Helen, on the other hand, seemed a little off. Once Patrick was inside and the two women were off in the garden, the reason came out.
“Have a good lunch?” Elizabeth asked.
She smiled. “Yes. Patrick told me what a great job I’ve been doing and gave me a raise.”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled, and she was so sure it showed on her face that she dropped her gaze to her gloves and fiddled with them.
“He also told me you’re a couple now.”
Elizabeth whipped her gaze up. “What?” She’d kill him.
Helen chuckled. “You seem surprised. Did you know?”
She shook her head. “We’re not, we’re—”
“You’re what?” Helen probed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s still new.” Elizabeth gritted her teeth.
“Don’t be mad at him. He wanted me to hear it from him and not Alice or anyone else is all. He was worried I’d think poorly of you. He’s a good man. And he’s sure of his feelings for you, so if you’re not …” Helen clasped her hands in front of her and stared at her fingers. “Just, don’t lead him on.”
Oh, Saint Helen. Elizabeth smiled. “I care about him.”
At that, Helen smiled. “Good. Let’s get back to work.”
* * *
“There you are,” Patrick said as Elizabeth came into the library later that night. He sat on the couch, staring at several RSVPs he’d laid out on the table in front of him. In one of his hands he held a list of some kind that had different items crossed out down the line.
He reached for her with his free hand, but she went to a club chair across from him and sat.
He grinned and dropped his hand. “Helen told you?”
“You told Helen,” she said.
“Yes, I did. It was the right thing to do, trust me.”
She rolled her eyes.
He set his list down, and she could see that it was of names. All were crossed out but one, though she couldn’t make out the name without openly staring. He leaned on his knees. “Now that Alice knows, it’s only a matter of time before the whole town does. I knew it’d come as a shock to Helen, and I was worried she’d think you’d taken this job to get at me. That’s happened before, sounds like.”
He seemed honestly perplexed that a woman would take this job to get at him. It made her chuckle.
His grin widened. “I’ve missed you today.”
She rested her head in her palm. “Well, you’ve been busy working everyone into a frenzy.”
“Did I work you into a frenzy?” He lifted his brows up and down a few times.
“Absolutely, but not in a good way.”
“I’ll have to try harder, then.”
She shook her head and looked away. Heaven help her. Staring at the small, haphazardly stacked pile of RSVPs on the coffee table, Elizabeth frowned. Regret filled her, regret for a woman who’d lost her life, a good one who was so obviously loved, a woman who Patrick had said made him a better man—and he now had to spend his life without her. A lump formed in her throat, and she dropped her head to her hand.
Why couldn’t she find anything? Why was there no obvious connection between the deaths? Why did this case keep them in such a haze of confusion? The case files were proving less and less helpful the more she went over them.
If only she could interview everyone herself. Maybe she could find something that’d been missed. But that wasn’t why she was here. She was here to observe—to let Finley know if anything suspicious happened. It was such a debilitating feeling. She was a detective, but she was stuck—unable to break her cover or do anything useful.
All she wanted was to solve this for him. Give him the closure he desperately needed. And she ached for it, for her shackles of duty to be removed so she could actually be helpful.
“You’re worried.” Patrick dropped to a knee in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
She removed her hand from her face to look at him. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to end this. To find her killer.”
He reached for her, pulling her off the chair. She knelt in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “This isn’t your fault.” He rubbed a hand over her hair.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled back. “I just wish there was more I could do.”
His gaze locked on hers, holding an intensity different from anything she’d seen from him before. “What if there was something?”
“I’d do it,” she said immediately.
“Even if it was morally … gray?”
She sat back, resting her hand on his shoulder to keep him from grabbing her again as a tide of worry filled her. “Morally gray how?”
Elizabeth prided herself on following the rules, on living the letter of law as best she could, but even she had jaywalked before. There were all sorts of gray areas in life; they were unavoidable. It was the level of gray she worried about. “Like I could end up in jail for this?”
“No one is going to jail.” There was a resolve in his tone that she found at once comforting and alarming. What about the killer? He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “What would you do for me?”
She frowned. “Patrick, you’re scaring me. What’s this about?”
While his lips were still upturned, his eyes no longer held the amusement they had moments before. “You called me Patrick.”
“Tell me,” she demanded.
He pulled her close again, wrapping his strong arms about her. “You’re as good as they come. I’ve had too much time alone today to think, and I’m afraid my thoughts veered into darker territories than I’ve been used to of late. Your company has saved me in more ways than one.”
She suddenly realized why he’d insisted she spend her evenings chatting with him. It wasn’t just because he liked her, though she knew the conversations had led to that. Their conversations had been about self-preservation, a way to keep his mind off the dark thoughts of his past, a way to focus on the good things in his future. She saw that now clearly.
She squeezed him back as an unwelcome thought ran through her mind. “Why are you really throwing this party?”
He rubbed her back. “I told you. So that I can move on with my life. I’m confident that after tomorrow I will, with you.”
She leaned into him. It was a flattering line, one that she wanted to believe.
He stood then, yanking her to her feet much like he had the first time they’d met in the orchard when he’d fallen out of the tree. “I need ice cream.”
“What?” She blinked, confused at the abrupt change.
“Ice cream.” With her hand firmly grasped in his, he pulled her after him. “And I know just the place to get it.”
* * *
Patrick parked out front of Thornfield Market behind a pickup truck that had its bed open. In the back of the truck sat several boxes of peaches. He turned to her. “Looks like they’re getting a delivery.”
Elizabeth hadn’t tried Debbie’s ice cream yet, but she’d wanted to. They headed inside just as a light sprinkle began to fall. A man set a box of peaches down by the fruit stands and headed to the door, giving Patrick a dirty look as he passed.
Debbie stood at the ice cream counter, chatting with the same woman Elizabeth had seen on her first day here. If she recalled correctly, this was Susan Strong—the woman whose husband saw the homeless man heading toward the Daleys’ the night Katelyn was murdered.
The women silenced as they approached, and wide smiles covered their faces. Debbie’s was more playful and fun, but the way her friend looked at Patrick reminded Elizabeth of the way the detectives in her bullpen eyed coffee and donuts at five in the morning. She wanted to eat him up. Elizabeth couldn’t really blame her; she felt much the same way. Still, it was unnerving. Would this happen all the time? And did Elizabeth’s face look like that when she stared at him? She hoped not.
Much to Elizabeth’s surprise and chagrin, Patric
k took her hand, an obvious silent declaration for the women to make of what they would. And Elizabeth had a pretty good idea what it was they’d make of it. Debbie’s smile widened, but her friend’s dropped just a little.
“Patrick, Elizabeth,” Debbie said, genuinely happy to see them. “How are you?”
Patrick leaned against the glass covering over the ice cream counter and smiled at her. “Excellent, Debbie.” He squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “How are you?”
“I can’t complain.” Debbie’s gaze darted between the two of them and their clutched hands.
“Hello, Patrick,” Susan said.
“Hey, Susan. Still causing trouble?” Patrick gave Elizabeth’s hand another quick squeeze.
Susan laughed. “You know it.”
Elizabeth turned to Debbie. “How’s the filing system going? Getting everything uploaded to your computer?”
Debbie smiled. “Slow as ever, but I’ll get ’er done.”
Susan glanced between Debbie and Elizabeth.
Patrick pointed to her. “Have you met my girlfriend?”
A tingle shot up her spine. She couldn’t decide if it was because she liked him calling her his girlfriend, or if it was because she was horrified he had. Here he’d claimed Alice would be the one spreading the story of their coupledom, if that’s what it could be called, but really it was just him. He was shameless.
Susan tore her gaze from Patrick and blinked at her. “I don’t believe so.”
Elizabeth stepped forward and extended a hand. Susan took it, her palm down like a princess. Elizabeth gripped it, turning it to the side as she shook it. “Susan Strong?” She glanced toward the man bringing in the peaches.
“You heard of me?” Susan’s gaze trailed to Patrick, and she gave him a sly grin.
“And your husband. Phil, is it?” Elizabeth nodded toward the man unloading peaches, who slowed slightly at the sound of his name before pushing out the door a little more forcefully than necessary. She had to admit the match was a strange one. Susan wasn’t a bad-looking woman, and now that her hair no longer had roots, she was actually quite attractive. Phil, however, was unfortunate in many ways, from his unibrow to his scowl to his potbelly.
“Yes,” Susan said. “That’s him.”
Patrick tugged Elizabeth back to him. She didn’t protest.
Elizabeth smiled. “Debbie gave me one of the peaches from your farm. It was delicious.”
“They’re award winners.” Susan straightened her spine.
Patrick grinned, but quickly turned to the ice cream. “What flavor do you want?”
“Oh, uh …” Elizabeth glanced in. “What do you recommend, Debbie?”
“Peach, of course,” Debbie chuckled. “I use the peaches from Susan’s farm, so you know it’s delicious.”
“I’ll take that, then,” Elizabeth said.
“Chocolate,” Patrick said. Susan’s smile dropped just a little when he did.
“No surprise there,” Debbie said as she started scooping the ice cream. “Your chocolate craving is insatiable.”
Patrick leaned into Elizabeth’s hair and whispered to her, but not so quietly the women couldn’t hear. “That’s not the only one of my cravings that’s insatiable.”
Heat rushed to Elizabeth’s cheeks, but she kept her head held high.
Susan clenched her jaw.
Debbie handed Elizabeth her scoop of peach just as Phil Strong came in the door, shaking the rain off his coat as he did. “That’s it, Debbie. We’ll be back next week.”
Debbie waved her scooper over her head. “Thanks, Phil!”
“Come on, Susan,” Phil said.
Patrick winked at her, then turned to Phil. “Oh, hey, you two coming to my party tomorrow?”
Elizabeth frowned. She suddenly had a pretty good idea whose name hadn’t been crossed out on Patrick’s list.
“Party?” Susan asked, her eyes alighting with excitement.
Phil shook his head. “No—”
“You’re having a party?” Susan asked.
“I sent you an invitation.” Patrick tilted his head as though confused.
Debbie handed him his cone. The rain outside picked up.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Phil didn’t like Patrick, and Patrick didn’t like Susan and wanted to make it clear that he was taken. So, why would he care if they came to the party?
“We’ll be there!” Susan’s enthusiasm didn’t dim even when Phil scowled. “What time?”
“Eight. Dress is semiformal.”
She scurried away with a bounce in her step.
After getting Debbie’s promise that she too would be there, they stepped outside. Patrick immediately wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, hustling her to his car before she got soaked. He closed the door behind her and bolted to his side. She reached across and pushed the door open for him.
She took a lick of her ice cream as he got in. “You sure are popular, aren’t you?”
He gave a low hum from deep in his throat and pinched his brow together. “I hope that doesn’t bother you?”
“Listen …” She shivered through her damp clothes, and the ice cream wasn’t helping. First time she’d felt remotely cold since coming here.
“Yes?” He took a big bite of his chocolate ice cream and turned his car on. Heat rushed from the vents surrounding her and raised goose bumps on her arms.
“Did you know the Strongs were making a delivery tonight?”
He glanced at her and smiled.
“What?”
He leaned over and kissed her on the temple, his cool lips against her skin sharpening the kiss. “I love it when you read me.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Why do you care if they come to your party?”
He licked a drippy spot on his cone. “I wanted Susan to come for Debbie. To keep her company. Plus, Susan is always up for games. It makes her a fun party guest.”
“What about Phil?” No way he was a fun anything.
“Package deal, I’m afraid.”
“I meant he doesn’t seem too thrilled about coming.” She got a big chunk of peach in her next bite and moaned.
Patrick’s gaze darkened. “I need some of that.”
She lifted her ice cream to him, but he lunged across the seat and kissed her. She squealed, then laughed when his ice cream dropped in his lap. At least being with him would never be boring.
“Serves you right,” she said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy.
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth sat in a window seat in a nook on the second floor, talking to Lee, and staring out over the garden. The cloudy gray sky did nothing to impair the garden’s beauty. Helen had outdone herself. And inside, Alice had done the same. For once, the dark cloud of sadness that hung over the house and its creepy Gothic architecture was overdone by the splendor being created inside. It was as though the sky had sucked all the misery from the place.
The house was bustling with workers, and this had been one of the few places she’d been able to find a little privacy. Not only had the entire house been cleaned from top to bottom, but some rooms with sheets covering the furniture, like the ballroom, were being brought back to life. A caterer had been commissioned, and the smells of delicious foods filled the entirety of the house. Bouquets all in shades of cream, green, and white, sat on every available surface—except one.
Elizabeth had slowly awoken that morning to the sounds of her door squeaking open, a soft peck on her cheek, and Patrick’s voice whispering a good morning. He was gone when she finally managed to open her eyes, but she’d found a bouquet of sunflowers sitting on her bedside table with a note reading “Love P.” Despite herself, she still wondered how he’d managed to guess they were her favorite flower, and those specifically were huge and cheery, the loveliest sunflowers she’d ever laid eyes on.
“You paying attention?” Lee asked, snapping her out of her wan
dering thoughts.
“Yes … no. Sorry. Repeat, please.”
“Harper managed to isolate the image. You were right; it was a person.”
She sat up straight. “Did you get a face?”
“She was wearing a hoodie, and it was dark. But we’re sure it was a woman, probably between five feet five and five feet seven inches, and petite. She looks to be favoring her right side.” The sounds of fingers clicking against a keyboard came through the line. “I’m forwarding the image to your email.”
Elizabeth put her phone on speaker and pulled up the image from her cell. It was just as he said. Looked like a woman, but there wasn’t enough there for a positive ID. She glanced over the photo when something caught her eye near the woman’s hand. “What’s that near her right hand? Is that blood?” The way it dripped off her hand and into the grass below certainly made it look like it was blood. Without more video, it’d be impossible to know for sure it was blood.
She thought of the nail protruding from the gate on the outside frame. It’d caught her shirt even though it’d been pushed back. What kind of damage might it have done before it was pushed back? Enough to make someone in a hurry who ran into it bleed profusely from their arm? Probably.
“Saw that too?” Lee asked. “We can’t be sure, but if I had to guess, I’d go with blood.”
“Lee, this is great! Now we have new leads to start from. Finley will be so grateful, I’m sure, and …” What would Daley think? She couldn’t wait to tell him. It was something. She was sure it would be much-needed relief. Progress was made, no matter how small.
“It’s still all circumstantial. No face, no image of a cut—for all we know, she could be holding a leaky water bottle.”
Elizabeth turned her phone off speaker and pressed it back to her ear. “They’ve been stuck in a holding pattern for years now—always going over the same evidence with no new results. This is something new. Trust me, it’s better than what we already have.”
“There is one other thing,” Lee said. “Whoever did this had someone upload a keylogger on-site so they could gain access to passwords and hack into the surveillance.”
The Heir of Thornfield Manor Page 11
