Aaron Connor Afton’s home in Mariner Point was a humble six- or seven-bedroom, three-story white mansion with a gray roof, two symmetrical turrets, arching porches, and brightly lit windows. Had to be worth at least a cool million.
It sat at the end of a cul-de-sac belonging to a street that bisected the narrow landform bounded by canals and the sound. The luxury homes lining both sides of the road had an eerie resemblance to the crime scene, though these were more elaborate.
As they neared the house, Miranda spotted a dark sedan parked in front of the two-car garage.
She sat up and peered at it. “That could be the car from the video.”
“It could,” Parker said.
If only Becker had been able to enhance that footage.
Parker pulled the Nissan into the sandy drive and shut off the engine. “Are you sure you want to play it this way?”
Miranda nodded.
She had decided to go in with just Parker. Per her plan, Smith’s police car was parked about three doors down. Wesson was with her. Deweese and Hill were in an unmarked car in front of them.
She stared up at the huge structure. “We won’t get a confession if we go in there with police.”
“True. But I’m not sure he won’t see through your ruse.”
And then all hell could break lose. But they had their weapons. Plus she had a prepared “assistance needed” message on her phone, ready to send to Smith when the time was right.
“Let’s see if he does or not.” She opened the door and made her way up the tall set of stairs to the magnificent front door.
She rang the bell. After a long moment it opened.
Aaron Connor Afton stood before her looking a lot like he did in the photo with Josie.
Tall, dark black hair professionally styled, intense features, especially with the mole on the side of his face. Maybe five or ten points under Parker in the looks department, he was stylishly dressed in designer jeans, a faded gray sweater with over-sized pockets, and a pair of brown loafers with no socks. She could see muscles under the sweater. He worked out.
“Ms. Steele?” he said in an irritated tone.
“Correct. This is my associate Mr. Parker.” No need to go into detail.
Afton didn’t seem to recognize the name. He must not be watching the news. That seemed odd.
“Come in.”
He led them up two long staircases to a wide open living space that overlooked the water. It had honey-colored hardwood floors and light walls that were mostly window. The furniture was done in a light blue antique style that reminded Miranda too much of the crime scene. Instead of a crab, a modern painting of a shark hung over a white fireplace. Must be part of the standard beach décor, but it unnerved her.
“Have a seat.” Afton indicated a cozy looking sofa and took a defiant stance next to the fireplace.
Standing his ground, was he?
Like a lion defending his territory, Parker took a place behind the couch. Miranda saw him covertly check the gun under his coat.
She sat and opened the manila folder she’d brought. It contained the reports Smith had dug up and Wesson’s notes.
She pretended to consult one of the papers. “Mr. Afton, I understand you were married to Josie Yearwood some time ago.”
His head jolted back. The question had surprised him. “That’s right. We were together five years and then divorced.”
“And you married Mia Brown after that.”
He blinked. “Mia and I are also divorced.”
“And Catherine Judson is your third wife?”
His lips thinned as he controlled his mounting irritation. “Catherine and I are divorced, too.”
“I see.” Miranda turned over the incident report. “Oh, yes. You attacked her with a kitchen knife.”
“That was an exaggeration.” His voice rang against the high ceiling. “I was carving a roast I’d cooked especially for her that night, and we got into an argument.”
“She was cut on her arm.” Miranda looked up at him, keeping her expression bland.
Afton glared at her, then at Parker. “She thought the roast was overdone. I told her it wasn’t. Then she said I was slicing it too thick. We started yelling at each other. She grabbed for the knife, trying to take it away and do it herself. That’s when she got cut. It was an accident.”
“Mm-hmm.” Miranda consulted another page. “You also divorced Catherine.”
“Yes, unfortunately we couldn’t make it work.”
Miranda gave Parker a nod.
Looking very much like a prosecutor in a courtroom, he came around the back of the sofa and stood at the mantelpiece opposite their host. “Mr. Afton, can you tell us why you contacted Josie Yearwood recently?”
Now Afton looked totally stunned. “What are you talking about?”
“You sent her a message through the Love Prospectors dating site.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Nonetheless, we’d like an explanation.”
Afton glared at Parker, then Miranda, his dark eyes boring holes through her. With a hiss of contempt, he spun around and moved to the window.
He gazed out at the inky water below, then ran his hands over his face. “Haven’t you ever heard of the Pina Colada song?”
Frowning, Miranda glanced at Parker. “The what?”
“It’s about a guy who answers a lonely hearts ad in the paper and discovers it’s his wife.”
She vaguely recalled it now. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Josie was the best thing that ever happened to me. After Catherine left, I realized that. We had something special I never could find with anyone else. I wanted it back. That’s why I came down here and rented this place.”
“And you tried to contact her,” Miranda prompted.
He nodded. “When she ignored my message on the dating site, I went to her shop.”
That was new. But Inez hadn’t said anything about Josie’s ex coming to see her at the boutique. “Was Ms. Fisher there?”
“Who?”
“Her business partner.”
Afton looked like he’d never heard of her. “No. Josie was alone. I told her I wanted to get together again. I begged her to talk to me. She refused, so I left.”
Motive, Miranda thought. Josie brushed him off, so he got back at her, expressing his feelings for her by carving hearts into her.
“But later she changed her mind,” Parker said darkly.
Looking confused, Afton shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”
Of course, he’d deny it. “You went out with her last Friday night.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Okay, how about this? “You bought several dozen purple roses recently, didn’t you, Mr. Afton?”
His eyes blazed. “How did you know that? I—I was trying to win her back. Purple roses are Josie’s favorite. The store didn’t have them, then I decided that idea wouldn’t work.”
“So you only ordered one dozen?”
Afton stared at her, then at Parker.
“Where did you get them from?” Parker said.
Afton’s good-looking face turned red. “What’s this about, Ms. Steele? Is Josie suing me for harassment? Or does she want to amend our divorce settlement now?”
This guy was a really good actor. She closed the folder and stood. “You don’t watch the news, do you, Mr. Afton?”
Now he seemed even more confused. “I have a high pressure job in New York. I wanted to get away from financial reports for a while. I haven’t turned on the television since I got here last Wednesday.”
That had to be a lie. A serial killer would be eagerly watching for reports of his actions, which Angela Tremblay had amply provided.
She turned to Parker. He gave her a slight nod. Time to drop the lawyer act.
“Mr. Afton,” she said. “Josie Yearwood is dead.”
Afton let out a sharp snort. “No, she isn’t. I just told you I spoke to her less than a week
ago.”
“She was brutally murdered last Friday in a house along the ocean in Nags Head.” Miranda pulled out the photo of the body she’d brought and held it out to him.
He stared at it, his eyes growing large, his expression dazed and frightened. His jaw began to move but he couldn’t speak. Slowly, he began to shake his head. “No. No. That can’t be right. You’re lying.”
“The photo doesn’t lie, Mr. Afton.”
He snatched the picture out of her hands and tore it in two. “Get out of my house,” he screamed. “You’re no attorney.”
“You’re right, Mr. Afton. I’m not an attorney. I’m a private investigator and so is Wade Parker.” She reached into her pocket, pressed the Send button on her cell, and retrieved a business card. She handed to him. “We’re from the Parker Agency in Atlanta, and we’ve been working with the local police on this case.”
He emitted a long high-pitched shriek. His whole demeanor turned from handsome playboy to some ghoulish fiend. “You think I killed Josie? You’re out of your minds.”
“All the evidence points to you.”
“Get out. Get out right now!”
Miranda saw Parker’s hand slip inside his jacket. Before he could draw his weapon, there was a loud knock on the door.
She gave their suspect a satisfied smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Afton. That’s the police now. They’ll be wanting to take you to the station for further questioning.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
By the time Deweese, Hill, and Smith entered the house with their weapons in hand, Afton was on the floor sobbing.
“My Josie! My love. My one true love. She can’t be gone. Tell me it’s all a lie. Please say it isn’t true.”
“Let’s talk about it at the station.” Deweese pulled the bewildered man to his feet and led him outside.
With Parker beside her, Miranda followed everyone downstairs.
He leaned in close. “You handled him with great expertise. For a moment, I almost believed you were an attorney.”
She had to grin. His compliments always made her tingle. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”
As soon as they got to the bottom of the steps, she spotted Wesson waiting for them.
Her colleague nodded toward the dark sedan. “Smith’s going to impound Afton’s car. I’d like to help with that. I can catch a ride with her back to the B&B.”
Miranda watched Deweese put the distraught ex-husband into the back of Smith’s police car. “I’m sure he’ll lawyer up as soon as he comes to his senses, but let us know if anything noteworthy happens.”
“Will do.” And she hurried off to join her friend.
This was it.
They had found Josie Yearwood’s killer and had him in custody. All Miranda wanted now was a hot bath and a warm bed. It had been a long hard day.
Then she spotted Sergeant Ballard’s short skinny frame standing at the end of the driveway. He was on his cell, but ended his call as soon as he saw them.
She braced herself for an undeserved butt-chewing, then saw he was grinning from ear to ear.
He hurried over to the Nissan and stuck out a hand. “You did it! You caught the killer. I couldn’t believe it when Garwood rang me, so I had to come see for myself. Great job, you two. I knew I was right to call you in.”
He pumped Miranda’s arm, then Parker’s.
Parker removed his hand. “Sergeant, we—”
“I know. The bastard’s going to lawyer up. But we can get him. We’ll comb this house until we find what we need to bury him. He’s going away for a long time, thanks to you.”
“We’ll talk in the morning. Right now, we’re going back to our room.” Parker opened the door for Miranda, and she climbed inside as fast as she could.
She watched Parker stroll around to the driver’s side. He stopped a moment to speak to the sergeant, then got in.
They sped off.
“Don’t drive too fast,” she warned him. “Ballard will chase us down and give us a ticket.”
He smiled. “I don’t think so.”
“What did you say to him back there?”
“I told him Smith had made an outstanding contribution to the case.”
“Hope it does some good. Smith is really coming around.”
“She is.” Parker reached for the radio and turned it on, as if he wanted a distraction from tonight’s events.
Instead Angela Tremblay’s voice came through the car speakers. “We have breaking news on the Josie Yearwood case. Her ex-husband Aaron Connor Afton of New York City has just been arrested for her murder. It seems Mr. Afton had been in the area a few days—”
Parker shut the radio off.
Miranda leaned her head back and groaned. “That’s who Ballard was talking to on the phone back there.”
“Evidently he wanted to clear his name as soon as possible,” Parker said darkly.
“Blabbing to the press. What a jerk.”
As he turned out of the subdivision, Parker took her hand in his. “But now it’s over. We won’t have to deal with him much longer.”
“Yeah.”
She closed her eyes and tried to let the tightness in her shoulders go. The meeting with Afton had been intense. And though the encounter hadn’t turned violent, she hadn’t realized how much it had taken out of her until now.
The man’s bitter cries began to run through her head. She could still see him sitting on the floor of his rented mansion, sobbing his eyes out. His grief seemed so real. As Parker made the turn onto the quaint little downtown street where the B&B sat, an odd niggling feeling began to creep over her.
Something wasn’t right.
Chapter Thirty-Three
She got her wish for a hot bath, though she almost dozed through it. When she got into bed and felt Parker crawl in beside her a few minutes later, Miranda could barely mumble, “Goodnight.”
She fell into a dead sleep.
It felt like days later when the warm sun beamed down on her through the window woke her. She rose and wandered outside. It was a bright, brilliant day that promised nothing but happiness.
She was going to see her daughter today.
The squishy white sand oozed between her toes as she made her way along the beach. Listening to the waves crash against the shore, she shielded her eyes and gazed out at the ocean. It was so blue, so vast. Gulls cried overhead, searching for food.
A wave played at her feet, cooling her skin, making her laugh. She turned and skipped along the shore, kicking at the water, her long gauzy white dress flowing in the wind behind her.
And then the stones appeared. Small stones. Just a few at first. A row of pebbles along the sand, like breadcrumbs leading to some secret hideaway. But soon the pebbles became dense and large. She struggled to make her way through them. They grew slippery with water. And now they were rocks with sharp jagged edges that tore at her feet as she went.
As one cut into her, she cried out and stumbled. She reached out to catch herself, and her hand found a wall.
She stopped and stared up at it.
It was a high craggy cliff. Angry waves beat against it, splashing their spray into her face.
And then she heard a cry.
“Help!”
It was a woman. She was far away, on the other side of the cliff.
“Help,” she screamed again. She seemed farther away this time.
She looked around her. She couldn’t get around the cliff to the other side. Not without leaving the shore and wading out into the ocean.
She took a step and sank into the water to her ankle. She took another step, and the water rose to her knee. A wave came in, nearly knocking her off balance. She reached for the stone wall. A jagged rock cut into her hand.
Overhead a bird cried angrily.
Squawking, it swooped down and pecked at her head.
No! She batted it away, but it began to laugh at her.
She knew that laugh.
She turned back
and tried to climb up the cliff, but there was nothing to hold onto, and she kept sliding down.
All around her the waves grew higher, stronger. The sky over her turned dark. She heard thunder rumble in the clouds overhead. The sea was to her waist now. A wave rolled in and lifted her off her feet.
Frantically, she began to swim. She had to find her way back to the beach. She had to get back to land. But the waves took her farther and farther from the shore.
“Help,” she cried.
Suddenly she knew it was her own voice she’d heard before.
And then she heard him, as if he were standing beside her whispering into her ear. “This time, you’re going to die.”
“No!” She swung her arm out and hit something hard. “Ow.”
“Miranda.” It was Parker’s stern voice.
She opened her eyes and discovered she was sitting on the floor in the corner of their room. She’d slammed her fist against the wall, and her hand was throbbing. At least she hadn’t socked Parker this time.
“Get up,” he said and pulled her to her feet. “I knew this case would be too much for you.”
“I’m fine.”
“As much as you’re an attorney.”
She stared up into his gorgeous face lined with care for her. She didn’t want him to worry.
She put her head on his chest and let his arms slide around her. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m making another appointment with Dr. Wingate as soon as we get back.”
Though she’d had two since their last case.
He ran a gentle hand over her hair. “I may make one myself.”
This case was hard on him, too. His encounter with Tannenburg had been no picnic. She hadn’t realized it until just now, but this case must remind him of his first love, Laura. She’d been found brutally murdered. And even though that was long ago, it was still painful.
He kissed her forehead. “Deweese called about half an hour ago. They have a team combing through Afton’s house for evidence. I told them we’d be there to help.”
“Sure.” She started to pull away.
He raised her chin with his hand. “We could stop now, Miranda.”
She looked up into his penetrating eyes. He knew the answer, knew her better than that.
Roses from My Killer Page 15
