Still Waters

by Debra Webb

  “May we have a look inside?” Sean asked.

  Pettie nodded. “Are you looking for the card that came with the flowers? I think the police went through her office and didn’t find it.”

  “We know new details now,” Amber offered. “Perhaps something else we find will mean more than it would have all those months ago.”

  Sean opened first one box, and then the other. Rather than being sealed with tape, each had been closed by folding the flaps one over the other. Careful with the items that had likely decorated Rhiana’s office, Amber emptied the first box. Sean glanced at her, and she shook her head. Nothing potentially useful to the case.

  Amber’s hopes plummeted as the second box provided nothing relevant to the case, either. The last item in the box was a stack of business cards bound together with a rubber band. She might as well verify that the card wasn’t among them. As she reached the final three, her fingers stilled. Holding one of the cards by the edges, she turned it for Sean to see. Thrasher Floral.

  It wasn’t the warning Amber had received, but it showed a connection to the same floral shop. The police couldn’t have recognized the connection when Rhiana went missing.

  “Mrs. Pettie, do you have a plastic bag we could put this in?” Sean asked before Amber had the presence of mind to do so.

  The lady nodded and hurried into the house.

  “We need to see Kimberly McCorkle’s home.” Anticipation seared through Amber’s veins. They were on to something here. “If we can find even the smallest connection to the floral shop, we’ll have something to take to Lieutenant Harper.”

  “We should call him first,” Sean countered. “This is evidence.”

  Sean was a former cop. Amber understood his desire to be a team player—particularly since the cops involved were his friends. Unfortunately there wasn’t time. A murderer—possibly a serial killer—was out there, and it was more than probable that he still intended to make Amber his next victim. Not to mention there were two families who desperately needed answers sooner rather than later.

  Amber made up her mind. “We can call him after we see Kimberly’s house.”

  Sean would have argued, but Mrs. Pettie returned with a sandwich baggie.

  The memory of their rush to the emergency room when Amber had been poisoned surged to the front of her mind. She had to see this through. Now.

  Beckham Drive, 12:45 p.m.

  SEAN WAS SURPRISED when McCorkle agreed to meet them at her daughter’s home without asking the first question. He parked in front of the small house near the popular Five Points district. The cottage had been a present to Kimberly from her parents when she graduated from college. Like Rhiana Pettie’s apartment, the house had been closed and left just as it was the day their daughter walked out the last time—except for the official BPD investigation.

  He didn’t like doing this. Despite his misgivings, he climbed out and went around to the passenger side as Amber emerged. “You know Lieutenant Harper will be ticked off,” he reminded her for the third time. He had no desire to step on the toes of the BPD’s finest. Jess would not be happy, either. But Amber was the client. Wasn’t it his job to keep the client safe and happy? Damn.

  “We will call him as soon as we’re done here,” Amber repeated the same response she’d given him last time he’d raised the issue.

  He exhaled a big breath and followed her up the walk to the front door. McCorkle was waiting just inside. She opened the door wider as they approached.

  “I was surprised when you called me again so soon.” The older lady looked hopefully at Amber. “Does this mean new evidence has been found?”

  Amber smiled. Sean should have looked away, but he didn’t. Her smile was part of what had landed her in the television business, in his opinion. When she smiled, everything else faded into insignificance. She was genuinely beautiful.

  No going there, pal. He’d spent plenty of time admiring her physical attributes before they even met. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d gone way past the admiration stage. He had to put the brakes on for now. Maybe when this assignment was finished...

  Had he just made a plan to pursue something beyond work?

  “We’re hoping to find a connection no one knew about before,” Amber explained as she glanced around the cramped living room.

  Her words dragged Sean back to the here and now.

  Like Rhiana Pettie’s house, there was no security system, Sean noted. A small sofa and cocktail table were overpowered by a massive drawing desk and light. One wall was covered with bookshelves, but rather than filled with books, the shelves were stacked with rolls of architectural drawings. The shelves were labeled alphabetically.

  No flowers in the living room.

  “May we see the rest of the house?” Amber asked, her anticipation showing.

  “Oh, sure.” McCorkle gestured to the far side of the room. “The hall leads to the two bedrooms and a bathroom. The kitchen is that way.” She indicated the doorway to the right. “The police moved things around a bit, but otherwise it’s all just like she left it that last morning before she went to work.”

  A narrow pair of swinging doors separated the living room from the tiny kitchen. In the sink sat the vase of flowers. Adrenaline fired across Sean’s nerve endings. It was way past time to call the cops.

  Amber leaned close and visually examined what was obviously an arrangement of dead roses. She turned to McCorkle. “Do you know when she received the flowers?”

  The older woman nodded. “The day before...”

  “Did she mention who they were from or if there was a card?”

  McCorkle shook her head. “She didn’t. She only said that she was mad that he wouldn’t let go.”

  Another blast of adrenaline nailed Sean. “Who did she mean? An old boyfriend?”

  “Yes. They had broken up the month before, but he kept calling. The police interviewed him and eventually ruled him out. They said he had an airtight alibi.”

  “What was the ex-boyfriend’s name?” Amber asked.

  “Quentin Yates. He works for another architectural firm in town.”

  “Do you mind if we look around for a card?” Sean didn’t wait for Amber to ask. As mad as Harper would be, this could be a major break in the case.

  “I’ll help you,” McCorkle offered.

  Since the flowers were in the kitchen, that was the logical place to start. The evidence techs had taken the garbage to the lab. Sean figured if they’d found a card with a sinister note, they would have marked it as evidence. Since that wasn’t in any of the reports, he was going with the theory it hadn’t been found.

  When they had checked every nook and cranny in the small kitchen, they moved to the living room. Amber chatted casually with McCorkle. Sean decided she could have been a cop herself. She had a way of prompting answers without directly asking the questions. McCorkle didn’t hesitate even once. Sean doubted she realized she was being interrogated. By the time they moved on to the bedrooms, Amber knew all about Kimberly’s social life and the long, hard path to her career.

  “I’ll take the bathroom,” Sean offered. He had no desire to spend the next twenty minutes or so trapped in one of those little bedrooms with Amber. In the past twenty-four hours she had gotten deep under his skin. He wished he could regret it, but the necessary emotion just wouldn’t come. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help savoring it.

  As good as it felt, it could not go any further while he was responsible for her safety. He could fantasize all he wanted.

  Kimberly McCorkle’s bathroom was crammed with the usual female necessities. Lots of hair and skin products. Loads of fragrances. Various types of razors. Toothpaste. Bodywash in a variety of scents. Amber’s bathroom looked a lot like this. The first night he’d stayed at her house he’d had a hell of a time evicti
ng her scent from his system. The subtle citrus fragrance was fresh and clean and made him long to taste every inch of her.

  “Idiot,” he muttered. He moved on to the medicine cabinet. No drugs other than aspirin and a half-empty prescription of antibiotics.

  “Sean!”

  He closed the mirrored medicine cabinet door and hurried to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

  Amber pointed to the jewelry box on the dresser. “It was under the velvet lining.”

  He moved to her side and took a look. Amber had removed several necklaces and a watch, as well as the lining in the bottom of the jewelry box. How had the evidence techs missed this? “Was it obviously loose?”

  “No. One of the necklaces hung in the fabric and pulled it away from the bottom.”

  At the bottom of the box were a couple of folded notes and the card from the floral shop lying right on top. It wasn’t a business card; it was the one sporting the note that accompanied the bouquet. I’m watching you.

  “We need a plastic bag,” he muttered.

  “I’ll get one,” McCorkle said, sounding breathless.

  Amber reached into the jewelry box and gingerly removed the card by its edges. “Should we look at the notes, too?”

  “For sure.” Sean removed the stack of notes carefully; there were four in all. Each was from the ex, Yates, who hadn’t wanted to end the relationship.

  “She thought the flowers were from him,” Amber said. “She was keeping all this in case she needed it in the future.”

  But her future never came. The words echoed through Sean’s head. Amber wouldn’t have a future either if this bastard had anything to do with it.

  McCorkle returned with a plastic sandwich bag and Sean bagged the evidence. Amber made her aware of the notes, which weren’t particularly threatening, simply obsessive. Sean’s mind wouldn’t quit replaying those haunting words.

  Did Amber have any idea how lucky she was to be alive? His throat tightened.

  By the time they were at the front door, McCorkle’s composure had frayed.

  “We’ll get this evidence to the police,” Sean assured her. “They’ll get this guy.”

  When they were in the car and headed downtown, Amber turned to him. “Before we go to the police, I want to go back to the floral shop.”

  Sean moved his head firmly side to side. “No way.”

  “It can’t be a coincidence that all three flower arrangements came from the same florist and that at least two had the same warning.”

  Sean wouldn’t deny the point. “It’s still circumstantial and—” he shot her a pointed look “—we’re playing fast and loose with evidence that may prove necessary to solving a double homicide.”

  She twisted in the seat and pled her case from a different perspective. “We have no idea what this guy does to stay ahead of the police. We do know he got past my security code. He could be listening to a police radio. I don’t want him tipped off.”

  Sean shook his head. He had to be nuts, and yet she had a point. “What do you expect to say to Thrasher?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I don’t want him to get away.”

  Sean braked for a light, and she touched his arm. He turned to her, and the stark fear on her face startled him. “How will I ever feel safe again if he gets away?”

  Before he could stop the words, he made a promise he hoped like hell he could keep. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Thrasher Floral, Pearson Avenue, 3:00 p.m.

  “Can we go in now?” Amber asked again.

  Sean didn’t like the idea of going in before they called Harper, but he’d put off the inevitable for a full fifteen minutes. If he didn’t agree to going in soon, Amber would likely ignore him and go in anyway. Keeping her reasonably cooperative was essential.

  “As soon as that customer comes out,” he promised, “we’re going in.”

  Amber acquiesced to his latest delay tactic with nothing more than a roll of her eyes.

  The shop was in a small building on Pearson Avenue. Thrasher was thirty-one, the same age as Kyle Adler. Birmingham and its surrounding suburbs made for a fairly large population, so the two might not have grown up in the same neighborhood or have gone to school together, but they knew each other. Adler made deliveries for the floral shop—two of those deliveries had carried cards with warnings. Sean was damned certain a third one had, as well; he just couldn’t prove it.

  Since Adler was dead, who had delivered Amber’s flowers? Thrasher? He’d denied making the delivery and claimed the employee who filled the order was out sick when Harper questioned him. If Harper had located the employee and questioned her, Sean hadn’t heard about it. There was a lot happening in a short period of time. So much so that keeping everyone in the loop was difficult. Not that he and Amber had been keeping anyone informed. That had to change soon. They were way over the line already. Jess wouldn’t be happy. The boss considered B&C’s relationship with the BPD sacred. Maybe he’d still have a job when this case was finished.

  At this point, he didn’t have much to lose by putting off calling Harper for a few more minutes. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it right. It was time to ask Thrasher different questions.

  The entrance opened, and the brunette they’d been watching at the counter exited with a small arrangement.

  “That’s our cue.” He climbed from behind the wheel and moved around to meet Amber on the sidewalk. “Careful what you say,” he warned. “We need him cooperative, not defensive.”

  She made a face. “Trust me—I’ve done this once or twice, Mr. Douglas.”

  “So I’m Mr. Douglas now?”

  She eyed him skeptically. “For the moment.”

  Shaking his head, he opened the door. The bell jingled as they entered. The lady behind the counter looked up. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Thrasher’s. How can I help you?”

  “Is Mr. Thrasher in?” Amber asked, taking the lead.

  Sean suppressed a grin. She might be petite, but there was nothing small about her personality. She was pretty damned fearless. Like most people who met her in person for the first time, he’d thought she would be taller, too. He decided then and there the reason was her personality. Amber Roberts was larger than life.

  The clerk shook her head. “He called me this morning and said he was sick. I rushed over and opened the shop.”

  “Thank you—” Sean noted the name on her badge “—Louanne. We’ll try to catch him again later.”

  Amber glared at him as he guided her out the same door they had just entered.

  “What’re you doing? I want to have a look around in that shop.”

  He ushered her to the car and opened her door. “Get in and I’ll explain.”

  With a reluctant huff, she dropped into the seat. Sean hurried around to the driver’s side and joined her.

  “Let’s go to his house.” She dug through her purse. “I can locate his address in about thirty seconds.”

  “We have to call Harper. Now. No more putting it off.” He pulled his cell from his pocket, ignoring her irritated glare. “We want whatever evidence we find to be admissible in court, Amber. We can’t just go rummaging through the man’s shop looking for clues.”

  “You didn’t mention having issues with the idea when we were going through Rhiana’s and Kimberly’s homes.”

  “We had permission,” he reminded her. “Their mothers were right there with us. We’ve gone as far as we can with this. It’s time to let the cops do their job.”

  She stared at the street for a long moment. “Fine. Make the call.”

  Sean entered Harper’s number and brought him up to speed. With the order to back off ringing in his ears, he ended the call and gave Amb
er the bad news.

  “Detective Harper says it will take some time to get a warrant. He suggested we go home and wait for his call. The techs are finished at your place. He thinks it’s safe if you want to go home.”

  “I knew this would happen.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We should have nosed around when we had the chance.”

  He didn’t bother pointing out once more that rendering evidence unusable was not their goal. “We skipped lunch. After what you went through last night, we need to rectify that oversight.”

  “I’m not hungry. I...”

  When she remained silent, he glanced her way. She stared forward, her lips slightly parted. He licked his own and shifted his attention back to the street. The woman had amazing lips. He’d spent a lot of time watching those lips, and even when she’d been sick as a dog in the wee hours of the morning they were still tempting.

  “We’ve been so focused on finding the evidence,” she said, more to herself than to him. “We’ve ignored what it means.” She turned to him. Her eyes round with something like disbelief. “They were watching us, and I don’t mean from afar. I’m talking about up close.”

  Sean braked for a four-way stop. “Adler and Thrasher?”

  She nodded, her gaze seeking his. “The flowers were delivered the day before each victim went missing. Mine had been ordered several days before they were delivered. They were watching.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “One or the other or maybe both came into my house—into their houses—and took souvenirs, but that’s not all they did while they were there.”

  A horn blared behind them, forcing Sean to take his eyes off her and to move forward. He got where she was headed. “You’re thinking they planted cameras so they could watch.”

  “Oh, my God.” Both hands went to her face then. “There’s no other explanation.”

  Harper hadn’t mentioned finding any surveillance devices. Sean reached over and took her hand in his. “You’re okay. Adler is dead, and we’re on to Thrasher. Whatever one or both did, it won’t happen again.”