Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  “How about you answer her questions first.” David’s words were phrased as a suggestion, but rang with the same uncanny authority he’d used on Sheriff O’Dell in the mountain cabin.

  The detective’s shoulders lifted, as if deflecting an unexpected impact, and his lips turned downward, but he didn’t shift his focus toward David. His gaze remained on Laurel.

  “I’m a homicide detective, ma’am. I don’t investigate burglaries, unless the two are connected.”

  “Don’t you think they might be?” Laurel said. “Isn’t it odd that two crimes involving us would occur so close on the heels of one another?”

  “Odd is a good word choice. That was going to be my question. I’m sure you realize this breakin—” the two words were sharp edged “—taints any evidence regarding the murder that we might have found while executing this search warrant.” He held up a piece of paper.

  “I don’t understand.” The statement emerged on a pale thread of breath. Was the detective implying that she’d staged the vandalism to cover up murder?

  “You sure about that, ma’am?” The detective’s gaze ravaged her.

  Laurel clamped her jaw closed. That’s exactly what the man was hinting.

  Did the detective think she’d walked around her home destroying her property before she drove off with a dead body in her trunk? And that Caroline helped her?

  “Who is we?” David asked. “I only see you now that the uniforms called out on the burglary have left.”

  Berg smiled thinly. “My partner is having a walk around the yard, seeing what he can see. In the meantime, I thought I’d drop in and ask a few questions. Ms. Adams, do you always go away for a week and leave your security system unarmed?”

  “What?” Laurel shook her head, not as a negative response but in denial of the question.

  “When the uniformed officers arrived,” he continued, “they discovered the security system was green light, as if someone was home. There was no evidence that the system had been tampered with. When the techs arrive we’ll dust the buttons for fingerprints, but—”

  Laurel spread her hands in front of her. “I never leave without arming the system. I distinctly remember setting it last thing before we pulled out of the garage.”

  The detective’s blank stare delivered no assurance that her words were believed. Did this guy think she’d left the house unprotected from intruders on purpose? From his perspective, the suspicion made awful sense. What if the police never considered other options than her guilt—or her daughter’s? A blow to the solar plexus couldn’t have robbed her of oxygen more completely.

  “Oh, sugar, I’m so sorry!” Janice pressed fingers to her lips, wide gaze on Laurel. “It may have been me who forgot to rearm the system. I came in here shortly after you left in order to grab the milk you told me to use up while you were gone.”

  Berg transferred his granite stare to Janice. “You have a key to this house and know the code for the security system?”

  Did Laurel detect a hint of annoyance in the question? His pet theory was being shot in the foot. If this weren’t poor timing for it, she’d wrap her friend in a bear hug.

  “I surely do,” Janice said. “Laurel and I have complete access to each other’s places. We look after one another.”

  “Yeah.” Caroline lifted her chin and linked her arm with Janice’s. “And she takes care of me a lot when Mom’s away on speaking engagements.”

  “Yet you went with your mother on this occasion? Why?”

  Laurel shot her daughter a sharp look, and the girl had the grace to lower her head and remain silent. With the level of suspicion they were under, no one needed to start talking about bad grades and sour attitudes and troubled student/teacher relations.

  “Detective Berg,” Laurel said, “is it a crime to spend Thanksgiving with your daughter? Bringing her along was the only way that was going to happen.” The statement was completely true, and she felt no compunction in making it.

  The detective lifted a brow toward Janice. “Everything was in order in the house when you came inside following the Adams’s departure?”

  “Neat as the proverbial pin. My best friend keeps a beautiful home. She would never treat her things like this—” she waved a hand around the trashed living room “—any more than she would take another person’s life. You should be out trying to catch whoever did both of these things.” Janice’s expression folded. “Provided the crimes are connected, of course.”

  “Let’s assume so for the moment.” Berg leveled his stare on Laurel. “Do you have any enemies, Ms. Adams?”

  “N-no!”

  Why that question should continue to take her by surprise, she didn’t know. The deputies in the mountains had asked her the same thing, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the possibility that someone might kill the teacher for the sole reason of framing her and/or Caroline for the murder.

  “No,” she proclaimed again. “I wish I could point you to the culprit, but I have no idea.”

  “People love my mom,” Caroline said. “She helps them.”

  “Yes. The nonprofit organization. Single Parents Coalition?” The corners of the detective’s lips tilted upward.

  Sneer or smile? Laurel wasn’t sure. “That’s correct.” Berg had done his homework prior to showing up here.

  “You direct women and children to shelters, help them gain assistance to relocate and frequently provide legal aide. Could this be the work of a vindictive ex perhaps?”

  Laurel’s mouth went dry as a shiver rippled up her spine. Steven! Then she mentally grabbed herself by the nape. Yes, her ex-husband would easily have been capable of both the murder and the vandalism—of hiring it done anyway. He would have taken pleasure in masterminding anything to make her suffer, regardless of how his actions affected other people. But he couldn’t be responsible for this. He’d been dead for years.

  She squared her shoulders. “Yes, I suppose it’s possible that my work with the Coalition might have made someone angry, but I don’t know of anyone in particular.”

  “We’ll be interviewing your coworkers.”

  The weight in her chest lifted marginally. At least the authorities were going to check out other possibilities. Then her heart twisted. What if the media caught wind that one of the founders of SPC was involved in a murder case—was a suspect even? The organization didn’t need any negative publicity affecting donations. Finances were tight as it was.

  “How soon do you think the news services will pick up this story?” she asked the detective.

  He cocked a grizzled eyebrow. “We’re keeping the lid on it for the time being. At least until the victim’s family can be notified.”

  “Where is Ms. Eldon’s family? Where is she from?” David’s questions fired sharp and staccato.

  Laurel’s gaze switched to his expectant face. Why was he so eager to hear about the teacher’s roots?

  “We don’t—” the detective began and then halted as the front door opened, and a second man, younger but with that same cop look, stepped inside. “Anything?” Berg asked the newcomer.

  The other detective rolled thick shoulders, full-moon face betraying no emotion. “Part of a hedge broken along the sidewalk between the garage and the house. Like someone ran through it. We could get the techs to check for fibers or other trace evidence.”

  “The hedge break happened two nights before we left town,” Laurel said. She exchanged a look with her daughter, whose cheeks reddened, though the girl said nothing.

  “I was returning from an evening speaking engagement,” Laurel continued, “when someone charged out of the dark and bowled me over into the bushes. I couldn’t see his face, but he was wiry and not much taller than me, and his breath smelled like nacho chips. He got up and ran off without a word.”

  “Did you report the incident?” Berg’s expression betrayed a spark of interest at her nod.

  “A pair of uniformed officers came out the next morning and took pictures and looke
d around. I think they were the same two who were just here. You’ll find a police report on file at the precinct.”

  Good thing Laurel had omitted from that report her suspicion that the nacho-snacking teenager fleeing the scene on her arrival home had been her daughter’s guest. That matter needed to stay between Caroline and herself until she got a straight answer from the girl. She’d intended to bring the incident up as part of a long string of issues they needed to discuss while they were on retreat in the mountains.

  “We have to ask you to leave the premises while our techs comb the property,” said the second detective. “The van’s en route.” The last statement was spoken toward his partner, who nodded.

  “Can’t we at least go upstairs to our rooms and change out of these clothes?” Laurel gestured toward her baggy sweatpants.

  “We can’t have you disturbing anything.” The man’s fierce scowl contrasted unpleasantly with Berg’s frigid calm. “If you’ve got no place to go, we can get you a ride down to the station to wait. We’ll probably want to talk to you some more anyway.” A slight grin appeared.

  Whatever happened to the good cop part of the routine? Apparently, she and Caroline had drawn bad cop/bad cop. Where was David with his quiet authority? Not that he’d be able to alter the rules of investigation, but he had a way of setting bully tactics in their place. Laurel looked around, but he’d disappeared. Did he sneak out the back door? She’d wanted him to go, but not that way.

  “Never mind, hon,” Janice said. “You all can hang out at my place and raid my closets. My clothes won’t fit you much better than these, but at least you won’t look like you belong in a homeless shelter.”

  Her familiar grin and wink injected a tang of normalcy into a tragic situation, and Laurel responded with a smile. “Throw in some lunch, and you’ve got a deal.”

  “My famous chicken and dumplings coming up.”

  Laurel patted her tummy. Hunger pangs had begun to gnaw. Or was the ache due more to anxiety? Either way, a little comfort food was in order for both herself and Caroline. Herding her daughter in front of her, Laurel headed for the door on Janice’s heels.

  “Don’t go far,” Berg said as they passed him.

  Laurel turned on her heel. “If next door is too far, then arrest us and be done with it. If not, then don’t bother us with any more of your insinuations.” The big blow boiled on the edge of her self-control. Any more pressure might send her sky high. An explosion wasn’t a wise way to handle the authorities, but she was nearly beyond caring. “Anything you want to know comes to us through our lawyer from now on.”

  She grabbed her daughter’s hand and stepped onto the porch, where Janice waited. Laurel’s skin pebbled as chilly air invaded the empty space between her legs and the fabric of her sweatpants. She pulled the door closed and exhaled long and hard.

  Janice buffed her hands together. “Good for you, girlfriend, and good riddance. The nerve of those guys.” She marched down the steps.

  Caroline wrapped her arms around one of Laurel’s. “Who’s our lawyer, Mom?”

  Peering into the anxious face just beginning to form into womanhood, Laurel’s anger melted into anxiety. Who was their lawyer? She wished she knew. SPC had several attorneys on retainer, but none of them handled this type of criminal law.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Let your mama figure that out.”

  Caroline released her and stepped back, face scrunching into a scowl. “That’s the sort of thing you always say, and I’m tired of being treated like a toddler. You quit being my mama by the time I was five years old.”

  The teenager stomped down the stairs and scurried after Janice, leaving Laurel stranded on the porch, mouth agape. Disrespectful didn’t begin to describe her daughter’s attitude. And yet, didn’t Caroline also feel disrespected by Laurel’s instinct to shield her?

  Laurel’s shoulders slumped. Why couldn’t Caroline understand how much her mother wanted to spare her problems she didn’t need to carry? What was so terrible about that? Didn’t the girl realize how hard her mother was trying—and how close she was to falling apart? If someone had offered to carry this burden for her, Laurel would have been incredibly tempted to accept. But there was no one to fix this for her, or even share the load. As usual, she was on her own.

  *

  David stepped around the side of the porch, pocketing his cell phone. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the skirmish between mother and daughter, but they hadn’t exactly kept their voices down, especially Caroline.

  The girl was awfully hard on her mother, but as a perennial free spirit, he sympathized with Caroline’s resentment toward her perception of being smothered. Of course, a little smothering kind of went with the mothering thing, and this was a crisis situation. Then again, Laurel’s passion to protect her daughter and herself did occasionally drift into the territory of excessive. What had happened in the woman’s life to anchor her in defensive mode?

  Laurel was dawdling down the steps, gaze focused ahead but attention a million miles away. Clearing his throat, David stepped nearer.

  She gasped. “Where have you been?”

  If she hadn’t meant the question as an accusation, she’d missed the mark. But coming up on a woman who’d been raked over the coals by the police and then taken a hit in an ongoing war with her teenager wasn’t the best moment to find her in a mellow mood.

  “As soon as the detectives started telling you to get lost, I stepped out back to call my lawyer in San Antonio.”

  “Good for you that you’ve got representation.” She remained on the bottom step, her gaze now on a level with his.

  David extended his lawyer’s business card toward her, showing where he’d written on the back. “This is the Denver firm my lawyer suggests for you and Caroline. They’re top flight. My cell number is below theirs in case you have any questions about walking through a murder case as the chief suspect.” He offered a rueful half grin.

  Her jaw slackened as she accepted the card. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

  Surprise leaked through her tone. Wasn’t she used to anyone doing nice things for her? Or maybe it was just him that she assumed incapable of a good deed. Evidently, sheltering them from the storm, lending them clothes and giving them a ride home hadn’t managed to perch a white hat on his head. His lips flattened into a thin line.

  “No, really!” She laid a hand on his shoulder, face softening, and a spurt of warmth went through him. “I’m…amazed…and appreciative. I’m sorry if I seem sharp edged. I must be growing a little shell-shocked at this constant barrage of terrible events.” Her gaze dropped to the card. “I suppose these top-flight legal beagles are also top-drawer expensive.”

  “Lawyers are always expensive, but it can’t hurt to give them a call and talk to them about your situation and their fees.”

  “No, I suppose it can’t.” Laurel offered a weak smile as she stepped down onto the sidewalk.

  He looked away from her toward the pale pink Victorian house next door where Caroline and Janice had disappeared. While Laurel’s home sported modest touches of gingerbread, one turreted tower and tooled spindles on the railing that skirted the wraparound porch, Janice’s home took ornate to a new level—multiple towers and gables, plus gobs of gingerbread trim painted pastel blue in every available niche.

  Laurel laughed, a pleasant sound that tingled up David’s spine. He looked down at her.

  “I read the expression on your face,” she said. “Mine is more of an Edwardian style and hers is classic Queen Anne.”

  “You know a bit about architecture?”

  “No, but Janice does, and she rarely withholds from me any scrap of information she possesses.” The wry words were accompanied by a fond grin. “She’s a real-estate agent and excellent at her job.”

  “I’ll walk you over there.”

  “You don’t ha—” She bit her lip and then nodded as they went up the sidewalk. “Thanks, but then you don’t need to stick around. You’
ve been more than kind already.”

  “Could you use a little extra muscle to help clean things up in there?” David gestured toward the house behind them. “When the cops say it’s okay to go in, that is.”

  Laurel shook her head. “I may hire a company to clean up the mess. Insurance will probably pay. I wonder if the upstairs looks as bad.” Her face paled. “Our rooms are up there, Caroline’s and mine. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about anyone pawing through my personal things.”

  “I’d be surprised if you didn’t react that way.”

  “And now the police are going to do the same.”

  She wrinkled her nose, which was a very cute expression on her. David mentally kicked himself for noticing.

  “Mr. Greene, a word with you!” The bark from Detective Berg on the porch coincided with a van bearing the Denver police insignia pulling into the driveway.

  David turned on his heel. “I think not. I gave my statement to the sheriff at my cabin, and I have nothing to add to it. You can refer any further questions to my lawyer.”

  He strode back to the porch and handed the detective one of his attorney’s cards. Good thing he kept several on him at all times. A muscle jumped in Berg’s jaw, but he said nothing as he snatched the card from David’s hand.

  Suppressing a grim smile, David swiveled away to find Laurel had gone on without him. A glance in the direction of Janice’s house caught a glimpse of her disappearing inside. He had no good excuse to follow her. Why did that realization come with a pang?

  Get a grip, buddy!

  He climbed into his Lexus and drove away in search of the nearest decent hotel. David had packed a bag before the leaving the cabin, and had no intention of leaving town until he’d unearthed some kind of link between the dead school teacher and his murdered girlfriend.

  If one existed.

  How cruel would that be to have this hope of exoneration, then have it snatched away by some mundane explanation for the matching tattoos? No, he couldn’t let himself think like that. There had to be a connection between the two women, but how was he going to dig it up? He knew only one person who fit the description of master sleuth who might actually be willing to believe him, but tracking Chris Mason down sometimes required skills on the level of the FBI or CIA.