In the Shadow of Evil by Robin Caroll Page B

is not verified, of course, but records don't reflect she's ever been to see the mother."
    That didn't add up. Maddox crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the report on the mother? Dementia? Alzheimer's?"
    "Report doesn't say."
    "Maybe we should find out. Could be important."
    "Yeah." Houston scribbled on a sticky note.
    "Is Layla engaged as well?" Just asking the question left a bitter taste on his tongue. Why should he care about her love life? She was nothing more than a suspect . . . a person of interest in his case.
    "Not that this report states."
    Relief spread through Maddox.
    "However, she was linked to one Randy Dean for several months last year."
    Maddox didn't like the sting of jealousy stirring in his gut. "Who's he?"
    "An electrician. Specializes in those high-dollar alarm system installations. Does volunteer firefighting."
    "But they aren't linked anymore?"
    "Nope. Report says they broke up about six months ago."
    Again, relief filled Maddox. Stupid, betraying emotions.
    "But there is something interesting about Layla."
    There were a lot of things Maddox found interesting about her, but he wouldn't volunteer that to Houston. "What's that?"
    "Guess what her hobby appears to be?"
    "Sharpshooting?"
    Houston chuckled. "So far out in left field you've made it into right."
    "What?"
    "Ballroom dancing."
    Ballroom danc—The picture of her in a long dress in another man's arms drifted across his memory. Ballroom dancing surely was a contradiction to a building contractor.
    Yet . . . it fit her too. He wouldn't have thought that except for the picture. She'd looked graceful and totally feminine.
    And beautiful.
    Maddox's stomach tightened. "Well, that is interesting," he said with a dry mouth.
    "I thought so. She performs with a group called Flows of Grace. Six couples formed together to compete and perform around the state." Houston set the stack of papers on the desk. "And that's all I have, folks."
    Maddox made a note of the group's name. "Not much to go on."
    "No. What do you make of the article?"
    Maddox lifted the paper turned to the local interest section. "I don't see how someone would be so jealous over her getting an award that they'd kill someone and burn down the house she entered."
    The intercom buzzed before the receptionist's voice filled their cubicle. "Wallace and Bishop? There's a Ms. Taylor here to see you."
    Houston stood and straightened his shirt. "We've seen people murdered with a lot less motive."
    Maddox set down the newspaper as he stood. "Let's go find out what Layla has to say."

NINE
    "Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."
    —MOTHER TERESA
    "MS. TAYLOR?" THE RECEPTIONIST called out.
    Layla stood. The receptionist motioned toward the door where Detective Wallace waited. A buzz sounded, then the click of a security lock disengaging.
    He smiled at her. "Thank you for coming in on such a nasty day." His wild-print shirt was untucked, his slacks already wrinkled.
    "Did I have a choice?" She pressed her lips together tightly. So much for her speech to herself to keep her attitude in check. "Sorry," she mumbled.
    Detective Wallace cleared his throat. "Okay. Right this way." He led her through an open hall. Phones rang. Voices muffled. The stench of burned coffee hovered. Their footsteps were stifled by the brownish carpet.
    She followed him through a large room broken apart by workstation cubicles with six-foot walls, creating individual enclosed work areas. Into another hall they went. The reek of old coffee grew stronger. The tan walls closed around her, reminding her of the hours spent hiding in her bedroom as a teen. Hiding from her ranting mother. Layla shuddered.
    Detective Wallace waved her into a room outfitted with a long table. Maddox sat on one side, standing as she entered. "Good morning."
    Remembering her admonishment to keep her tongue in check, she nodded. "Morning."
    Maddox gestured for her to take a seat on the other side of the table. She