Lizzie pales. ‘Do you think he was the killer?’
‘I don’t know, he could have just happened to be hiking on the Wild Ridge Trail, or he could have been watching the police and CSIs, and then stayed when he saw us going into the pool area after they’d gone.’ Moira runs her hand through her hair. She doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence the man had been there. ‘The thing is, he was using binoculars. So he was on the hill to watch something, could have been birds, or nosey rubbernecking . . . or it could be because he’s the killer and he wanted to keep an eye on things.’
Lizzie says nothing, but Moira sees her eyes darting around the perimeter of the garden as if she’s expecting someone to jump out at her at any moment. She keeps her gaze on Lizzie. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘If the man you saw on the hill wasn’t the same person as before . . . It’s odd that there are two men, both watching you . . . us,’ says Lizzie. There’s a tremble to her voice. She clasps her hands together. ‘Are these men connected to the murder? It has to be likely, doesn’t it, but are they connected to each other? I just don’t . . .’
‘We don’t know they’re connected to the murder,’ says Philip, frowning. He sits down. Putting the marker pen on the table, he reaches out and gives Lizzie’s hand a squeeze. ‘It’s okay.’
Lizzie meets his gaze. ‘No, we don’t know, but it’s possible, isn’t it? The killer could know I was poking about in the pool. What if they think I’m a threat? What if they—’
‘We don’t know anything for sure right now,’ says Moira. It seems Philip likes absolutes, but it’s rare you get them at this stage in a murder case. You have to work the evidence, follow where it leads. She reaches into her pocket. Feels the plastic of the bag she wrapped around her find. Pulling it out, she puts it on to the table. ‘But this is something that tips the balance towards them being involved.’
‘What you got there?’ asks Rick, leaning forward to the table.
Carefully, Moira unwraps the plastic bag from around the phone. It’s still covered with dirt – she hadn’t wanted to brush it off for fear of voiding any fingerprints or DNA. The earth has got into the cracks of the shattered screen. She looks at the group. ‘This morning, the detectives said they hadn’t found the victim’s mobile phone. It struck me as odd – a young woman like that, she’s bound to have had a phone with her.’ She points to the broken phone on the table. ‘I think this could be hers.’
Philip stares at the phone. Rubs his forehead. ‘How did—’
‘I noticed the earth had been disturbed around the base of one of the trees and that leaves and sticks had been rearranged over the earth to try and disguise what had been done – it looked too perfect. So I dug down to see what it was.’
‘Is there anything that connects this phone to the man you saw?’ asks Lizzie.
Moira shakes her head. This is where the links are weakest. ‘It’s only circumstantial – he was there, the phone was found there – but if this is the phone of the murder victim then it seems too much of a coincidence to discount.’
Rick runs his hand across his jaw. ‘Agreed, and I sure don’t trust that kind of happenstance, but if it was the killer, why would he bury the phone? He could have dumped it in the trash someplace away from The Homestead, or buried it somewhere else far away from here – why do it so close to the crime scene? Especially when he knew you’d seen him.’
‘Yeah, it’s a weird one.’ Moira’s been wondering that too. Burying it so close seems high risk, bordering on foolish. ‘I’m guessing he’d buried it already, and then didn’t have time to retrieve it when he realised I’d seen him, or he couldn’t find the spot in time, or something.’
Rick frowns. ‘Yeah, sure, but it still doesn’t explain why he’d bury it there in the first place.’