A Secret to Die For

by Lisa Harris

  Even when there was nothing to escape from.

  He grabbed the watch in his pocket and ran his finger across the bronze back to calm himself. They were lies. Those thoughts—that it was happening again. That he—and everyone around him—was in danger. He couldn’t pay attention to them. Instead he focused on his breathing. In, out. In, out. Focused to keep the panic off his face so no one knew what was going on inside his head.

  But he wasn’t sure that was possible. And that’s what scared him the most.

  The carousel slowed to a stop.

  “Nate?” Paige stepped in front of him. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you find anything else?” he asked Bailey, diverting the conversation away from himself.

  “There was a business card in his pocket.” Officer Bailey handed him the bagged card. “It’s for a psychologist named Grace Callahan. There’s a number handwritten on the back.”

  “And according to his call log,” Paige said, “two of the last three calls he made were to her. He left a message just after eleven, then about an hour later tried to reach her again.”

  “What time?”

  “The second call was made just after midnight.”

  “Grace Callahan.” Another memory surfaced, but this time minus the panic. “Strange, but I think I might know her.”

  “Really?”

  “If it’s the same person, I was good friends with her and her husband. I was in their wedding.” Nate pulled up the memory. “And she studied psychology in college. If Shaw did kill himself, it makes sense that he would call his shrink first. He’s about to step over the edge, calls her for some moral support—”

  “But when he can’t get ahold of her, he ends it.”

  “What about the third call?” Nate asked. “Any ID on that one?”

  “We’ll have to run the number,” Paige said.

  “Then we need to start with his psychologist,” Nate said, handing the evidence back to the officer.

  “Are you still close?” Paige asked.

  “Lost touch with her and her husband years ago. You know how it goes. They were married, I was single. We both stepped into demanding jobs. Life gets in the way.”

  He’d heard they’d had a little girl a couple years after they got married, but that was it. He wasn’t exactly one to keep up on Facebook. They’d been married over a decade by now, so more than likely had at least one or two more kids.

  Nate stood over the body, working to put the few pieces they had together. “So all we really know is that he decides to break into a traveling carnival, calls his shrink, plus another number, then ends up dead.”

  “Maybe he was meeting someone here,” Paige said.

  “Grace Callahan?” Nate asked.

  “It’s possible. Or it makes sense that he was worried about whoever was meeting him here, and he called her for support.”

  “Any signs of someone else being here?” Nate asked.

  “That’s going to be pretty impossible to tell,” Paige said.

  In the middle of a carnival where hundreds of people had been, finding a unique fingerprint or DNA was going to be impossible. But then why had Stephen Shaw come here?

  “I’d like to talk to the security guard, then we need to pay Grace Callahan a visit,” Nate said.

  Five minutes later, Nate and Paige found the lanky guard, with thinning red hair and a slight pudge around the middle, leaning against the trunk of his car. “Mr. Peters? I’m Detective Nate Quinn and this is my partner, Detective Paige Morgan. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No problem, I’m just ready to get out of here. I mean, finding a dead body . . . Let’s just say that isn’t exactly in my job description.”

  “I’m sure that must have given you quite a scare,” Nate said.

  “Tell me about it. I gave a statement to the other officers and told them everything I know. Which really isn’t anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  “You’re the only guard here?” Paige asked.

  “At night, yes. I look after the equipment. Make sure kids don’t break in and trash the place.”

  “And yet you didn’t hear anything tonight? No gunshots?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I must have been on the other side of the carnival when it happened.”

  Nate frowned. While the man’s explanation was plausible, he was having a hard time buying that he didn’t hear the shot.

  “Did you recognize the victim?” Nate asked, continuing with his line of questioning for the moment.

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t see anyone else around tonight?”

  “Not tonight. We’ve had a few teens looking for trouble the last couple nights. But tonight was pretty quiet.”

  And no doubt horribly boring.

  Nate glanced up at the roller coaster towering beside them. Making the rounds in the dark in this deserted place every night wasn’t a job he’d place on his top-ten list.

  “What can you tell me about the carnival?” Paige asked.

  “It’s a family-owned business that’s been around since the nineties. They set up at fairs, festivals, and even private parties all over the state. I’ve worked for them for a couple years now.”

  “What are your normal working hours?” Nate asked.

  “I get here when the park closes at eleven and stay until seven when the staff starts arriving.”

  “But you weren’t here all night, were you?” Nate asked, deciding to go out on a limb and test his theory.

  “Of course I was.” The man reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Why would you say that?”

  “According to your statement, you found the body around five thirty.”

  “That’s right.”

  “The medical examiner won’t be able to give us an accurate time of death until he does an autopsy, but we do know that by the time you found him, he had been dead several hours. So it seems to me if you’d been doing your rounds, you would’ve found the man much earlier. And on top of that, the man was shot. It’s hard to imagine you not hearing a gunshot. This place isn’t that big.”

  “I—”

  “He’s right. If you’re lying, you’re only going to make things worse,” Paige said. “Because, trust me, it will never work out in your favor.”

  Peters combed his fingers through his hair. “Listen, if my boss even suspects I wasn’t here all night, he’ll fire me.”

  Nate shot him a weak smile. “I sympathize with you, but a man is dead on your watch.”

  Peters kicked at the gravel with the toe of his boot. “Fine. I left right before midnight, but just for a couple hours.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I met a friend at this bar down the road. We had a few drinks.”

  “So clearly you wouldn’t have heard a gunshot,” Nate said.

  “No.”

  “And if I talk to the bartender, can he verify your whereabouts?”

  “Yeah. I’m a regular.”

  Nate handed the man his business card while Paige took a call. “We will check out your alibi, but in the meantime, if you think of anything else, please give us a call.”

  Paige hung up and signaled Nate. “Sarge wants us to go see the psychologist. He’s sending in another detective to talk to management as soon as they show up.”

  “They’re going to be in for a surprise.” Nate headed with her toward the parking lot.

  “Do you mind if we take your car?” Paige asked, heading with him across the lot to where he’d parked his Ford. “I’ll grab mine on the way back to the precinct once we’re done interviewing Grace Callahan.”

  “No problem.” Nate pulled out his keys and unlocked his car with the push of a button.

  “You don’t mind if we stop for a coffee on the way, do you?” Paige asked as they slipped into his car. “There’s a drive-thru two blocks from here.”

  “Coffee?” Nate headed across the parking lot toward the nearest cross street. �
��The last time I saw you, you said you were giving up caffeine because it made you too jittery.”

  Paige let out a low laugh. “You can ask my last partner about that. Apparently not drinking it makes me even more jittery.”

  Ashley had loved coffee too, and had started most of her days with a vanilla latte with low-fat milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

  He shoved aside the unwanted memory of his former partner and tried to remember the other things he knew about Paige. She’d been top in her class at the academy, had led a special narcotics team before being promoted to homicide detective, and was married to an auto mechanic.

  Five minutes later, he handed her a large caramel macchiato from the drive-thru window, then took the freeway toward Dr. Callahan’s home.

  “You’re sure you didn’t want one?” she asked as she took a sip.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Cutting out caffeine and upping his exercise routine had lessened his PTSD symptoms. And for the moment, he had no plans of going back to his old routine caffeine-addictive habits.

  “You said you might know this woman we’re going to see?” Paige took another sip of her drink. “What do you know about her?”

  “If it is her, I haven’t seen her for almost a decade. We went to college together, and I was close to her husband back then.”

  “There are a couple friends I had in college that I’ve thought about tracking down,” Paige said, then let out a low chuckle. “Most of them, though, I’m happy to forget I ever knew.”

  “I have a few of those as well, though I’ve always wished Kevin and I didn’t lose track of each other. Last I heard they’d moved out east, but this is where they were both from.”

  He could be wrong, but Grace Callahan wasn’t a common name, combined with the fact that she was a psychologist. If it was her, catching up might be nice after all these years, though not the reunion he would have liked.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up alongside the curb in an older neighborhood with a row of small two-story houses. A woman wearing loose yoga pants and a T-shirt stood next to a red minivan that was parked in the driveway. She held a wad of paper towels in her hand.

  “It might have been a while since I saw her, but that’s definitely not her.” Nate turned off the engine, then climbed out of his car.

  “Grace Callahan?” Paige held up her badge as they approached the van.

  The woman turned toward them. “No . . . I’m her friend, Becca Long. Can I help you?”

  “I’m Detective Paige Morgan, and this is my partner, Detective Nate Quinn.”

  “Sorry about the mess.” The woman took a step back from the van filled with car seats, baby dolls, and fast-food wrappers. “I brought coffee for Grace, thinking it would help, and it dumped all over the back seat. Not that anyone would notice the spill.”

  “Is Ms. Callahan here?” Paige asked.

  “Yeah. She’s inside. I came over as soon as I found out what happened, but I’m so glad you’re here.” She slid the door shut, then spun around to face them, apparently leaving cleanup for later. “I’m still a bit freaked out. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nate’s brow rose. “You were expecting us?”

  Becca dumped the soggy paper towels into a plastic sack. “The officer who took the initial 911 call told us they were going to send someone from the robbery unit as soon as they could.”

  “Actually, we’re from homicide,” Paige said.

  “Homicide?” The woman planted her hands on her hips, clearly confused. “Wait . . . then why are you here?”

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened,” Nate said.

  “She’s already given statements to the officers who responded. Someone broke into her house last night, and then the guy ended up chasing Grace down the street with a gun.”

  Nate glanced at the house with the brick exterior and neat front yard, a part of him hoping that the Grace he knew wasn’t involved. “I think it’s time we spoke with her.”

  3

  Grace stood in the middle of her living room and forced herself to draw in a slow, deep breath. Until the authorities discovered what was going on and who had broken into her house, she wasn’t going to feel safe.

  She moved in front of the fireplace mantel and picked up the framed photo of Hannah on her birthday. At four, she’d been a daddy’s girl and fearless of what lay ahead. It was ironic that Grace’s job as a psychologist was to help people understand and calm their emotions. Today, she was the one feeling vulnerable and exposed. She forced herself to push aside the memories of that day. It had taken so long for her to put her life back together, and now it was as if someone—once again—was trying to strip it all away. But she couldn’t give in to the panic. Not this time.

  What key had he been looking for?

  If he’d wanted to search the house while she was gone, he’d have broken in during the day. Her schedule was fairly predictable. She saw clients at the office four days a week. On Fridays, she volunteered with an organization that offered free counseling to cancer patients and their families. But as far as she could tell, he hadn’t even touched anything of value. Instead he’d come at night when he could safely assume she would be asleep. If she hadn’t heard him, or been prepared . . .

  “Grace . . .” Becca stepped through the front door. “Hey . . . you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just ready to know what’s going on.”

  “Maybe you will. There are a couple of detectives who would like to speak to you.”

  Grace set the photo back on the mantel as a man in a gray suit and turquoise tie entered the room in front of a second detective. But she only saw him.

  Nate?

  Grace felt her breath catch as the figure from her past crashed through her memories. Football games and tailgate parties, all-night study sessions and way too much pizza and caffeine.

  “Nate?”

  “Gracie. Hey . . . it’s been a long time. I had no idea you were back in Dallas.”

  He looked exactly as she remembered him, with his dark hair, strong jawline, and piercing brown eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since anyone had called her Gracie.

  “And I had no idea you were a detective,” she said.

  “Yes. This is my partner, Detective Paige Morgan.”

  “So, you’re with the robbery unit?”

  Nate glanced at his partner. “Homicide.”

  “Wait a minute . . . Why would homicide respond to a break-in?”

  “That’s what your friend just asked us,” his partner said. “Can you tell me when the break-in occurred?”

  “Early this morning, about two. I managed to get out of the house, then he came after me with a gun.”

  “Did he take anything?” Detective Morgan asked.

  “I don’t think so, but apparently he was looking for something one of my clients gave me. He kept asking about a key.”

  Nate held up his phone and showed her a DMV photo. “Something this man gave you?”

  “That’s Stephen Shaw. He’s one of my clients. I’ve been worried about him and trying to get ahold of him all morning.” She watched the shadow that crossed Nate’s face and felt her jaw tense.

  “Gracie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Mr. Shaw’s body was found early this morning.”

  “Wait a minute . . . He’s dead?” Grace felt her knees start to buckle. She hadn’t been able to get ahold of Stephen because he was dead? “I’m sorry, but I need to sit down.”

  “Gracie . . .”

  “I’ll be fine.” Her legs threatened to give out as she moved toward the couch. “I’m just having trouble believing he’s gone. I saw him yesterday in my office. He was stressed, but very much alive.”

  Nate followed her to the couch, but she barely saw him. There had to be some kind of mistake. She couldn’t deal with this. Not now. She didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with another death. Today of all days . . . She fought to smother the
panic and the darkness pressing in against her.

  Nate sat down next to her. “Are you okay?”

  Grace pressed her palms against her shaking legs. “Not only did someone break into my house and threaten to shoot me, now I find that one of my clients is dead. What happened?”

  “We believe he shot himself,” Nate said, “but it will take some time for the medical examiner to determine the official cause of death.”

  “Suicide?” Her fingers pressed in harder against her legs as she worked to process the news. That wasn’t possible. Stephen might have been paranoid, but he would never have killed himself.

  “Like I said, we don’t know for certain how he died,” Nate said.

  “I can’t see him killing himself.” She looked up at him. “He was focused on what he was doing. Determined to find a solution for some problem he was dealing with at his job.”

  “Do you know what he was working on?” Detective Morgan asked.

  “No. I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands together.

  Why today, God? I can’t handle more loss.

  But for the moment, she didn’t have a choice.

  Nate leaned forward. “Gracie . . . Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I will be. I just . . .” She hesitated. She couldn’t tell him how fresh death was on her mind at the moment. How much she’d lost since she’d last seen him. Because this wasn’t about her. “Just tell me how I can help.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with the man who broke in,” Nate said. “Do you have any idea who he was?”

  “No, though I gave a fairly detailed description to the police who were here earlier. They also dusted for fingerprints, but I’m not sure if they found anything.”

  “Do you know how the guy got in?” Detective Morgan sat down across from them on the matching recliner.

  “One of the officers told me he came in through the front door. I have an alarm system that I know was armed, so I have no idea how he got past it.”

  Nate glanced at his notes. “You said he spoke to you. Please think very carefully and tell me exactly what he said.”