Warning Signs (Alexis Parker Book 19)

by G. K. Parks

  “Stop it.” I reached for the bottle of water Martin had tucked into my cupholder.

  Andre lived on a quiet street. He had a nice townhouse. He had a picture perfect front yard. The grass and shrubbery had been trimmed to the appropriate height to match his neighbors. I hadn’t bothered to check around back, but it was probably equally perfect.

  Andre hadn’t been home when I arrived, but he showed up just after 10:15. It was late, but not too late. He could have gone out for dinner or drinks with prospective clients or his business partners. Martin worked late a lot, so I figured the same might be true for Andre. Perhaps, he’d been at a paint store debating swatch colors until they closed. I had no reason to think he was cheating on Eve. But since I’d be surveilling her, and she spent a lot of time here, I wanted to get the lay of the land. Plus, I wanted to be sure Andre was a good guy and everything he said hadn’t been some elaborate ruse to convince me to help him stalk his girlfriend.

  The television lights flickered through the cracks in the open blinds. I checked the time. It was eleven. He was probably watching the news. Twenty minutes later, he turned off the TV. I followed the light patterns through the windows. He must be going upstairs to the bedroom. The rest of my night was about to get even more boring.

  I thought about calling it quits, but headlights in the rearview caught my attention. I hunkered down in my seat and peered out the back window. A woman stepped out of a car, leaned in to say something to the driver, and sprinted toward Andre’s townhouse.

  With the blinding headlights, I couldn’t make out much except her form. She had something covering her head to keep the drizzling rain off of her. The driver remained in the car with the infernal lights pointed straight ahead, preventing me from seeing clearly.

  The house lights turned on as Andre made his way down the stairs and opened the door. The light from behind cast them both in silhouette. I saw them embrace before the door closed. What just happened?

  I turned to get a look at the car, but it was backing down the street. Dammit. I couldn’t get the plate number, not even the make, model, or color. Add this to your list of screw-ups, the voice in my head whispered.

  Annoyed, I peered out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman, but I couldn’t see anything. Andre had the blinds closed. The lights remained on in the living room. They could be talking. Maybe she was his assistant, and there was some kind of emergency with one of his properties. She could be his sister, except he didn’t have a sister. None of this made any sense.

  Had my initial reaction been correct? Did Andre fear Eve was cheating because he was a cheater? When we spoke, he seemed so sweet, so sincere. I believed he loved her and would do anything for her, so why was he hugging some woman? Had I really been that wrong about him?

  I reached for my camera and waited for the money shot. Once I had that, I’d go to the office, ID the woman, and update Cross on the situation. I didn’t want to work for a liar or cheat. If Cross wanted to keep the case, he could work it himself.

  Less than ten minutes later, the lights in the living room turned off, and I followed the light pattern as Andre made his way back upstairs. Would she stay all night, or would she leave when they were finished? I hoped for the latter. I didn’t want to stay here all night. I felt icky and a little heartbroken.

  The lights remained on in the bedroom, but I couldn’t see anything on account of the blinds. So I waited. Eventually, my mind wandered and my eyelids drooped. I shook it off and checked the time.

  Seriously? Even the prescription pill bottles warned about activity lasting more than four hours. Maybe they’d fallen asleep with the lights on. I could fall asleep with the lights on. Actually, sometimes, I preferred it.

  My thoughts scattered, and my head bobbed. I jerked myself upright. Stay awake. I reached for the water, thinking I should have a thermos with coffee instead, but I hadn’t planned for this. My nap should have been enough to sustain me, but Martin was probably right. I’d been running on fumes for so long, the tank was empty. Two hours of sleep wouldn’t get me far.

  I’d just taken a final sip when something slammed up against Andre’s bedroom window. The blinds pressed against the glass, askew and partially raised. Then they stepped back, and I could make out two human forms cast in shadow. The bottom half of the blinds remained halfway open. I reached for my camera, zooming in to see what was going on inside. The two figures, backlit by the interior lamps, stood close together in front of the window.

  Suddenly, the larger one, which had to be Andre, grabbed the woman from behind, yanking her head back and up. The motion was quick. Too fast for me to be certain, but dark specks splattered against the closed slats of the blinds, making it appear spotted, like a dalmatian, where the few slats near the bottom remained open, I saw red.

  Blood. I tried to snap a photo, but the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Only one thought came to mind.

  He sliced her throat open. That must have been arterial spray. He killed her. Did he kill her? I shook myself, unsure what was real and what wasn’t. Was I awake or dreaming? Shit.

  Blinking, I stared at the window through the viewfinder, but I couldn’t see anything. Surely, there would be movement inside. He’d have to dispose of the body. But all the lights remained off.

  Without the back lighting, I couldn’t see the spatter pattern on the bedroom blinds. I couldn’t see anything. Should I enter the house? I had to find out what happened. If he sliced her throat the way it appeared, it was already too late. She would have bled out by now. With trembling fingers, I reached for my phone. I dialed 9-1-1 but didn’t hit send. My gaze shifted from my phone to the row of townhouses.

  Surely, she would have screamed. The neighbors would have heard. But no one had turned on their lights.

  Did I hallucinate it or dream it? Flashes of a gory crime scene came to mind. My friend dead from multiple stab wounds. Another image, a nightmare I’d had with Martin’s throat sliced open. More images flooded my mind. I gasped for air, fighting to stave off the panic attack. After the other night in Martin’s bedroom, I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. The nightmares had permeated my waking life.

  Deciding to err on the side of caution, I called and reported a woman screaming. The police would send a unit to check it out. I thanked them and hung up before they could ask my name, but my information had already popped up on their screens. I knew how this worked, so I turned off my phone, waited a few minutes, and turned it back on. At least that would make it more difficult for them to track me, not that they would, unless it was a homicide and I became a suspect or witness.

  I hit the speed dial for Mark but stopped myself from calling. After last night, I didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire if I was wrong, and if I was right, I didn’t need to get him involved in this.

  Perhaps I should call O’Connell. He was a cop. He’d send additional units. But I resisted, deciding to wait it out. A few minutes later, a patrol car turned down the street. I ducked down so they wouldn’t see me and waited. The car double-parked in front of the townhouse, and two officers got out and rang the bell.

  Andre didn’t turn on the bedroom light and answered the door alone. He wasn’t covered in blood. Could he have changed clothes? I didn’t see what he was wearing earlier. The lead cop stepped into the doorway, turned on the living room light, looked around, shook hands with Andre, and rejoined his partner. It wasn’t exactly the thorough walkthrough I hoped for, but the police seemed satisfied, which made me doubt myself even more. Had I imagined it?

  The patrol car drove away. The cops didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, not even the suspicious woman casing the place. Since they missed me, they might have missed the body upstairs too. It’s not like they’d done a thorough walkthrough. I had to be sure it wasn’t real, but aside from breaking into Andre’s house, I was out of options.

  Dialing Cross, I waited. My fingers drummed a beat on the steering wheel, but he didn’t answer
. Who else could I call?

  I glanced back at the townhouse. Still no movement. No lights. After the police came knocking, a killer would do something. Lack of movement wasn’t typical behavior, which made me even less certain of what I witnessed or thought I witnessed. It couldn’t have been real, but the little voice in my head wouldn’t give up. If Andre North murdered someone, I couldn’t let him get away with it, no matter how pleasant he had been when we met. Obviously, that must have been an act too since he was inside with a woman. Or was there even a woman?

  My perception of reality was shot. I needed help. Someone sane and rational to figure this out because I couldn’t.

  I scrolled through my contacts. Bennett Renner. He answered on the second ring. “Parker, I’m sorry. I’m doing my own recon right now. Try calling the office. Someone might be on call.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I hung up and searched for other coworkers. Unfortunately, I didn’t know most of them well enough to have their numbers saved on my phone. The only other name I found was Kellan’s. I didn’t have a choice.

  “Alex?” From the background noise, it sounded like he was at a club.

  “You said you’d help if I needed it. I need it.”

  “Tell me where you are.” He said something to someone in Spanish that I couldn’t quite make out.

  I gave him the address, relieved to have someone else take over, even if it was Kellan.

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  The wait felt interminable. I couldn’t just sit here, so I got out of my car, crossed the street, and went around the row of townhouses. The backyards were fenced in, like Jablonsky’s. Thoughts of the fight that resulted in me getting shot in the leg came to mind, causing my breath to hitch. I had to focus on the present. No more flashbacks. No more anything. I had to be here. I had to stay awake.

  The backyard behind Andre’s townhouse was just as ornate and maintained as the front. I didn’t find a deranged man with a shovel digging a hole to hide a body. Everything appeared normal. I inspected the back door, but it was locked. And since Andre had a state-of-the-art security system, I didn’t try to break in.

  I went back to the car and checked the photos I’d taken. If I’d hallucinated or dreamt it, I wouldn’t have any type of photographic proof. Except, I couldn’t tell anything from the pictures. A woman entered the house. The two had been near the window. I couldn’t see any blood. The suddenness of the pair knocking against the window or the spatter covering the blinds wasn’t conveyed in the photos. I should have taken video.

  Leaning down, I peered up at the window. The blinds remained askew. I didn’t imagine that. Something happened up there. But what?

  A knock sounded at the window, and I screamed. Kellan held up his palms. “It’s me, Alexis.” I hit the unlock. Another dose of adrenaline surged through my veins. Kellan slid into the passenger seat, took one look at me, and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head and told him what I saw or thought I saw. “I might be having a Rear Window moment.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “They performed a wellness check and left. They didn’t go upstairs. They should have.” I handed him the camera. “What do you think?”

  “Has anyone been in or out since?”

  “No.”

  “Cross performed a background on Andre North. Did anything turn up?”

  “No, he’s clean.”

  “What about solicitation charges or domestic disturbance calls?”

  “Nothing like that.” I thought for a moment. “Nothing at all. He has no record.”

  Kellan stared at the townhouse. “Did the neighbors notice anything?”

  “If they did, they didn’t act like it.”

  “And you can’t identify the woman or the car that dropped her off.”

  “You’ve seen the photos.” If I wasn’t so freaked out, I would have been annoyed.

  He turned to study me. “Take a deep breath. I’m glad you called me. However, I would have preferred if I hadn’t been in the middle of a date.”

  “Did you finally ask out the waiter from the Mexican restaurant?” I hoped to distract myself from the pounding in my chest.

  “Sí.” He adjusted the passenger’s seat. “I’ll call him in the morning and apologize for running out. In the meantime, we have to figure out what’s going on in there.”

  Twenty-two

  “Alex,” Kellan nudged me, “is that the woman you saw last night?” Andre North stood in his doorway, kissing a beautiful woman.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a look at her.” I rubbed my eyes. The adrenaline crash had drained me, practically putting me in a comatose state. Kellan didn’t bitch about it, which surprised me. “Can you zoom in?”

  Kellan snapped a few photos and handed me the camera.

  “That’s Eve.” That didn’t make any sense either. “She’s supposed to be out of the country. What is she doing here?”

  “I’ll go ask her.”

  “No.” I grabbed his arm to stop him, and he laughed.

  “I was just teasing. I know you’re supposed to be surveilling her.”

  “What about the bedroom window?” I hunkered down in the seat to get a better look, but someone had fixed the blinds. They hung properly with no detectable stains or spatter.

  “I don’t know.” Kellan took the camera from me when a town car pulled up. He snapped several shots of Eve getting into the back seat. After they drove away, he handed me the camera. “You said Andre was alone when the woman arrived. I’m guessing that was Eve who showed up on his doorstep last night. At least she’s alive and well.”

  “That’s his fiancée.”

  “Even better, right?”

  “Right.” Andre wasn’t a cheater or killer. I should have been ecstatic. Instead, I was more confused now than I was last night.

  Kellan eyed me. “This is a good thing. You should be relieved.”

  “I guess, but what is she doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She’s been away for over a week and her soon-to-be husband looks like that. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Because if that’s the case, I’d be happy to take your boyfriend off your hands. That tall drink of water could use some TLC. And someone needs to have the birds and bees talk with you, missy.”

  “No, I…” I stopped, realizing Kellan was teasing me. “I need to figure out what’s going on. Something isn’t right.”

  “Are you heading back to the office now?”

  I fixed my seat. “Yes.”

  “Do me a favor. Tell Cross I’ll be a few hours late. I want to bring my date breakfast and make up for abandoning him at the club.”

  “No problem.”

  “Does this mean we’re friends again?”

  “Let’s not rush into anything. I’m thinking we’re friend adjacent.”

  “I’ll take it.” He gave me another uncertain look. “Whenever you finally decide you can trust me again, I want to know what’s going on with you. Whatever went down last night had you freaked. Like put a bullet in someone’s head freaked.”

  “That’s why I called you.”

  Kellan didn’t say anything. Instead, he climbed out of my car and headed for his own. I gave Andre’s townhouse one final look. Did I imagine all of it? Was that another PTSD episode brought about by recent traumatic events and lack of sleep? Did I fall asleep and dream up the details that didn’t quite coincide with the surveillance photos I’d taken? Pushing those thoughts aside, I headed to the office. Since Eve was back, I had work to do.

  I went straight to Lucien’s office. He stood behind Justin’s desk, waiting for forms to print while he sipped his espresso.

  “Do you live here?” I asked.

  My boss looked up. “You’re in early. From the looks of you, I’m not sure I want to know why. Come into my office, so we can talk.” He waited for me to enter and shut the door. “You called last night. W
hat’s going on?”

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “I know that. What I don’t know is why you called.”

  “I wanted to get a jump start on the surveillance and to check out our client.”

  “Andre North?”

  “That’s the only case you’ve assigned me.”

  Cross adjusted the sleeve on his jacket. “What about him?”

  “I thought he killed someone.”

  Cross stopped fidgeting and stared at me. “What happened?”

  “It was dark. A woman came to his door. I didn’t get a good look at her, but he let her inside. They went up to his bedroom. I don’t know what happened, but I thought he attacked her and cut her throat. The police did a wellness check, but they left quickly.”

  “You called the police?”

  “What would you have had me do instead? It’s not like you answered the phone.”

  “But they didn’t find anything.”

  “They barely looked.”

  “Typical.” Cross cleared his throat. “Go on.”

  “A woman emerged this morning.” I held out the camera. “I’m assuming it’s the same woman from last night.”

  He took it from my hand, powered it on, and studied the images. “That’s Eve Wyndham.”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh.” Cross went to his desk and hit the intercom. “Justin, find out when Eve Wyndham returned home. Check her social media pages for any mention. If you can’t find it there, see if you can get a hold of her travel itinerary or pull passport records.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Andre said she might be coming home sooner rather than later. Did you get a chance to check her apartment?” Cross asked.

  “I didn’t find anything conclusive. I also went by Elegant Events, but I didn’t go inside. Her assistant said she was out of the office but didn’t say when she’d be back.”

  Cross nodded a few times, as if agreeing with the voices in his head. Maybe I wasn’t the only one suffering from that malady. “Where is she now?”