“Yep. I’m calling to ask for your help.”
He grinned at Amanda, actually enjoying the banter with Penny. For a change, he wasn’t wondering the myriad of ways she’d make his blood boil. Particularly when he was trying not to lose his temper around her. Most conversations with his sister were a lesson in self-control, forcing himself not to blow his stack when she made snide comments about him running away from his family and the firm. She always claimed to be joking, but down deep, he wondered. He couldn’t blame her entirely. He’d done his share of needling over the years.
But now, finally, they’d each agreed to play nice, and like a plug pulled from a drain, the pressure was off.
“Let me call The Banner,” Penny cracked. “We could probably get page one for this.”
“Good one, Pen.”
“Thank you, David.”
“You’re welcome. But I do need your help on something.”
“What’s up?”
He spent the next five minutes filling Penny in while his ever-diligent defense attorney sister peppered him with questions. As he spoke, he reached his free arm out for Amanda, who pushed off the wall and let him pull her to his side. Whether from being still pumped up from the intruder or simply adrenaline, his chest pinged.
He’d been on his own for so long he hadn’t realized, or much cared, whether he had companionship. Before, having someone around meant being smothered, losing his privacy and downtime. Forgoing solitary day trips on his bike.
Having to fill the silence when he’d rather not.
With Amanda, something had changed. When she wasn’t close, he wanted her there.
And didn’t mind feeling that way.
“Wow, David,” Penny said, “you’ve been busy.”
“Ya think?”
“Call the detective. What’s his name... McCall?”
“We tried him earlier. He’s working a homicide. Pen, not a lot of people knew Amanda had that skull. And it seems convenient that as soon as she agreed to do the reconstruction, her life came apart.”
“You think someone at the PD might be involved.”
“Don’t know. But I wouldn’t mind seeing if we can locate the guy who stole the skull before I bring in the cops. For all we know he’s this Simeon Davis accusing her of fraud. That’s why I’m thinking we keep one of the keys and test it ourselves.”
This was met with silence. Clearly his sister didn’t agree. Couldn’t blame her. As a lawyer, he knew better. “Say it, Pen.”
“Don’t yell at me.”
“I won’t.”
“I feel like you should at least call the detective and report the break-in. Besides, we have to tell them the skull cast is gone.”
We. Not you. Aces.
Beside him, Amanda winced, probably at the idea of the skull being gone. He slid his arm over her shoulder. “They’ll have to make her another cast. But it’s getting close to five now. The lab guy is probably gone for the day.”
Penny laughed. “You are great at talking yourself into things.”
“I know. It’s a beautiful thing.”
“Yes, but a crime has been committed and you know it. Let’s not muddy this up. Call McCall, report it and turn over those keys. We can still work it from our end and you’ll have covered your butt with the detective.”
This was what he’d missed in Boston. His sister could be a hassle, but she wasn’t afraid to jump into the fray. “I will. But can we send one of the keys to the firm’s lab? Pen, I don’t know who we can trust. As soon as Amanda signed on for the reconstruction, someone went project demolition on her life. And that’s bugging me.” He glanced down at Amanda.
“What?” Amanda said.
“Did you notice if the guy had gloves on?”
She pursed her lips. Thought about it. “No. When I tried to get the skull from him, I felt his skin.”
“Okay,” Penny said. “I heard that. So the PD will get some prints taken in there, as well.”
“Yeah. Can we use the firm’s lab for the keys?”
“You said one key, David. Not the whole set.”
Got her. Yes. He grinned. “One key. Yes.”
“This makes me incredibly nervous and you know why. If we go to trial, the chain of custody alone could get those keys thrown out. Then what?”
“I know. But Amanda can identify him. We’d still have enough to make a case. There’s also the car. He got into a beat-up Chevy. An Impala, I think. It had to be thirty years old.”
His mind went wild. Not many people drove a Chevy from thirty years ago. They could put together a list. All he’d have to do is jump on the internet and search images of Chevy Impalas from the eighties. Maybe narrow it to a specific year. “If I can figure out what year that car was, can one of the firm’s investigators hunt it down? Maybe through DMV?”
“Maybe. Run that key over here and I’ll have Jenna take it to the lab.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But if we get in trouble for this, it’s your fault.”
At that, he laughed. Couldn’t help it. Some things never changed. “Sure. Whatever. My fault. Thanks.”
His sister disconnected and David shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Wow.”
“What is it?”
“Penny and I just had a conversation. No screaming. No calling each other names. No irritation. I’m...” He breathed in, then rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know. Stunned? Happy? Relieved?”
Amanda gripped his shirt. “It could be all three.”
He dropped his arm over her shoulder, drew her back against his side and kissed the top of her head. Whatever he felt at that moment, it was...good. And he hadn’t been able to say that about his relationship with his sister in a long time.
* * *
HOW LONG DID homicide scenes take to process? That was Amanda’s question because Detective McCall was still unavailable.
Something that made David happier than it should have, but Amanda chalked it up to being another twisted experience in a series of twisted experiences.
Two hours had passed while waiting on the detective, and Amanda sat in the kitchen of the Hennings’ mansion marveling at the brute size of it. Stylish cabinets and stainless steel surrounded her. The entire space was spotless but not a museum. Strategically placed fresh flowers and family photos gave the room a bright warmth and she envisioned a gathering place for family parties and laughter and meals. During childhood—even now—she would have spread her drawings out on the stone countertops and settled in for a few hours.
Mrs. Hennings set a mug of steaming chamomile tea in front of her and sat in the adjacent seat, her crystal-blue eyes on her. Looking into those eyes, Amanda understood why people caved when Pamela Hennings made a request. There was an intensity there but at the same time a softening twinkle. Dangerous eyes.
Right about now, David could come back from wherever he’d disappeared to.
Amanda sipped her tea. “I imagine your children didn’t get away with much when they were kids.”
“You’d be correct.”
“I figured. You have a look about you. Sort of an ‘I can kill you, but I’ll use a feather so it won’t hurt as much’ vibe.”
That made Mrs. Hennings laugh and Amanda smiled, enjoying the company of an older woman. A woman roughly the age her mother would have been.
“My children were a handful. All good kids, but they were born litigators. The color on a carton of milk could start a debate in this house.” She sat back and crossed her legs, resting her hands in her lap. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt tonight?”
“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you. I think it scared me more than anything.”
“As it should. I’m glad you’re here. My guest room is in nee
d of a visitor. And David doesn’t count. He still likes to sleep in his old room, which I love about him. And it leaves the guest room for you. Please stay as long as you’d like. I enjoy company.”
“Thank you. I’m hoping the building inspector will clear my place in the next day or so.”
“Such craziness.”
“Ladies,” David said, striding in from the doorway leading to the main hall.
Mrs. Hennings checked over her shoulder. “There you are. Where have you been?”
No kidding. He bent low, kissed his mom on the cheek, then ran his hand across the back of Amanda’s chair, all seemingly in one smooth motion before taking the seat on the other side of her. “On the phone with Penny. And Jenna. She’s running down anyone in the area who owns an eighties-era Chevy Impala. It’ll be a start until we hear back from McCall.” He turned to Amanda. “You’ve got to be beat.”
Completely. But fearing she’d sound rude if she admitted it, she shook her head. “I’m fine. Your mom makes a great cup of tea.” She fiddled with the mug, running her fingertips over the handle, an obviously handcrafted letter H.
His mother eyed him. “You should rethink calling the police about the break-in.”
“Mom, you’ll be happy to know I did call the police. Not my fault the detective is busy.” He grinned. “And before you yell at me for being a smart mouth, I have a plan here. I don’t trust anyone right now, and since McCall is the detective on this case, I want him to handle the break-in and he’s busy. I’ve already told all the workers to stay out of there. The crime scene will be intact for McCall. And it buys us time to do some investigating on our own. Got it all figured out.”
“Apparently so. My darling, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
That made two of them.
Mrs. Hennings patted her lap and stood. “I’m heading upstairs to drag your father from his office. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
“Good night, Mom. Thanks for the help.”
“Of course.” She turned to Amanda. “It’s the least I can do. If I’d known getting you involved would create this mess, I’d never have done it. For that, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m doing the reconstruction for my own reasons. She needs to be identified. This other business is ugly, but the goal is still to bring that woman home.”
Mrs. Hennings squeezed her shoulder. “You’re a special person. I hope you know that.”
Did attempting a reconstruction make her special? Maybe. Or maybe she was someone who’d lost a loved one to tragedy and couldn’t imagine not knowing where that person was or how she had died. The loss alone devastated a family, ripped worlds apart and tore foundations away. In seconds life changed. Forever.
Now someone wanted to stop her from helping to identify this person and Amanda couldn’t have that. A week ago, a few days ago, she’d have resisted the case, instead preferring to stay in her neutral zone—as David called it—but now, with what had gone on in her life, she needed to fight back. To not let her life fall apart on her. To take control again and help bring a dead woman home.
For the first time, staying in neutral, denying the highs and self-protecting from the lows wouldn’t cut it. No matter the cost.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She wrapped her fingers around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands and chase away the heaviness of the past few days.
David shoved his chair back. “Come with me. I’ll show you the guest room. Bring your tea with you.”
He led her to the third floor, where the circular staircase ended at a large landing that opened to a hallway painted a muted gray lined with doors on each side.
At the third entrance on the right, David threw open the door and flipped the lights on. The guest room had to be seven hundred square feet. It looked more like a studio apartment than a bedroom. On one wall sat a fireplace with two chairs and ottomans. A small love seat completed the area, giving it a cozy feel. The walls had been painted a deep beige and the walnut floors were covered with area rugs. Splashes of reds, purples, yellows throughout the room reminded Amanda of Lexi’s work and she wondered if her friend had been the designer.
“The bed is a king,” David said. He pointed to a closed door on the far side of the room. “And the bathroom is through there.”
“Thank you. Where’s your room?”
Ouch, that sounded bad. Seriously bad. She pressed her fingers to her lips, hiding a smile. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Then I’d say that was a shame.”
He stepped closer, brought one hand up and rested it on her neck as he stroked her jaw with his thumb. Tiny explosions trailed from her hips into her chest straight to her firing cheeks. Something about this man’s hands on her made her jittery and happy and...safe.
“You’re beautiful, Amanda. Smart and funny, too. When we’re done with this mess, I want to spend time with you. If that’s okay.”
Definitely okay. And if her comfort level with him was any indication, it would be something she’d enjoy. “I’d like that. It’s important to me that I finish this reconstruction. Someone doesn’t want her identified. She needs her name back. And I want to help with that.”
“Does that scare you?”
“It does. For years I’ve played it safe, not wanting to risk emotional upheaval. The last couple of days? I mean, talk about emotional. I’m sad about it and worried, but I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel like I’ll turn into my mother and fall into despair that has no escape. I think that’s because you’re helping me through it.”
He kissed her. Softly. His lips brushing hers in easy strokes, lingering. She closed her eyes, put thoughts of the bed right behind them out of her mind because it would be so easy to fall into it and take comfort from hunky David Hennings. The little explosions happened again and she rested her hand on his waist.
Regrettably, he eased back, smiling down at her. “I need to go. Otherwise, I won’t. I know you’re tired and if tomorrow goes like I think it will, it’ll be just as active. If you need me, I’m right next door.”
And, oh, the torture of that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter Nine
Amanda lay in the king-size bed and stared at the ceiling. A sliver of moonlight squeaked between the curtains on the French doors and gave the darkened room an eerie bluish tint. Still, creepy tint and all, any anxiety she’d had about what she’d been through these past days drifted off the second David had driven through the front gates into the safety of his parents’ estate.
These people were loaded—L-O-A-D-E-D—and this kind of wealth, the privilege of a lifestyle with no financial worries, was beyond anything Amanda had ever known. Her life, even as a child, had been spent watching pennies, managing money, securing a future. No extravagant spending. No useless toys. Even now, when she made enough to afford a few luxuries, she bought things she needed or wanted, within reason, but the majority of her disposable income went into investments.
She rolled to her side and stared at the doors and the light refusing to be shut out. When she’d come to bed, she hadn’t bothered to look outside and she now wondered about the view from three stories up. Fifteen miles outside the city, the property spanned at least a few acres between neighboring homes, leaving Amanda thrilled that this much open space could be found so close to downtown. Of course she’d known, had even driven around the area looking for inspiration, but now that she’d experienced it during a time when she desperately needed to de-stress, the quiet meant so much more.
Giving up on sleep, she tossed the covers back and strode to the balcony doors wearing only her long-sleeved nightshirt and fluffy socks she liked to sleep in. She checked the doors for security sensors. Not seeing any, she flipped the lock, squeezed her eyes closed—please don’t let there be an
alarm on—and slowly pulled the door. It slid open easily, no sticking like the ones in her building, but that wasn’t a surprise. She imagined Mrs. Hennings inspected every detail on a continual basis.
A light wind blew, sending a chill over her cheeks and bare legs, but she stood staring out at one tiny light shining in the distance between a clump of trees. She inhaled, enjoying the lack of frenetic energy. In her building, city life offered traffic noises, sirens and planes overhead. She loved it but found this new and inviting. A minivacation.
“Amanda?”
At the sound of David’s voice, her body stiffened, each muscle locking. He sat on the balcony in what looked like an iron chair, that eerie moonlight throwing enough light for her to spy him in a sweatshirt over a pair of plaid lounge pants. His rumpled hair, that gorgeous ebony hair, poked in all directions and curled lightly around his ears. The man was beautiful in a completely male and rugged way. No soft angles for him. Anywhere.
She stepped out, gently closing the door behind her. “You’re awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He tilted his head up to the sky, where a bazillion stars winked at them. “I like to sit out here.”
She moved closer, then leaned against the iron rail that spanned the full length of the home. “I can’t sleep, either. My mind won’t stop. It’s so peaceful out here.”
“It sure is.”
“It’s also freezing. How long have you been sitting there?”
“Maybe half an hour. I was about to go in.” He grinned up at her. “And lucky me, you came outside.”
She glanced back at the door behind her. The one that led to a lovely sitting area with a stocked wet bar and a gas fireplace. But asking him to come inside meant inviting him into a bedroom, one that was temporarily hers, and she wasn’t naive enough to believe that setting wouldn’t spark a fire.
Then again, it had been a while since she’d experienced fire.
She gestured to the door. “I’d like to invite you in.”
“But?”
“There’s energy between us and I don’t want to move too fast. I’m...nervous.”
The Rebel Page 11
