“You don’t suspect Kit of anything, do you?” The muscles around Dr. Campbell’s eyes tightened.
“We wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t question the people who knew the victim best and who saw them last.”
“Izzy, we need to know what happened last night. Kit wouldn’t have hurt Helena.” The officer went to put his hand on her arm, but she shifted away just enough to avoid contact. Not lovers then. Friends. Interesting. “And we all know kids are more likely to talk freely if their parents—or guardians—aren’t there. You remember how it is at seventeen.”
She huffed out an unamused laugh. “I hated seventeen. Does she need a lawyer?”
“Relax, Izzy. She doesn’t need a lawyer.” Officer Wright put his hands on his hips and smiled gallantly. “Look on the bright side, at least you can charge these guys premium rates.” He was clearly trying to help, and Frazer appreciated it, but his humor failed to hit the mark with the doc.
“This place have two bedrooms?” Randall asked. Frazer didn’t miss the plea in his voice.
Dr. Campbell nodded as she backed toward her car. “We’re the first two houses you come to on the right along the highway.” She pointed north along Route 12. “I live in the blue house next door to the cottage. Come find me when you’re finished here. I’ll make sure everything is ready for your stay.”
“Don’t go to too much trouble. I doubt we’ll be spending a lot of time there.” Randall’s smile was full of boyish charm.
The police officer scowled.
Frazer didn’t think the man realized he had competition for the woman’s affection until that moment. Thankfully the good doctor wasn’t his type. Perfect on the outside. Glued together by pure mulish determination on the inside. He recognized the sort. He saw it in the mirror every day.
* * *
AS IZZY DROVE Route 12, the horror of what happened to Helena finally began to sink in, along with another unwelcome sensation—relief. Relief that it wasn’t her little sister raped and murdered in those dunes, that her kid sister wasn’t lying dead on a slab in the morgue.
Her throat ached from battling emotion. She’d been able to keep it together earlier because she’d had no choice, but Helena had been a sweet person who’d been kind to everyone, who worked hard at school. She’d been a stabilizing influence on Kit at a time her sister desperately needed it. Izzy pressed a hand to her sternum, willing herself not to throw up. She couldn’t afford to lose it now.
That a murderer was on the loose was bad enough, that he might know what she’d done…
Maybe someone had found the bracelet on the beach? Maybe Helena herself had found it in the sand and put it on before she died—like some cursed charm. Izzy put her foot on the accelerator and fought the wind that threatened to shove her off the road. She needed to get to Kit, to pull her sister into her arms and squeeze tight to reassure herself that she was really okay.
It was another mile to their property, which sat on the edge of Rosetown. She usually liked the tranquility of the islands in winter, the abandoned shorelines and pounding waves, the peace, the isolation, the lack of tourists. Right now the emptiness felt oppressive and reinforced her decision that as soon as Kit graduated high school, Izzy was selling up and moving on. Bad memories outweighed the good. Guilt was eating her alive.
The houses came into view. The rental cottage was slightly closer to the sea than their own home. Both houses stood on stilts and were painted pretty shades of blue and green with wraparound porches. She’d freshened the white trim herself this last summer, though she hadn’t told Kit why. Like everyone on the Outer Banks, she worried about erosion. She worried the properties might lose their value as the sea encroached, but right now they were in good shape, and she intended to capitalize on that. Sell the houses, send Kit to college, and figure out what to do with the rest of her life.
Sounded like a plan.
Izzy pulled up outside their home and grabbed her bag. Got out and ran up the steps to the back porch. The door was unlocked, and it was dark inside, the storm shutters still covering the windows. Barney greeted her with a lick and a waggy tail. She gave him a hug and kissed his whiskers.
“Kit?” she called, dropping her bag beside the door. No one answered. A bolt of fear shot through her. “Kit!”
“What?” The girl erupted from the couch.
Her racing pulse eased and Izzy flicked on the overhead lights. She went over to her sister and pulled her into her arms. Squeezed her tight enough to hurt. She was so angry and yet Kit had only lied about going to a party, something most teens did at some point.
She choked back a sob. Cruel reality had finally caught up to Kit, and there was no protecting her this time.
“The FBI is on the way here to question you about what happened last night.”
Kit pulled away from her grasp. The blood drained from her cheeks, and her waterlogged blue eyes grew huge. “What?”
Izzy should probably feel guilty for delivering the information so bluntly, but the events of the day on top of a sleepless night left her too tired for subtlety. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, she was going to be more liability than help, but the hospital was short-staffed and they needed her.
“I dropped off some coffee with Hank on my way home. He was still at the beach. Met two FBI agents there.”
Kit sobbed and Izzy pulled her back against her chest, rubbing her hand up and down her sister’s spine. She’d gone to the beach hoping Hank would tell her that they’d caught the attacker, and they could all sleep safe in their beds tonight. That would have been too easy.
“One of them was going to follow me back here to talk to you about Helena.” The good-looking blond one, who’d looked at her like she had something to hide. “He’ll be here any minute.” She shivered. He’d scared her a little with those sharp eyes that searched every dark corner of her soul.
“It’s all my fault, Izzy.” Kit’s words ran together. “If I hadn’t lied to you about where we were going last night Helena would still be alive.”
Her sister broke down again, tears dripping off her cheeks and her chin. Izzy’s heart cracked wide open. She stroked baby-fine hair and wished she could take away this burden too. “I wish you hadn’t lied to me about where you were going last night, but that is not why Helena is dead.”
She was dead because some animal had brutally killed her. A monster who’d cared nothing for the sanctity of human life or the wishes of another human being. Izzy fought for people’s lives almost every day. Her vocation was the only reason she could live with her past. Her stomach turned as she remembered Helena’s naked body. The bruises around her slender throat. The blood on her thighs.
How many monsters were in this world? How did you fight them?
The memory of the FBI agents standing resolute on the beach in their dark flak jackets flashed through her mind. They fought them. It was their job. She released a pent up breath. No wonder the agent’s eyes were cold. He must have ice in his veins to do that job.
“Why is the FBI coming here?” Kit whispered. “I thought they only dealt with big cases?”
Good question, and Izzy had no idea. She had a horrible feeling it was related to that bracelet Helena was wearing, and that thought made her stomach roil.
“They want to ask you what happened last night. Maybe who was at the party. What time Helena left.”
“You think someone from the party killed her?” Kit started crying again, and Izzy tried to comfort the young woman who sometimes felt like a stranger, and other times felt closer than a sister. When their mom had died last year, Izzy had resigned her commission and moved home so Kit could finish high school without disruption, but things hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. Once Kit graduated, Izzy was moving on. Maybe she’d reenlist. Maybe she’d get a job in a busy city hospital where she could use more of her skills to help people. There was another option. One that ate constantly at the back of her mind.
Kit’s crying jag ended and she wiped
her eyes. She was so pretty and so smart. Izzy had loved and protected her from the womb and wished she could wrap her up and keep her safe forever. But the more you tried to protect people the more they rebelled. The world wasn’t safe. Her sister needed to open her eyes and understand the very real danger that existed out there. Losing your best friend to a killer was a hell of a wakeup call.
“Having federal agents looking into Helena’s murder is a good thing. Hopefully it means they’ll find this person before he strikes again.” She pushed aside the fear that would drive her crazy. She wasn’t some defenseless teen. “The Feds are renting the cottage while they’re here so I need to go get it ready before I head back to work.”
“What?” Kit sounded horrified.
“Hank suggested it.” Izzy pulled a face. Hank Wright was a good friend of her uncle’s. “Trust me, we might need the money, but I wish he hadn’t opened his big mouth.”
“Do you have to go to work?” Kit asked. Her eyes were big and pleading.
“They’re short-staffed until tomorrow.” She couldn’t leave them with no Attending. “Then I’m off and we’ll spend some time together. It’s only a few more hours. You should go to bed and get some sleep after the FBI leaves. Where did you go last night after the party?”
“Here.”
Her sister must have heard her unspoken question. Without Helena? She went to kiss her on the forehead, but Kit pulled away.
So much for that.
Izzy blew out a big breath and headed to the cupboard where she kept the linens for the vacation cottage. “I need to go get the place ready. Want to keep me company?”
Kit hugged a cushion and shook her head. Shocker. “I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t believe Helena’s dead. She’s my best friend—how could I have let her go off without me?”
The thought that Kit could have been killed too…
Izzy grabbed sheets, towels and comforters, battling with the towering pile as she headed toward the door. The sound of Kit’s sobs drove nails of grief through her heart but she kept moving. Izzy was used to stressful situations and coped with disaster by keeping busy. Maybe that’s why she’d gravitated toward emergency medicine. Maximum chaos, minimum time to think.
She grabbed the keys off the rack next to the door. “If the Feds can help catch Helena’s killer this has to be a good thing. Tell them everything you know.”
“But I don’t know anything,” Kit wailed.
With one exception Izzy was a big believer in following the rules, which had made her a damn good Army officer. She opened the door and there stood the federal agent, Frazer.
He was one of those individuals who was so ridiculously handsome you could barely look at him. Worse, he knew it.
“Kit,” she shouted. “The FBI is here, baby.”
Barney came to meet the newcomer. Izzy expected the man to be too self-important to greet the dog but he went down on his haunches and gave Barney a good scratch on the neck. After a few moments of mutual adoration the guy stood. The blue of his tie matched the ocean in his eyes. “What’s his name?”
“Barney—or barmy, depending on the day.” She held his gaze, and he took it for the challenge it was. “You can talk to Kit alone, but if she decides she doesn’t want to speak to you anymore she doesn’t have to.” She called over her shoulder. “Did you hear that, Kit? I’ll be at the cottage. If you get uncomfortable with Agent—” She turned back to the guy. “Sorry, what was your name again?”
“ASAC Frazer.” His eyes glinted, obviously not used to women forgetting details. Or maybe knowing she’d lied about the fact to give herself a little power when she felt so powerless.
“If you don’t want to talk to ASAC Frazer, come over to the cottage and get me, okay?”
Kit mumbled something that could have been anything from “bitch” to “sure.” It certainly wasn’t “thank you” or “I love you.”
Her sister’s lack of appreciation and general sense of entitlement was staggering and Izzy swallowed the hurt and the resentment. Their mother had spoiled the younger girl, and Kit’s lack of consideration for others drove Izzy crazy. Another reason she’d spent so much time away from home.
The sharp-eyed Fed didn’t miss her momentary loss of composure. She buried her reaction, something she’d always been good at, but the military had honed the skill into a mask no one could penetrate. It made for a hell of a game of poker. “Upset her and you’ll find out where I conceal my weapon.”
His eyes creased at the corners, but he didn’t fool her for a moment. “Left shoulder holster, so you’re right-handed. Looks like a Glock-17, but tricky to say for sure without getting a better look.” The guy’s gaze slid over her chest with glacial indifference, but suddenly she knew that was an act too. A wall. His own defense mechanism.
His eyes landed on her mouth, on the mole that sat just above the left side of her upper lip. She resisted the urge to touch her face self-consciously. Warmth filled her, and she knew she was blushing. As a physician and a former soldier, blushing was not in her repertoire. She moved past him, heart beating frantically as she went out the door.
Emotions were high, that was all. She was not attracted to this guy. She’d rather date Hank, and he’d given up asking her months ago. Her dog stayed behind, and she left them to it. She wanted ASAC Frazer to find the killer and leave them alone. She had enough problems in her life without adding a tall good-looking federal agent into the mix.
Chapter Five
IZZY HEADED DOWN the path between the two houses. She rounded a corner and almost screamed when she bumped into someone. “For Pete’s sake, Uncle Ted. You scared the crap out of me.”
Her mother’s brother gave her a repentant smile. “Sorry, I figured I’d come by, see how you were holding up. Heard about Helena. Reckon Kit would be pretty shook up.”
Izzy indicated she needed to get past him with her armful of linens. “She is, but she’s busy right now, and I need to go make up beds.”
“You’ve got guests?”
She heard his tread heavy on the steps behind her. “Two FBI agents while they investigate the murder. Hank suggested they stay here.” She rolled her eyes even though her uncle couldn’t see her.
“FBI? Jeez.” Ted blew out a breath. “That’s Hank for you, though. Always thinking about the bottom line. He doesn’t realize you have enough on your plate.”
She got to the top of the stairs and put the linens on the heavy wooden bench that sat on the deck. Working quickly, she pulled back the storm shutters and Ted helped her by opening up the other windows.
She gathered up the linen and put the key in the lock but paused to find the door was already unlocked. Kit.
Inside, she was hit by the distinct odor of weed. Dammit, this was why her sister had looked freaked at the idea of the Feds staying here. She must have come back here when she’d left the party without Helena—and Izzy doubted she’d been alone.
Ted cautiously sniffed the air. “When was the last time you were in here?”
“Over a month ago.” Bitterness leaked into her tone. “If the FBI weren’t here I’d kill her myself.” She flinched at her poor choice of words.
Ted chuckled and started opening the windows.
It was going to take a hell of a lot of air freshener to mask this odor. “If she has a boyfriend and is having sex in this cottage…” Izzy’s fingers clenched with frustration at all the things she couldn’t control.
“She’s seventeen, Iz-biz. Didn’t you have a boyfriend when you were seventeen?”
The comment was like a knife to her flesh. Her eyes flashed to his, but he was unrepentant. “And look how that ended.” Shane had been seventeen when he’d wrapped his car around a telephone pole—driving drunk and going way too fast. Another painful memory she’d unsuccessfully tried to outrun.
She shook it off. It had happened a long time ago. She was tired and angry and miserable. She dumped the linens on the couch and dug unde
r the kitchen sink for rubber gloves and a spray bottle of cleaner. Other people had it far worse than she did, she reminded herself.
Her mind flashed to Duncan Cromwell’s futile attempts to raise Helena from the dead. Dear God. Her heart lurched. Her sister sneaking off to parties and apparently smoking weed, and acting out, weren’t so bad when you stacked them up against that. But they were issues Izzy would have to deal with. And right now she didn’t have the energy, or the expertise.
She sprayed all the counters and began wiping them down.
“Need any help?” asked Ted.
“I can manage.”
“I’ll just stand here and watch you then.” He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets and slouched against the living room wall.
She grunted, then found another pair of gloves under the sink and tossed them at him. “Fine, start in the bathroom. There’s disinfectant under the vanity.”
Ted grinned. “Was that so hard?”
Asking for help didn’t come easy. Delegating stuff at work was different. Everyone had a role to play there. Everyone had a responsibility they were trained and got paid for. She checked her watch. “Look, I’m back on duty in a little over ninety minutes. I need the smell of pot out of the air, beds made and the place clean enough for two FBI agents to move in shortly thereafter. Pitch in or leave me alone. I don’t have time for chitchat.”
Ted chuckled as he headed to the back of the house. “You always were a sweet-talker, Isadora Campbell. It’s a wonder men aren’t queuing up around the block to take you out on a date.”
She straightened up to hurl an insult at him, but snapped her lips closed. He was right, so why bother arguing. She didn’t do sweet-talk. She was a realist. A pragmatist. She didn’t stroke egos or waste her time gossiping. She didn’t angle for information unless it pertained to her job or her sister, and apparently she was even crap at that because she knew very little about Kit’s life.
Cold Fear Page 5
