Warning Signs (Alexis Parker Book 19)

by G. K. Parks

  The door had two deadbolts in addition to the basic lock. I started with the bottom lock, hoping she hadn’t bothered with the deadbolts. When the knob twisted and the door didn’t give, I went to work on the top lock. It took me a good two minutes to get inside. I pushed the door open, tucked my hand into my sleeve, and blindly reached for the light switch. No reason to leave prints, if I could avoid it.

  Once I was certain no one was home, I shut the door and slid the locks back into place. After slipping on a pair of gloves, I dropped the plastic bag on the floor beside the door and took out my phone. Before I did anything, I checked for a security system. I didn’t find any record of one in her financials or on the building schematics, but it never hurt to double-check. Once I was positive Eve didn’t have any cameras hidden in her apartment, I took out my phone and snapped a few photos, so I could put everything back the way it was. I didn’t want Eve to know anyone had been inside. Andre wouldn’t like that, and at Cross Security, we were all about pleasing the clients.

  All right, Parker, where to begin? The first thing that caught my eye was a large flower arrangement on the dining room table. Eve had left the blinds open so the flowers would get sunlight, but they were starting to wilt. I examined the large red bow around the ornate glass vase. A card stuck out from the middle of the arrangement. I removed it and read: Something beautiful for my beauty. Love, Andre.

  So much for finding a smoking gun. I tucked the card back where it was. Why would Andre send flowers when he knew Eve was going out of town? Maybe he didn’t know or sent flowers every week. He could have a standing order with the florist. I could picture Martin doing something like that, except I wasn’t a flower and jewelry kind of girl.

  Moving away from the arrangement, I examined the rest of the dining room. Then I moved on to the kitchen. The cabinets were adequately stocked with cookware and pantry staples. The notepad on the counter had a grocery list: lettuce, bread, sparkling water, marshmallows. Nothing particularly romantic or sneaky about that. No mention of caramel, chocolate, or whipped cream.

  Continuing on, I examined the exterior of her fridge. Eve had a few magnetic frames. One was the same photo of her and Andre that Andre had brought to Cross. Another was a picture of Eve with her assistants and coworkers. The last two were taken at parties and events. I snapped a photo of her photos, just in case, but those looked like events she’d planned. The woman worked hard. She had a right to be proud.

  When I didn’t find anything damning in her fridge or freezer, aside from a few too many bottles of wine, I moved into the living room. More photos on the walls and end tables caught my attention. Most were of Eve at various locations. From the different backgrounds, I wondered if these were the places Andre had taken her on vacation.

  I snapped shots of those too and searched beneath the furniture and in between the couch cushions, but I didn’t find any misplaced cufflinks or forgotten thongs, just lint and a dime. The broom closet didn’t conceal anything of interest. Neither did the linen closet. In the coat closet, I found a man’s raincoat. The pockets were empty, but I pulled it out, checked the label, and took a snapshot. My gut said it belonged to Andre. Still, it’d be best to ask. Assumptions were detrimental in my line of work.

  Entering the bedroom, I froze in the doorway. My heart hammered against my ribs. Blood pooled in the center of the mattress, streaks ran along the edges of the sheets and pillowcases. I gripped the doorframe, forced air into my tightening chest, and blinked. The blood was gone. “You’re cracking up, Parker.” I ran a gloved hand down my mouth and took in the room. Concentrate on what’s real, not what’s in your head.

  The bedding was bright white with accents of red. The floors were hardwood, and the walls were white with monochrome art. It was the red on white. That must have been what triggered that macabre memory. I took a few more photos with my camera before stepping foot inside the room.

  Every cell in my body wanted to run out the door, but I resisted. “It’s in your head. It’s all in your head.” Going to the bedside table, I noticed a corded telephone. That brought back images of a swinging receiver, and I gulped. Sinking to the ground, I put my head between my knees, closed my eyes, and waited for the panic to ebb.

  I could barely breathe. I knew how irrational it was, but I couldn’t shake it. With trembling fingers, I dialed Mark. “Talk to me.”

  “Alex?” He could hear the panic. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you. I just need you to talk to me.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Are you okay?”

  I forced the lump down my throat. “Uh-huh.”

  “Where’s Marty? Is he with you?”

  “I’m working.”

  “But you’re okay? You’re safe?”

  “Uh-huh.” I gulped again. “Are you?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Though he had rarely witnessed one of my panic attacks, he knew about them. He just liked to pretend they didn’t exist, much the same way I did. “Take a deep breath and tell me what you see.”

  “A bedroom.” I described Eve’s room to a T. By the time I finished describing the last piece of art on the wall, my chest no longer heaved with the force of my beating heart.

  “What are you looking for?”

  I grabbed the side of the bed and hoisted myself off the ground with a grunt. “Signs she’s having an affair.”

  “Don’t forget to check the trash.”

  “I’m saving that for the end.” I went to the closet and opened the door. Eve Wyndham had more clothes and shoes than I’d ever seen in one person’s closet. And I lived with Martin, who had a walk-in devoted entirely to his suits.

  “Good plan.” He waited to make sure the moment had passed before asking, “Are you good now?”

  “Yeah, I just needed to hear your voice.”

  “You know you can call anytime, but Alex, talking to me isn’t going to solve this.”

  “I know. I have it under control.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it. Do you want me to meet you?”

  “No, I have to get this done, and you don’t need to know about it. You already know too much.”

  “My lips are sealed. Just be careful.”

  “Always.” I tucked the phone back into my pocket. I didn’t have time to lose it now. I had to get this done. Once this case was over and O’Connell didn’t ask me to help on anything else, I’d deal with my shit or find something else to distract from it until it went away. That’s usually how I dealt with things, and for the most part, it worked okay.

  This was still fresh. That’s what’s wrong, I decided. That and who in their right mind decorates their bedroom in white, red, and black. Wasn’t that a riddle about a newspaper or zebra or something? I couldn’t think how it went. Instead, I took more photos and searched every nook and cranny inside Eve’s closet.

  A leather and lace outfit hung in the back corner. On the floor beside it was a leather collar, riding crop, and some oversized feathers. The last thing I wanted to do was question Andre about their sex life, but if Eve had a kinky streak that Andre didn’t share, she might go elsewhere to scratch that itch.

  After closing the closet door, I checked her dresser. Her lingerie drawer was brimming with a typical selection and a few lace masks. Nothing too odd. Perhaps Eve had gone through an experimental period. That would explain the leather in the closet.

  Searching her bedside table made me feel icky. She had several items for solo play, condoms, and lube. I took another few snapshots and closed the drawer. This was the worst violation of a woman’s privacy I could think of, and yet, here I was. I’d be lucky if I could look myself in the mirror in the morning. Then again, with the things I’d done, this shouldn’t even register. But it did. And it bothered me.

  I checked under the bed, behind the furniture, and beneath the mattress. She had a sex life, but she was also engaged to an attractive and physically fit man. I had no reason to assume this wasn’t part of that. But Andre thought there was
something wrong between them, so I kept digging.

  Her bathroom contained the usual items. She had a few prescription pill bottles in her cabinet, so I checked the labels. Nothing sinister, just some leftover antibiotics from a dental procedure, prescription ibuprofen from the same procedure, and some anti-anxiety medication. I snorted, laughing at the ludicrous notion that I should pocket them.

  After closing the cabinet, I spotted a sticky note that had fallen from the corner of her mirror. Have a great day. You’re gonna knock them dead. It wasn’t signed, but the writing looked like Andre’s. Again, I took a photo. Cross’s experts could compare handwriting samples, or I’d just ask Andre about it when we had our next chat. This next one wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as our last.

  Before leaving, I checked the garbage, but Eve had taken it out before leaving on her trip. I made sure nothing appeared disturbed, turned off all the lights, grabbed my snacks, and let myself out. I left the deadbolts unlocked. This was a safe building. Eve wouldn’t notice. She’d put the key in and twist. It’d be fine. I was too drained to entertain any other possibilities.

  But I didn’t go home after leaving the apartment building. I went back to the office, took a shower, and put my clothes back on. They weren’t dirty or disgusting. I was. Settling in behind my desk, I examined the photos I’d taken and jotted down notes and follow-up questions while I worked my way through the bag of chips.

  By the time I looked at the clock, it was nearly five a.m. Cross would be in soon. I’d tell him what I found and ask how he wanted me to proceed. Given Andre’s hesitance to move ahead with our investigation, I’d let Cross decide my next course of action. Frankly, I didn’t care one way or the other. I didn’t want to pry into intimate matters or inadvertently break someone’s heart.

  I settled onto the longer part of the l-shaped sofa and stretched out my legs, folding forward as far as I could. On my injured side, I couldn’t even touch my toes. This wasn’t good, but I didn’t have it in me to work out. Instead, I settled against the cushion and thought about O’Connell’s case. A killer had already struck four times. For all I knew, she or he was a client. There had to be a way to figure this out.

  I tried to picture the hotel footage, but the disguises would prevent an easy ID. How did the third woman get inside the room? Summers said she was already there. The footage didn’t show anyone else. Did someone inside the hotel tamper with it?

  I reached for the notepad and made a list of possibilities, one more farfetched than the other. “Think, Parker. You just broke into a woman’s apartment. How would you sneak into a hotel suite?”

  My eyelids grew heavy, and my thoughts went back to spy movies. Ziplines and rappelling gear. A firetruck and ladder. A wing suit. My mind wandered farther and farther from reality until I was back in my own personal hell.

  “Alex.” I jumped, unsure where I was. Kellan Dey stood on the other side of the glass coffee table. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Why?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

  “You were screaming.”

  “Shit.” I tried to make sense of the world. “Are you going to tell Cross?”

  “Tell Cross what?” Kellan stared at me for a long time. “I don’t get my kicks gossiping to the boss. I was just doing my job. Forgive me or don’t. That’s up to you.” He nodded at my leg. “Are you okay?”

  I rubbed a hand over my thigh. That’s not why I was screaming. I just didn’t know how long it had been going on or what he might have heard. And I didn’t want to ask. “Yes.”

  “At least you didn’t have the daylights knocked out of you like the last time I found you asleep in your office.”

  “You mean when you accused me of being an alcoholic?”

  “I didn’t realize what had happened.” He scrutinized my expression, taking in every minute detail and flinch. “I don’t really know what’s happening now either, but I’m here.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Too bad. Scream again, and I will run across the hall, prepared to fight to the death. That’s just how it is.”

  Brushing my hair out of my face, I stared up at him. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost seven.”

  “Great.” I climbed off the couch, grabbing the arm for support.

  Kellan stepped closer to assist. “You sure you got it?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Glad to hear it,” a voice said from the doorway. Thankfully, it wasn’t Cross. Though, in this instance, I would have preferred an unwanted appearance by the boss. Martin strode across the room and extended his hand to Kellan. “James Martin.”

  Kellan shook his hand. “Kellan Dey.”

  Martin’s back stiffened, but he held that professional smile. He knew who Kellan was. He’d listened to me bitch and moan about the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

  “Not a problem.” Kellan glanced back at me. “I’ll save you a seat in the conference room, Alex.”

  I almost told him not to bother, but I didn’t want word of Martin’s appearance getting back to Cross. So I mumbled thanks and waited for my office door to close.

  Martin put a travel cup on the desk. “I snuck past the lady at reception. This place could use better security. Too bad they didn’t hire a consultant I know.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you coffee. I wanted to bring you breakfast, but you always sound so enamored with the way Cross stocks the break room, especially in the mornings. I didn’t feel like competing.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night. By the time I finished what I was working on, it was already morning. I should have called.”

  “At least you called to tell me not to wait on dinner. When you didn’t come home, I tracked your location. According to the data, you’ve been here all night.”

  “Sure.” The charm with the tracker had been here all night. I’d been breaking and entering, but I suppose that gave me an alibi.

  “I wasn’t invading your privacy, sweetheart. I just had to make sure you were safe.”

  “I told you I was working.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re safe. It doesn’t even come remotely close.” He ran his thumb across my cheek. I tried to look away, but he caught my chin and forced me to look at him. “You’ve been bogged down these last few days. I get it. I just want to make sure that’s all it is.”

  “Afraid you’re still cursed?”

  “You did run out on me and haven’t come back since.” He kissed me gently. “Is Kellan still giving you shit?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “What are you going to do? Kick his ass?”

  Martin shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”

  “Don’t treat me like the damsel in distress.”

  He searched my eyes for a moment. “Then I need you to stop being in distress.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Will I see you tonight?”

  “Probably. I have to speak to Cross about the case he assigned, and then I’m heading to the precinct to see how O’Connell’s doing. After that, I think I’ll go home and crash.”

  “All right. You might hear some noise outside. A delivery is scheduled for early this afternoon. Marcal will handle it, but I just wanted to give you the heads up so you don’t shoot the delivery guys or my valet.”

  “I’ll try to resist. What’s getting delivered?”

  He ran his fingers through my hair, brushing out the tangles. His eyes were dull, not their usual lively green. “Something for you.”

  “Martin, I told you I don’t like surprises.”

  “I know.”

  Eighteen

  After attending the morning meeting and speaking to Andre North, I headed to the precinct to see if O’Connell had made any progress.

  “Are you stalking me?” Mark Jablonsky asked when I appeared next to him.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “
What are you doing here?” O’Connell asked. “I didn’t call you.” He glanced at his partner, but he knew Thompson wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

  “I had some free time.”

  “I thought Cross had you paying your dues.” O’Connell got out of his seat and brought another folding chair over and placed it on the other side of his desk. “Did you decide you wanted to learn investigative techniques from a real detective?”

  “She already learned them from an FBI agent,” Jablonsky said. “Then threw it all away to work for a schmuck like Lucien.”

  I ignored the dig. “It’s cute how you boys fight over me. I just had some time and thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing.”

  “That’s code for she’s making sure you didn’t screw anything up,” Jablonsky said.

  “I’m aware,” O’Connell said. “Just give me a few minutes. I have to get a person of interest settled, and then I’ll come back to update you.” O’Connell clicked a tab on the computer, leaving it open for us to read while he and Thompson headed toward booking.

  “I told you I’d take care of this,” Jablonsky said. “You should be taking care of you.”

  “Says the man missing a few inches of intestine.”

  “Do you want to compare battle scars? I’m sure you win. And in this case, that means you lose.”

  “Don’t fight with me, Mark. I’m not in the mood. I spent the last hour on the phone with a client asking about the nitty gritty of his sex life.”

  I’d shrouded the questions in general terms, but once Andre opened up about how he and Eve had been broadening their horizons, my questions became more specific. I also learned he had bought the flowers after Eve scored a new client and had sent them to the office. She must have brought them home, out of force of habit, not thinking they wouldn’t survive her trip. He also admitted to owning a raincoat that matched the one in her closet. When he asked why I wanted to know, I’d fudged on the details and said I’d seen a photo of a man dressed in that attire and wanted to make sure it was him. That appeased him long enough for me to change the subject. So far, Eve appeared to be faithful, but for all I knew, she could be in a foreign country rocking some celebrity’s world.