Cold Fear: (Cold Harbor Book 5)

by Sleeman, Susan

  Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door and a deep male voice rumbled loudly, calling out Riley’s name.

  Riley spun to face the door. “That’s Blake. I’ll go meet him and bring him up to speed.”

  Good. Leah needed some time out of Riley’s sight. To think. To recover from the shocking discovery of Jill’s body and to plan how to tell him about Owen. She had to do it right. Take his feelings into account. Because when she finally revealed her big secret, she suspected her whole world would crumble before her eyes…and his would, too.

  3

  Riley stood by Blake’s side as he watched the county forensic specialist snapping pictures of the victim and the scene before anyone else accessed it. Large Klieg lights brightened the dark area, revealing even the minutest of details, and Riley still couldn’t believe he was suddenly involved in a murder investigation.

  Blake planted his hands on his waist. “Has anyone but Leah been near the body?”

  Riley shook his head. “I immediately cordoned off the area. No one’s been near her.”

  “Including you?”

  “Including me. I skirted around the body, sticking near the walls when I went to clear the space. Only things I touched were doorknobs and a dressing screen in Dressing Room 4.”

  Blake gave a nod of approval. “Any idea how the killer got inside?”

  “A window is open in that dressing room. I think it’s the one Leah is using. Honestly, I’m just as interested in finding out how Jill got inside. No one is admitting to letting her in, and the back door was locked.”

  “Interesting.” Blake turned.

  An inch or so taller than Riley, Blake met Riley’s gaze head on and planted his feet firmly on the floor in a confident stance Riley had come to expect from him. He was five years older than Riley’s twenty-nine years and clearly worked out to maintain his tip-top condition.

  If eyes could frown, his did. “So Leah and you once dated, and this is personal for you.”

  Riley nodded. “About five years ago.”

  He didn’t come at Riley with a follow-up question right away but seemed to ponder it first. “Why’d you break up?”

  Riley didn’t really want to go there, but he knew Blake needed all the facts, so he recited the past as though it happened to someone else. “We were together for about two years. During that time, we co-wrote songs and played clubs in Portland.”

  “You?” Blake’s eyes widened. “A singer, songwriter?”

  “Was,” Riley said firmly removing any question in Blake’s mind. “Not anymore. Not since we split up.”

  “That’s why no one knows about it, huh?” He was referring to the Blackwell team who Riley kept in the dark about this, too.

  He really didn’t want to talk about it, but Blake deserved an explanation. “Picking up a guitar brings back the way things ended between us, so I quit playing.”

  “Tell me about the breakup.”

  Riley wished Blake hadn’t gone here, but he did. “Not much to tell. One night we caught the eye of a manager. I was a patrol officer with PPB back then and didn’t want to pursue music as a career, but I let Leah talk me into signing with the manager.”

  Blake gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who could be coerced into doing anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “I was head over heels, and she can be really persuasive.”

  “What happened to change that?”

  “The manager brought a record studio exec to our show one night. He liked our songs, but what he really liked was our chemistry. He arranged for us to do a demo and thought it was great. So he wanted to sign us to a recording contact, starting with a long tour with another one of his big-name artists. I didn’t want to live my life on the road so I said no, figuring he would give the contract to Leah. But he said it was both of us or neither. It wasn’t a life I wanted, and I turned it down. She never forgave me.”

  “She recovered though, didn’t she? Topping the Billboard Charts for the last few years.”

  Riley arched an eyebrow. “You listen to her kind of music?”

  Blake grimaced. “You’re kidding, right? Touchy-feely music isn’t my thing. I Googled her on the way over.”

  Riley grinned. “That makes much more sense.”

  “Did you keep in touch with her over the years?”

  Riley shook his head. “Neither one of us wanted that.”

  “But neither of you got married, either.”

  Riley wasn’t going there. “Tonight was the first time I’ve seen her in five years. She called yesterday telling me she had a stalker and wanted to hire Blackwell to keep her safe.”

  “Okay.” Blake ran a hand over hair the color of coal. “Then you haven’t seen her in a long time, but you must still know the kind of person she is. Any way you can see her shooting this woman and then pretending to find her?”

  Riley hadn’t even considered that. Because of his history with Leah, he was likely thinking like a man, not a former cop. But he gave it some thought and told Blake about Neil and Jill. “I can’t see Leah as a killer, and I don’t like her for this. But you should know, she can shoot. I taught her how to handle a weapon and even bought her a gun for protection.”

  Blake relaxed his posture, signaling the end of the formal interview. “Thanks for telling me about your past. Couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It was a train wreck, but you should know, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to her.” Riley widened his stance. “If you pursue her as a suspect, I’ll stand by her side and fight you with everything I’ve got.”

  “I’ll have to question her about it, maybe take her gun for ballistics comparison, but I’ll give her a fair shake. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  The deputy who was serving as officer of record and documenting the name of every person who arrived on scene poked his head around the corner. “The medical examiner’s here. Okay to let her in?”

  “Yes,” Blake said.

  The deputy retreated, and a thin woman dressed in a white Tyvek suit and blue booties came straight over to Blake. Riley put her in her early forties with mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and numerous wrinkles on her forehead that belied her age.

  “Dr. Mary Zachow,” Blake said. “This is Riley Glen with Blackwell Tactical.”

  “Call me Mary.” She offered her hand and shook, her grip firm. “I’ve known Gage since we were kids. He was quite a few years behind me, but our families are old friends. I really respect what he’s doing with this team.”

  Riley nodded with enthusiasm. He was incredibly thankful to Gage for his job. A gunshot took out one of his kidneys and kept him from continuing as a police officer or even finding a similar job. Gage hired only law enforcement officers or soldiers whose on-the-job injuries forced them out of their careers. Most of them were in a state of despair or pent-up anger. Then along came Gage, giving them all a second chance at a career similar to the ones they’d lost and restoring their lives.

  Mary faced the victim and shook her head. “Let’s get to this, shall we?”

  She strode across the room and squatted next to the body.

  The officer of record looked in again. “There’s a Samantha Willis requesting access to the scene.”

  “She’s the forensic person Gage hired, right?” Blake asked.

  Riley nodded.

  Blake frowned. “I can’t let her work this scene.”

  “I know, but I hoped she could observe.”

  Blake tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “To what end?”

  “Your staff might miss something that she could point out.”

  Blake crossed his arms. “I don’t want her making my team feel inferior.”

  “I don’t want that either. If she has any suggestions, she could give them to you and you can pass them along if you want.”

  “Fine, but you make sure she understands that she stays on the sidelines and keeps her mouth sh
ut.” Blake looked at his deputy. “Sign her in and give her some booties.”

  “I’ll go meet her.” Riley stepped away before Blake changed his mind.

  In the hallway, he found Sam slipping the disposable coverings over tactical style boots. She was dressed like Riley in a team uniform of tactical pants and a black shirt with the team logo embroidered in white.

  She looked up and smiled. She had the friendliest broad smile, and so far, Riley could say she was pleasant to work with—always in a good mood and cheerful. But right now, he didn’t want cheer. He wanted someone to commiserate with him. Of course, that would mean telling her about his past with Leah, and Gage was the only team member he’d confided in. Even then, Riley had only mentioned that he’d dated Leah and it ended badly. Nothing else. He certainly didn’t say that he might still be carrying a torch for her. Admit that, and Gage would pull Riley off her protection detail due to a conflict of interest. No way Riley would let that happen.

  Sam picked up her large tote bag, and Riley followed her into the other room. She started for the body. Riley held her back and tipped his head at Blake who was talking to the ME. Sam hadn’t met Blake in the past, but she would have heard the team talk about him.

  “Blake agreed for you to observe, but that’s all,” Riley said plainly. “If you see something that seems off or needs handling, talk to Blake, not the forensic staff.”

  “Sure thing.” Instead of being upset, she bent down to get out a sketch pad and pencil. “I’ll make a rough drawing of the area before the body’s removed, then when Blake releases the scene, I’ll take measurements and draw it to scale.”

  She started sketching. With her positive attitude—even when faced with a setback—and her stellar skills, she truly was a valuable addition to their team.

  Mary snapped on latex gloves and moved the victim’s jaw. “No rigor yet and the blood hasn’t clotted. She died less than an hour ago.”

  Riley assumed, which he shouldn’t of course, that Jill had died moments before Leah found her, and the ME was confirming that. She couldn’t give an exact time of death, but this was close enough to begin asking potential suspects for alibis. Once they identified them, of course.

  Mary turned the body, likely looking to see if the bullets were through-and-throughs or still in Jill’s body. Riley wasn’t close enough to determine the answer, but he’d made a visual search of the space when he was talking to Blake and didn’t see any slugs embedded in the walls.

  Mary looked up. “You’ll want to see this, Sheriff.”

  He squatted next to Mary. She held out Jill’s arm and pointed at the inside of her wrist.

  “What do you think they’re looking at?” Sam murmured to Riley.

  “I have no idea, but I sure want to know.”

  Blake took out his phone and snapped pictures of the wrist then got up and called the photographer to do the same thing. Blake stood frowning down on the body and suddenly spun to march toward Riley. His booties whispered over the wood floor, belying his intensity.

  “You must be Samantha.” Blake shoved out his hand. “Sheriff Blake Jenkins.”

  Riley was glad to see she took a firm grip and shook but didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Glad to meet you, Sheriff. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

  He waved off her compliments. “Blake. It’s just Blake.”

  Riley had noticed that when meeting Samantha, most guys took a moment to appreciate her good looks and smile, but the fact that Blake didn’t and was scowling didn’t bode well for what Mary had spotted on Jill’s wrist.

  Time for Riley to go fishing. “Looks like you located something interesting.”

  Blake’s expression remained somber as he tapped his phone and held it out. “What do you make of this?”

  Riley looked at the picture. His jaw started to drop but he stopped himself from gaping. Leah’s name was freshly tattooed on Jill’s wrist. Puffy and pink inflamed skin surrounded dark blue lines indicating a very recent tattoo.

  Sam glanced at the phone then met Riley’s gaze. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Ghost?” He shook his head. “No. No ghost. But I have seen this tattoo. Or one like it. Leah and I both have matching tats with our names inked on them.”

  Leah should’ve prepared better for meeting the sheriff by thinking of what he might ask her, but when Riley said Sheriff Jenkins was a great guy, she’d relaxed a bit. Big mistake. Riley had certainly understated the way she would feel under the sheriff’s scrutiny. He had that same biting intensity she’d seen in pretty much every law enforcement officer she’d ever met.

  He’d powered into the room carrying himself with confidence, his posture perfect and strong. He towered over her and hadn’t said a word after Riley introduced them. It was like he didn’t know what to say, and not in the starstruck way.

  Maybe he thought he needed to ask exactly the right question, and he wanted to ponder that. Regardless, she didn’t see the nice guy Riley had mentioned. Sheriff Blake Jenkins was, in a word, intimidating.

  He scrubbed a hand over the five o’clock shadow darkening his wide jaw. “Riley tells me that you called him about a stalker.”

  She nodded and provided the same information she’d shared with Riley.

  The sheriff didn’t react at all. Simply looked at her with a blank expression like he expected her to add something else. She started to squirm under his scrutiny then stopped. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to hide something.

  She had to find a way to handle his intensity. Maybe it would help if she thought of him by his first name instead of Sheriff Jenkins. Blake, Riley had said. A nice name. Less daunting.

  “Do you think this stalker might have killed Ms. Stevenson?” Blake asked.

  She wanted to look away but kept her focus on him. “I don’t honestly know. He could have I suppose, but why? What would his motive be?”

  “Perhaps when you refused to talk to him, he got angry. He’d seen Ms. Stevenson on stage with you in the past. He believed you were close. That it would hurt you if you lost her.”

  “Sounds possible, I suppose.” She just didn’t know anything right now, other than she wanted the killer and stalker caught. Also that Owen’s identity wouldn’t be revealed to anyone but Riley. “If you think the stalker might be connected to Jill’s death, I could give you access to the emails he sent to me. I do most of my emailing on my phone and iPad, and I’m glad to turn those over to you.”

  Blake nodded, a single jerk of his head. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “And your computer, too,” Riley added.

  Right, that. She should count on him to remember she’d evaded that point in their conversation.

  Her stomach knotted. She needed to tell him about Owen right away. She hadn’t wanted to deceive him, she really hadn’t, but she was young and scared, and his father’s threat had forced her hand.

  After she split with Riley, he wouldn’t return her calls and emails. So she tried to see him in person, but he’d moved. Her only hope in finding him was to go to his parents’ house and ask them for his address. His father, Philip Glen, was the only one home that day. He took one look at her pregnant belly and said she was white trash with claws trying to climb up from the gutter into his world, and he would have nothing of it. Nor would he let his son be saddled with an illegitimate baby.

  Most of her believed his assessment of her. She was white trash. Had been called it all her life. Why wouldn’t she believe it? She was the stereotype of a poverty-stricken girl pregnant by the rich boy. A joke to the world. And the desperation to prove herself grew even greater.

  When his father said if she told Riley about the baby, he would sue for custody of the child, and she would never see him again, she knew he had the power and influence to do that. She’d slunk off like a naughty child.

  She couldn’t lose the little boy in her womb who she now loved more than life itself and vowed to be a good mother. She plann
ed to use those claws Riley’s father accused her of having to succeed in the music world and make a good living to support Owen.

  Oh, you were so young and foolish back then.

  Wiser and stronger now, she hoped she and Riley could defend themselves against his dictator of a father.

  “I’m sure Eryn’s available to image the devices if you want to fast track this,” Riley told Blake, bringing Leah back to the present.

  “I’ll give her a call,” Blake replied.

  “I also have handwritten letters from the stalker,” Leah said. “And he was very active on Twitter until I blocked him from my account.”

  Blake took out a small notepad and pen then scribbled something down. “I’ll look into that, and if it seems as if we have cause to request a warrant to get his personal information from Twitter, we’ll request it.”

  “Thank you. He used the same Twitter name, leahfan, as he did with his email.”

  Blake added that to his notepad. “What about other social media?”

  “I have a Facebook fan page and a business Instagram account, but not personal accounts. My publicist handles all my social media, and so far, the stalker only ranted about me on Twitter. After a while, I asked her to stop telling me when he posted because there was nothing I could do to stop him.”

  Blake rested on the edge of the makeup table. “Tell me about your—Ms. Stevenson’s—boyfriend?”

  “He’s all hers,” Leah said quickly. “As far as I know they’re…they were still together.”

  Blake flipped through his notepad. “Neil, right? Could he have killed her?”

  “I doubt it. He hates guns. He had a childhood friend who was killed in a drive-by and refuses to touch one.”

  That bit of information went into his notebook, too. “Can you think of anyone else who might want to kill her?”