-Detective Michael Riggs-

I hadn't gotten any good leads on my victim till this morning. A Reed Westerly called in, claiming to not only know the victim but also that he knew why she was in Baltimore. I immediately set up a meeting with him. He should be here at any moment.

I hear my desk phone buzz, indicating that I have an internal call, most likely from the front desk, letting me know that Mr. Westerly has arrived for our meeting.

I pick up my receiver. "Detective Riggs."

Officer Kent informs me, "Reed Westerly is here to see you."

"Please put him in conference room three," I instruct him.

Officer Kent replies, "Yes, Sir."

"Thank you."

I gather everything I'll need for the interview: a paper pad, pens, and a tape recorder. I stop to fill my coffee before going to the conference room. When I enter, Mr. Westerly immediately stands and reaches his hand out to me.

I put down my coffee and accepted his hand in greeting. "Hello, Detective. Thank you for seeing me so soon."

I'm pleasantly surprised at his greeting. "You're thanking me? I should be the one thanking you for coming in. I hope you can shed some light on why Miss Conrad was here in Baltimore."

I sit at the table, and Mr. Westerly follows my lead and sits back down. "I believe I'll be able to give you the information that you need."

"Great. Do you mind if I record our conversation?" I ask.

"I don't mind at all," he replies.

I take a moment to organize myself before hitting play on my recorder. "For the record, please give me your full name?"

"Reed Andrew Westerly."

"Do you know Patricia Conrad?" I inquire.

"Only by her nickname, Patty," he admits.

"How long have you known Miss Conrad?" I question.

"She's the ex-girlfriend of my friend, Todd Matthews. They dated intermittently for the past two and a half years," he answers.

I see the sadness in his eyes when he mentions his friend. "Do you know why she was in the Baltimore area and when she arrived?"

"Yes. There's a bit of a back story. Would you like me to begin there?" he asks.

"Please," I request.

Mr. Westerly continues, "Todd has been working in Delaware for the last two years."

Right away, my mind goes to the killer being dormant in Baltimore and Philadelphia for the past two years. I quickly make a note to check Delaware for murders with this MO.

"I was in Philadelphia for a meeting, and we planned on getting together at a bar close to my work to have dinner and catch up," he adds.

I interrupt. "Excuse me."

He stops talking. "You live here in Baltimore and travel to Philadelphia for business?"

"Yes. My office is in Philadelphia. I moved here from Philly when my wife and I got together," he explains.

I ask him, "So you are originally from Philadelphia?"

"Yes, born and raised," he replies.

I jot that down in my notes. "Please, continue."

"Todd didn't take to me meeting my wife right from the start. Todd and I used to go out and raise hell together. That all changed when I met Cheryl. He's been jealous of her since the beginning." He pauses to take a sip of water. "It all came to a head Thursday night when we got together in Philly. I was planning on driving home, so I just had a couple of beers, but by the time we were ready to leave, I was stumbling and slurring my words. Todd took my keys and drove me to his home to sleep it off. I passed out before I was able to notify my wife about what was going on. Early the next morning, I woke up in Todd's guest room with Patty. We were both naked. I didn't remember a damn thing that happened."

I raise my eyebrows at his admission. "Let me get this straight. You passed out after a few beers, went to bed with your best friend's girl, and you do not remember a thing."

"That's not all." I see him grimace, and instinctively, I know that his story is getting ready to take a turn for the worse.

I keep quiet and let him continue. "Todd called my wife and told her that I was drunk and that she needed to come to get me. She made the two-hour drive and arrived when I woke up wondering how I got where I was. She opened the door to the bedroom as I was getting out of bed, and a naked Patty was waking up herself."

"Shit!" I let that slip, but I was now invested in this story, too.

He nods at me with understanding. "Needless to say, my wife was not happy."

"I can imagine." I agree.

"She turned and left me standing there. I quickly got dressed and demanded my keys from Todd when Patty came out and accused Todd of drugging her. It clicked right then that I was drugged, too," he explains.

"Well, damn!" I respond.

Mr.Westerly exclaims, "Right! I high-tailed my ass right out of there to go after my wife. When I got home, I tried to explain the situation to her, but it was not until Patty showed up on my doorstep with a busted-up face and told my wife that nothing happened, that we were both drugged, and Todd set the whole thing up that my wife believed me. Thank god for Patty! We advised her to go to the police when she returned to Philly after leaving our home."

I asked him, "What time did she leave your home Friday morning?"

"I would say around 8:30," he says.

That fits perfectly into her time of death. She never made it back to Philadelphia. "You said that she had a busted-up face. Did she tell you what happened?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, she said Todd lost it because she told me about being drugged. She came right to us because she wanted Cheryl to know that Todd was the one who orchestrated the entire thing."

Seeking more information, I asked, "Do you think Todd would have followed her to your house?"

I watch Mr. Westerly run his fingers through his hair before answering me. "Todd? Damn, I don't know. The Todd I grew up with and was best friends with would never do this, but shit, I honestly don't think that I ever knew him."

He looks down at his hands, and I can see how tough this is for him.

I continued questioning, "When did you last speak to Todd?"

He puts his head down. "Saturday morning, and it did not end well."

"What happened?"

Mr. Westerly looks back up at me. "By the time I woke up, he had called me twice and left messages, and he texted me five times."

"Do you still have them?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir." Mr. Westerly unlocks his cell, presses a few buttons, and hands me his phone.

I'm stunned at the texts' contents and the voicemails. We could have a viable suspect. "Did you call him back?"

"I did. I told Todd that we were through and that I didn't want to hear from him ever again. He told me that I would regret it," he responded.

I lean back in my seat. This Todd guy all but threatened him. "I would like to call your wife and bring her in. If this guy Todd is who I think he is, your wife could be in danger."

I see the panic in his eyes. "My wife wanted to come with me but had a new client to meet. So I told her to see her client and you would call if you needed to talk to her. How could I be so damn stupid?"

"Okay, calm down. Here's what we're going to do. I'll call your wife and ask her to come in right away. We don't want to cause her alarm. What's her number?" I try my best to keep Mr.Westerly calm.

I write down the number in my notes as Reed rattles them off.

"Do you mind if I call her? I told her I would call after our meeting, so she expects my call," he requests.

"Sure." I hand him back his phone. "Do you mind putting it on speaker?"

He puts it on speaker, and we both listen as the ringing stops, and it goes to voicemail. He looks at me with a questioning look.

I nod, so he leaves a message. "Hey, Babe. I just finished with my meeting. Call me when you get a second."

His phone rings right after he hangs up. He quickly picks it up. "Cheryl?"

He still has it on speaker. "No, it is Kandie. I thought maybe Cheryl was with you."

He looks surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"She's late for her next client appointment, and I can't reach her."

The look Mr. Westerly gave me is one that I've seen too many times. He's trying to keep his shit together while thinking the worse about his wife. "Can you please call me when she does arrive? Do you know the location of her last meeting?"

Smart man.

"I'll have to go to her office and check her calendar. Do you want me to text it to you?" the woman asks.

"That would be great, Kandie. Thank you," he replies to her.

"You don't think anything happened to her or the baby? Do you?" I can hear the concern in her coworker's voice. Is Mrs. Westerly pregnant? Shit!

He responds calmly, "No, I'm sure she and her client probably got to yakking and lost track of time."

They say their goodbyes and hang up. A few moments later, Mr. Westerly received the text of his wife's last location. When he reads me the address, I try my damnedest not to give my concern away because I know precisely where that address is, and I don't have a good feeling about it.

*****