Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel

by Sherry Knowlton

  Scout trotted around the corner first. Then John. “Hey. Are you OK here alone for a few more minutes? I’m going to check on the status of things outside―and take Scout for a little walk.”

  “I’m fine,” Alexa lied. “I want to go upstairs and dress. Plus I want to check the bedroom walls to see if all that shooting messed anything up. Can you make sure they’ve warned Keisha Washington?” She pushed off the couch and trudged up the stairs.

  In her bedroom, Alexa put on clean clothes, washed her face, and combed her hair. Grabbing a pair of short boots, Alexa perched on the side of the bed to zip them. Instead, she let the boots slip through her fingers and crash onto the floor. The evening’s danger finally hit home. A few inches lower, and that first bullet would have killed her.

  Weeping, she sank back on the bed and pulled the top quilt over her body.

  Some time later, Alexa opened her eyes. Her tears had dried, and she’d drifted off to sleep. Her shoulder hurt like hell. Sitting, she swung her feet off the bed and pulled on the boots with a grimace. She rose and walked along the bedroom wall. Toward the front corner, Alexa found a hole in the drywall and a smattering of dust on the rug below. She turned and noticed a pool of water on a small table, still dripping onto the bedraggled iris on the floor. The bullet had pierced the wall, shattered the vase of flowers, and lodged in the front windowsill.

  Alexa tried not to disturb anything. The police would want to see this. But, she had to check the Quan Yin beside the vase. She examined the alabaster statue on the table with a sigh of relief. It was fine. Melissa had given her this Goddess of Mercy and Compassion as a thank you for helping to expose the men who’d murdered her mentor, Cecily Townes. The Bodhisattva was a smaller replica of one Melissa had inherited from Cecily’s estate.

  As she set the cherished memento back on the table, a spurt of white-hot anger burned away any remaining fear. This trigger-happy asshole had violated her personal space. The hot tub was her place for respite and contemplation. This guy had fouled it with his nighttime incursion. And, this room, which she’d dubbed her tree house bedroom, was another place of sanctuary. Alexa slipped on a fleece jacket, ignoring the twinge of pain, and strode toward the stairs with resolve. She vowed to help the police get to the bottom of this. And this monster who had tried to kill her? She’d see him pay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The soft chime of temple bells awoke Alexa. For a moment, she thought the tinkling came from one of the many wind chimes she’d hung outside the cabin. But the chimes kept growing louder. “The alarm,” Alexa groaned and rolled over, fumbling for the cell phone on her nightstand. Hitting the off button, she remembered she’d chosen a new alarm tone when she’d upgraded the phone software.

  She sank back and scrunched up the pillows. Glancing around, she groaned again, remembering why she’d slept in the spare bedroom. When she’d reported the damage, the police asked that her bedroom stay empty until the FSU team returned this morning. So, she and John had dragged Scout’s dog bed into this bedroom and collapsed for the night. John and Scout were already up. Alexa focused on the time. Past eight o’clock. She had to get up too. When she scooched across the bed, the stitches on her upper back protested in a flash of pain. Dr. Bradley at the Urgent Care center had told her she might have discomfort. She had even given Alexa a few pain pills to be used as needed. Alexa slid the rest of the way with great care. Shuffling into the bathroom, her entire body ached. That headlong rush out of the hot tub had tweaked a groin muscle and bruised her arms. One little toe throbbed.

  A shower helped, but Alexa still limped as she made her way downstairs to join John and Scout.

  “Good morning.” John looked up from his coffee. “How do you feel?”

  Scout ran to Alexa, tail wagging. “Hey, boy.” She answered John with a wan smile. “I’m a little worse for the wear. But no permanent damage.”

  John rose. “What do you want for breakfast? I can cook you eggs.”

  “I’ll just have tea and granola. I can get it.”

  But, John beat her to the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ve got this.” As he made a cup of Constant Comment and poured cereal into a bowl, John spoke over his shoulder. “I’d like to stay home with you today, but I’ve got this meeting. I have to be out of here by nine.”

  Alexa sat at the table. “I planned to go to work, but I didn’t expect to be so sore.”

  “A team will be coming to go over the hill in daylight and examine the bedroom. Why don’t you stay home? That way you can answer their questions, keep Scout out of the way.” He put a cup of tea and the bowl of cereal in front of Alexa, and then kissed the top of her head. “And you can get some rest. That cut has to hurt like hell.”

  “A little.” Alexa brought up the calendar on her iPhone. “My schedule’s pretty light today. A lot of people take a long weekend at Easter. I can stay home―at least all morning. I’ll call Graham. He should know what happened here yesterday anyway.” Alexa swallowed one of the pain capsules, took a sip of lukewarm tea, and shuffled toward the phone.

  Alexa spent most of the morning dozing on the couch, Scout on the floor at her side. The police technicians woke her mid-morning when they knocked to enter the house. Alexa watched as a man and a woman lugged a valise upstairs. She couldn’t hear the two working in her bedroom at the far end of the hall.

  I’m so glad I made my bed yesterday morning, Alexa thought, then burrowed back into the couch to sleep some more. She never heard the technicians leave the house.

  A second round of knocking awoke Alexa in early afternoon. Brushing her fingers through tangled hair, she made her way to the front door. Scout followed her, his fur standing on end. “Ms. Williams, it’s Trooper Cannon and Trooper Davis.”

  “It’s all right, boy. It’s OK.” Alexa soothed the mastiff before she opened the door.

  “Our folks are done with their work, so we’re wrapping up. We wanted to touch base.”

  “Come in. I’ve been sleeping. Can you give me a minute to run upstairs and comb this hair?” Alexa didn’t wait for an answer, heading upstairs to the bathroom. Back in the dining room, she joined the troopers, noticing she felt much better. “Would you like a drink? Water, soft drink?”

  Davis spoke first. “Water would be good.”

  Cannon smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to have any birch beer, would you?”

  “Oh, no. Has John turned you into a birch beer fanatic too?” Alexa laughed on her way to the refrigerator. She came back with two bottles of water and one of white birch beer. “Ever since I found out John loves this stuff, I keep a case on hand at all times.”

  “Our team has recovered several bullets from the hot tub area, the outer wall of the cabin, and your bedroom. We also found shell casings on the hill that slopes into the hot tub deck.” Davis spoke in clipped tones.

  “You’re goddamn lucky to be alive, Alexa.” Cannon shot her an intense look. “He used a semi-automatic rifle, possibly with a night scope.”

  “I must have moved just as he took the first shot. I was looking for the flashlight.”

  “A lucky coincidence.”

  Alexa shivered to think she’d been saved by a quirk of fate. “Did you find anything that points to who this guy was?”

  “Knowing the type of weapon gives us someplace to start. FSU might give us more about the make. Beyond that, not much. He was good.” Davis looked at a notepad. “The leaves are so thick on that hill we couldn’t get a print. The pattern of disturbance suggests he stopped short of the deck, perhaps when you fled into the house.”

  “As best as we can tell, he relied on the element of surprise. When he missed and you ran inside, he must have cut his losses and left.” Since Cannon knew Alexa, he seemed to have no qualms about sharing theories despite a harsh look from Davis. “It looks like he retraced his path when he left here. There are recent tire tracks in the lane of a cabin farther up Route 233. Looks like he could have parked there and hiked in. There’s a trail that comes that way, rig
ht?”

  “Yes. A trail comes in over Hunter’s Ridge and intersects another unnamed trail that runs parallel to the cabin. That smaller trail goes out to the main road. The other direction heads toward Weaver’s Pond.” Alexa waved her hand in the direction of the pond.

  “It appears he followed the established paths until he got right behind your cabin. Then he left the trail.” Davis drew a little diagram on a page of her notebook.

  “That’s when I picked up the sound of his footsteps in the leaves. If he’d shot from the upper trail, I would have never known he was there.” Alexa shuddered.

  “There’s one more thing.” Cannon scowled. “It looks like last night wasn’t his first visit to the site. There’s some evidence he had been there before―candy wrappers, trampled leaves, and some abrasion on a dead tree. Looks like he sat up there and worked out how to take the shot. Maybe even studied your patterns in using the hot tub.”

  Davis circled a spot on the upper trail to illustrate Cannon’s point.

  Alexa quailed to have last night’s fears confirmed. Getting shot at was terrifying. But the idea that some man had been watching her for days or even weeks―that made her skin crawl. She rubbed her forehead in agitation. “This cabin is my safe place. An extremist violated it before, but I refused to give into fear. I put in an alarm system and the warning bell on the lane. It’s taken awhile, but I felt safe here again. Now you’re telling me that safety is an illusion. Any monster can come waltzing down the mountain or creeping through the pines, and I’m vulnerable.”

  Davis patted Alexa’s arm in comfort, but her words belied the gesture. “Ms. Williams, no one is ever completely safe. I’d say that your remote location here, the alarm systems, the big dog, all make you much safer than most. But, it appears you have attracted the attention of one or more people who want to harm you. It’s our job to figure out who they are.”

  “She’s right.” Cannon stood. “Trouble seems to follow you, Alexa.”

  Davis cut Cannon off with a piercing look. But his words only confirmed Alexa’s own suspicions. She had encountered way too many dead people in her short life. And she’d been in harm’s way too often for comfort.

  The troopers kept Alexa another forty-five minutes, walking through the entire incident again. They also asked detailed questions about Senator Martinelli’s death and the other potential suspects that Alexa had suggested.

  When they left, Alexa threw on a jacket and walked outside with Scout. While he frolicked around the open space in front of the cabin, she inspected last night’s damage. The bullets had hit the bedroom section of the cabin. A long-ago addition, it was covered in live-edge, beveled cedar rather than the thick log and chinking of the original cabin. Police had cut out a small section of the wall above the hot tub. Several more boards were grooved and splintered. The hot tub was unscathed, but the hole in the cover made Alexa shiver as she thought, That could have been my head. Shaking off a new surge of fear, Alexa circled back to the front steps and walked to the storage area under the hot tub. She found a piece of scrap lumber to tack over the gaping hole in the wall, hoping her stitches wouldn’t pop as she worked. Worried about how she’d find a piece of siding to match the vintage cedar, Alexa walked back into the house to notify her homeowner’s insurance.

  First thing the next morning, Alexa sat on Graham’s office couch, getting the third degree from her concerned brother. He had wanted to come to the cabin yesterday, but she’d insisted he stay at work. Now he was demanding a complete rundown of the hot tub incident. “Are you sure you’re OK, Lexie? Do you need to go to your own doctor to get checked out?”

  “I’m fine. Doctor Bradley at the clinic put in dissolving stitches, so I don’t even need to get them removed. I slept much of the day yesterday, thanks to the knockout pills she gave me. But no more pills. I’m feeling much better.”

  Graham, seated on the adjoining chair, took Alexa’s hand. “I’m worried. You barely escaped serious injury―or worse. And the state police don’t seem to have a clue who shot at you. Say your theory is right―that it has something to do with this senator’s death―I can’t see how that puts us any closer to finding the shooter. From all accounts, the cops have no idea who killed the politician. Maybe you should drop everything and fly to Italy. Hang out with Mom and Dad until this is settled.”

  “I can’t, Graham. I’m going to Umbria at the end of May as planned. But, now, I’ve got three or four cases that are urgent. Both Vanessa and Ted are competent, but I can’t dump these clients on either one of them at this stage. Plus I’ve got this commission report to wrap up. And I still haven’t finalized arranging counsel for Jeannie Demeter. I’m hoping to finish that next week.”

  “When you dig your heels in like this, I know you won’t budge. But be careful, Alexa.” Graham’s exasperation ended on a pleading note.

  “I will. Maybe John will stay with me for a few days.” Alexa grinned. “My own state police protection detail.”

  “He spends all his time at the cabin anyway,” Graham teased. “Too bad he wasn’t there Sunday.”

  “Mhmm.” Alexa didn’t voice her concern that the shooter could have picked Easter because John wasn’t around. “So we’re good?”

  Graham shook his head. “Nothing about this is good, Lexie. You should call Mom and Dad. Let them know what happened.”

  “I didn’t want to worry them.” Alexa walked toward the door.

  “They would want to know what’s going on. Call them.”

  Back at her desk, Alexa looked at the time. Nine o’clock in the morning here. Three o’clock in the afternoon in Umbria. She squared her shoulders and dialed her parents’ villa number. The phone rang twenty times with no answer. She considered trying one of their cell phones but decided not to disturb them if they weren’t at home.

  Next, Alexa called Keisha. The state police had assured her they’d alerted the young woman, but Alexa wanted to speak to her colleague directly. When the assistant put her call through, Keisha exclaimed, “Alexa, I heard someone shot at you on Easter. Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine, but that’s why I’m calling. There’s no way to know for sure this is connected to Senator Martinelli’s murder. But it could be, and that means you could be a target too.”

  Keisha’s tone was dismissive. “I’m not worried. That’s what I told the police when they came by the house. Of course, I’ve heard the rumors about witnesses to the senator’s death. But the police have kept our names secret. Plus, you know as well as I do, girl. We didn’t see anything.”

  “What about the argument?”

  “That ended well before the senator dropped out of the sky. I doubt that the two things were even connected. I’m still betting on suicide. Word is Mrs. Martinelli knew about the good senator’s affair. Probably not his first.” Keisha’s tone hardened. “I see what goes down here. The power attracts political groupies like bees to honey. But this one was different because Martinelli let it become public. Everyone knew about him and Madison Greer. And she’s a representative―a woman of substance. Not your typical groupie. It’s rumored his wife’s family is part of the Philly mob. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided that taking a flying leap was a better choice than waiting for that old bitch, Mama Martinelli, to mete out his punishment.”

  Taken aback by Keisha’s diatribe, Alexa searched for a response. “You could be right. The police are treating this as a murder, though. Maybe Madison Greer’s husband. Maybe someone else. They think it’s possible the person who attacked me is connected with Martinelli’s death.”

  “Don’t you have a lot of other enemies with that sex trafficking business and your law practice? You must have a lot of scumbag clients who hate you for not keeping them out of jail.”

  Surprised, Alexa answered, “I don’t practice criminal law. But you’re right. This could have nothing to do with Martinelli. In case it is, be careful.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. Hey, we got your comments on the commission report.
Lauren’s making the changes and getting it out to the group, probably today. I’ll see you next week. Gotta run, they’re calling the Senate to the floor.”

  Putting the receiver down, Alexa sat for a moment staring at the phone. She knew Keisha had overcome difficult odds to put herself through a good college and work her way up to an important position in the Senate committee structure. She had always thought the woman used tough talk as a tool to inflate her image and to hide her softer side. Perhaps Alexa had misjudged her. Maybe the tough-talking woman she’d just spoken to was the real Keisha after all.

  Alexa hadn’t built up the courage to use the hot tub yet, but by Saturday, she’d recovered enough to look forward to some fun. Earlier in the month, she’d invited a small group of friends for dinner. Now, she welcomed the distraction.

  Melissa and Jim arrived early to help as promised. The redhead swooped through the door, holding something in the crook of her arm. Distracted by a burning smell, Alexa called over her shoulder, “Hi. I just have to check this.” With a sigh of relief, she determined the lasagna was fine. The burning smell was just spillover on the oven floor. Turning, Alexa wondered why Scout remained glued to Melissa’s side.

  “Meet Ansel.” With a flourish, Melissa held out a small, white puppy.

  Jim walked through the door and scratched Scout’s ears. “Are you going to be a good dog with Ansel?”

  Laughing, Alexa joined the group. “He’s adorable. Look at that smooshed face. Is he a French bulldog?” She petted the little dog.

  “Yep. A rescue dog. He’s almost a year old and a real sweetheart. I just couldn’t bear to leave him at home.”