by Nora LeDuc
“I’m going in. Stay put.” He swiped the key from her hand and opened up. He snapped on the overhead light and removed his weapon from the belt under his jacket. The sound of his footsteps growing and fading told her where he was in the one bedroom. “All’s clear,” he said, reappearing in the narrow hallway without his gun visible.
She entered eager to be alone and deal with her raw nerves. “Thanks again, Detective Lennox. I bet you need to get home.”
“No one’s expected me there for years.” He studied the door frame and handle. “No signs of a break in.” He faced her. “You should move out of this place. It’s not safe.” His stare drilled into her, daring her to defy him.
“I’ll contact my landlord, Dean Drown, about the safety issues, and I have your number in case of an emergency. Don’t worry. I’m not planning any big gestures to trap the killer. I’m basically a coward.” She opened the door wider, a hint for him to leave. She needed to speak to Dahlia in the apartment, but would she answer?
He ignored her hint. “I know Dean. He’s busy with his new building projects and hasn’t installed any security into this one. You’d be better off staying in the hotel across the river where someone can’t sneak in and leave you photos.”
“It’s a piece of paper. I’m sure I’ll be safe once I’m locked inside.” She had her gun.
The corner of his mouth turned down. “Think about it. I’ll secure the downstairs and walk the outside perimeter.”
“Good night.” After he left, she snapped off the living room light, stole to the windows and pulled down the shades. She wanted to stay in a place where she sensed her sister’s presence, from Dahlia’s favorite brand of coffee to the sound of her voice.
But Rose wasn’t about to act foolishly either. Groping around in the darkness, she tugged a chair from the kitchen table and jammed the frame under the doorknob.
Knowing she’d get little sleep tonight, she removed her gun from her coat pocket. She dropped down on the couch and pointed the weapon toward the door. She whispered a prayer she wouldn’t have to shoot, but if her sister’s killer believed she was going down without a fight, he was wrong.
“Dahlia? I need your help. I can’t do this by myself. I never wanted to be alone.” She closed her eyes, and her hand gripping the gun shook.
A feathery caress of comfort stroked across her fingers. She wasn’t alone.
Chapter 3
At midmorning, Rose whispered a prayer that today would bring Dahlia’s killer to justice and abandoned her attempt to sleep. She poured coffee into Dahlia’s favorite mug that she’d found tucked behind a bottle of wine. Written on the two sides was the saying: Always borrow money from a pessimist. They never expect it back.
Did Dahlia think of her when she used the mug in this place? It was a miracle her sister had been able to keep up with her rent in Brattleboro, never mind leasing another apartment in New Hampshire. Neither Rose nor Dahlia was making enough from their shop to afford two places.
Rose’s shoulders sagged as the warmth from the cup seeped into her palms. Her sister’s mug she could handle. She couldn’t deal with her sister’s bureau sitting in the corner of the living room for her convenience. Maybe tomorrow she’d sort through her twin’s belongings, but not today. Yes, definitely tomorrow.
She sipped the drink and stifled a yawn. Images of Dahlia and her faceless killer—he must have been the one who’d run after her on Main Street—haunted her throughout the night. Now it was almost noon. Since she was talking to Detective Lennox today, she needed to get a move on. He asked her for patience while they searched the river. Now they were done. Hopefully, he’d give her new evidence that would lead to an arrest. She gulped her coffee and then jumped into the shower. When she finished, she heard the beep of her phone and found a text from her landlord, Dean Drown, who assured her he was following up on her request concerning building security. Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and headed to the Police Station located at the opposite end of Main.
A brisk jaunt in the daylight would clear her head, and prove that she could walk down the street without glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. She carried her gun inside her purse in case anyone decided to play a deadly game of Pursuit.
First she had Dahlia appearing to her, now she had a murderer stalking her. Life couldn’t get much better. Being in a witness protection program or a contestant on the cable show Wife Swap would be an improvement. Too bad she was single.
She reviewed her mental to-do list as she walked. Pinpricks of apprehension warned her somebody lurked nearby watching, and ruined her concentration. She was probably on hyper alert to anyone glancing her way, thanks to last night. But neither spirit nor man would stop her.
She paused before the polished stone building. The engraved sign which read “Ledgeview Police Station” hung above the entrance. The letters weren’t as pretty as the sapphire font on her shop.
Rose remembered opening day of the Blues Sisters Boutique. They had stood in front of their red brick building. Dahlia wore her favorite paisley dress and a jean jacket. Her bracelets jangled when she turned to Rose in her white starched shirt and beige pants. “We did it!” Dahlia held up her palm for a victory slap.
Rose released the memory and pushed through the glass doors of the station. The hairless desk clerk dressed in uniform led her through the metal detector and into a large room of blues. The buzz of conversation, ringing phones and the click of computer keys, denoted the large work area. Her nose twitched at the pungent scent of a lingering cleaning fluid. Cops threw her glances and resumed their jobs.
The clerk ordered Rose to wait a few feet from a cubicle and then left. She stood near the workers. How long would she stand alone while the rest of the officers pretended she didn’t exist? Hurry up, Lennox.
The tap, tap, tapping of the computer keys surrounded her. She turned away and wandered closer toward the cubicle.
“Pay attention, Lennox.” A man’s tight voice floated over the divider. “We don’t need a flatlander who thinks he’s hot shit coming in to second guess us. You blew in here and beat me out of this job based on your daddy’s reputation. The whole department knows it.”
She edged closer to the divider.
“Since you’re caught up on the old ladies’ gossip,” Detective Lennox answered, “you’ve plenty of time to work on the Blue Case. Go to every store that carries electronics in the Brattleboro and Ledgeview areas. Show them Dahlia Blue’s picture and find out if she bought a prepaid phone from them. Then write up and hand me your report by eight tomorrow morning. Got it?”
She couldn’t decipher the grumbled answer. A middle-aged, plainclothes man suddenly stalked out from behind the barrier. She dodged to the side to avoid a collision. He slowed with a grunt and marched away, leaving behind the odor of garlic.
“Miss Blue.” Detective Lennox, dressed in dark khakis and a light blue shirt with rolled up sleeves, stood a few feet from her. His gaze slid rapidly over her and back up.
Her insides jangled. She would have to be tazered unconscious not to notice the man now that her grief was under control.
“Come inside.”
“Any big breaks in my sister’s case, Detective?” she asked without moving.
“I’m afraid we’re still investigating, Miss Blue. Have faith.”
“I’m trying.” She tamped down on the pressing sense of urgency. She hadn’t really expected an immediate arrest, but she intended to make sure everything possible was being done.
She glanced at the cops ignoring her across the room and walked in front of him. “Friendly place, you have here. I was amazed over the large size of your department. It’s big for such a small city.”
“Are you a member of a taxpayers association, Miss Blue?”
She hesitated and blinked several times, clearing her mind. “No, I was struck by the number of people in the office. Not that I’m an expert on police forces. I like facts and figures.” She was babbling while the detec
tive observed her with a cool glance. If someone gave him a bottle of Maalox, he’d spit out the liquid and chew on the glass. At the moment, she’d prefer to guzzle its contents.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. Please, call me Rose. And I’ll call you….” She paused, and when he didn’t fill in the blank, she added, “Lennox.”
She continued past him and caught his aftershave. The pine scent reminded her of hiking in the woods. She wanted to inhale deeply but kept moving into the space crowded with a desk, folding chair and file cabinet. She settled on the cold metal seat.
The crammed area seemed to emphasize his largeness. He inched to his desk, closed up an open folder and set it on top of a pile of files.
“You’ve a lot of cases.”
“Ledgeview hasn’t put their old cases online yet.” He sat. “Rose and Dahlia. Was your mother or father into gardening?”
She shook her head. “What I remember of my mother, she was more into Woodstock. She died in a car accident when we were seven, and then we lived with Gram, Mom’s mom. Gram always said our mother was born in the wrong decade. As for our father, he wasn’t into kids. We never met him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My sister used to pick out fathers for us from our friends’ parents. Thankfully, she never asked one to adopt us.” Rose glanced at the picture of a uniformed man standing on a pile of files on top of the cabinet. The man’s blue eyes were the same color and shape as Detective Lennox’s. “He’s a relative of yours, right?”
“He’s my dad. My grandfather and father were both in law enforcement.”
“I bet your father boasts about you all the time.” She heard the twinge of wistfulness in her voice. Stop acting like Little Orphan Annie.
“My dad passed over a year ago.”
Despite his bland tone, he stiffened and instinct told her she’d touched a raw nerve. What was wrong with her today? Nothing was coming out right. “It’s my turn to apologize.”
“I understand how it feels to lose a member of your family, Rose. Are you doing better this afternoon?” The change in topic relieved the pressure in his chest he always felt when his dad’s death was mentioned.
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to pry about your family.” Her face reddened.
“It’s all right. I’m here to help with your sister.” And to check you out. He’d run the background search. She had no record, and spent her time at work or at home. Today, he’d learn more about Rose Blue. He’d study the way she held her body, breathed and her slight body movements. All would betray her if she lied. He wanted a break, a suspect, but the right one. He couldn’t afford wasting investigation time on Miss Blue if she was innocent. The balancing act had begun.
“I guess we have a few things in common.” She slipped the purse strap from her shoulder to rest the bag in her lap and dug inside. “I wrote up a report about last night.” She held out a handwritten two-sided page. “You already received my list of store customers though I’m not sure they’d approve of me giving you their addresses when I promised not to pass them on.”
“They’ll understand. We’re not selling body part enlargements.” He accepted the paper and skimmed it. “You work fast, considering what’s happening in your life.”
“My sister always complained I took life too seriously.”
“Being a hard-worker is a good trait.” He leveled his full attention on her, and the background noises faded away. During an interview, he always followed his dad’s rule. Never let them know what you think, until you read them their rights.
Was she a devoted sister or cold blooded killer? He hid his doubts in politeness. “What can I do for you?”
She pressed her hands against her knees. “Today’s the third day since the teenagers found Dahlia, and the investigation feels as if it’s moving in slow motion. What’s happening at the river?”
“The divers finished their search this morning without turning up any findings.”
“That’s not encouraging.” The muscles in her jaw tightened. “What else do you have?”
“I reviewed other homicides in our state and Vermont, looking for similarities and possible leads. A woman around Dahlia’s age vanished close to the Fourth of July. She lived in North Conway in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Her body was found in November, four years ago. If we can connect the two deaths, law enforcement can pool resources to track one killer versus two.”
Surprise left her wordless for a second. “You think the same killer murdered my sister?”
“It’s only one theory, but the fatalities contained likenesses. Listen, I’m bringing up the possibility because you need to heighten your safety measures, not trudge through the city like a defeated defense lawyer.” He allowed his curt tone to show his annoyance. “The message wedged in your doorframe was pretty clear. We can’t dismiss the idea a bloodthirsty hunter is out there preying on young women. You don’t want your name posted next on the missing persons list.”
Her fingers closed around the butterfly hanging on the chain around her throat. “I’m ahead of you. I notified my landlord, and he’s working on security today. Apparently, the locks were manufactured in the day of Adam and Eve, and every Adam owns a key to it.”
“Good, did you remember anything else about the person tailing you?” He glanced down at the report. “You noted height, ski mask and dark clothes.”
“Sorry, I was too busy running for my life to notice more details.” The shadow of a frown crossed her face. “What did you do with the news clipping from my door?”
“The lab is testing the paper for fingerprints. I’m waiting on the results.”
“You don’t really think he’d be dumb enough to leave prints? It sounds too easy.”
“The odds are slim, but he’ll slip up and we’ll get him.” Luke leaned forward, and the scent of her flowery perfume invaded his senses. He was suddenly drawn toward her, overcome with the urge to reach out and touch her.
He sat back in his chair, away from the fragrance of her teasing scent. “Tell me about your friends, people in the Brattleboro neighborhood where Dahlia lived. Any hold a grudge or a fascination with you or your sister?”
“She’d only lived in her apartment a couple of months, but she never complained about anyone. We lived in Gram’s house until then. She died last year, and we sold the old place and my sister and I each rented a place a few blocks from each other.”
“And did you have trouble with the people in your old neighborhood?”
“They were like family. Gram and my mom moved once, after Grandpa died from a heart attack, but Gram said it was one of her worst mistakes. She always used that reminder when the grass is always greener lecture didn’t work with us.”
He nodded. “What was your sister like?”
“Dahlia never met a stranger. She talked with everyone and was the life of a party. I realize now her behavior was more dangerous than I ever imagined.”
“Maybe she accepted a ride from a new friend and never went home again. Other women have disappeared in the same manner.”
She tightened her grip on her purse strap. “Don’t get the wrong impression of Dahlia. She was a kind person, who sometimes shared her heart too quickly, but was the first to volunteer to help someone.”
“Your sister’s ex, A.J. Edwards, left Brattleboro. Where can I find him?” He picked up a pen and held it over the top sheet of notes on his desk.
“I’ve no idea. He left when their relationship ended, shortly before Dahlia disappeared near the end of February.”
Luke lowered the pen and studied her. Was it possible she really didn’t know where Edwards had gone? Nothing indicated she was lying. “Did he seem upset when your sister broke off their engagement?”
“He was devastated, but not angry. I can’t see him as a murderer. Do you? Is that why you’re asking?”
“I’m gathering information. Did he owe money or have a drug problem?” Either she knew nothing or was protecting the ex. He made a m
ental star next to the man’s name.
“No to both questions.” She blinked at him as though he wasn’t for real.
“Did your sister owe money?”
“Dahlia kept up with her bills, though it was hard for her. Except…” Rose hesitated and broke eye-contact. “Recently, she messed up the boutique’s account. We had a hard time paying January’s rent. The Blues Sisters has always been our dream. Dahlia bored everyone talking about the boutique and her jewelry. She was an accomplished silversmith, a natural talent and we sold her creations at our store. I was more the buyer, behind the scenes person. When Dahlia was younger, she designed beaded bracelets for the kids at school, and I sold them. Some kids ran cold drink stands, we sold jewelry.”
He sensed she was trying to bury the admission of Dahlia’s error with another story. “What happened when your sister messed up your account?”
She lowered her eyes for a second.
He was onto something. “Go ahead.”
She inhaled and her breasts under her gray sweater rose and fell with a sigh. His gaze skipped down and back to her face.
Rose wet her lips and admitted, “It was unusual. We’re both good with figures. So we argued about the lost money.”
“How much?”
She expelled a breath as though surrendering. “She stole two thousand.”
“Yet, your sister paid three thousand dollars cash for her Ledgeview apartment’s first and last month’s rent plus security deposit.” He spotted the slight jolt of her body.
“She did? I’d no idea.”
“I reviewed her W2 Forms and bank records. The Ledgeview lease money wasn’t from her savings.” His pulse picked up. Something wasn’t right here.
“Maybe she stashed away a rainy day fund.” Rose avoided his gaze again.
“Where do you think she got her additional funds for the New Hampshire rental?”
“I don’t know.” Rose crossed and uncrossed her ankles and finally heaved a sigh. “All right, you might as well know though I’ve never discussed her problem with anyone. Dahlia helped herself to small items.”
