Cold Fear

by Susan Sleeman

  Her beauty astounded him. Just standing there, doing nothing, she was gorgeous. Up on stage performing, she was gorgeous and captivating. Holding their son, her eyes alight with motherly love, she was gorgeous. Everything about her was amazing to him. Even her power to hurt him, which she held in great measure.

  He slid open the patio door, the cold hitting him in the face and chilling his shirt still wet from bathing Owen. She turned to look at him. Their gazes locked in a trance. He was helpless to look away.

  It was time he faced facts. He’d never fallen out of love with her. She was the one.

  Always was, always would be.

  Father, what am I going to do about her? Just what?

  Leah finally succumbed to Riley’s pressure to come in out of the cold. She didn’t want to but agreed when she saw his wet shirt. Still, thoughts of the sheriff’s upcoming questions wouldn’t let her sit still. She paced Riley’s living room, her mind still filled with the day’s horrible turn of events. The medical examiner had arrived at Carolyn’s house and said that Carolyn had been shot in the back, two bullets—just like Jill, and had been dead for some time. He would know how long after the autopsy, which he promised to perform immediately. According to Riley, that didn’t happen very often. But the ME agreed to speed things up because the detective believed there was a connection to Jill’s death, and they feared they were looking at a serial killer who needed to be stopped.

  A serial killer. One who had a connection to her. How crazy, bizarre, and gruesome was that?

  She shuddered, drawing Riley’s attention. He got up from his sleek leather sofa and crossed the room. “You’re thinking about Carolyn.”

  She nodded. “How can I not be? Especially when I don’t know if the police think I’m a suspect or not.”

  Riley glanced at his watch. “It’s been twenty minutes since Blake called. He should be here any minute to give us an update.”

  “Not just an update.” She rubbed her forehead where tight knots were turning into a headache. “He’s coming to question me, which means they likely have an estimated time of death, and because of the bad blood between me and Carolyn, Blake will want to know where I was. What if I can’t account for my time? What then? What do I do? How do I handle that?” She hated that her voice was rising with each question but she was terrified of what might happen.

  “Hey, hey.” Riley took her hand. “It’s routine questioning. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She huffed out a breath, but his touch did help calm her nerves a bit. “What if I don’t have an alibi for the time?”

  “Then you’ll be a suspect.”

  “You make it sound so simple. Like it’s no big deal.” She pulled her hand free and started pacing again.

  He intercepted her and stood in front of her to rest his hands on her shoulders, his gaze locking on hers. “It’s a big deal to me because you’re worried about it, and I don’t like to see you suffer.”

  “I hear a but coming.”

  “No buts. I know you didn’t kill anyone, and my team will find the real killer and prove your innocence.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because my team is more than capable, and as you get to know us, you’ll realize there’s really nothing we can’t do.”

  “That’s mighty confident, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe, but we’re experts in many areas. If we discover there’s something we need to know but don’t, we have contacts in many fields of military and law enforcement to call on.” He smiled at her—a sincere, sweet smile.

  It worked on her worry, lessening it, and she honestly felt hopeful again. And more. She was thankful. Grateful. And mixed with all of that, her emotions were blossoming under his gaze, and she wanted to step closer and ask him to hold her.

  “There’s something else,” he said, looking like he hated to bring it up.

  “What?”

  “We need to look at Carolyn’s murder another way. If she and Jill were both killed by your stalker, you could be in even more danger, and we need to up our security measures.”

  She gasped, and her pulse kicked up.

  “Hey. It’s okay.” He gently stroked the side of her face. “I promise I’ll take care of this for you and keep you safe. I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

  That was it—the end of her rope, and she all but flung herself at him. He circled his arms around her and held on like he feared she might push away. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was solid, just like he was. Solid and steady. Dependable. Loyal, no matter what she’d done to hurt him.

  She looked up at him. “Thank you for being here for me. I don’t deserve it, but thank you for being you and being able to look beyond our breakup to help me.”

  “Hey.” His smile widened. “You’re the mother of my child. I can do no less.”

  His statement sent a ripple of shock through her body. She loved hearing him say that, and she was suddenly very glad that she’d told him about Owen. Her son now had two parents to raise him, and he had this very strong and capable man as a role model.

  She couldn’t contain her gratitude and raised up to kiss his cheek. He startled, but quickly recovered, his gaze intense and dreamy at the same time. He gently cupped the side of her face, emotions warring in his eyes.

  “Leah, I…I…” He lowered his head as if planning to kiss her then paused, maybe waiting for her to tell him to stop.

  She didn’t but slid her fingers into his hair and drew him closer. His lips settled on hers, the warmth of his touch nearly making her melt. His kiss was tentative like it was their first time, and his gentleness and consideration touched her.

  She wanted more. So much more. She deepened the kiss. Explored it.

  A loud knock sounded on the door.

  He jerked back. His eyes flew open, and he blinked hard then stepped back. “Sorry…I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t…that’ll be Blake.”

  He rushed away from her. He may have regretted the kiss, but she didn’t. It helped clarify her feelings. Not that she would act on them, but it was now obvious that she still had very strong feelings for him. Had never stopped caring about him. It explained why she never connected with another man since their breakup. Keeping the tattoo. Her continued trips to the firing range.

  “Blake,” Riley said. “Come in.”

  As Riley moved to let Blake enter, she took a long breath and blew out her emotions—the caring and love, and the fear of talking to Blake. Riley was on her side. She didn’t need to worry about anything.

  She went to meet Blake and offered her hand. He held a leather briefcase in one hand, reached out with the other. His gaze was polite but patronizing. A notch of her calm slipped.

  He released her hand and looked at Riley who was closing the door. “Mind if we sit at your table?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Riley directed them to the dining area, and Leah took a seat at the round walnut table with modern fabric chairs. Blake sat across from her, and Riley pulled out a chair next to her, straddled it, and rested his arms on the back.

  Blake removed a stack of papers out of his folder and locked a penetrating gaze on Leah. “Threatening letters were found at Ms. Eubanks’ residence. They were written on your letterhead and criminalists were able to lift two sets of prints. Ms. Eubanks’ and yours. They were also signed by you.”

  Leah blinked at him, her brain unable to comprehend what he’d said.

  “What’s in the letters?” Riley asked calmly as he took the pages in hand while she still tried to figure out how letters she didn’t write could be found in Carolyn’s house.

  “In the first one, Leah warns Ms. Eubanks if she doesn’t sell her possessions and return the money she’s stolen that Leah will make her pay. The subsequent letters explicitly threaten Ms. Eubanks’ life.”

  “I didn’t write them,” Leah finally got out.

  “The signature looks like yours,”
Riley said. “And not your autograph signature but your official one.”

  “Autograph? Official?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t use my legal signature for autographs so fans can’t copy it and put it on a document like this.” She snatched the pages from Riley’s hands, and rapidly flipped through them, each page taking a chunk out of her confidence. “They look like my signature, but I didn’t sign them.”

  “We can call in a handwriting specialist,” Riley said.

  Blake frowned. “My department doesn’t have the budget for that, and I doubt PPB does either, but if Blackwell is willing to pick up the tab, go for it.”

  “We will,” Riley said, surprising Leah since she thought he’d need to get Gage’s permission first. “I don’t have a source, but Eryn’s friend Piper might. She’s staying with Eryn this week. I’ll give her a call.”

  “Keep me updated.” Blake turned his attention to Leah. “I need to take your gun for testing.”

  “Was Jill or Carolyn killed with a 9mm?” Leah asked.

  Blake took a slow, even breath, his expression deadpan. “I can’t confirm or deny that.”

  Riley planted his hands on the table. “But you wouldn’t ask for Leah’s gun if the ME didn’t retrieve a 9mm slug from one or both of them.”

  Blake’s expression shifted for the briefest of seconds, but he didn’t have to say the words.

  Leah was a suspect now for sure. Panic crawled up her spine and choked the breath out of her.

  Blake got out his phone and swiped his fingers across the screen then held it out to display a photo. She took one look and gasped.

  “Carolyn’s wrist,” Blake said.

  The purple-colored skin revealed a tattoo matching Jill’s.

  Blake leaned forward. “With the body discoloration, it’s hard to see that the tat was recently inked, but the ME confirmed it was.”

  Riley jumped up. “Why’d you make Leah look at that, man? You could’ve just told her about it.”

  Blake sat calmly in his chair and peered up at Riley. “You’re right. I could have. But I think it’s important for Leah to see what leaving a dead body for days can do.”

  “Why? Because you think she did this?” Riley shoved a hand into his hair. “You’re way off base here.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. The evidence is all pointing to her.” Blake drew out an evidence bag from his briefcase and laid it in in front of Leah. She took a long look at a pair of teardrop earrings she’d bought at a bazaar that sold handmade items in New Orleans. The earrings were one of a kind and there was no question that they belonged to her.

  “Are these your earrings?” Blake asked.

  “Yes,” Leah said her stomach now swimming with acid. “Where did you get them?”

  “Carolyn was wearing them.”

  “I didn’t give them to her.”

  “So let me get this straight. Two women who have been murdered also stole your jewelry?”

  She wrapped her arms around her body, cradling herself from additional hurt. “I don’t know. I don’t get any of this. If I could explain it, I would.”

  “Like you explained Ms. Stevenson’s blood on your clothing.”

  “That’s nothing new.” Riley took a wide stance. “Leah found the body. Tried to help her, then wiped her hands on her clothes. She already told you that.”

  “But what she didn’t tell me is that her clothes also contained gunshot residue.”

  “What?” Leah could hardly believe that.

  “That doesn’t tell you anything either,” Riley said. “GSR can linger in the air for up to eight minutes. If Leah arrived right after Jill was killed, she could have gotten it on her clothes. Shoot, you could test my clothes and probably find it, too, and these results aren’t worth discussing.”

  Leah was so thankful to have Riley standing up for her because her brain was muddled, and she could hardly think, much less defend herself.

  Blake ground his teeth together for a moment then took a deep breath. “Then let’s talk about Ms. Eubanks’ death. The ME estimates her time of death to be three days ago. I’ll need you to account for your whereabouts that day.”

  “An entire day? Who can do that?”

  “I know it will be hard, and that’s why I’ll give you some time to think about it before providing your alibi.”

  “Thank you,” she said and hoped this meant he was leaving.

  “Before I go.” Blake took out another set of papers. “There’s one more thing I need you to explain. We’ve processed Jill Stevenson’s house. This is a copy of a concert ticket that you mailed to her along with an invitation to attend last night’s concert.”

  All blood drained from Leah’s head, and the room spun. “No. No. I didn’t mail that to her. I don’t even handle those things. I don’t have them available to me.”

  Blake arched an eyebrow. “Not available, but you could get them?”

  “Yes, but not here. Not on the road.”

  “Who takes care of this for you?” Riley asked, his tone much gentler.

  Leah didn’t want to answer because she didn’t want to think that Kraig sent the invitation, as he could easily get to the stationery and tickets. His assistant—who was in charge of Leah’s fan mail and giving tickets to people—could be a suspect, too, but she didn’t travel with Leah like Kraig did, putting her jewelry in his reach.

  “Leah,” Riley said. “I know you don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but Blake is all but accusing you of two murders. You have to tell him who manages the tickets and stationery.”

  “My manager’s assistant handles this from their office in California where Kraig keeps the materials. He also has access to my jewelry when he comes on the road with us.”

  Blake took out the notebook that Leah was coming to hate seeing. “And this manager is Kraig Moon who I interviewed the other night?”

  She nodded.

  Blake frowned. “Is it common for him to travel with you?”

  “He doesn’t tour with us on a regular basis, if that’s what you mean, but he does come to concerts to meet face-to-face with other people on my team like agents, promoters, etc. Especially if there’s a problem with the tour.”

  Blake took a moment as if processing her comment. “And is he in town because of a problem on this tour?”

  She shook her head. “He’s just here to schmooze.”

  Blake locked gazes again. “Or kill people.”

  Leah felt so weak that she might slide out of her chair. “I need to talk to him.”

  Blake snapped his notebook closed. “Not before I do, which will be first thing in the morning.”

  His lack of understanding made her mad, and she crossed her arms. “He’s my manager. I can’t sleep tonight wondering if he’s a killer.”

  “I’m sorry,” Blake said. “But I can’t have you alerting him to my questions and give him time to create an alibi.”

  “Can Leah be at the interview?” Riley asked.

  Blake shook his head. “You know protocol forbids that.”

  Riley furrowed his forehead. “Can she observe?”

  “No.” Blake held up a hand. “And before you ask, I can’t share what he has to say, either.”

  Riley huffed out a breath. “I have the utmost respect for you, Blake, but you’re not your usual self here.”

  Blake tilted his head. “In what way?”

  “You’re tougher. Less flexible.”

  “I have to be.” He stood and shoved his notebook into his pocket. “There’s no room for niceties when you’re investigating one murder, much less two of them.” He shifted his focus to Leah. “I’ll take that gun now.”

  Riley stepped outside with Blake, the night cold, his breath creating puffy clouds in the air. Riley wanted Blake gone for Leah’s sake, but he wouldn’t let the sheriff leave without picking his brain first. “Sounds like you’re not thinking the stalker has anything to do with these murders.”

  Blake dug his car keys from his pocket. “I
haven’t ruled him out, but so far we haven’t made any progress in locating him.”

  “Then fingerprints from the amphitheater were a bust for you?”

  Blake nodded, likely because he didn’t want to verbally answer a question he shouldn’t be answering. “But in light of what Leah just shared, we’ll need to give Kraig’s prints another look.”

  Riley was thinking Sam needed to do the same thing. “Can you confirm the caliber of the gun used in the murders?”

  “I gotta go.” Blake met his gaze. “Make sure Leah doesn’t leave town.”

  “What?” Riley gaped at Blake. “You like her for these murders enough to keep her here?”

  “Forensics point to her, and I can’t ignore that.” Blake opened his car door. “If anyone else was in my shoes, they’d be putting my case before the DA and seeking an arrest warrant. That’s between you and me, and you aren’t to let Leah know. Got it?”

  Riley stood staring at Blake for the longest time before he composed himself and didn’t respond in anger. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her. She’d freak out. So thanks for not saying it to her.”

  “As much as I’d like to tell you that I held back to spare her feelings, I did it for my investigation. I didn’t want to spook her and have her take off.” Blake met his gaze and held on. “I’m counting on you to make sure she doesn’t bolt.”

  “Don’t worry about that either. I’ll be with her twenty-four seven. You can count on that. Because I, for one, am worried that Carolyn’s death means Leah is in more danger, where you seem bent on railroading her as a suspect.”

  Blake let out a long breath. “I’m not railroading her. Simply following the leads like you’d be doing. But you can’t see clearly because you’ve got a thing for her, and a man in love doesn’t always make the best choices.”

  “I don’t have a—”

  Blake flashed up a hand. “Save your breath. It’s so obvious even a child could pick up on it.”