“Are you waiting for someone to pick you up?”
She shook her head no—just barely.
He wanted to reach out and grab her hand, comfort her somehow, even though it’d be out of character if he did. He didn’t comfort witnesses in such a manner. Would that offer an ounce of comfort? He was beyond clueless when it came to consoling someone, especially a woman.
But the grief in her eyes was unbearable.
He settled with a smile. A sweet, soft smile meant to relax and offer a bit of relief from the pain. “Tell me about her. Your friend, Evelyn. Tell me what you loved most about her.”
He had no idea if talking about her friend so soon, or even at all, would be the right move, but he couldn’t help but remember what he was told one time when faced with a heavy loss.
Remember them.
Remember the good times.
Remember the beauty of your loved one.
So, he wanted to help her remember. Not the gruesomeness of her death. Not the ugliness that befell her. But the happiness, the wonderful friend she had been.
Except, she just stared at him. Almost through him, as if she didn’t even see him. It reminded him of the entire interaction while she had been inside the precinct right before she identified her friend’s body.
Yet, he kept the friendly smile on his face and waited patiently. He figured, for some strange reason, he could sit here all day with her. Just sitting.
He couldn’t say how long they sat there, but she finally rewarded him with a touch of a smile. Barely there, but enough to give him hope.
“The zoo. She took me to the zoo last year for my birthday so I could see the polar bears. It was such a fun day.” Her words fell out in a whisper.
Carter exhaled a slow, silent breath. Not because she spoke, but because her voice was like the sound of an angel. So soft and airy and sweet. “She sounds like she was a wonderful friend.”
“Oh, she was.” The misery brutally coated her eyes once again. “I can’t get her … body …”
She shivered. He didn’t hesitate to touch her shoulder lightly. “Don’t. It won’t help. Just think of the happy memories. When you start to think of anything terrible, remember the zoo. Remember all the good times you had.” He let his hand drop. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I can’t go home right now. I think …” She turned her gaze away from him. “I think I’d like to see my friend Lincoln.”
Just the sound of his name put a scowl on his face.
“But thank you, Detective Dixson.”
A slow smile grew as she looked back at him.
“Call me Carter.”
That made her hold her smile even longer than the last one.
If he had his way, he’d sit here all day attempting to cajole a smile out of her that would grow until maybe even a laugh joined it. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing the beauty etched across her lovely features.
It was wrong.
It was strange.
It was completely out of character.
But he liked Rose.
“Ouch.”
Rose rubbed her forehead.
She had just walked straight into the door of the bar where her friend Lincoln Tallont worked.
She was walking around in a fog.
The only thing that she could think of was Evie. Her best friend had been drowned; the bloated face she had seen in the morgue was nothing like the face she’d known most of her life. There had been no spark in Evelyn’s green eyes—it was what had struck her the most. Evie had always been so effervescent, so full of life. Seeing her lifeless body—the complete opposite of the friend who had always been there for her and supported her with unconditional love—had shaken her deep down inside. She was starting to believe that she wasn't ever going to be able to get over it.
After everything she’d been through, Evie deserved happiness. She deserved to finally get the peace she had sought so hard to find.
But now she never could.
Now Evie was just a cold, dead shell of the young woman she had been. Now all her future held was a box in the ground.
“Rose?”
She blinked and saw a tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed man standing beside her. “Lincoln.” Rose could hear the relief in her voice and felt it flood through her body. Lincoln was back; she wasn't alone anymore; she didn't have to handle this on her own.
“I'm here.” He smiled at her and reached out and patted her shoulder. His touch further comforted her—anchored her—and she felt a little of the fog she was stuck in evaporate.
“I'm so glad you're back.” She wished that he hadn't been away on business yesterday and today, but at least he was back now. He wasn't supposed to return until the day after tomorrow; he must have gotten her messages and come back early. She was so grateful for that. His thoughtfulness was just one of the many things she loved about him.
“What happened to your head?”
She was still rubbing the spot on her forehead that had slammed into the door. Embarrassed about letting her emotions get the better of her, she deliberately lowered her hand. “It’s nothing.”
Lincoln arched a single brow, a sign he didn't believe her, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue. Instead, he took her elbow and held the door open for her. “Come on, you look like you need a coffee.”
He was right.
Although her friend worked at a bar and she spent a lot of time hanging out here with him, she didn't drink alcohol—she just didn't enjoy it. Despite that, she usually had a blast whenever she was here. Lincoln owned the bar, and Evie was a bartender here—well, she had been—and the three of them would laugh and talk in between Lincoln and Evie serving customers.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
She didn't want to cry again.
Especially in front of other people.
That female cop had found her in the bathroom earlier, and although the woman had been kind and compassionate, they were strangers, and she didn't want strangers right now.
For the first time in a long time, she wished she wasn't all alone in the world.
“Come here.” Lincoln wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Usually, she didn't really like for people to touch her, but Lincoln wasn't people. He was the closest thing she had to family.
But family or not, she wasn't going to stand outside a popular bar and cry in anyone’s arms. So, like she had so many times before, she drew on her inner reserves of strength—that were dwindling with every passing day—straightened her spine, and gently pushed on Lincoln’s chest.
“I could really use that coffee,” she said, and offered up a smile to soften the fact that she had pushed away someone she knew cared about her.
Lincoln looked hurt, but he tried to cover it and he opened the door and then closed it behind them. He reached out to take her elbow again, but then seemed to think better of it, and instead, just walked toward the bar.
Rose trailed after him, wondering if it had been a mistake to come here tonight. Maybe she should have just gone home, as hard as it was going to be to face her empty apartment knowing that this time Evie was never coming back, it wasn't going to get any easier by procrastinating. As soon as she told Lincoln about Evie, she was going to go straight home. The sooner she adjusted to her new reality, the better.
“Evie is dead, Lincoln,” she said as she slid onto a barstool.
He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I know you didn't say in your messages, but I could tell by the tone of your voice. I was hoping I was wrong and just reading too much into your tone.”
“She drowned.”
“I'm sorry you had to see her like that. I'm sorry I wasn't here to do the identification with you. I'm sorry,” he finished forlornly. He looked like he knew how much she was hurting, he just didn't know how to fix it.
But there wasn't any fixing this.
She would just have to learn to live with the loss like she had learned to live with ev
erything else life had thrown at her.
Lincoln opened his mouth to say something, but his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, and when he looked at the screen, he said, “Sorry, Rose, I have to take this. When I’m done, we’ll have some dinner and we’ll talk and we’ll try to cheer each other up.”
She was going to have to try not to be selfish. She wasn't the only one hurting right now. Lincoln had known Evelyn almost as long as she had and the three of them had always been close.
While she was waiting for Lincoln to return, she sat and fiddled. She never knew what to do with her hands when she was nervous, so she usually just fidgeted with whatever was close by. Jewelry, pens, the sleeves of her clothing. She just needed to be doing something, even if it was something pointless.
As she sat and fidgeted, her thoughts began to wander.
Only this time, they didn't immediately run to Evie.
For some reason, they went to the cop.
Detective Dixson.
Carter.
Carter Dixson.
He was …
“Hey, beautiful.”
The second she heard the voice, she cringed.
It was Nathan Insoll. He was the son of her foster parents and he often hung out at Lincoln’s bar.
Unfortunately.
The man was good looking, at least on the outside. He was tall, he worked out, he had piercing blue eyes and blond hair, but those good looks didn't match what was inside. He was rude and crude; he had a violent temper, and for some reason, one of his favorite pastimes was hitting on her.
“I said, hey, beautiful.” Nathan sidled up to her and stood way too close for her liking, completely invading her personal space.
“Go away, Nathan.” She tried to sound firm and confident, but she wasn't. Even on her best day, Nathan scared her. On an emotionally taxing day like today she just wanted to run away and cry. But she didn't. She stood her ground.
Nathan ignored her and leaned in close. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol. He was drunk.
As usual.
He put his hand on her thigh. “Why don’t we go someplace together.”
“Stop it. Go away.” She put her hand over his and tried to push it away, but he was too strong and he shoved his hand between her legs. Rose clamped her thighs together and tried to wriggle backward, away from Nathan.
“Come on, you and me, babe,” he drawled as he tried to kiss her.
She was starting to panic now. The bar was busy, but it was full of couples kissing and groping each other. No one was paying them any attention because they looked just like everyone else.
“Stop, Nathan.” She tried to shove him away, but he was drunk and beyond listening. All he cared about was trying to get what he wanted from her.
Then suddenly, he was gone.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Lincoln growled at Nathan as he tossed him across the room.
Nathan was drunk, but he wasn't stupid. Lincoln was every bit as big as him and could easily take him.
While Nathan slunk away, no doubt to find someone else who would be more amenable to his advances, she propped her elbows on the bar and rested her head in her hands. She was panting, her heart racing a million miles a minute.
If Lincoln hadn't returned when he had, Nathan could have raped her.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d tried.
“You should press charges, Rose … have him arrested,” Lincoln told her, vibrating with rage.
“What good would it do?” she asked wearily, lifting her head. “He’s drunk. The cops would just take him in to sleep it off.”
“What about next time?” Lincoln demanded. “When he finds you someplace where you’re all alone with no one to jump in and rescue you.”
She didn't want to hear that.
She didn't want to hear anything right now.
She just wanted to block out the whole world and find a quiet, peaceful place to curl up.
Wearily, she folded her arms on the bar and rested her head on them.
No matter what she did and how hard she tried to find it, peace always remained tantalizingly just out of reach.
3
The music immediately grated on his nerves as he pulled open the door and the sultry rock tune drifted toward them. If he had to pick music to listen to, it wouldn’t be this crap that sent a shiver down his spine. Give him a good ol’ country song, maybe even a nice classical song that always reminded him of his mom, but this? He knew just from the tunes he wasn’t going to like this guy.
Jade smirked before entering the building first, obviously aware he didn’t like the choice of music. She also knew how old this was getting.
Ex-husband after ex-husband.
Not a clue which one could be their killer.
He was still trying to wrap his mind around why Evelyn was married so many times. And to complete idiots, it appeared. He wasn't optimistic this third guy would be any different from the first two.
Husband number one, Jeffrey Turner, was a boring financial advisor who loved to run marathons. Apparently, so did Evelyn, which was how they met. According to Jeffrey, it had been love at first sight. A whirlwind romance that lasted nine months. When they asked why they divorced, Jeffrey shrugged, clueless as to why it didn’t work out.
Carter figured it had to do with the fact the guy was dull and boring. Even when he spoke, his voice came out monotone, no liveliness to anything. He honestly couldn’t figure out what Evelyn saw in the guy.
Husband number two, Ronney Walker, was a personal trainer at a local gym. For a moment, when the guy held out his hand to shake, Carter wanted to take a step back. He was built like a truck, his muscles bulging from every facet of his body. He happened to be a friendly guy, jovial, and full of smiles. And dumb as a box of rocks.
Jade could barely hold in her laughter after Carter had to repeat his questions at least twice before Ronney understood what he was asking.
Yet, again, he couldn’t figure out what Evelyn saw in the guy. He couldn’t even hold an intelligent conversation. But he had a nice smile, at least, according to Jade, which he figured she said just to annoy him.
According to Ronney, his marriage lasted six months before they parted ways, amicably.
As the door swished closed behind him, he prayed that husband number three, Brandon Meyer, was an improvement to the first two husbands.
When his eyes connected with a tall, lean man, bronzed and toned to perfection, he didn’t think he’d be getting his wish. Even Jade snickered next to him under her breath.
“Welcome to Dance To Your Dreams. I’m Brandon. How can I help you?” He smiled wide as he held out his hand.
For reasons unknown, he didn’t want to shake his hand. He didn’t even want to go through the round of questioning that probably wouldn’t lead him any closer to his killer.
But like a professional, he forced out a smile and shook hands, then produced his badge. “I’m Detective Dixson, and this is my partner Detective Hawkins. We wanted to ask you some questions about your ex-wife Evelyn Marshall.”
If it were possible, Brandon’s smile beamed even brighter. “She’s just wonderful. How is she?” His smile slowly died. “Is she okay? I mean, if you’re the police and you’re here.” He scratched the top of his head. “Well, that can’t be good.”
Carter paused to gather some patience, then almost sighed in relief when Jade popped in and relayed the terrible news that Evelyn had been murdered.
The color drained from Brandon’s face. His skin, once a golden tan, now a pasty white. Before they could ask any questions, he threw a hand over his mouth and ran out of the room.
“So, it’s just a guess, but I’m going to say we’re about to strike out again,” Jade said quietly as she glanced around the dance studio.
Carter followed her gaze, noting how clean and immaculate the studio appeared. Everything, from the props in the corner, to the speakers and music area on the left side, looke
d organized, as if Brandon took pride in keeping his studio well maintained.
When he did a little searching last night at home on all three ex-husbands, he knew this dance studio was one of the highest rated in the area. So it didn’t surprise him it looked high-class and put together.
Brandon taught dance classes for little kids starting at age three to adults looking to learn the basics of ballroom dancing. He did it all, and very well. He had over fifteen years experience in the field, and even won a national dance title three years ago.
By his reaction, he cared about Evelyn. He didn’t act like a man who would cut her open and fill her stomach with rocks and then toss her into a lake as if she were a piece of garbage.
None of her ex-husbands acted that way.
Where did that leave them?
Who was their killer?
A few minutes later, his patience almost running thin having to wait for this guy, Brandon walked out with a towel in his hands, wiping his brows a bit. His color looked better, but Carter could tell he was teetering on the edge of possibly getting sick again.
“Sorry about that. Evelyn was …” Brandon wiped his brow again with the towel. “She was special.”
“Why did you get divorced? How long were you married?” Jade asked softly, as if she knew one wrong word would send him running out of the room again.
“I’d say it’s been about five months or so since we signed the papers. We were married four months. It was a whirlwind romance. It fizzled out really fast. But I still cared about her.”
Another whirlwind romance. Evelyn’s dating life was painting an interesting picture. She loved men, loved getting married, yet not one relationship lasted even a year.
“If you cared about her, why did it end?” Carter tried to keep the insolence out of his tone. He probably failed because it had been a long day with no results.
Brandon shrugged lightly, his eyes cast down at the floor. “We had fun. It just … ended. I think we got married too fast. My dance studio is doing great, and I work a lot. We didn’t necessarily fight about it, but she didn’t always like that I wasn’t home at a decent hour.”
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 190
