Mr. Berry glanced up from beneath big, gray bushy eyebrows, a slight frown etched in lines between his eyes. His eyes narrowed slightly behind the small wire-framed reading glasses he always wore.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. “But I wondered if I might have a word?”
He straightened, putting down the pen he was holding. “That’s okay, Serenity,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. “What can I do for you?”
She opened her mouth to speak but found tears were perilously close. She bit her lower lip and swallowed hard.
Concern filled her boss’s face. “What is it? What’s happened?”
She tried again. “The police just contacted me. The couple I rent my house to were murdered last night.”
“My God!” he said, shocked.
“They want me to go down to the station and tell them what I know—which really isn’t anything. I wondered if I might leave early so I can finish there before I need to pick my daughter up.”
“Yes, of course.” He thought for a moment. “I’m just about to head out to a meeting with some clients. I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make first, but if you want to go down to the parking garage and bring my car around to the front, I’ll drop you off.”
The small act of kindness touched a smile upon her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Berry. I appreciate it.”
He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out the car keys and passed them across the desk. She’d been trusted to move his car before; if he had to get across town quickly she would be called upon to bring the car around to the front door of the building, saving him precious minutes.
Although Serenity didn’t own her own car, she’d passed her test as a teenager. Wanting to use her as his personal taxi driver, her stepfather had encouraged her to learn so he could drink as much as he liked without worrying about the repercussions.
Fourteen flights led down to the underground garage that served as private parking for the whole building. Only the top dogs got a space—the executives and high-flyers—the rest of the staff mostly relied on public transport.
Serenity walked into the corridor and pressed the button to call the elevator. Four elevators served the whole building. She glanced up at the lit arrows above the doors, indicating which direction the elevators headed. The one directly in front of her was going down and, within moments, the doors slid open, revealing an empty space.
With the car keys dangling from one finger, Serenity stepped inside and pushed the button for the garage.
Mirrors surrounded her and she couldn’t help but stare at her own reflection. Serenity reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. She still hadn’t got used to her shorter style. She’d had long hair her whole life but demonstrated her independence by cutting it to her shoulders. Jackson would never have allowed her to cut her hair.
She glanced at herself again. The memory of the murdered woman’s face flashed in her mind. A much brighter, younger version of her, but even so the likeness couldn’t be missed. Now she had the Bainbridges to think about as well.
Death surrounded her.
Serenity shivered.
The elevator doors opened with a ‘ping’. Now mid-morning, everyone had been at work for hours, so she found herself alone.
She headed across the tarmac to her boss’s allocated space. Diesel fumes caught the back of her throat. The cars she passed were all top range; BMW, Audi, Mercedes. She remembered a comment she had made to James about not having a car because she was trying to save the planet. She smiled to herself; in truth, she would love to own her own car; life would be so much easier without relying on public transport to get everywhere. But she couldn’t afford one by a long stretch—not that she would admit as much to James. She still had her pride.
From out of nowhere, a horrendous stench washed over her, drowning out the scent of fuel.
“Oh, God!” Serenity put her hand over her face and pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, trying to use the material to stifle the smell. The stink was like trashcans after a few days in the sun, or like road kill that had crawled under a bush to die. The stench seemed so thick she struggled hard to breathe. Like tendrils of smoke, it crept up her nostrils and down the back of her throat, as though it were a living thing and intended on smothering her.
Serenity tucked her chin down into her chest and walked faster.
What the hell was the cause? Had something actually died down here? She couldn’t believe no one else had noticed and a team of people weren’t fumigating the garage. The people she worked with were normally such a fussy bunch—they complained if their coffee had been stirred the wrong way.
She glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of the stench. The stink made her eyes water; she would report it as soon as she got back in the building. Yet everything looked much as it always did and the place was empty.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the garage, her low heels clicking on the ground. She hurried toward Mr. Berry’s car—a jet-black Audi A6—parked over the other side of the garage. Desperate to escape the smell, she felt as though she was suffering a slow suffocation.
The sound of heavy footsteps came from behind. Serenity glanced back but the garage was empty.
Serenity picked up her pace to a trot; her heart thumping hard enough in her chest to hurt. Adrenaline raced through her veins.
The footsteps came again, slow and steady, like boot heels clicking on the sidewalk.
Scared now, she looked back around, but still no person made themselves visible. Was someone following her, someone hiding from her now?
She wanted to call out, but scenes from a dozen horror movies flashed through her mind and her sensible part knew if someone were hiding, they certainly wouldn’t answer to her calling out, ‘hello’.
Serenity gripped the keys in her fist, holding them so the car key stuck out between her clenched fingers, like a dagger. Though only a makeshift weapon, it was better than nothing. She focused her sights on the Audi, now only thirty feet away.
Suddenly, a heavy breath rasped in her ear, the putrid smell strong enough to knock her sideways.
Serenity screamed and spun around, lashing out with the key, certain she would be faced with an attacker, but the key only swiped thin air.
Tears of fear flooded her eyes. She hadn’t imagined the footsteps or the cold breath against her cheek.
She turned and ran for the car, unlocking the door with a push of the button on the key-fob. She wrenched open the driver door and threw herself behind the wheel, pulling the door closed behind her and slamming down the lock.
The smell was gone.
Her hand still shaking, Serenity started the engine. Though fluorescent lighting shone overhead, she flicked the switch for the headlights anyway, needing the extra light.
What was wrong with her? She hadn’t experienced a panic attack like that for years. She was sure she had gotten over the worst of her problems, (or maybe not gotten over—after all, murdering your abusive husband and falling in love with a vampire was hardly something you just forgot about), but she certainly thought she’d dealt with her issues. Only now a wormhole into the past had opened and she was plummeting, freefall.
The paranoia, grief and horror; all those memories flooded back as fresh as the day they happened. Had the murders brought the recollections back? Or perhaps Elizabeth’s strange premonition had caused the relapse?
She must have imagined the whole thing. She had experienced similar things many times four years ago, but she hadn’t felt an attack of such total paranoia for a long time.
That feeling of being watched, of constantly looking over her shoulder.
Serenity didn’t want to go back to the dark place of her past, trapped in her house, too scared to leave. She’d come a long way since then; built her life back up from scratch and dealt with the trauma for the sake of her daughter. She’d been so tempted back then to let everything consume her. So many times, it would have been
easier to simply give up.
The loneliness—missing Sebastian every moment of every day—almost pushed her over the edge. If not for Elizabeth’s arrival, she wouldn’t have made it. She’d never been on her own before and Sebastian’s abandonment hurt all the more because of it.
It’s the murders, she told herself.
Any sane person would be shaken after hearing people they’d known had been murdered in their own house—in the same house where she murdered her husband.
She needed to get a move on. Mr. Berry would be waiting for her and she didn’t want him to think he had an unstable employee on his hands.
With one hand clutching the wheel, she pushed the car into first.
Chapter Seven
Serenity turned up the ramp too fast and the Audi’s tires screeched against the tarmac, making her wince. The car mounted the top of the ramp and pulled up on the road. Serenity squinted against the sudden sunlight. The parking garage exited onto the adjacent street to their office so she had to drive around the block, to the front entrance.
Serenity pulled up in front of the office building, her heart still pounding. There was no sign of Mr. Berry. Relieved she had a few moments to compose herself, she let her forehead fall against the steering wheel and exhaled slowly. She glanced down at her hands, still clutching the wheel, and willed them to stop shaking. Here in bright daylight, her panic seemed stupid.
Had she actually felt someone breathing against her cheek? Had the stench really been so bad or had her already stressed imagination over reacted?
She raised her head in time to see her boss trotting down the steps toward the car. He raised his hand to her. With legs trembling, she opened the car door and slid out. She made her way round to the passenger side and got back in. Mr. Berry climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at her curiously.
“Are you okay, Serenity? You look pale.”
She forced a smile. Her cheeks scrunched up but the smile expression never touching her eyes. “It’s all been a shock.”
“Of course, how stupid of me. If you need tomorrow off just call and let me know.”
“Thanks, Mr. Berry.”
His kindness brought her close to tears again and she turned to face the passenger window, hiding her emotions.
Her boss indicated and pulled out into the traffic.
Serenity watched the city flow past her window as they headed deeper into the city, towards the station.
She hoped he took her silence as her being upset and didn’t think she was rude. She certainly didn’t want to make small talk. So many thoughts filled her head, she didn’t know where one ended and the next started. Her brain was trying to process everything at once.
For once, the traffic in the city wasn’t too heavy and within fifteen minutes they pulled up outside the LAPD.
“Thank you,” she said, climbing out of the car. “I’ll call if I need tomorrow off.”
“No problem,” he said with a smile, his eyes creasing behind the wire-frame glasses. “Let me know if I can help in anyway.”
The world contained so much violence and pain, yet people like James, Amy and even Mr. Berry, still surprised her with their kindness. How strange to think one species varied so much. One person might live their lives filled with anger, violence and hatred, while another went out of their way to help others. When Jackson had been alive, Serenity struggled to envision the good in anyone. His cruel way of viewing the world somehow blinded her to its pleasures as well. Like a glacier-hiker, Jackson had been the hard ice, transforming the warmth of the sun into something harmful. Her proximity to his glare blocked out her view of everything else.
Walking into the station, Serenity was relieved to find James waiting for her behind the front desk. He chatted with one of the uniformed officers, but must have been keeping an eye out for her as he broke off his conversation as soon as she walked in.
At six feet, with his light brown hair cut close to his head, flecks of white now crowning his temples, James was still an attractive man. Crow’s feet had deepened around his eyes, giving him an air of maturity. He was one of those men who commanded a quiet authority over others. People paid attention when he walked into a room; people listened to him. His fortieth birthday was next year and Serenity knew Amy had already made plans, hoping to surprise him with a couple of nights in Vegas. She told Serenity, with a mischievous look on her face, she intended to treat her husband to a bit of ‘illicit behavior for once’. Naturally, Serenity offered to take Noah while they were away, trying to repay the hundreds of times they’d sat Elizabeth.
“Hey,” James said, his face grim. “Thanks for coming down so quickly.”
“No problem. My boss was more than understanding.”
“So he should be, given the circumstances.”
James guided her past the reception desk and they headed down a corridor lined with doors. A small sign hung above each door indicated the room number.
“We’re in room three,” he told her.
James opened the door and she walked through. The room was set out exactly as she had expected. A table stood in the middle of the room, two chairs either side. Recording equipment sat in the middle and a reflective film made up one wall; a one way mirror.
A tall, skinny man wearing a dark gray suit leaned against the table. He stood straight as they walked in.
“This is Detective Gingham,” James said, introducing her.
Detective Gingham held out his hand. His pale blue eyes, large in his thin face, searched hers. He looked like he didn’t miss a thing. Serenity shook the offered hand, keeping her grip firm.
“Thank you for coming down, Mrs. Hathaway,” he said. Deep and velvety, his voice surprised her, nothing like the one she’d expected to come from him. “Please have a seat.”
Still shaky, she pulled out the chair and sat down. She wondered where James would sit: with her or opposite, on the side of the police department?
You’re not on trial here, she had to remind herself. They just want to ask a few questions. You haven’t done anything wrong.
James didn’t choose a side. Instead, he pulled a spare chair to the end of the table.
“Do you mind?” Detective Gingham asked, nodding toward the recording equipment.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “No, I guess not.”
“This is the interview with Mrs. Serenity Hathaway, on September third. The time is two fifteen p.m.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward her. Serenity smiled back, nerves jarring through her. “Mrs. Hathaway, this is going to seem like an obvious question, but do you know of anyone who might have something against Mr. and Mrs. Bainbridge?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “But I hardly knew them. They just rented my house.”
“Did they have any debts you were aware of?”
Serenity shook her head, baffled at why they thought she would know any of this, but Detective Gingham nodded toward the recording equipment.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing she hadn’t spoken aloud. “No, not that I know of.”
“We need to figure out why the killer chose that house out of all the ones on the street. These things are rarely random.”
“How did they die?” she asked, turning her attention to James. He didn’t answer her, but his eyes flicked to the detective.
“Were they shot?” she persisted. “Did they use a knife? Did someone strangle them?”
A look passed between Detective Gingham and James.
“Oh God. Was it bad?” Her hand was back at her mouth, her mind turning over a hundred possibilities.
“We’re trying to keep the exact details under wraps at the moment,” James said.
Detective Gingham cleared his throat again and she wondered if he had a nervous tick. He ran a hand through his hair. It was thinning on top and had a too-black sheen, which made Serenity wonder if he used a cheap dye.
“We wanted to ask you one other question.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
&n
bsp; “It’s about your ex-husband—”
“Husband,” she corrected. Technically, she and Jackson were still married. Because he had ‘disappeared,’ she was forced to wait seven years before he’d be certified as ‘Death in absentia’, making the property hers. Of course she could tell them she knew Jackson’s death to be fact, but considering the repercussions of that knowledge, she’d decided to wait.
She hated his name even being mentioned, the guilt coursed through her like blood, but he was also the owner of the house, so she couldn’t be surprised.
“Have you heard anything from Mr. Hathaway?” Detective Gingham asked.
“The guy disappeared years ago,” James interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. “He was a scum-bag. She hasn’t seen or heard anything from him.”
The detective glared at James and he sat back in his chair.
Serenity frowned and shook her head. “No, nothing. Why?”
“Is it possible he came back to the city without your knowledge?”
She wanted to tell the truth but it stayed buried deep inside. “I guess.”
“Would he be angry to find someone else in his home? Did he know you were no longer living at the property?”
Her frown deepened. “What are you getting at, Detective?”
“A number of prints were pulled from the crime scene. Several of them matched one’s we have on file for your husband.” He glanced down at his notes. “Mr. Hathaway was cautioned for battery seven years ago, and then a possible assault four years ago…”
Serenity’s cheeks flamed red and she stared down at her hands. The accusation of assault had come from Madeline, trying to cause trouble for Serenity after she murdered Jackson. She remembered the battery charge. Jackson had hit her in their backyard. He’d been taking out the trash and lifted the bag over his head when it had split and trash emptied all over him. Serenity had made the mistake of laughing, which bought her a slap in the face so hard it knocked her to the ground. He rounded off the slap by kicking her in the stomach. The neighbors saw and called the police but Serenity had been too scared to press charges. She had nowhere else to go and didn’t think she had any choice.
The Serenity Series: Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 28
