Coming Home (Detective Dahlia Book 1)

by Laurèn Lee

  However, Nathan made sure to get me here safely. And he did help distract me with conversation last night. Not once did he make a move or indicate he wanted something besides friendly chatter. Would Zac want me to smile instead of lying in bed with the devil and my pain?

  Nonetheless, I smiled weakly as my head fell back onto the pillows. Nathan did seem like a really nice guy. Maybe someday I would end up with a man like him. But now? Now, I could barely take care of myself. No one wanted to pick up a woman so heavy with baggage they couldn’t hold her up.

  I remembered what Nathan told me last night: Callie had a boyfriend. I couldn't help but wonder if the Keygate PD knew about this. Had they investigated any possible leads? A jolt of energy coursed through me as I leapt from the bed.

  I scurried into the tightly-constructed bathroom and turned on the shower. I needed to clean myself up and go to the police department right away. What if they didn't have this information? I could let them know without interfering in the investigation. They may be grateful for the tip.

  The frigid water felt like needles pricking my back, but I delighted in the sensation. And even though a throbbing headache milled about inside my head, I knew the Gatorade would help knock it out—or a McDonald's breakfast sandwich. Greasy food was always a must during a hangover.

  I chose not to wash my hair but rinsed it with just water. I'd forgotten my own shampoo and conditioner and wrinkled my nose at the complimentary items provided on the shower's shelf.

  A knock at the door shook me out of my daze. “Housekeeping!"

  I stumbled out of the shower and wrapped a too-small, scratchy towel around my dripping body. I scurried to the main living quarters of the room. "I'm almost done! Checking out soon!”

  "Checkout was an hour ago," the woman hissed through the door.

  I massaged my temples with eyes squeezed shut. While the throbbing in my head had subsided a touch in the shower, this housekeeper lulled it back into place.

  "I'll be done soon," I shot back.

  "You'll be charged extra," the voice said.

  I groaned, tossing my towel across the room, creating more mess for the salty woman outside my door. "K, thanks.”

  I dressed and made a point to not make the bed. If she were so eager to get in and clean, I'd make it worth her while. I knew this was petty, but my hangover roared within me, which made it ever so difficult to move quickly.

  Soon enough, though, I snuck out of the room with my overnight bag in tow and the half-empty Gatorade in hand. I approached the front desk to check out, but no one sat in the seat there. I rang the little bell on the counter several times, but no one came out to greet me. Huffing and puffing, I left enough cash to cover the room on the desk, covered by a paperweight. They could figure it out themselves.

  Minutes later, I cruised across town with the windows down and the fresh breeze running through my hair. The cool air aroused my senses while the Gatorade provided the much-needed fuel to ward away my headache and quivering body.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror to see my bloodshot eyes staring back. I should have gone home to sleep some more, but I needed to tell the department about Callie's boyfriend, if they didn't already know.

  I pulled into the police department's lot, noting it was much smaller than my former department's back in Ashford. Then again, that was no surprise considering Keygate was about half the size, or even smaller, than my current town.

  Parking in a visitor's spot, I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and dabbed a few drops of perfume onto the nape of my neck. I hoped I wouldn't reek like sweat and alcohol, especially walking into a police station.

  I strode through the entrance of the faded brick building, having been inside many, many years ago for a tour when I first became interested in criminal justice. Sergeant Morton offered to show me around back then, delighted to see a young woman determined to join the force.

  While my memory wasn't the best these days, I could tell with ease that not much had changed inside the department since I last visited. The carpet appeared to be the same navy blue and speckled print, and the walls were covered with decades-old posters of missing kids and wanted men and women. Clearly, no one cared to redecorate or modernize the station. I approached the front desk and found a pleasant face staring back at me.

  "Renlee," I said with a smile.

  "Hey, Elle. Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

  "Yes, yes. I was hoping to speak to the sergeant.”

  Renlee turned in his seat to gaze back at the cubicles behind him. He scanned the area, his eyes stopping upon an office in the corner of the room. "I don't think he's here right now.”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to another. "Well, it's kind of important that I talk to him.”

  Other officers in the room peeked over their cubicle walls to look at me. Cameron caught my eye, and I waved faintly. He nodded and returned his focus to the outdated computer on his desk.

  "I can leave a message for him?" Renlee asked.

  I leaned close enough to smell Renlee's aftershave. I peered deep into his eyes, hoping to capture his full attention. "It's about Callie Jacksun.”

  Renlee's eyes grew, and he nodded. "Well, let's go outside, and we can talk, huh?”

  "You're sure the sergeant isn't here?”

  He shook his head and stepped out from behind the desk before he led the way back outside toward the parking lot. I followed him earnestly, hoping he'd take my lead seriously. I knew I wasn't an officer anymore, but that didn't stop me from wanting to solve the case. Callie deserved justice one way or another.

  We sat upon a faded wood bench beside the building. Because it was daytime, not many cars drove past the station, which was located in downtown Keygate. Birds flew overhead and sang as loudly as they could.

  Renlee pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You want one?”

  My stomach churned at the thought. "No, thanks.”

  He shrugged and lit the cigarette, which hung loosely in his mouth. "So, what's up?"

  I cleared my throat and tried to steady myself. My legs bounced up and down in anticipation while I attempted to take a few even breaths. "Callie had a boyfriend.”

  Renlee scoffed. "I'm sure she did.”

  "Renlee, this is serious. I found out that she had a boyfriend who was married. Have you looked into this? Maybe you already know about him?”

  Renlee inhaled from his cigarette and exhaled, making sure to blow the smoke away from me. He sipped from the oversized coffee mug he brought outside with him.

  "Elle, you know this isn't your place," he said. “Did you forget what we talked about?”

  I groaned. "I know, I know. Okay? But it's important we find out who killed Callie!"

  A group of teenagers strolled by the police station. I couldn't remember if it was still spring break for the schools, but I couldn't help but watch them as they walked by. So carefree, devoid of life's hardships. Someday they'd learn.

  "Not 'we,’” Renlee said.

  I looked over to him curiously.

  "Elle, I know you want to help, but you can't. You're not a detective anymore, and even if you were, this isn't your jurisdiction.”

  I rolled my eyes. "I know this, Renlee. But can't I still provide tips as a concerned citizen?”

  "Listen," he said with a stern tone. "We're doing our best. We haven't found any evidence of a boyfriend, because if we did, we would have brought him in first thing. You need to let us do our jobs and stop meddling in police affairs.”

  I shuddered. Was he still sour about the other night? Was this why he was acting so harshly with me?

  I turned to face him. "No, you listen. Just because you haven't found evidence of a boyfriend doesn't mean there wasn't one. You need to look harder!" My voice rose as my chest heaved up and down passionately.

  Renlee flicked his cigarette into the bushes and stood. His face no longer carried an air of friendliness, but he gazed at me reproachfully. "You need to stay out
of it, Dahlia. This isn't your job anymore. If we need help from a private investigator, we'll ask. Not to mention, people are talking about you being back.”

  “What does that mean?” I spat.

  “Seems like you’ve been out drinking a lot. And after what happened with Peter, how could I know what you’re telling me is even credible?”

  “Renlee, you know me!”

  “I thought I did,” he said, trailing off. “First, you’re accusing Peter, the guy we’ve known since we were kids, of having something to do with Callie’s death. And now you think she had other boyfriends when we haven’t found any evidence of that. I’m sorry, but I can’t put myself on the line for things you think are happening. And you still smell like alcohol, Elle.”

  With that, Renlee strode back into the station without as much as a goodbye. It was clear the Keygate PD didn't want my assistance. But that wouldn't stop me from finding out the truth on my own.

  Thirty

  My mind, stuck on cruise control, drove home to my parents' house. However, I wasn't intending on going inside. Instead, I sped down the street and parked in front of the house several doors down: Callie's house.

  The black and yellow police tape was gone, but an eerie vibe clung to the air. Even if her parents painted the house and renovated the insides, it'd always be the place Callie was murdered. Hesitantly, I ambled toward the front door. I glanced over both my shoulders to see if anyone watched me as I rang the doorbell.

  I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other while I waited for someone to answer. A few minutes passed, but finally, Callie's fragile-looking mother opened the door. "Hi, Elle. What a pleasant surprise. Please, come in, come in.”

  I stepped inside the house I'd been in dozens of times before. Generally speaking, it looked about the same. Callie's school pictures adorned the periwinkle blue walls of the living room; the old-fashioned piano sat in the dining room, and the carpet was still the same concrete gray shag as when I was younger.

  There were some differences, though. Two holes in the wall caught the corner of my eye. In the dining room, I noticed a computer desk without a computer, and wires were strewn about in a disorderly pile.

  Callie's mother aged several years even since the funeral. Her eyes appeared bloodshot and her cheeks sallow. "Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade perhaps?”

  "That'd be great, thank you," I replied.

  I strode to the black leather sofa which was positioned in front of the plasma television. Beside the couch, several family vacation photos of Callie and her parents were strewn about the end table. Pain ruptured inside my chest. For the rest of our lives, any time we wanted to see Callie's smile, it had to be from a photograph. No one would ever see her dimples and bright eyes again.

  Samantha returned with a glass of ice-cold lemonade and a few sugar cookies. Her spirits seemed to have lifted since I arrived.

  "It's so nice to see you again, Elle," she said. "Brings back many memories of when you used to watch Callie for us.”

  I sipped on the super-sweet lemonade and smiled. "Callie and I shared many great times together back in the day. My only regret is that I didn’t stay in touch after I went to school, you know?”

  Samantha waved me away. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't be foolish! I know how busy life can get, especially when you're away at college. But we thought of you often, and Callie never stopped asking or talking about you.”

  My breath caught in my chest as I choked back the desire to fold myself in and cry. When you're a caretaker, babysitter, nanny, or whatever, you're able to steal precious moments by watching a child grow up. You form a bond words cannot measure. And when the time comes, as it always does, when you're no longer needed, you hope and pray they won't forget about you. You think their memories will turn fuzzy as they age, and the wonderful times you shared together may only live in your own heart. I always wondered if Callie would keep me inside her heart.

  I gulped more lemonade and nibbled on the cookie.

  "People keep bringing us food," Samantha said. "I'm grateful, of course. But there's no way we can eat it all.”

  She sat in a nearby chair, crossed her legs and smoothed her floral-patterned skirt. "So, dear, was there something you needed, or did you just want to stop by?"

  I cleared my throat. "Actually, I did want to ask you a few questions.”

  My stomach churned while bile rose inside me. Even as an officer, speaking to family members of the deceased was my least favorite task. It's a balancing act of sorts. You need to be sympathetic to their grieving, but also professional and get your job done. Some might have considered us cold, but it was self-preservation to avoid succumbing to the sadness surrounding us.

  "Of course, of course. How can I help?”

  "Well, I hope you don't mind, but I've been kind of looking into what happened to Callie on my own time," I began, my hands quivering as they held the glass of lemonade.

  Samantha furrowed her brow. “Oh?"

  I coughed as my body filled with anxiety. "Not to say the Keygate PD aren't doing their jobs, because they are doing everything they can, but, I, uh, I've come across some tidbits of information I think are pertinent to the case.”

  Sam's eyes lit up. "You have? Have you told the police? What have you found out?"

  I needed to err on the side of caution because I saw Callie's mother inflate with hope. I didn't want to give her the impression that justice was near because I was only at the tip of the iceberg in my personal investigation.

  "The problem is, with what I've uncovered, I don't have much proof. That's why I haven't brought everything to the police. Not to mention, they could see me as interfering with procedures," I grumbled.

  "I see," Samantha said, her shoulders rigid. "So, what would you like to know? I've already talked to the police on countless occasions, but I'll help you in any way I can.”

  I rifled through my purse until I found my miniature notepad and a pen. I flipped through the pages until I spotted a clear area for notes. "I wanted to know if you were aware of any men Callie may have been dating before she died?”

  "The police asked the very same question," Samantha said as she audibly sighed.

  I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  "I knew she dated men here and there, especially those from her job," she said with pursed lips. "But I wasn't aware of anyone serious. At least, she didn't tell me about anyone.”

  "I have reason to believe she did have a serious boyfriend. Someone she planned to run away with and marry."

  Samantha's eyes bulged, and she clutched at her chest. "What? Are you sure?"

  "Not one-hundred percent because, like I said, I don't have any concrete proof. Only a tip. But I was wondering, well, if you don't mind, could I have a look at her room?”

  Samantha stood abruptly. "Yes. Anything you need.”

  I waited for her to escort me upstairs.

  "I'll leave you to it," she whispered. "I, uh, still haven't been able to go back inside.”

  I nodded, strode toward the carpeted steps leading to Callie's bedroom. As I walked up the stairs, I couldn't help but notice all the portraits of Callie. There was one for each of her school pictures from kindergarten all the way to her senior year of high school. It was miraculous to see her grow up before my eyes. Between every picture was an entire year of life. Three hundred and sixty-five days of growing, learning and exploring. Many of those days we spent together. My heart ached with nostalgia, and I wished I could travel back in time. I wanted nothing more than to hold young Callie in my arms as we snuggled and fell asleep together on the couch watching Disney movies.

  I reached her bedroom door with my heart thumping madly in my chest. Would I find the key to solving Callie's murder inside her room?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Thirty-One

  I grasped the doorknob and delicately turned it. The knob clicked as the white wooden door swung open to reveal Callie's bedroom, which, not surprisingly, ha
d drastically changed since the last time I stepped inside.

  Instead of pink walls adorned with unicorns and fairies, they were painted the color of burgundy wine with nothing plastered on them except for a black decal of a large willow tree beside her bed. Instead of rainbow bedding, Callie slept with an all-black comforter with matching sheets.

  I couldn't believe I was in the same room. I could be in an entirely different house and not question it. Memories of Callie sitting on her bed with a melting ice cream cone floated back to me In those days, her legs couldn't touch the floor so she swung them enthusiastically against the side of her box spring.

  The girl I once knew bloomed into a woman I'd never know. I couldn't ask her why her personality changed so drastically over the years. Or how she stumbled upon the dark path she managed to find herself on.

  How could someone change so much? Sure, I'd grown up over the years, but I was essentially still me. I was still Elle Dahlia with the same heart and soul. But I couldn't say the same for Callie. Something matured inside her beyond the typical growing up everyone experienced. But I couldn't dwell on things I couldn't change or understand. I was here to try to find clues to help solve her murder.

  I sighed, wondering where to begin. Her desk, where I assumed she'd kept her laptop, was bare and wiped clean. Of course, the police took her computer, but if they hadn't made any progress in the investigation, it was safe to assume they hadn't found much on it.

  I closed my eyes and tried to recapture the essence of Callie she carried as a child. And I struggled to remember myself at a younger age. Where would a young woman hide something she didn't want anyone else to find? A hiding place not even the police managed to stumble across.