“My office is just at the end of this hall,” he said.
They entered the office moments later. It was a spacious room with yellow walls, and she fell in love with the shade immediately, imagining the color in her own office.
Austin gestured toward a seating arrangement with a couch and a couple of plush chairs. “Sit wherever you like.”
The man didn’t even know why they were here yet, but he was friendly and accommodating. Given the way his eyes darted between the two of them and the constant smile on his face, Sara deduced he might be a little starstruck.
Sean sat down on the couch, and Sara joined him. Austin took one of the chairs.
“You’re probably curious why we wanted to speak with you,” Sean said.
“I was, so I had my assistant do some digging,” Austin admitted. He paused, in a state of rapture. “She found out who you are and what you do. I can’t believe we didn’t do a segment on you years ago. It seems everyone else did!”
Well, not everyone. Your Source hadn’t, either.
“But she said that you’ve opened a haunted house and the proceeds are going to local children’s charities,” Austin went on. “Are you here because you’d like us to do a feature on it? If so, the answer is yes, absolutely.”
Sara’s heart lightened at the prospect, and she smiled at Sean.
“That would be nice,” Sean replied. “But we’re not here about that.”
Austin sank back into his chair, a quizzical look on his face. “What are you here for, then?”
“We’re here about Chloe Parsons.” Sara said it delicately, as he would already know about her death, especially in such a small, competitive market.
Any glimmer of joy in Austin’s eyes was snuffed out. He licked his lips. “So you’re here in a more official capacity… Doing your—” he waved his hands “—investigating thing.”
“We are,” Sara replied.
“Was she…was she murdered?” Austin gripped the arms of his chair. “Oh God. You don’t think I had something to do with her death, do you?”
“Not at all.” She did her best to put him at ease, but his shoulders were clearly tense—lifted and curled forward.
“Why else would you want to speak to me about Chloe?” Austin angled his head and moved it in much the same way a bird did when checking out its surroundings.
Sara went on. “We understand that Chloe had aspirations to move to an anchor desk and your station advertised an opening for one.”
“You heard about our job offer?” Austin gave a small smile.
Sara’s heartbeat picked up. “We did,” she said playing along.
Austin nodded, though he seemed to do so hesitantly.
“When was she supposed to start?” Sean asked.
“Halloween.”
Today was October twenty-fourth, so it was just under a week away.
Sara crossed her legs. “When did you make the offer?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“So you filled the position pretty much right after posting the ad…” Sean noted.
“That’s right. I always loved Chloe.”
Sara stared at him.
“Platonically. I’m married.” Austin’s eyes widened, and he pointed to a framed photo on a filing cabinet showing him with a beautiful redhead. “I loved her work ethic, nothing more.”
“So you went after her?” Sara guessed.
Austin nodded with a smile. “She was all too happy to accept my offer.”
That added all the ambitious people who were slighted at Albany One to the list of those who could have hated Chloe.
“Do you normally advertise out of house?” Sean asked.
Austin rubbed the back of his neck and then dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. “Sometimes.”
“May I ask why you went out of house for the anchor position? There had to be some qualified reporters right here,” she said. It was much better to finesse things than to come out with accusations. While sometimes directness was called for, Sara figured Austin wouldn’t respond well to that approach. Complimenting him was definitely the way to go.
“Honestly,” he began, “no one here was up for it.”
“What do you mean?” Sean asked.
“No one was qualified, as far as I was concerned.”
As far as he was concerned… There easily could have been someone who felt otherwise. “Did anyone apply internally?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Could we get their names, please?” Sara figured it was a reach, but people didn’t get what they didn’t ask for.
Austin tilted his head. “I’m not at liberty to disclose their names.”
Sara nodded and smiled, trying to keep him close. “I understand.”
“Why were you in need of a new anchor?” Sean asked.
“Lois Simon’s contract is up, and she’s going off to Paris for a year.”
“So the position offered to Chloe…?”
“Was permanent and full-time,” Austin explained. “Lois was aware that we wouldn’t be renegotiating her contract.”
In Sara’s opinion, that cleared Lois. If she didn’t like someone taking over her position, she’d have to keep killing because other anchors would continue to step up in Chloe’s stead. Sara touched Sean’s knee, and he looked over at her before standing. She loved how they could communicate like that with a single touch.
Sean smoothed his slacks. “Thank you for your time today.”
“You’re welcome,” Austin said. “Please let me know if I can be of any more help. And may I ask…do you know what happened to her?”
Sara looked at Sean but answered. “We’re not at liberty to say.”
“But she was murdered?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Sean responded.
“Oh…”
Suspicion swept across Sean’s features, but he quickly schooled them. “What do you mean by oh?”
“Just that she was young and healthy,” Austin clarified. “Vibrant. She had her entire life ahead of her.”
“As cold as this may sound, sometimes bad things just happen,” Sean said.
“And you’re going to find out if the bad thing that happened to Chloe was murder.” Austin’s statement felt like a plea for justice.
“We’ll find out,” Sara assured him.
She and Sean each shook Austin’s hand before Sara looped her arm through her husband’s, and they left Austin’s office.
Once they were out of the building, Sara leaned toward him. “We need to find out who from Albany One applied for that anchor job,” she whispered.
“I agree,” he said. “I’ll have Adam dig into it and update us in the morning.”
-
Chapter 16
SWEET SURPRISE
IT WAS NEARING SIX BY the time Sean turned down the street toward the haunted house. Sara had wanted to check on how everything was going over there. From the looks of it, all was well. The street was busy, and parked cars lined the curb out front.
Sean gestured toward the cars and looked at Sara. “That’s a good sign.”
She smiled. “I’d say so.”
“Did you call Adam about getting the word out online, given the segment never aired?” he asked.
She shook her head. “With everything else going on, I didn’t have the chance.”
As they parked the car down the street, they were caught up in a swarm of kids and parents. They were everywhere—on the sidewalk, making their way up the front walk, going inside, coming out. Some were even in costume. From what he could tell, their ages ranged from about two to ten, and they all had smiles on their faces. Many were busy pointing at the decorations on the front lawn and interacting with the costumed actors and actresses. One young boy seemed particularly fascinated by the robotic Frankenstein’s monster and went over to touch it. His mother took him by the hand, guiding him back to the sidewalk.
“Looks like Frankie’s a hit,” Sara commen
ted.
“Maybe it’s the name,” Sean responded, alluding to the great Frank Sinatra.
“Could be.” Sara smiled again, clearly getting his inference.
They walked up the front sidewalk toward a part-time college student named Peter who was manning the entrance. Peter collected money for admission and ensured they didn’t go over the maximum capacity set by the fire department. He had come on board because he needed extra cash for his studies and believed in what they were doing with the place. He was a good kid, so they decided to pay him more than modestly for what would ordinarily be a minimum wage job.
Peter smiled at them, the genuine expression touching his eyes. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. McKinley.”
“Good evening,” Sara responded, her gaze bouncing about the place in wide-eyed wonder.
Even Sean was caught up in the madness. “How many people are in there?”
Peter lifted his counter. “Thirty, including you two.”
Thirty-five was their limit, and given the traffic behind them, Peter would need to ask some of them to wait soon.
Sean and Sara didn’t need to go in, though. “We just wanted to stop by and check in, but it seems you have it all under control.” Sean slipped an arm around Sara’s waist. “Keep up the good work.”
They headed back down the sidewalk toward the street. “Wow,” Sara said. “I didn’t expect it to be so packed. Did you see all those kids?”
“I’d like to know where they all came from. You’d think our segment aired.” Sean’s phone started ringing, and he looked at the caller ID before he answered. “It’s Jimmy.” He picked up.
“I’m at Chloe’s apartment,” Jimmy said without any greeting. “You’re not going to like what I found.”
Whether he was going to like it or not didn’t matter, but Sean had a feeling he knew what Jimmy was going to say before he said it. Sean clenched his teeth as he listened, then he told Sara. “The apartment’s been released.”
She tilted her head to the side. “What?” she spat out.
The back of Sean’s neck tightened. For the apartment to be released that fast, he’d wager the investigation was officially not being viewed as a homicide. At least for now.
“What do you want me to do now?” Jimmy asked.
Sean let out a deep breath. What did he want him to do? What did he want any of them to do? Roland would have facts in front of him, hard evidence, something that would justify releasing the apartment. Were they wasting their time continuing to pursue this as a murder when it seemed PD had decided that it wasn’t one?
“Sean?” Jimmy pressed.
“I’m here,” he said into the phone. “I think you should just go home and call it a night. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“You sure? I thought you wanted to go into her apartment.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Sean repeated.
“Okay,” Jimmy said. “You two have a good night.”
“Will do.” Sean hung up and met his wife’s gaze.
“They released her apartment already?” Sara was shaking her head. “I know they could secure a warrant and go back for specific evidence, but at this point, I’d say they don’t think she was murdered.”
“Seems that way.” Surely, they wouldn’t have released the apartment so soon otherwise, but there was always the chance that they’d felt they had everything they needed.
The light in his wife’s eyes faded as doubts crept in—doubts about the justice system, doubts about them taking on this case, doubts about something else he couldn’t place. Sean couldn’t be sure what they were, but he hated seeing those doubts there. He needed to buoy her up and keep her positive.
“We’re seeing this investigation through,” he said. “We made a commitment to Chloe’s sister, and we’re going to do our best to bring her answers, whatever they are.” The only course was forward.
She smiled at him and pinched her eyes shut briefly.
“Now, let’s go out for a nice dinner and call it a night.” He took her hand and started walking toward the car. “We’ll pick things up in the morning.”
Sara stopped moving, making him do so, as well. “If her apartment’s clear, though, we should go by and take a look inside. I can call Jackson now and get his key.” She started to dig inside her purse.
“In the morning, darling,” he said. “I promise. We need some rest. To clear our heads.”
She looked at him, concern etched on her brow. “First thing in the morning?”
“No earlier than eight, young lady.” He looked at her as if he was making the deal with a child, and she laughed.
“Oh fine. Deal.”
-
Chapter 17
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
SARA DRAGGED HERSELF FROM BED just after five the next morning. She was wide-awake, and she couldn’t turn off the barrage of thoughts in her mind. She padded through the house toward the kitchen to make coffee.
The odds were certainly against them with this case. The investigation was still open with PD, but from a forensic standpoint, there didn’t seem to be any real evidence that Chloe had been murdered. At least not that they knew of. She supposed it had been that way from the start, but now that it seemed PD was ruling against homicide, she was curious what information had persuaded them to do so. Then again, all this was still an assumption. They very well could still be pursuing Chloe’s death as a murder. It just wasn’t very likely.
She put the pod in the coffee machine and pushed the “brew” button. As the machine started to sputter out heavenly liquid perfection, she closed her eyes, inhaling the aroma. Every morning she did the same ritual. Now that she was in her thirties, she doubted it would ever change. People referred to money as the almighty dollar, but she was one American who worshipped the coffee gods and the almighty bean.
When her coffee was finished brewing, she picked up the cup and took a long sip. She drank it black, respecting the bean too much to sweeten it with sugar or dilute it with milk or cream. Her eyelids lowered in appreciation of the robust flavor.
Now she could get on with her day…
She headed toward her office, thoughts still bombarding her, but at least she seemed to have a reprieve from the ones centering around Chloe. She was thinking now about how busy the haunted house had been last night and what had caused the drastic uptick in traffic. Someone must have picked up the story. Whatever happened, though, she was greatly appreciative. The more families who came meant more money for charity, and that made her heart sing.
She walked into her office and turned on the computer. As it warmed up, she continued to drink her coffee. Each mouthful built on the last, coating her tongue in caffeinated goodness.
She logged in as soon as the computer was ready and went straight to an Internet browser to do a search for their haunted house. If anyone had picked them up, she should find some—
Her eyes widened as the search results appeared on the screen. Pictures of the house filled the feed, along with articles talking about the charities and the flexible entrance fee. She looked closer at the site information on the various listings, and none of them were associated with Albany One or Your Source. She clicked on a few links, and they led to high-profile blogs.
She smiled. This had to be Adam’s doing, and all without them asking him.
She’d thank him when they talked later, but she had to say something now. She reached for her phone to fire off a quick text message, but she’d accidentally left it in their bedroom. She went with the next best thing. She opened her e-mail program and started typing a message to Adam:
The haunted house was hopping today, and I’m seeing all this great publicity online. I have a feeling it has something to do with you. If I’m right, thank you so very much. You’re a generous soul.
She read it over, clicked SEND, and basked in the warm feeling of giving, of being part of something larger than herself. She sank back into her chair and closed her eyes as she took another
sip of coffee.
Today, the plan was to take a look around Chloe’s apartment and see if they could find anything to aid their investigation. She still clung to her intuition that someone had intentionally caused her heart failure. And running with that, so much pointed in Jackson’s direction. She was hesitant to accept that he was behind her death, though. He hadn’t struck Sara as loving Chloe in the I-can’t-have-you-so-no-one-else-can kind of way. Rather, he seemed to care deeply for her, even holding out hope that they’d get back together. But if she ruled out Jackson, who else did that leave? The people who were jealous of her success and those she’d outshone, but there still weren’t any names or faces to go with them. And again, this was under the assumption it was someone in the media world who’d had it out for her.
The only undisputable fact they truly had was that Chloe had died of heart failure in her home. Whether a killer’s plan was put into action from inside her apartment or beforehand—if there was a killer—had yet to be proven. They also hadn’t yet filled in Chloe’s schedule for the day she died, beyond filming in the morning and going her own way around one. They didn’t know if she headed straight home or stopped somewhere first. Chloe may have been drinking white wine before she’d died, but they didn’t know whether she’d been alone or had company.
Sara took a deep breath, doubt creeping in. Maybe she was getting carried away with thinking someone had murdered her. After all, Chloe could have died from natural causes, a fluke heart failure of some kind.
Sara’s gaze was drawn to her monitor when a new e-mail came in. She assumed it was Adam responding, but she was wrong.
The subject line read, Chloe had to die…
-
Chapter 18
IF ONLY THE DEAD COULD TALK
“WAKE UP!”
Sean groaned as Sara shook him out of a dream. They’d been about to make love, and he didn’t want to return to reality.
“Sean!” This time she was louder and more persistent.
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