"Do you think Bert knew that Harper was pregnant?" I asked, hating the idea.
"That's something I'd certainly like to ask him," Grant said, carefully evading the question.
I glanced up at him. His gaze was on his meal, not making eye contact.
"You think Bert found out, and he killed Harper to cover it up before Carrie discovered it," I said, finishing off his theory for him.
Grant glanced up only long enough for his eyes to flicker to mine before they were once again enthralled with his chicken piccata. But the fact he didn't deny it spoke volumes.
I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of meat, forcing myself to chew it. Normally the contrast of the briny caper, tangy lemon, and rich but delicate sauce was something I'd savor. But right then I barely tasted it, forcing the bites down. If Harper had been pregnant with Bert's baby, was that what Harper had been blackmailed over? Maybe Tripp had somehow found out and decided to make a buck off that knowledge.
"Your guys find anything on Harper's phone yet?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Not that I'm aware of." His gaze rose to meet mine. "Why? Got something in mind yet?"
I shrugged. "No. Just…you know…wondering if maybe she texted anyone or said anything. You know, that might point to the father." Or blackmailer. But if Grant had yet to find evidence of that, it was one nail I wasn't hammering into Bert's coffin.
At least not yet.
"Emmy, I know Carrie is your friend," Grant said, suddenly looking softer. "But that doesn't mean Bert is a great guy."
I pursed my lips together. "This does make him look guilty, doesn't it?"
Grant paused. Then slowly nodded.
Which was a terrible sign. Grant didn't make guesses. If he was admitting that Bert was his main suspect, that didn't bode well at all for the former child actor.
"Carrie doesn't deserve this," I told him, feeling tears back up in my throat. For Carrie, and for me being such a lousy friend that I agreed with Grant on this one.
The unshed tears must have seeped into my voice a little, as Grant stood and in a moment was at my side, arms pulling me toward him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into my hair.
I closed my eyes as I leaned my head against his solid chest, letting his arms encircle me, hugging me close with a warmth that went well beyond the heat radiating from his body. I inhaled the subtle musky scent of his aftershave, the strong male aura of it wrapping around me in a comforting embrace.
Part of me never wanted to move, but after a beat, he pulled back, tilting his head down toward me. "You okay?" he asked, his voice deep and low between us.
I nodded. "I'm good."
He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Good." His finger lingered at my ear, slowly tracing down my jawline to tip my chin up ever so slightly toward him. My breathing stilled as he dipped his head toward me, closing the gap between us as his lips brushed against mine.
I melted on the spot, all thoughts chased from my head as my entire body focused on the soft touch of his lips on mine, his arms around my waist, and his strong, broad chest pressing against mine. Someone moaned, and it could have been me. But a more masculine groan followed, and Grant's breathing deepened, his heart beating quickly against my body.
My hands made their way into his hair, and my hips may have even tried to move closer to his. All on their own, I swear. Nothing about the way my body was moving was under my control, and I had a feeling in about two seconds my hormones would take over completely, and I'd be useless to resist them.
Unfortunately, that would be two seconds too long.
Something vibrated against my thigh, making me jump.
He groaned again, though this one was all disappointment as he pulled away. "Sorry," he mumbled, extracting his phone from his pocket.
I licked my lips, still tasting him there. "It's okay," I lied, trying to get my breathing under control as I made plans to destroy that phone.
He glanced at the screen. "The station," he said, swiping to read the message.
"Everything okay?" I asked, still trying to pull my head back down to earth and out of the delightful fantasyland it had been about to take a detour into.
He frowned as he read the screen. "Yeah. There's an incident downtown." He scrolled a beat before turning the phone off and shoving it back into his pocket. "I have to go. Sorry."
"Already?" I really hadn't meant that word to come out on a whine, but suddenly the only mode my voice could do was unhappy teenager.
He must have noticed, as his mouth curved into a half smile. "Trust me. I'm very sorry."
I might have whimpered a little before I got my hormones under control again. "It's okay," I said, clearing them from my throat. "I understand."
"Another rain check?"
"Sure," I agreed. Even though I was pretty sure I'd need an umbrella for all of the rain checks I'd been racking up this week.
He leaned in and pressed his lips again mine one last time before he turned and walked out the door.
Taking all my fantasies with him.
* * *
I picked at my dinner alone in the kitchen for a few minutes, but my appetite was gone. I boxed up the rest of the food and stuffed it into the refrigerator, hoping at least it would make a good lunch tomorrow.
As much as Grant's kiss had momentarily chased all thoughts of Harper, Bert, and Carrie from my head, with him gone, they came back just as quickly. The news of Harper's pregnancy only served to make Bert look more like a suspect. My heart went out to Carrie. And my guilt. She'd come to me for support and help when the police had called Bert in for questioning. And everything I'd done since then had just served to further push Bert toward a cell. Not that I wasn't questioning if that was where he belonged, but I'd certainly been the opposite of helpful.
I closed my eyes, imagining how Carrie would react when she found out Harper had been pregnant. I couldn't imagine that playing out well for anyone.
Assuming of course, the baby was Bert's.
A ray of hope occurred to me. Hadn't Nolan said that Harper liked men—plural. Maybe the baby was someone else's altogether. Maybe one of the other guests at the party, even. Carrie had said that she'd invited lots of people from Carefree Hearts. Cast, crew, producers. Maybe Harper had been seeing one of them, and they hadn't taken the news of her bun in the oven well.
I hadn't particularly noticed her with any other men, but the truth was I hadn't really been looking. I'd been busy pouring wine, serving platters, keeping the guests happy, and later cleaning up the aftermath in the kitchen. It was only chance that I'd run into Bert and Harper. But maybe Harper had snuck off with more than one man that night.
I wondered if Carrie would know if Harper had been seeing anyone. Nolan hadn't seemed to think there was anyone special in Harper's life, but maybe Harper wouldn't have confided in him. Would she have confided in Carrie? Possibly. Carrie had made it seem like the two were close.
I picked up my phone and dialed Carrie's number. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail. She must have it turned off. I glanced at the time. Just past nine. Too early for her to be asleep, but if the press were still bothering her, I could see her turning her phone off to avoiding being hounded for interviews all evening.
On a whim, I grabbed my purse and a pair of shoes and headed for my Jeep to make one last trip to Carrie's house that day.
* * *
The grounds were shadowed in darkness as I pulled up the driveway—sparse landscape lighting strategically placed to uplight the majestic oak trees was the only relief to the inky blackness. As I pulled up to the house, it too looked dark, only a few windows on the ground floor dimly lit. A gray sedan was in the driveway, and I parked beside it—noting the Jaguar I'd seen Bert get into earlier that day was still absent. Nolan's sports car was absent too. Lucky Ava—her date was lasting a lot longer than mine had.
My feet crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the front door. While the place had an air of abandonme
nt, I still knocked, hoping Carrie and Bert were just having a quiet evening in. I waited, hearing nothing in return but rustling trees and the insects singing their evening song. I tried again, ringing the bell, then wrapping my arms around me for warmth as I waited on the porch. The heat of the day had long since dispersed, bringing with it a cool breeze that would feel almost peaceful under other circumstances.
After waiting long enough that I was beginning to shiver, I gave up, deciding no one was home. I headed back to my Jeep, plonking my tush on the driver's seat, and I was about to turn the key in the ignition and head home, when a something caught my eye.
A light.
I watched it flash briefly in an upstairs window.
I frowned. If someone was home, why hadn't they answered the door?
I watched it flash again, and realized it wasn't a lamp or a flicker of television I was seeing. This light was a sweeping beam. Like a flashlight.
And there was only one reason I could think of for someone to use a flashlight in a house that clearly had working electricity—they didn't want their presence known.
Someone was sneaking around in Carrie's house.
I felt my heart rate pick up as I tried to decide what to do. I could call Grant, but I knew he was downtown—that was a good twenty minutes away at least. Whoever was snooping around Carrie's house could be long gone by then. Even if I called 9-1-1, it would take the police some time to arrive. Then again, if my imagination was getting away from me and this was just some electrical issue Bert was trying to fix, I'd really have been a crappy friend.
I swallowed, watching the light flicker again, and grabbed my phone, calling Carrie's number.
Again it went straight to voicemail.
I bit my lip.
What if the intruder was Tripp, destroying more evidence? I'd already messed that one up once by not grabbing the burned clothes. I couldn't let him do it again.
I didn't let my brain go anything further than that—for fear it might talk me out of it. I jumped back out of the car and ran toward the house.
I bypassed the front door this time, walking around the back of the house. Luckily, the back door was unlocked, the knob turning easily in my hand, and I slipped inside. The kitchen was eerie in the darkness, the moonlight filtering through the windows the only thing I had to guide my way. I thought about switching on my flashlight app, but I quickly nixed that idea, not wanting the intruder to notice it the way I had his light. Instead, I felt my way through the kitchen, blinking my eyes in the dark as I moved down the hallway toward the staircase.
The light I'd seen from my car had either moved on or been extinguished, as only darkness was visible above me. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. I took a shallow breath and gingerly climbed the first steps. Luckily, the stairs didn't creak under my weight as I slowly ascended.
My eyes were quickly adjusting to the low light, and the moonlight flooding the landing gave me a glimpse into the open room at the top of the stairs. Unable to see if anyone was inside, I kept to the shadows as I moved closer. My breath felt shaky, but I forced one foot in front of the other until I stopped at the open door.
Discarded clothing was littered across the floor. A Louis Vuitton suitcase was open on the bed, and several articles of clothing were sprawled alongside it. I guessed that it was Harper's room. After all, I didn't think Nolan would wear the lace negligee draped over a nearby chair.
I paused, straining to hear any sign of who might have been roaming around with a flashlight.
Nothing but the muted sound of crickets outside the window came back to me.
I was starting to think maybe I'd imagined the whole thing. Maybe it had been some trick of light from a passing car or some robot vacuum come to life on the upper floor.
I took a step inside the room, feeling a little sad at seeing Harper's beautiful things. I couldn't tell if the haphazard state they were in was from someone rummaging around by flashlight, the police having gone through the room, or from Harper having hastily gotten ready for the housewarming party. Two pairs of heels lay on the floor at the end of the bed, as if she'd been vacillating about which to wear with her emerald dress. A jewelry bag was open on the dresser, the contents splayed out across its top, and a small collection of clutches and handbags sat in an armchair by the window.
One thing was for sure—Harper had expensive taste in clothing. Gucci, Prada, Burberry—the gang was all there. A hot pink leather Hermes handbag was particularly cute. I hoped it went to a good home now. I supposed they all belonged to Harper's next of kin—maybe her sister, Kellen? Though, I could hardly picture her sister enjoying the hand-me-downs.
I moved toward the chair, not able to stop myself from getting a closer look at the handbag that probably cost more than my Jeep. I unzipped the main compartment and peeked inside, though there was nothing there to suggest it had been in daily use. It was largely empty, apart from a bottle of hand sanitizer and some old receipts. I could tell from the label it was real though. No knockoffs for this diva.
I was trying to shake the niggle of envy, my mind so busy lamenting the fate of such a lovely accessory in the absence of its owner that I almost didn't even register it.
A faint sound.
Like footsteps on thick pile carpeting.
On instinct I spun around in the darkness to see the source.
But it was too late.
All I saw in the faint moonlight was a large shadow, before something hard connected with the side of my head, and pain exploded at my temple. I felt weightless for a split second as the floor rushed up to meet me.
And then everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I was somewhere soft and cool, like a fluffy cloud. The tendrils of moisture tickled my cheeks. In fact, the fog felt like it was all around me—rushing through my brain and making it hard to focus, filling my ears so that noises seemed far away, creating a dark shroud over my eyes so I couldn't see. Or—wait. Maybe my eyes were just closed.
I tried blinking, the act harder than I could ever remember it being.
"Emmy!"
A voice made it through the fog in my ears. Female. It still sounded far away, but I could faintly make it out now.
"That's it, Emmy. Open your eyes."
I was trying. I almost yelled back to the voice that I was stuck in a cloud, but I realized my voice wasn't quite working properly either. I let out a sort of croaking sound that sounded more animal than human.
"Shhh," the female voice said. "It's okay. I'm here."
I finally managed to pry my eyes open enough to make out a shape and found the source of the voice. Ava. She was peering down at me at an odd angle.
"A-Ava?" I asked.
"Oh thank God you're okay," she said, her blonde brows drawn together in concern. "Nolan's calling for help." She gestured over her shoulder, where I saw another figure standing off to the side. "An ambulance is on its way."
I shook my head in the negative, knowing what kind of bill the poor uninsured like myself would incur from a simple ambulance ride to the hospital. I could barely afford an Uber. "I'm fine. I don't need an ambulance." I felt carpet fibers tickling my cheeks, and realized I wasn't lying in a cloud but on the floor.
"Don't move," Ava instructed. "You could have a concussion."
"I don't have a concussion." At least, I didn't think so. I took a deep breath and tried to sit up.
Bad idea. The room spun, nausea instantly taking hold in my belly. I plopped unceremoniously back down onto the carpet.
I heard footsteps, and a moment later Nolan appeared in my field of vision. "The police are on their way," he assured Ava. Then his eyes went to me. "Good. She's conscious."
"She can hear you," I told him.
A smile flickered on his face. "Right. You okay?" Nolan knelt in front of me. "Emmy, can you tell us what happened?"
"I-I'm not really sure," I confessed, looking from one concerned face to the other. I tried pulling myself u
p into a sitting position again, and this time the nausea only slightly derailed me, causing me to lean against the side of Harper's bed.
Harper's room.
The handbags. The flashlight.
"I think someone hit me," I finally said.
"Hit you!" Ava gasped.
"Who?" Nolan asked. "Did you get a good look at them?"
I shook my head. Slowly, in deference to the headache that was blooming at my temple. "No. I didn't see anyone. But I did see a light. Like a flashlight. Like someone was looking for something." I quickly gave them the shortened version of events, from me arriving to seeing someone sneaking around the empty house.
"Emmy, you could have been seriously hurt." While Ava's words were admonishing, her tone was soft in a way that went straight to my heart.
"I-I wasn't thinking," I admitted. "I just wanted to see who was here. I thought you were out," I said, turning to Nolan.
He nodded. "Ava and I came home to find the back door open. We thought someone had broken in."
"Nolan told me to wait outside while he went in to check it out," Ava added. "Only then he came running out saying he found you unconscious."
I swallowed hard, realizing how lucky I was that they'd gotten home when they had.
"I guess you didn't see anyone else leaving?" I asked them.
Ava's eyes went to Nolan.
But he shook his head. "No. We must have scared them away."
Thank goodness for small favors.
I let Ava and Nolan help me up, and while Harper's bed was closer, I convinced them I was strong enough to go downstairs and wait on a sofa in the living room for the police to arrive. Mostly because the idea of lying in the bed surrounded by the dead woman's clothes was more than my frazzled nerves could take. Especially if I'd just been attacked at the hands of her killer.
Nolan made us tea, and Ava held my hand and tutted at me like a mother hen while we waited for the cavalry to arrive. First on the scene was a uniformed officer who looked familiar—like he might have already been to Carrie's house at least once that week. I went through my version of events for him and was just getting to the part where I blacked out, when the ambulance pulled up. I cringed at how much of a hit my already battered bank account was going to get as the EMT gave me a once-over. After what I feared was several hundred dollars worth of his time, he finally diagnosed me with a "bump on the head" and told me to ice it, take an over-the-counter painkiller, and get some rest.
Death in Wine Country (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 5) Page 14
