Coming Home (Detective Dahlia Book 1)

by Laurèn Lee

  Renlee cleared his throat and took another large sip of his beer. "But, if you must know, the investigation is cold. We've got nothing.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Nothing?

  It may have been possible I had more intel than the Keygate Police. I wasn't in a hurry to tell them, though. I had to be sure of my facts before I passed along any information. Hunches and ideas wouldn't cut it in a court of law. I needed evidence.

  "Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to talk about that anymore," he said, a slight slur appearing in his voice. "Tell me about yourself, Elle. What's new with you?”

  I snickered. "Are you interrogating me, officer?" I asked playfully.

  The owner of the bar stepped out and greeted Renlee with a broad grin. He sported a short-sleeved Hawaiian button-up which was pulled tightly against his belly. His hairline receded so dangerously low, it would have been easier to just shave it at this point.

  "Renlee! How you doin', son?”

  "Good, good. Thanks. How are you?”

  "Hanging in there. As always. Can I get you two a shot?”

  "Yes!" Renlee and I said simultaneously.

  Blushing, I said, "Yes, please.”

  I didn't recognize the burly owner, and he didn't recognize me, which was just fine. Patrons waved and smiled in his direction while he pulled three clean shot glasses out of the cabinet above the bar.

  Without asking our preference, he poured three shots of Jack Daniels into the sparkling glasses. My stomach turned. I didn't do so well with whiskey, but it was liquor, and it was free. I'd have to make do.

  Renlee handed me a glass while taking one for himself.

  "To small towns and spring nights," the owner said.

  It wasn't the best toast I'd ever heard, but I clicked glasses with them all the same. I closed my eyes as I downed the whiskey, which warmed my body immediately. Shivers cascaded down my forearms too.

  I couldn't help but think about one of the last times I drank whiskey. Zac and I went out with a few guys from the force on a Friday night. Everyone took turns ordering shots of Jack all night. We stayed at the bar in Ashford until the owner flicked off the buzzing neon "Open" sign. Zac had his arms around me as we all walked down the main strip and toward the water. We grabbed a slice of pizza from an all-night place and watched the sun come up. I'd never be able to watch another sunrise with Zac beside me again.

  The owner smiled, reached across the bar to pat Renlee on the back, then excused himself to the kitchen. Rock-n-roll oldies crooned through the speaker system while patrons young and old socialized over drinks. White canopy curtains hung loosely around the perimeter of the patio, giving the vicinity a crisp, clean vibe.

  Renlee shook his head like a dog and smiled. "Jack always goes straight to my head."

  "I know what you mean." The lights shone a little brighter after the shot, and my balance wavered as I sat on the stool.

  Renlee opened his mouth to speak, but a microphone screeched through the speakers, causing everyone to cover their ears with their hands. An older gentleman wearing an Elvis t-shirt tapped the microphone toward the stage area of the patio.

  "Sorry! Sorry! We will begin karaoke night in a few minutes. Please make your way to the stage to sign up and choose your songs.”

  Renlee looked to me with a devilish grin and a twinkle in his eye. "You want to sing a song together?”

  His cheeks were flushed, and his speech slightly slurred. While I felt a heavy buzz too, I wasn't nearly drunk enough to get on stage and embarrass myself in front of my peers. He must have had a few drinks before I came; it was the only explanation for his slowing drawl.

  "I'd rather jump into the river," I said bluntly.

  Renlee drank his beer and smiled a toothy grin. "Yeah, alright. Probably for the best. If I sang what I wanted to, I doubt anyone in this place would ever respect me in uniform."

  I sipped my drink, which neared the bottom of the glass. "Oh yeah? What did you want to sing?”

  "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you," he said with a wink.

  I playfully punched him in the arm. "Tell me!" I pleaded.

  Renlee nodded and slid off the barstool to step closer to me. I felt his warm breath against the nape of my neck.

  "’Shallow’ from A Star is Born!" he whispered into my ear, which sent shivers snaking down my spine.

  I couldn't help but snicker. "Really? You don't seem like the type!”

  "Hey!" he said. "It was a great movie!”

  The first karaoke singer graced the stage. I recognized her at once as being one of the class clowns in school. Lyndsey something-or-other. With a sixteen-ounce beer in her hand, she sloppily belted out “Baby, Hit Me One More Time.”

  Renlee ordered us another round of drinks. I noticed his eyes began to glaze over, and I wondered if he had a ride home. Although, it was a refreshing change to drink with an old friend rather than by myself, as I'd originally intended.

  "Wanna know a secret?" he asked in a slurred, husky voice.

  "Sure," I replied.

  Renlee leaned in closer to whisper into my ear. I closed my eyes and strained to hear him above the off-pitch singing in the background. A breeze rushed through the patio too, which ruffled my soft waves.

  "I always had a crush on you in school," he said.

  I looked at him with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. "No, you didn’t."

  "I did!" he said with hands in the air.

  "I don't believe it one bit." I shot back another round of Jack.

  He opened his mouth to say more, but my phone buzzed inside my pocket. I didn't want to answer it, but instincts told me I didn't want to ignore it. I excused myself from Renlee. He nodded smoothly and ordered another beer for himself and a drink for me too.

  I pulled it out to reveal several text messages from Jake.

  The texts read:

  Call me. It's urgent. I've got the list of clients, and you're never going to believe who's on it.

  I exhaled the breath I'd held in my lungs while my pulse exploded. Fireworks erupted inside my head as the possibility of taking one step closer to finding Callie's killer danced in my mind. This was going to be something big, I could feel it in my bones.

  "I'm sorry," I said to Renlee, whose eyes lost their shine as I spoke. "I have to go."

  "So early?" he pouted.

  As much as I wanted to stay and have another, I had more important things to do.

  I had to catch a killer.

  Twenty-One

  Without needing to use my app, I texted Sandy that I was ready to be picked up and asked if she could be here as soon as possible.

  She replied with a wink emoticon, which I assumed to be confirmation that she'd be here shortly.

  I paced the sidewalk to the left of the bar's patio entrance. I didn't want Renlee to see me waiting for my ride. Dark images invaded my brain and pushed out the carefree feeling from tonight. The image of the person who killed Callie wasn't just a shadow in my mind anymore. I was one step closer to finding out who stole a beautiful soul from this world.

  As I stood on the curb, a light switch turned off in my heart as darkness enveloped my consciousness. I could almost hear Callie’s screams for help ringing in my ears. Was she afraid? What did she think about just before she died? I couldn't hold it in any longer as a fit of sobs wracked my body. I pulled out a mini shot of vodka from my purse, opened the plastic container, and tossed back the liquor down my throat.

  I knew I was drowning. All the booze. All the pining darkness. The current threatened to pull me under at any second. Deep down, I was hoping finding Callie's killer would be the life preserver I desperately needed.

  Sandy pulled up just as I'd tossed the empty shot bottle into a trash can beside the curb. She parked a few feet ahead, and I ducked under a small sapling with budding leaves to get to the rear passenger door.

  "Leaving so early?" she asked with a motherly curiosity.

  "Yeah. It was getting too crowded
," I lied and wiped the tears from my face.

  "Not a problem.”

  My mother’s house was only a handful of blocks away, but far enough where I shouldn't walk by myself. Many years ago, I wouldn't have minded the distance, but with too much alcohol in my system and a killer on the loose, I figured it wouldn't be exactly the safest mode of transportation.

  Sandy asked if I'd had a nice time.

  "Yeah, it was okay." I sniffled.

  Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. I broke contact first as we turned down my street. She pulled into my driveway, and I handed her a crisp twenty-dollar bill. She smiled and shook her head.

  "It was only a short drive. Keep it for yourself," she said warmly.

  "Please take it. Consider it a down payment for future rides.”

  I ignored the ebbing embarrassment deep in my bones. If I weren't such a lush, I could drive myself as I galavanted across Keygate. I pushed away the thoughts. I could dwell in self-pity later. Now wasn't the time.

  "Oh, all right. If you insist. Have a good night, dear," Sandy said.

  "You too.” I exited the vehicle and waved goodbye. She waited until I reached the front door before driving away. I rummaged through my clutch trying to find the house key. After a moment, I caught it tucked in my wallet.

  I unlocked the door as quietly as I could and stepped inside. A lamp in the kitchen remained on with enough glow to illuminate the downstairs. I crept into the kitchen to pour myself another drink. My parents wouldn't mind; they rarely made drinks for themselves. It was mostly for company's sake. I tipped the vodka over a few cubes of ice. I thought about what I'd use as a mixer, but my phone buzzed.

  Jake texted me.

  Are you home yet, woman?

  Two minutes, I replied.

  Deciding against a mixer, I tucked my phone in my pocket. As cautiously as a mouse, I traipsed up the stairs to my room, pausing every few steps for signs my parents were awake. Finally, I reached the bedroom and closed the door behind me. A mixture of excitement and anxiety rippled through my body. Sweat trickled down the small of my back. Jake found something. And soon, I'd know what he discovered too.

  I set the glass of vodka on my nightstand before I kicked off my shoes in the corner of the room. It didn't take long for my bedroom to appear as if I'd never left. Clothes were strewn about, and my bed was messy.

  I crawled into bed with my laptop and phoned Jake through Skype. Before he answered, I took a few seconds to rub away the smeared eyeliner under my eyes. I fluffed my hair a bit to add some last-minute volume.

  Jake appeared, and his goofy grin smiled back at me. "Hey, woman. Took you long enough.”

  "Sorry, I was out with some friends." Another lie. It was scary how easily they rolled off my tongue these days.

  "You look pretty," he said.

  My cheeks reddened, and I hoped it wasn't obvious via the video call. "Whatcha got for me? Did you find anything good?”

  "What? No small talk? No, 'How have you been Jake?’" he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. "How have you been, Jake?”

  He tossed his head back in laughter. "You're so cute when you're sarcastic. Your guy is a lucky man.”

  My body froze, turning rigid. Jake still didn't know, and I didn't want to be the one to tell him. Alternatively, I took a long draw from my vodka. I desperately wanted time to speed up and thrust me out of this moment. It was difficult enough living with my grief without having to explain it too.

  Sensing the awkwardness permeating the space between us, Jake cleared his throat. "So, I found that site you said your girl was on. Pretty racy stuff, huh? Anyway, I was able to work my magic," he said, rubbing his hands together. "And, I got into their database. I located the subscribers to Callie's page, including their IP addresses. She had a few hundred subs. Most of them were from around the world, but a handful were from Keygate by the looks of their IPs.”

  I nodded, still able to follow along, but hoping he wouldn't lose me. I could hold my own in the ever-changing tech world, but that didn't mean I was a wiz with the hacking world too.

  "And?" My heart thumped inside my chest. Visions of hands around Callie's throat invaded my mind. I wondered if Jake could smooth away the perpetrator's blurry face and bring his identity into view.

  "One IP address piqued my interest," he said with a devilish grin.

  My breathing increased while my body stiffened and my jaw clenched tightly. I felt as though I would explode unless he told me what he'd found right this very moment.

  "And?" I blurted again.

  "You're not going to believe who the address belongs to," he teased.

  I sipped my drink, not realizing that only a few drops of vodka remained. My head buzzed as the room spun for a moment, but only a moment.

  "Tell me!" I wanted to reach through the computer and shake the answer out of my old friend.

  "Peter Williams, the richest man in Keygate.”

  My jaw dropped, and if I were in a cartoon, it would have slammed against the floor with my tongue spilling out like a red carpet.

  A memory lit up inside my mind. Noah told me that Peter often frequented the strip club in town. Could it really be him?

  "Are you sure it's his IP address?" I asked, my stomach queasy.

  "One hundred percent positive," Jake confirmed. "You think he had something to do with that girl's death?”

  "I don't know, but right now, it's my only solid lead. Thanks, Jake.”

  Without a proper goodbye, I slammed the laptop closed. I sat in silence while various scenarios whizzed through my mind. What was the wealthiest man in Keygate doing on Callie's profile? Did his wife know he interacted with women online? Suspicion rose in my gut while hope nuzzled its way in too.

  I had a fresh lead to work. Tomorrow, I'd visit Peter. My old friend and a possible murderer.

  Twenty-Two

  The following morning, I woke to the sun shining through my window. My head pounded fiercely. Sweat reeking of booze pooled at my temples and soaked my tank top. I tossed and turned all night long. Thinking of Callie. Dying to know who killed her. Wondering if I'd ever find out.

  I peeled myself out of bed to see a bottle of water, two Advil and a note on my nightstand.

  Jack and I will be gone for the day. Help yourself to fresh blueberry muffins downstairs. Feel better, xo

  How did my mom know I'd wake up with a hangover? Did she know how much I was drinking? My cheeks reddened while I massaged my temples.

  Riddled with shame, I stalked toward the bathroom to take a shower and removed my bed clothes, tossing them aside. I yawned, then stepped inside the shower. For a moment, I gazed at the hot and cold faucets. Then, without any thought, I turned on the cold water with no intentions of evening it out with the hot water.

  The frigid water stabbed at my back, but after a minute or so, my body adjusted. I stood there, shivering a bit, wondering why my life had gone amiss. Why did this happen to me? Why was I the one to lose my fiancé? Why was I so weak that, after his loss, I quit my dream job and career? I was a tough woman, born from the ashes once I'd started anew. Why couldn't I bring myself to start fresh again?

  Grief. That was why. I missed Zac terribly. Even today, walking, if I saw a man who carried even a touch of Zac's likeness, part of me wondered if it was him. Even though I knew he wasn't coming back, part of me hoped he was only on the other side of the street, and he'd turn around, see me and smile.

  But he wasn't coming back. Ever. The sooner I made sense of it, the faster I'd allow myself to heal. If only it were that easy.

  Closing my eyes, I reveled in the freezing water against my spine. Maybe it would wake me up, and not just from sleep, but from life.

  My stomach growled as the idea of homemade blueberry muffins ravaged my mind. I eased out of the shower, my bones and joints not quite ready for the day. As much as I wanted to throw on yoga pants and a soft, cozy t-shirt, I put on a pair of jeans with a clean, white button-up top. As soon as I finished br
eakfast, I planned to go to Peter's office across town and speak to him.

  Before leaving the house, I filled a thermos with fresh coffee from the Keurig and a dash of rum. Who was I kidding? I poured a third of the bottle into my thermos.

  I knew the irony in the situation: a former law enforcement officer drinking and driving, before ten in the morning, no less. I'd be extra careful. I needed the nip of alcohol more than I needed to be sober.

  It didn't take long to pull into the parking lot of Peter's company, M&H Entities. After high school, Peter invented some sort of technology that sped up internet connections. He patented the invention before earning his college degree and turned into a millionaire overnight. I didn't think he even bothered to finish school. And, at that point, why bother?

  As I stepped into the industrial decor of the lobby, fully enriched with high ceilings, stone floor and marble countertops, I couldn't help but wonder if Peter knew Hayden. They were some of—if not the—wealthiest men in Keygate. Could they have been in on Callie's murder together? Were they friends? Only time would tell.

  I approached the front desk where a younger girl with big brown eyes and a caramel pixie cut sat with a headset.

  "Hi, I'd like to see Peter Williams.”

  She smiled sweetly but with a hint of poison in her eyes. "Do you have an appointment?”

  "Actually, no. But we're old friends. I'm only in town for a short while, and I wanted to see—"

  "I'm sorry," she interrupted. "Mr. Williams isn't available today to see anyone without an appointment.”

  Annoyance twisted in my gut. I inhaled and exhaled before speaking again. "Can you please call him? I'm sure if he knew I was here, he'd make an exception.”

  The girl stared at me without breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't do that."

  Maybe it was the rum in my coffee or the fake grin plastered on her face, but I wanted to reach across the counter and shake this girl. I knew she was just doing her job, but dammit, it wasn't that hard to make a quick phone call. My hands shook, and I put them in my pockets to hide them.

  Shoes clicked and clacked down a hallway across the lobby.