Under His Protection

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “It matches our sample.” The hairs were from a female and chemically lightened.

  “Yeah, now to match it with a head.”

  “Not Kathy Boon and not Lisa.” Nash told Rhinehart about the attack on Lisa.

  Rhinehart admitted to being stumped. Every suspect had a motive, and Delan and Chartres had time and opportunity. Chartres was dead, a great eliminator.

  “Catherine Delan is out on bail, Nash.”

  “What! For how long?”

  “Two days. We have no evidence that she killed Winfield, only that she was sleeping with him. Covering up blackmail is low on the list here, you know?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” As he hung up, Nash’s gaze swept over photos, then he slipped suspect statements from a file.

  “Is this evidence?” Hope pointed to the bags. Nash nodded, reading. Hope opened the largest bag, the one containing Peter Winfield’s clothing, and when she held up the green shirt a distinct odor came with it.

  “Let me see that,” Nash said. She handed it to him. “This was the shirt he was wearing when he met with Lisa.” He inhaled the scent. “I’ve smelled that before.”

  “Aftershave?” Jack said, sniffing.

  Hope shook her head. “Too many high notes.”

  Nash reared back in his chair, and Walker simply folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.

  Hope blushed a little. “Perfumes have high and low notes, part of the scents that make up perfume. Spice, flowers, musk. It’s the combination of these and the level of the notes that make one perfume different from others.” She put her wrist under Nash’s nose and he got a whiff. “No flowers, no musk, only spice.”

  Walker smiled crookedly. “Wise choice.”

  She tipped her nose up. “It’s custom-made.”

  “Lisa’s scent is jasmine.” Nash slipped the scarf free of the bag. Walker inhaled, as did Hope.

  “This—” she tapped the victim’s shirt “—is high flowers and musk.”

  Nash phoned Quinn to ask about the smell on Winfield’s shirt.

  “I couldn’t get the exact mix to define it,” Quinn said. “It was the only garment with the scent on it. Sweet flowers and musk, but I’m still trying. Just wish my memory was better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve smelled it before, outside the lab. I can’t recall where.”

  Nash asked him another couple of questions, then redialed Rhinehart to ask him about odors in the clothing. There were none, so that meant Winfield got it here in Indigo.

  Nash stared out the window, ignoring the world.

  “I can hear the wheels turning in your head,” Hope said to him. “Speak.”

  “Not yet. But do me a favor—check out these people.” He slipped the list of names free and handed it to her, then he jotted something on another slip of paper. “Ask if they saw this person between ten and midnight.”

  “My services will cost you.”

  Scooping up his index cards, Nash said, “The sheriff is good for it.”

  Walker winked at Hope, and she smiled as she left the police station. Nash headed out, too. He had something he had to do. Right now. He’d waited four years too long to start living and wasn’t wasting a second more. Not even with a killer on the loose.

  NASH FOUND Lisa snoozing in the solarium on an old sofa. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he kissed her awake and slid a ring onto her finger.

  Lisa inhaled and sat up. “Nash.”

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, down on one knee.

  Tears sprang from her eyes and she cupped his jaw and kissed him. Her lip quivered and Nash drank in her sobs.

  “Please say yes, Lisa. I spent an hour picking that out, and you need to say yes and put me out of my misery, or just shoot me.”

  She smiled, pulling him down to her. “Yes, yes. Oh, yes!”

  Nash kissed her deeply, madly, and had his hand up her shirt when someone behind them cleared their throat. He pressed his forehead to hers, catching his breath before leaning back to look at his oldest brother.

  “You sure know how to spoil a moment, Logan.”

  It was Lisa who said it, making Nash smile.

  Logan’s gaze lowered to her hand, and his smile was faint and a little envious.

  “Congratulations, little brother. And forgive me.” Logan crossed to Lisa, drawing her from the couch and kissing her cheek. “Welcome to the family.” He shook his brother’s hand. “I really hate to interrupt, but Hope Randall is on the phone.”

  “Hope?” Lisa asked.

  “She was checking something out for me. Pray she found it.” Nash squeezed Lisa’s hand and hurried to the phone in the hall.

  Logan stared at Lisa. “Thank you for tending to Mother.”

  “You’re welcome. She’s a lovely woman.”

  “She was.”

  “No, Logan, she still is and will be again. When we find the killer.”

  “We’ve been hunting for a while now.”

  “You can’t give up.”

  “I don’t think I know how.” He was quiet, staring at the plant-filled room. Sunlight spilled from the glass ceiling, draping him in white light, and Lisa thought she’d never seen anyone as formidable as Logan Davis Couviyon. Nor as unapproachable. Then she remembered that he had the burden of the plantation, the lumber and mill businesses the Couviyon family owned, which employed half the town.

  “You hate it here?” Lisa asked.

  “No, of course not.”

  “You were raised to take over for your father, Logan. Is that what you want?”

  His shoulders drooped and he shoved his fingers through his hair. It was the first time she’d ever seen him look mussed.

  “I don’t really know anymore.”

  “Maybe it’s time you found out what would actually put a smile on your face. It is a handsome face when you manage to not look like you’re about to chew leather.”

  His features tightened.

  “More than you wanted to hear?” she said.

  “Apparently.” Logan smiled sheepishly, and it did amazing things for his features. “You’re going to be a welcome addition around here, Lisa.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him that she had no intention of moving in and starting her marriage with Nash under the nose of his family. But Logan was a brooding man and lonely, too, though he’d never admit it.

  “You might live to regret that.”

  He smiled.

  “You know, Logan, you really need to wear something else besides button-down shirts and slacks. This is your house, not the office. And maybe a little color?”

  Logan looked down at his white shirt and black slacks. “I’m used to it.”

  “Repeat after me, ‘Change is good.’”

  He laughed softly. “I shall.”

  “Shall? See there. How about saying okay or fine?”

  Nash popped back in long enough to kiss Lisa goodbye. “I’m sorry, baby, I have to leave.” He hurried to the door. “Stay put.”

  Lisa sighed and looked down at the diamond ring on her hand.

  “Crime fighting is hell on a relationship, huh?” Logan said.

  Lisa watched Nash tear out the door, and she just smiled.

  HOPE’S CALL had given him another piece to the puzzle. One more person had opportunity—he just didn’t know the motive. Didn’t have a solid connection. Nash drove, the windows closed and the air conditioner turned up. The scent of Winfield’s shirt filled his cruiser, and after a few moments, he remembered where he’d smelled it.

  Lisa will be furious, he thought, and for a second her face, the instant he’d slipped the ring on her finger, materialized in his mind. He was lucky she was going to marry him, he thought; then a second later his features tightened as the puzzle fell into place. Pulling the car off the road, he accessed his police computer, doing a search on state marriage licenses issued in the past two months.

  As the screen blinked up, Nash grinned.

  Gotcha.

  Ch
apter Thirteen

  Lisa saw a figure come around from the side of the house, and while Olivia was down on her knees pulling weeds and dropping them into a basket, Lisa shielded her eyes to look at the newcomer. “Oh, hi, Kate. What are you doing here?”

  “I tried to call, but the number’s unlisted.”

  Lisa smiled at the house, then Kate. “I know. The shop’s closed until the doors are repaired.”

  “There’s a locksmith and carpenter at the shop. I was driving by and saw them.”

  “Really?” Nash must have called them to fix the doors, Lisa thought. “Was anyone else there?”

  “No. Want to take a ride over and see what they’re up to?” Kate asked, her gaze shifting to Olivia, then to the house. “Man, this place is huge.”

  “Be glad neither of us has to clean it.”

  Kate smiled. “Who’s the lady?”

  Lisa glanced back at the older woman. “Olivia Couviyon. Nash’s mother.”

  Kate frowned softly. “I heard talk about her. Isn’t she a little cra—”

  Lisa sent Kate a hard look.

  “Sorry. So, you want to go to the shop and see what these guys are doing or let them just fix it?”

  Lisa didn’t want men working in her house or shop without someone there. But she’d promised Nash she’d remain at Indigo Run. “Let me make a couple of calls.”

  “Sure. But I just saw a guy in a black sports car drive away from here.”

  That must have been Logan, Lisa thought. “Just the same, come on with me.”

  “No problem.”

  Lisa went to Olivia, whispering softly that she was going out for a while. Olivia nodded, her focus on the weeds. Lisa noticed that this particular rosebush had no weeds to speak of, and the mulched area around it was perfect, the edges clean. Not that the rest wasn’t well tended, but this spot was perfect.

  Lisa really didn’t want to leave Olivia alone, and she decided to ask MaryGrace to keep an eye on her. She walked into the house, Kate behind her.

  She called for MaryGrace. When she didn’t get an answer, she went to the nearest phone and dialed Nash. She got his office voice mail and left a message for him to call her, then dialed his pager. Concerned that MaryGrace didn’t seem to be around, Lisa said to Kate, “I’ll just be a second.” Then she headed deeper into the house. “Meet me at the front door.”

  “Certainly.”

  Lisa’s steps faltered and she glanced back. How odd that Kate had answered the same way Peter always had, she thought. Lisa called for MaryGrace as Kate went to the front-door foyer.

  “MaryGrace?” Not finding her in the kitchen, Lisa trotted up the staircase, opening door after door. MaryGrace was nowhere to be found. “I guess she went to the grocery store,” Lisa muttered to herself, going back downstairs and walking toward Logan’s office.

  Kate stepped close. “We should be going. I hate to think of those people in your shop with access into the house.”

  That was true, Lisa thought, moving just inside the doorway to Logan’s office. It was empty, too. Okay, something’s wrong. Logan would never have left here if MaryGrace was gone too.

  “That guy who left in the black car. He looks like your detective,” Kate said.

  “Yes, that’s Logan, Nash’s brother.”

  Lisa got a creepy feeling, from the empty house, from Kate, from the whole situation. Kate was looking at her carefully, as if measuring her against something.

  “You okay?” she asked Kate.

  “Yeah, fine. Just concerned.”

  Lisa glanced around, the silence of the house eerie. She listened to her gut instinct. “Look, Kate. I better not leave. If the craftsmen do anything wrong, then they’ll have to pay for it. Can you stop by and tell them to stop their work till they talk with me?” Lisa stepped farther into the office, her gaze moving over the desk for a note.

  “I can’t do that,” Kate said.

  “Why not? You live two streets over.”

  “You need to come with me, Lisa.”

  Lisa twisted to look behind her and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  A DOZEN OFFICERS surrounded the little house owned by Kate Holling, and when the bullhorns didn’t bring a response, the SWAT team spilled in through the back doors. “Clear” repeated like a chant. After getting the nod, Nash prepared to kick open the front door.

  The explosion ripped the door off its hinges and sent Nash flying backward down the steps. He hit the sidewalk hard, his gun spinning from his hand.

  LISA LIFTED her gaze from the weapon to Kate. “You?”

  Kate smirked to herself. “Good, aren’t I?”

  “Why?” Lisa inched back against the edge of the desk behind her.

  “Paying you back.”

  “For what?”

  “For keeping Peter stuck on you when it was me he was supposed to marry.”

  “Why would he marry you?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Kate’s expression turned black with rage and her voice rose.

  “Because I loved him! You had your chance.”

  This wasn’t making any sense to Lisa. But the gun did. She looked around for something to defend herself with.

  Kate moved closer. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Where are Logan and MaryGrace?” Lisa took a step back and her foot hit something soft. She looked down and saw a hand. Logan was under the desk, unconscious, his head bleeding. “Oh, God.” She reached for him, but Kate pushed the gun barrel into her back.

  “Back off, Lisa.”

  Lisa stilled. “He’s bleeding.”

  “Good. If I’m lucky it’ll keep going till he’s dead. Come on. I prefer to do this in private.” Kate flicked the gun barrel in the direction of the door.

  “How did you know Peter?”

  “I worked for him, in New York. Now get moving.”

  “Not till you tell me why you killed Peter.”

  “I thought it was obvious. Because he still loved you. He had Catherine Delan and he still wanted you.” Every time Kate said “you,” she brought the gun closer to Lisa’s head. “He had me, and he still kept talking about you.” Kate nudged Lisa’s head with the muzzle. “I was sick of it.”

  Lisa gaped. “You were jealous?”

  Kate’s expression soured. “No, I was pissed off. Killing him wasn’t the point. The point was setting you up to take the fall.”

  “What the hell did I ever do to you?” Lisa asked.

  “We’ve been over this, Mrs. Winfield. You had a hold on him that no one could break.”

  “That’s because he couldn’t have me, Kate.” Lisa hoped to reason with her, but it was hopeless. Kate was in another dimension. With a gun.

  “He wasn’t supposed to die,” Kate said. “Well, not till the next day, anyway. The fool went and used the tea in the tub. When I came to see him, he was already dying.”

  “The basket the police found. You took one from the shop?” Lisa was certain she wasn’t missing one. And it told her Kate had planned this for a long time. She’d applied for a job so she could kill her.

  “No, I had a friend buy one when I got to this town. Get moving, Lisa. Trying to mess with my head will only get you killed sooner.”

  Lisa swallowed and obeyed, walking out of the study. Kate seemed calm and controlled. Like Peter. And Peter always snapped eventually.

  “Whatever you’re planning won’t work.” Lisa stopped in the hall.

  “Really? I confess, I did it,” Kate said dramatically. “I couldn’t live with myself and deceive the people I loved.” Her expression hardened. “That’s what the letter you’re going to write will say.”

  “A confession letter?” Lisa said. “No one would ever believe it. There’re too many people involved. You killed Chartres and you tried to choke me to death.”

  “None of this would have happened if you’d just drunk the tea I made you,” Kate said.

  The night she’d returned from New York, Lisa realized. The meal, t
he tea on the stove. “You know all they have to do is check flights you took to get here.”

  Kate’s features tightened as the realization set in. Her timing was off.

  Lisa noticed. “You were the one in the black coat at the funeral. You destroyed the apartment, the nightgown. The one who hit me on the head.” Lisa hadn’t thought to check to see if the shop had been opened and Kate was there. Lisa hadn’t arrived home till late. Kate could have easily left New York and returned to Indigo before her. “Attacking me in my home was your worst mistake. It proved I was being set up.”

  “You should have been in jail!”

  “I’m innocent. I’m not going anywhere. Nash is probably on his way,” Lisa said.

  “Your white knight isn’t coming. Right about now, he should be dead.”

  NASH BLINKED and rolled as debris rained down on him and the other officers. The wail of fire-truck sirens grew louder.

  Jack Walker rushed to him, pulling him back from the flames. Acrid vapor billowed.

  “Anyone hurt?” Nash asked when he got to his feet, coughing hard and bracing his hands on his knees.

  Walker shook his head. “Not too bad. SWAT team was already coming out.”

  Nash and Walker shouted into the radio for their fellow officers and rushed to the side of the house. The fire trucks pulled up and firefighters spilled out, rushing to douse the flames. Nash and Walker pulled one man out and away from the fire, then helped him to the ambulance.

  “Good God,” Nash said, staring at the house and sagging against his cruiser. Firefighters quickly controlled the blaze and kept it from spreading to nearby homes.

  “Kate wasn’t coming back. Not with that explosion,” Nash said, and started moving to the car door. Lisa. Oh, God.

  “It only destroyed the front of the house.”

  A firefighter, his face black with soot, rushed to catch Nash. “Hey, Detective, this yours?” He slapped the pager into Nash’s hand.

  Nash smirked at it. It was humming. “Must be broken,” he said, rubbing the dirt off the cracked glass and reading the numbers. As realization set in, he felt sick with fear. Lisa. At Indigo Run.