            “Still is. We might be able to trace the signal. Or not,” he added when the red light on the device suddenly died. “Looks like we were made. Dammit.”

            “Dammit indeed,” Tom agreed with a scowl. “Maybe we can get prints off it.”

            “Maybe,” the tech said, huffing in frustration. “There are cameras in every room. Including the bathroom.”

            “Who spies on a seventy-five-year-old woman?” Croft asked. “In her bathroom?”

            “Good question,” Farley said. “Somebody’s been watching her. From the dust on the camera lens, it’s likely been for a while. We don’t know who planted them, but the neighbor is a suspect in her death based on her friend’s statement, like I told you on the phone. We went to question him, which was when we found his trash.”

            “This guy had a sniper rifle on that rooftop yesterday,” Tom said. “He could have shot Mrs. Ellis, but he must not have wanted the attention, so he tried to make it look like a natural death.”

            “That’s what I think.” Farley checked his phone. “Excellent. We got a warrant for the house next door. I assume you want to join me?”

            “You assume correctly,” Croft said. “Lead the way.”

            The four of them moved through the house toward the kitchen. All of the walls were covered in photographs. Mrs. Ellis had a lot of grandchildren who seemed to love her. Plastic containers of cookies sat piled on the kitchen table along with several pies, all with little name tags.

            “She loved with food,” Tom said. “Has her family been notified?”

            “Her son,” Farley replied. “He was supposed to get one of the pies. The other says ‘Johnny.’ Her friend says that’s the neighbor’s name.”

            “She made him a pie and he killed her?” Croft demanded incredulously. “What an asshole.”

            Tom barked out a surprised laugh. “Well, yeah. But we already knew that,” he said, joining Farley at the kitchen door. The door frame had been spackled and sanded. It wasn’t an awful job. “I might not have noticed that if I wasn’t looking.”

            “Which was his intent.” Farley shot an amused glance at Croft. “Him being an asshole.”

            Croft wasn’t offended. “My opinion stands. Let’s check the house next door. Who owns it?”

            Farley checked his notes. “Mr. Johnny Derby. My men are waiting on me to open Mr. Derby’s door. Garvin, you’re to continue securing the crime scene.”

            The officer who’d recognized Tom seemed disappointed, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir.”

            DJ Belmont’s house was similar to the one they’d just left, except for the broken front door. The two officers who’d busted it were rubbing their shoulders. “Ready for you, sir.”

            “He owns a house,” Croft muttered under her breath as they walked through the kitchen.

            “He was the only one to leave—” Tom stopped himself from saying Eden. “Looks like he kept a separate life.” But sterile. There were no photographs or any personal belongings.

            “But why?” Croft pressed. “Did he just flop here on the weekends?”

            “Maybe.” On a hunch, he checked the corners of the ceiling. Yep. That was what he’d thought. “But look at that.” He pointed to a camera, similar to the one they’d found in Mrs. Ellis’s house.

            “Why?” Farley asked. “Was someone spying on him while he was spying on the old lady?”

            Tom remembered what Dixie Serratt had said about DJ’s boss. “Or his boss distrusts him.”

            Farley gave him a sharp look. “Care to explain that?”

            Croft had made the connection. “We have information that the suspect has a Chicos tattoo.”

            Farley blinked. “Oh shit. That drug gang is here? In my town?”