by N L Hinkens
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “It’s Steve,” she said, flicking a finger across the screen to take the call. “Hey, how’s Sydney doing?”
“Better, thanks,” he replied. “She wants to see you.”
“O-kay,” Heather said tentatively. “It’s almost ten o’clock. How about I stop by the hospital first thing in the morning?”
“She wants to speak with you now. She says it’s important.”
Heather rubbed a hand across her brow. “All right. Tell her I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned to Violet. “I’m going back to the hospital. Sydney wants to talk to me about something. Don’t wait up for me.”
Twenty minutes later, Heather stepped into Sydney’s hospital room for the second time that day. Steve was stretched out in a recliner chair next to the bed. His eyes shot open at the sound of her footsteps. “Thanks for coming,” he said, getting to his feet. “Syd insisted it couldn’t wait until morning.” He bent over the bed and shook her gently awake. “Honey, Heather’s here.”
Sydney’s eyes fluttered open and latched onto Heather.
“How are you feeling?” Heather asked.
Sydney swallowed a few breaths before answering, “My throat hurts. They pumped my stomach.” She gestured for Heather to come closer. “Sorry, I have to whisper.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Heather said.
Sydney attempted a weak smile. “I feel bad now for blaming the oysters. You heard they found ethylene glycol in my system?”
Heather gave a somber nod. “The police are trying to find out how it was administered to you.”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out too.” Sydney let out a moan as she attempted to sit up. Steve immediately leapt to his feet to adjust her pillows.
“The police questioned everyone at the coffee shop, and Steve, of course,” Sydney went on. “They didn’t get anywhere. But this evening when I woke up, I remembered something that happened. I’d just taken the lid off my latte to add some sugar when my phone rang. I stepped outside the coffee shop to take the call, and this woman bumped up against me —sent my coffee flying.” Sydney paused and rumpled her brow as if visualizing the scene. “She was very flustered and insisted on buying me another drink. A couple of minutes later, she came back out and handed me my latte and apologized again profusely. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I’m wondering if she tampered with my drink.”
Heather exchanged a loaded look with Steve. “Did you tell the police about this woman?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “Syd wanted to get your take on it first.”
Heather tented her fingers in front of her, deep in thought. It made sense to her that a woman was behind what was happening. The vengeful notes and the flowers weren’t something a man would naturally gravitate toward. “What did this woman look like?”
“She had long, brown hair in a thick braid. I’m guessing she was around our age. She was wearing tinted glasses—you know those weird orange lenses for light sensitivity—so I couldn’t see her eyes very well.”
“Do you remember anything else about her? Any distinguishing characteristics?”
Sydney traced her fingers across her brow. “Her voice was kind of low-pitched. To be honest, I was distracted trying to wipe foam off my shoes and answer my phone.”
“The coffee shop might have a camera system,” Steve chipped in.
Heather nodded. “I’ll check in the morning. In the meantime, you need to call the police and let them know what you told me. It’s important they find that woman as soon as possible.”
“So you think it’s the same person?” Sydney asked in hushed tone. “The one who’s behind everything that’s been going on?”
“Possibly, or she could be a hired gun doing someone else’s dirty work,” Heather replied. “Either way, we need to locate her.”
Sydney nodded, her eyes drifting closed as she leaned back against her pillows.
“I should get going and let her sleep,” Heather said, nodding goodbye to Steve.
“Thanks for coming,” he answered. “She wouldn’t rest until I called you.”
“Let me know how she’s doing in the morning,” Heather said, before exiting the room.
To her surprise, Violet was still sitting at the kitchen table when she got home.
“Don’t get mad at me,” Violet said, raising her hands in an apologetic gesture. “I couldn’t sleep. Now that I’m involved, I want to know what’s going on every step of the way. How’s Sydney doing?”
Heather retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator and joined her sister at the table. “Better. She remembered something strange that happened this morning.” Heather unscrewed the cap on her water and took a long sip before continuing, “Sydney was on the phone outside the coffee shop when a woman bumped into her and spilled her drink. She insisted on buying her a new one, and brought it out to her while Sydney was still on the phone.” Heather blew out a heavy breath. “It was the only opportunity anyone had to poison her that morning.”
“Do you think Sydney could identify the woman if she saw her again?” Violet asked.
“Probably. She got a good, up-close look at her. She said she had long brown hair in a thick braid and was wearing tinted glasses.”
Violet’s face paled. “That’s the same description the florist gave me of the woman who ordered the forget-me-nots.”
“What?” Heather gasped. “You never mentioned anything about a braid.”
“I said brown hair and glasses—” Violet broke off. “I forgot about the braid. I’m sorry—I’m not good at details. I’m not the PI, am I?”
Heather flapped a hand at her, her thoughts racing. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that we know for sure there’s a connection now.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Violet asked.
Heather reached for the hook lying on the table and twisted it thoughtfully between her fingers. “Find out who this woman is and stop her before she kills again.”
21
Early the following morning, Heather slid into a vinyl booth opposite Josh in Rosie’s Diner.
“Thanks for coming. I hope you’re hungry,” Josh said, handing her a laminated menu. “This place is all about a hearty breakfast.”
Heather twisted her lips. “I mostly need coffee—I didn’t sleep much.”
Josh raised a quizzical brow, and she took a few minutes to bring him up to speed on everything Sydney had told her the previous night.
Right on cue, their waitress appeared with a pot of coffee in one fist and two mugs in the other. “Ready to order?” She slapped the mugs down on the table and proceeded to fill them.
“You’re reading my mind,” Heather said to her. “Poached eggs and toast for me, please.”
“I’ll have the country omelet, and a water,” Josh added.
After filling their mugs to the brim, the waitress swooped up their menus before shuffling off again.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you alone,” Josh said.
Heather sipped her coffee. “Your text was pretty vague. I assume you want more details about my visit with Dan Wilcox—I couldn’t say too much in front of the others.”
Josh’s forehead creased. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else. I’ve been agonizing over whether or not to tell you, but it doesn’t feel right to keep you in the dark, especially after what happened to Sydney.”
Heather angled a brow at him. “Now I’m intrigued.”
Josh took a swig of coffee, his face beset with worry. “Reagan suspects you might be behind everything that’s going on, including Sydney’s poisoning. You know she called your sister, right? She blindsided us with that after insisting on meeting with me and Marco.”
Heather nodded. “Violet’s fuming about that.”
“Reagan’s got this bee in her bonnet that you’re still holding a grudge against us—her, in particular.
She’s pegged you as some kind of unhinged vigilante for justice. I’m not sure Marco entirely buys it, but she’s got him thinking too. He reckons it’s fishy that you and Sydney ate at the same restaurant last night.”
Heather fought to keep her expression blank, her heart thundering in her chest. A vigilante for justice hit a little too close to home. She laced her fingers around her coffee mug and peered at Josh over the rim. “What about you? Are you worried I might be a psycho PI bent on avenging my high school nemesis?”
Josh gave a sheepish grin. “It wasn’t my first thought when I saw you again. But, as you can imagine, it puts me in a difficult position—Reagan wanting us to meet behind your back and all. She’s looking into hiring a PI to follow you around and see what you’re really up to.”
Heather laughed. “Go for it. I guarantee you I can shake any tail you put on me.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Josh responded, as the waitress arrived with their food. She slapped their plates down and fished a straw out of her apron pocket for Josh’s water. “Anything else I can get you two?”
“I think that’s it,” Heather replied. “Looks great, thanks.” She reached for the salt and pepper and doused her eggs.
“I can’t believe you’re not more upset about Reagan’s allegations,” Josh remarked.
Heather sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “To tell you the truth, I’m wondering if she’s trying to deflect attention from herself. Did you know that she and Marco had a fling years ago?”
Josh hefted his brows upward. “Funny, I always suspected there was something those two were hiding. How did you find out?”
“Reagan told me. She was worried Roy might have found out about it and set the fire at Bella Calabria to punish them. Supposedly, he’s furious that Reagan got custody of Lucy. I talked to Marco about it too. He backed up her story. They don’t think Anna knows, but she does. She thinks they have a deeper connection, as she put it, than they’re letting on—whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Josh frowned. “Maybe she thinks they’re still carrying on behind her back.”
Heather chewed on a piece of poached egg and swallowed. She didn’t want to share her suspicion, yet, that Lucy was Marco’s daughter—not until she’d done some more digging. “I don’t think that’s it. Whatever went on between Reagan and Marco is over. But Anna got me thinking. I’ve been wondering if Reagan invested in his business or something. If the business is in trouble, and she wants her money back out, the arson might have been an attempt to defraud the insurance company—Marco and Reagan could have schemed together. Maybe that’s the connection Anna was alluding to.”
“Judging by the way Marco throws money around, I don’t think he’s struggling,” Josh said, reaching for the ketchup. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in Anna’s speculations. Sounds like she’s nursing a lot of hurt about the affair. Unfortunately, those wounds won’t heal until she confronts Marco about it.” He hesitated, and then added, “Speaking of healing, you said you don’t think Dan Wilcox is coping well.”
Heather set down her fork and looked at Josh with an air of compassion. “I’m not going to lie to you, if he doesn’t make some changes soon, he’s going to end up destroying his life.”
Josh scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I blame myself for the situation he’s in.”
Heather pushed a piece of egg around on her plate, mopping up the yolk. “This is the point where I’m supposed to say you shouldn’t blame yourself, but I get it,” she said, in a wistful tone. “It’s hard not to wish you could go back and do things differently.”
Josh threw her a curious look. “What would you do differently?”
Heather faked a smile. “Nothing. I’m just rambling. Changing the subject, do you mind if I give Sydney a quick call? I need to find out if the police tracked down any camera footage of the woman in the coffee shop.”
“Go right ahead,” Josh said, digging back into his omelet.
Heather dialed the number and waited, relieved when Sydney answered the phone herself. “Hey, Syd! How are you feeling?”
“Weak, but better than yesterday. I’m ready to go home as soon as they discharge me.”
“Have the police been in touch this morning?” Heather asked.
“One of the detectives stopped by a few minutes ago. He wanted to know if I could recall any more details about the woman. I guess the coffee shop doesn’t have any cameras.”
Heather grimaced and pressed the phone to her cheek. Without any footage, their hopes of identifying the stranger were greatly diminished.
“Hang on a minute, Heather,” Sydney said. “Steve just walked in.” There was a scuffling sound and then a hushed conversation before Steve came on the line. “Sydney needs to rest now.” He abruptly hung up before Heather had a chance to respond.
“Everything all right?” Josh asked, picking up on her perturbed expression.
She exhaled a breath. “I think Reagan’s been spreading her poison. I’m pretty sure she shared her suspicions about me with Steve. He wasn’t too happy to catch me talking to Sydney. He more or less told me not to bother her anymore.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you what Reagan said.” Josh’s eyes crinkled with concern. “It’s going to be tough pretending you don’t know she was talking about you behind your back. If you want to skip lunch with Reagan and Marco, I can tell them you’re following up on leads or something.”
Heather shook her head. “No, that only opens me up to more suspicion. I need to confront them about the call they made to Violet. Reagan’s up to something. I just hope for her sake it doesn’t have anything to do with Lindsay’s death.”
Josh flashed her a startled look. “Lindsay’s death? What do you mean?”
“Uh, I meant to say, with what’s happened since Lindsay’s death.” Heather pressed her napkin to her lips and pushed her plate to one side. She had slipped up. She couldn’t bring up the matter of the hook or her suspicion that Lindsay had been murdered. Until she could back it up with some evidence, it sounded like a far-fetched theory, and the last thing she wanted to do was add to the picture Reagan was painting of her as an unhinged vigilante.
The expression on Josh’s face cleared. He signaled to the waitress for the check. “What are your plans for this morning?”
“I’m going to swing by Roy’s house and see if he’s home. One of these days we’re bound to connect.”
“I’d offer to go with you, but I have a client appointment this morning,” Josh said, getting to his feet.
“No worries. I do my best surveillance work alone,” Heather assured him.
When she pulled up outside Roy’s house, a dark blue Toyota Tacoma truck was parked in the driveway. Finally, she had timed it right. She rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. After a few minutes, the front door opened and Aidy stared out at her. “Oh, it’s you again.”
“I’m looking for Roy. Is that his truck in the driveway?”
“No, it’s my brother’s.” Aidy folded her arms in front of her. “Roy isn’t here. I told him someone stopped by about an inheritance and he got all freaked out about it and took off. Haven’t seen him since last night. He wanted to know what you looked like. I think he thought you were going to serve him papers or something.” She leaned casually against the door post. “Is that what you’re really up to?”
Heather stretched a polite smile across her face. “I’m afraid Bodensteiner and Kern is not at liberty to discuss a client’s business with a third-party.”
Aidy’s lips curled into a peevish smile. “So that’s what I am now. The third party.”
“Just let Roy know I need to talk to him as soon as possible,” Heather said. “And no, I’m not here to serve him. I can assure you he’s not in any kind of trouble.”
“Not with you, he’s not,” Aidy called after her as Heather crossed the street to her car.
She was about to drive off when she noticed a text from Lindsay’s mom, Pam Robinson.
/> Heather, dear, I’m coming home today. If you’re still in town I’d love to see you. Any time tomorrow would be fine.
Heather quickly typed out a response confirming that she would stop by around ten the following morning. She was eager to talk to Pam about Lindsay’s close friends and acquaintances and try and piece together any information that might shed some light on what had happened to her. She would have to take care not to say anything to alarm her. The last thing she wanted was a grieving Pam worrying about whether her daughter had been murdered.
Shortly before noon, Heather arrived at The Sardinian where she’d arranged to meet the others for lunch. She braced herself for an uncomfortable meeting as she headed inside. There was no point in beating around the bush. She had to address the underhanded phone call to her sister head-on. The atmosphere was tense as she pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. Josh gave her a tight smile and a subtle nod as if to say that everything would be all right, which, of course, it wouldn’t. Things were about to get ugly.
Heather fixed a penetrating gaze on Reagan. “Violet told me you called her.”
Reagan’s eyes narrowed. “I was concerned about you.”
“Is that what you call making wild allegations and terrifying my sister? I thought you would have been more mature than that by now.”
“Hey! Take it easy you two,” Marco cut in, “We’re not here to argue. We’re all just trying to figure this mess out.”
“Are we?” Heather retorted. “It seems I was brought back to Iowa under false pretenses. All of a sudden, I’ve gone from investigator to suspect.”
“Oh stop acting like we’re back in high school!” Reagan chided. “You were always so easily offended.”
“Back in high school?” Heather echoed. “Like when you started spreading rumors about me?”
“See what I mean?” Reagan huffed, turning to Marco and Josh.
“Look, this is getting us nowhere,” Josh said. “We have a real suspect now. We need to talk about how we’re going to track down the woman in the coffee shop.”
