“Good idea,” Marla said. “I admit I hadn’t thought this thing through. I can stay here tonight, but I need to go into work in the morning.”
“I should be fine out here alone. I can do some sketches. I haven’t done any paintings of this area.” She glanced up at Michael. His glower suggested that he was more concerned about her escaping than her safety. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. There’s no way I want to chance going home right now. And I don’t have a car—or a driver’s license.”
“Actually,” Marla said. “If you need to leave—like if it’s an emergency, you can use my mother’s convertible. It’s the red Miata under the tarp in the garage. The keys are on the hook in the laundry room.”
Carolyn couldn’t help but smile at Michael’s expression. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not about to go for a joy ride.”
“I wish I could,” he teased. “Maybe I’ll drive the Miata and leave you mine.”
“No way.” Marla shook her head. “My mother would kill me if I let anyone drive it. Like I said, emergency only.”
After Michael drove away, Carolyn and Marla went back into the house. It had been nice to see Michael smile and act like the sweet guy she’d met at the church. She had liked him and thought maybe he liked her as well. But that was before she knew he was a detective. And before Adam Burke’s murder.
Carolyn cancelled the errant thoughts of what might have been. He would never be interested in her now. And she didn’t want him to be. She had a sketchy future at best.
As night approached she and Marla sat out on the deck wrapped in blankets, determined to catch every minute of the gorgeous sunset. Carolyn wished Mrs. Owens had been able to pack some of her paints. A view like this one needed to be painted, not just sketched.
They were both exhausted by ten. Carolyn gladly donned her flannel pajamas, headed for the guest bedroom and climbed into the twin bed. For some reason Trigger chose to hang out with her and tucked himself in at the foot of her bed. Carolyn was glad for the company.
Sleep evaded her as the happenings of the day drifted through her mind. She hated not knowing what had happened to her and why. Hated being a victim. She was used to being independent and doing for herself. She’d had no choice in that. She’d grown up a foster child and been shifted from one family to another. Though she couldn’t fault any of the families she’d stayed with, she’d never really been close to any of them. Fortunately, she’d become involved in the church early on and had come to develop a strong faith.
Lying there in the dark, she struggled to figure out who could have drugged her and why. She didn’t have any enemies that she knew of. Then again, maybe Adam Burke had been playing her all along. Somehow she needed to learn the truth.
Maybe in the morning after Marla was gone she’d go back to the hotel ballroom and start putting pieces of her scattered mind back together. Seeing it might help her remember. She’d try to get a guest list and look over the names. One thing she knew for certain, she couldn’t just sit around and wait for the Pacific Beach police department to find answers. The police, she feared, might end up arresting her.
Carolyn drifted off, but then awoke with a start when she heard a scratching sound along with Trigger’s deep-throated growl. She bolted out of bed and crept to the bedroom door then opened it slowly to let Trigger out. Seeing no one in the hall, she made her way to Marla’s room.
“What’s going on?” Marla whispered as she stepped into the hallway.
Before Carolyn could answer, Trigger’s growl turned into a fierce bark as he tore down the stairs to the main level. Carolyn and Marla crept down after him. Darkness and fear threatened to suffocate her. She gripped the railing to steady herself.
Marla put a hand up to stop her. “Stay here. I’m going to get my gun.”
When they’d arrived, Marla had put her service weapon on the shelf in the closet. She pulled it down now and stepped into the living room where Trigger stood at the patio door, barking and prancing—eager to get at whoever was out there.
Marla flipped on the switch casting a golden glow on their masked intruders.
Chapter Five
“Raccoons!” Carolyn dropped onto the couch, relief draining out of her in a huge sigh.
Marla lowered her weapon and settled down beside her. “I should have known, but this case has me spooked. I was worried it might be our killer.”
“They’re cute.” Carolyn watched as the family of raccoons made their way back into the light.
“Cute but ornery.” She opened the door a few inches. “Shoo. Go on.”
Trigger barked, eager to go after them. She suspected it was Trigger, not Marla that sent them scurrying away.
The doorbell rang. Carolyn jumped in response.
Trigger tore past them stopping when he reached the front door. Marla frowned and hurried across the carpet and into the entry. “Stay here.”
Moments later Carolyn heard the door open and Marla asking, “What are you doing here?”
“I got worried when I saw the light go on.” Michael stepped inside.
Carolyn allowed herself to breathe again.
“You were here?” Marla asked. “Detective, I know I messed up at the hospital, but I’m perfectly capable of watching out for Carolyn.”
“I’m sure you are. t’s just that I didn’t want to leave the two of you out here alone.”
Carolyn joined them in the hallway. “Maybe you should come in.”
“Good thinking.” Michael offered up a guilt-ridden smile and moved farther into the entry.
“Where’s your car?” Marla asked.
“Just down the street.” Michael swung his gaze to her and back to Marla. “Why did the lights come on? Was there a problem?”
“Raccoons.” Carolyn offered. “On the back deck. Trigger went crazy.”
Michael nodded. “Okay. As long as everything is okay, I’ll take off.”
“You might as well stay.” Marla said. “There’s no point in you going home now since you’ll be back out here in a couple of hours.”
“Who said I was going home?”
Marla frowned. “So you’re going back to your car for an all-nighter?” She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Ah, I get it. You’re going to want to question Carolyn and you want to make sure she doesn’t take off when I leave for work.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Guilty as charged.” Looking at Carolyn he added, “It isn’t that I don’t trust you.”
“Right.” The idea that he didn’t trust her hurt, but what did she expect, especially since she’d been thinking about fleeing.
Marla stepped into the living room. “You might as well be comfortable. You can sleep on the couch.”
“Are you sure?”
“While you two are arguing, I’m going back to bed.” Carolyn hurried upstairs. The camaraderie between Marla and Michael shouldn’t trouble her, yet it did. Deep down she wished she could joke with Michael or have a normal conversation with him, but that wasn’t to be. One night, one horrible night had changed her life forever. There’d be no going back to being the happy, lighthearted artist she’d once been. Carolyn Hudson was not the same person and never would be again.
She stepped into her room and this time Trigger didn’t tag along. Normally, Carolyn didn’t wallow in self-pity or feel sorry for herself, but as she crawled under the covers, she couldn’t imagine going forward. Fear gripped her again. Who would have drugged her and why? Had she killed Adam Burke?
Michael stretched out on the sofa and patted the dog that insisted on keeping him company during the night—or what was left of it. It had been after one by the time Marla had finished mothering him, making sure he had a pillow and blanket and that the sofa was comfortable enough. She’d even offered to make up a bed for him upstairs in one of the extra bedrooms, but he insisted he’d be fine on the couch.
He liked Marla and could see why Carolyn considered her a good friend. Though he hadn’t been happy with
her the day before with the reporter fiasco and basically kidnapping Carolyn, he understood her motives. Bringing Carolyn here had been a good call. He’d have to call Doug in the morning to bring his partner up to date.
He glanced at his watch and sat up. Eight o’clock. He hadn’t meant to sleep this late. Marla had made coffee before she left for work at six-thirty. He hadn’t been ready for coffee then but he was now. He got up and poked around the kitchen for utensils and pans and before long had an omelet/quiche type dish baking in the oven. The night before he’d brought eggs, sausage, onions and various ingredients to make several dishes. Michael enjoyed cooking, though he rarely got to show off his skills.
“Is that what you’re doing?” he mumbled. “Trying to impress someone.” Shaking his head, he poured himself a refill from the half empty carafe. He’d have to make a fresh pot for Carolyn and glanced toward the ceiling. He wondered how long she’d sleep and then wondered if she was all right. She’d looked exhausted when he’d come inside the night before. He also worried about the effects of the Rohypnol. He considered going upstairs to check on her but decided to let her sleep for another hour.
She’d seemed disappointed in his lack of trust toward her. But how could she blame him? He had to stay objective. Still the photo of her silhouette against the bloody carpet gave him pause. He hoped the CSI unit would be able to provide more answers today.
The question remained, what was he going to do with her while he went over the security tapes at the hotel? No way could he leave her out here alone. Not only was he concerned for her safety, he considered her a flight risk. Especially with that red Miata parked in the garage.
She was a suspect in a murder investigation. He shouldn’t even be out here with her. Especially not alone. Yet here he was. He needed to call his partner and come clean about her whereabouts with his superiors. Michael blew out a long breath. His and Marla’s actions could get them both demoted or fired. He called Doug and had to leave a voice message. Not much he could do now but wait and pray that he was doing the right thing.
He wandered over to the patio door. The view was spectacular. Trigger walked along beside him. “Be nice to have a place like this.”
Trigger nudged his leg in response. Michael reached down to pet him. “This is the life. A great house, a beautiful view and a dog. He glanced down at Trigger. “Maybe even a wife and kids someday.”
Maybe he should buy a house here in Pacific Beach. He didn’t make all that much as a police officer, but he had the inheritance his grandfather had left him.
Michael felt Carolyn’s presence in the room and turned around to greet her. She was dressed in jeans and blue t-shirt with some kind of faded logo. Her blonde curls were still mussed from sleep. Barefoot. She looked as though she needed to be held and Michael wished he could comply. He bristled at the thought. Okay, so she was a beautiful woman. Any man would feel the same way.
Had Adam Burke? The thought washed away the desire in his chest like an icy ocean wave.
“Good morning,” he said. From the frown on his face, Carolyn felt as though Michael Stedman would have preferred being anywhere else this morning. But here he was, babysitting her.
“Is there any more coffee?”
“Yes, but it’s a few hours old. I’ll make a new pot.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
Michael ignored her and headed into the kitchen. Before she could pour herself a cup, he’d dumped out the old coffee and was rinsing the carafe. She shrugged. “Something smells good.”
Michael glanced at the oven. “I almost forgot.”
He picked up a potholder, opened the oven and pulled out a deep frying pan. “I was hungry and thought you might be as well.”
“Starved, actually. Thank you.”
Have a seat and I’ll serve you.” Michael took two plates out of the cupboard, then cut the egg dish with a spatula and placed a piece on each.
Carolyn pulled out a stool at the counter. “It looks wonderful. You made this?”
He chuckled. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting such good service.”
Michael set his plate in front of the stool next to her, but instead of sitting down, he finished making the coffee. “Go ahead and eat.”
He rested his well-muscled arms on the counter and Carolyn imagined for a moment how they might feel wrapped around her. She cleared her throat and took a bite, then closed her eyes to savor the delicious blend of egg, cheese, onion, mushrooms, dried tomatoes. “Mm. This is so good.”
“Glad you like it.”
She loved it. A shadow of guilt crossed her mind as she thought about her plans to escape into town. She didn’t like the idea of him not trusting her. And he’d allowed her to look at the crime scene photos the night before, maybe he’d be okay with her going to the hotel with him as well.
“Michael.” She placed the fork on the plate. “I’d like to go back to the hotel this morning.”
He frowned and started to shake his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“It might help me remember. You said something about security tapes, I could look at those with you and maybe go into the ballroom where the party was held.”
He met her gaze for a moment, then turned away to pour her a cup of coffee and refill his own. “So you still don’t remember anything?”
“I get little snippets of things.”
“Such as?”
“I remember meeting Mrs. Burke. Emily. And Brian. Early on, I think.”
Did you and Burke leave the party together?”
She shook her head. “I hardly remember talking to him other than when he introduced me to his wife and son. I remember thinking they looked happy. I guess that’s why I don’t think Mr. Burke took me to that hotel room. He mentioned that they’d been married for 25 years.” She frowned trying to remember. “I think he told me that at the art gallery though. Have you interviewed Brian? Did someone see me leaving with Mr. Burke? I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Carolyn,” Michael placed a hand on her arm. “You were drugged. We know that. Rohypnol affects the memory. Anything could have happened. I’m going to the hotel this morning. I’d like you to stay here. I’ll see if Marla can come back out.”
“But something might jog my memory.”
“Finish eating. I’ll think about it.”
Carolyn’s appetite faded, but she managed to eat the slice of quiche he’d given her and down half the coffee. The silence and the tension building between them was almost more than she could bear.
Michael didn’t know what to do. He read the fierce determination in her eyes and had no doubt that if left to her own devices, even if he took the keys to the Miata with him, she’d find a way to get into town.
“Please take me with you.” She pleaded. “I can help. I know I can.”
Michael tried to avoid her insistent blue gaze. She was hard to say no to and he felt himself weakening. He stacked the plates and rinsed them off in the sink. “Okay. But we’ll need to alter your appearance. I don’t want anyone recognizing you.”
“Like Brian?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he’s the one who left that message for you in the hospital room. Brian would have been easy to spot and no one at the hospital saw him. I had security check the surveillance for people coming in and out of the various entrances.”
“Did they spot me leaving?”
“No.”
“So he could have been there.”
“Yes. I suppose he could have.” Michael wiped his hands on a towel and then hung it on a rack inside the cupboard door. “Let’s go, Sherlock. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”
A call to Marla gave them entry into her mother’s closet. Carolyn picked out a matronly looking outfit with coral pants, a shell top and a matching coral and white cardigan. She pulled her hair into a bun and donned a pair of sun glasses. A large brimmed straw hat completed the ensemble.
Even though she looked a few years older and he doubted anyone would recognize her, he felt uneasy. While she’d been getting dressed, Michael had gone to get his car and had pulled into the driveway. Now he walked behind her and opened the passenger side door for her.
She hesitated and then handed him a CD she found lying on the seat. “What’s this?”
Michael froze. The unease he’d felt earlier turned to alarm and spread through his gut like wildfire.
The title, I’ll be Watching You had been sloppily printed on a generic disc. He was all too familiar with the song and not because of its popularity. The song by Sting had been a piece of evidence in a murder investigation he’d been part of early in his career. A video had been made of a young girl being stalked with a breathy version of the song, Every Breath You Take being sung in the background. Her body had been found three days later. There’s no connection, Michael told himself. Her killer had been caught and executed. Had whoever dropped the CD in his car known about his connection to that old case or was it a coincidence? The song had been used by stalkers before.
“Michael?” Carolyn was waiting for an answer. He tucked the CD into his jacket pocket. “Get into the car and stay down.” He didn’t want to lie to her, but how could he tell her that the CD hadn’t been there when he’d brought the car to the house.
Her stalker or killer or whatever he deemed himself to be was here. Watching and waiting.
Chapter Six
Carolyn hoisted herself up into the SUV, powered by Michael’s less than gentle push. “I’m going. Take it easy.” She'd just settled in the seat when he slammed her door and jogged around to the driver’s side and jumped in. He pulled the lever for the hood and stepped out again to look at the engine. After checking out the car he got back in.
She wished now that she’d taken a closer look at the CD. The moment he’d taken it, his demeanor changed. His kind almost genial manner abruptly switched into sullenness and anger. Once he’d closed the driver’s side door, she tried again. “What’s wrong?”
Deadly Deception (An Artisan Mystery Book 1) Page 4
