were real and not actually hiding places for clues as to why Ed Page had
been murdered. Sidney entered the bedroom, where she undertook a
thorough search, starting under the bed and mattress and ending with the
closet. The few pieces of luggage there had no old airline tags. The
wastebaskets were empty. She and Sawyer sat down on the bed and scanned
the room. He looked over at the small stand of photographs on the side
table. Edward Page and family, obviously in happier times.
Sidney picked up one of the photos. “A nice-looking family.” Her
thoughts were suddenly fixated on the photos residing in her house.
It seemed like a long time since that phrase had applied to her family.
She handed the photo over to Sawyer.
The wife was real good-looking, he thought, the son a miniature image of
the old man. The daughter was very pretty. Red-headed with long
coltish legs, she looked about fourteen in the photo. The date stamp
showed it was taken five years ago. She must be a real heartbreaker
now, Sawyer figured. And yet according to the landlord they were all in
New York and Page was down here. Why?
As Sawyer started to put the photo of the Page family back, he felt a
slight bulge on the photo’s backing. He opened up the back.
Several photos about half the size of the framed one fell out. Sawyer
picked them off the floor and studied them. They were all of the same
person. A young man, mid-twenties. Good-looking, too handsome for
Sawyer’s taste–a pretty boy, was the FBI agent’s first thought. The
clothes were too fashionable, the hair too perfect. He thought he noted
a trace of Ed Page along the jawline and around the deep brown eyes.
Sawyer turned over all the photos. All except one were blank: “Stevie”
was penned on the photo. Possibly Page’s brother. If so, why were the
photos hidden?
Sidney looked at him. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I think this whole case is going to require
more thinking than I can give it.” Sawyer put all the photos back except
the one with the name on the back. That one he put in his coat pocket.
They looked around the room once more, then rose and left, locking the
door securely behind them.
Sawyer walked Sidney to her house and then, out of an abundance of
caution, conducted a search of the premises, making sure the house was
empty and that every window and door was secure. “Day or night, you
hear anything, you have a problem, you just want to talk, you call me.
Understand?” Sidney nodded. “I’ve got two men outside. They can be in
here in seconds.” He walked to the front door. “I’m going to run some
things down and I’ll be back in the morning.” He turned to look at her.
“You going to be okay?”
“Yes.” Sidney wrapped her arms around herself.
Sawyer sighed and leaned back against the door. “I hope one day I can
deliver this case to you in one neat little ball, Sidney. I truly do.”
“You… you still believe Jason is guilty, don’t you? I guess I can’t
blame you. Everything… looks that way, I know.” Her eyes searched
Sawyer’s troubled features. The big man sighed and looked away for a
moment. When his eyes returned to her face, she saw a glimmer of
something there.
“Let’s just put it this way, Sidney,” he said. “I’m starting to have
some doubts.”
She looked confused. “About Jason?”
“No, about everything else. I can promise you this: My top priority is
finding your husband safe and sound. Then we can sort out everything
else. Okay?”
She trembled slightly and then nodded at him. “Okay.” When he turned to
go, she touched his arm. “Thank you, Lee.”
She watched Sawyer from the window. He walked over to the black sedan
carrying the two FBI agents, looked back at the house, spotted her and
waved. She made a feeble attempt at a wave back.
She was feeling rather guilty right now, for what she was about to do.
She left the window, turned out all the lights, grabbed her gray blazer