Page 3 of Nowhere Good

“So she was killed somewhere else and left here, in public, with the writing on display,” Seth said. “Why would a drifter do that? Why would he write something this possessive if he didn’t know her?”

Lieutenant Delaney’s eyes scrutinized him, made him hesitate. The space between them filled with the splatter of rain on the windows.

“I could find out,” Seth said. “I know I’m new here, but I’d be good for this case.”

She let out a light laugh and began gathering the photos into a pile. “Haylock had worked a handful of cases in Fairview over the years. He had good rapport with the locals. Sending my newest and youngest detective to replace him would not seem very responsible.”

All right, that one stung, but he didn’t let it show.

Delaney breezed past him toward the board and pinned some photos up.

Don’t push your luck. But Seth had never been afraid to go after what he wanted in his career; there was a reason he’d been the youngest person in his precinct to make detective. He’d done well for himself in the two years since. But this wasn’t New York, and Lieutenant Delaney didn’t have any extra patience for him.

Still, he wasn’t about to give up that easily. “I understand your point, ma’am, but I’ve worked cases like this before. I’m good for more than just street shootings.”

She lifted a brow, as if to call out his audacity. “You know, I’ve never understood why the detective who caught the ‘Brooklyn Butcher’ would take a position all the way down here. If Kansas City’s homicides are boring to you, Winslow, then NYPD would love to have their rising star back.”

He sighed in exasperation. He hated being misunderstood. “That’s not what I meant, Lieutenant. I like working here.”

“Good. I like having you here.” She offered a quick, but cutting smile and went back to the pile, deciding which one to pick next. With the crime scene photos gone, another was left behind—Eliza Johnson when she was younger, alive, smiling at the camera for a school photo with a blue background. Green eyes and shiny hair, a healthy flush to her cheeks. A snapshot of her life before it all went downhill.

“Can I at least state my case?” he asked.

Delaney pressed her palms on the table. “Look, I already know you’re good, Winslow, but you’re a city cop. Fairview is deep in the countryside. You could say goodbye to the camera angles and the potential witnesses and the backup. Not to mention the townsfolk see and hear things they’d never tell an outsider. These folks protect their own. I’d know, I grew up in a place like that.”

“True, but I did a lot of solo work in New York. Undercover, especially when I was in narcotics. I always made it out and got my job done.”

Delaney studied him for a moment too long. “Why do you want it so badly? What’s so personal about this one?”

Seth hesitated. He didn’t want to make it personal, but part of it always was, at least for him. “I’ve closed every case you’ve given me. The stabbings, shootings, break-ins, accidents. But cases like this”—he pointed at the photo of Eliza’s body—“are exactly why I do what I do. It’s more than a homicide—it’s a statement. And he could do it again.”

“Hm. I know your file.”

“Then you know I’ve dealt with killers like this before. Maybe someone unexpected is exactly what we need here.”

“You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Good. Let’s make him nervous.”

She perched on the edge of the table, considering it. Despite his attempts to maintain confidence, Seth’s heart pounded.

Delaney sighed as she hopped to her feet. “You’re lucky—I happen to agree with you. A drifter likely didn’t do this.” She shot him one last wolfish, all-knowing smile. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a test, and somehow, he’d passed. “I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Fairview, Missouri

Seth knocked on the door of a bungalow with sun-bleached paneling. A pick-up truck was parked in the driveway, its bed covered by a tarp, and the Missouri sun had sucked the life out of the lawn. Other houses were lush green with sprinklers on, but this one stood out. The bad seed on the street.

Beside him, Officer Amy Pereira shifted from heel-to-heel, stealing a glance his way. He understood why she’d be wary of him. He’d only arrived in Fairview a couple of hours ago, and he was a good thirty years younger than Haylock. After a restless night of reviewing case files, a four-hour drive down the backroads had brought him here, past a corncob-shaped population sign that read: Welcome to Fairview, Missouri’s Corn Capital! Less than eight thousand people lived here, so it was small, but not one-hundred-people small.

Pereira had been the only cop remotely eager to ride with him today. She’d also been the first to offer something like a lead.

He let her do her thing and knock on the door herself.

“Brad? It’s Amy Pereira, you in there?”

Still no response.

Seth knocked harder, rattling the screen, then projected his voice through the house. “Mr. Bailey? This is the police, we just wanna talk.” Nothing. He turned to Pereira. “Think he went for a walk?”