When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1)

by Simpson, Amy Leigh

  “Well, it looks to me that Charlie was the one who cut out the pages and tried to hide the existence of this particular notebook’s contents, otherwise the killer would have just taken the whole thing, don’t you think?” Without waiting for his reply she stood and started pacing, the air around him stirring with the juicy scent of her. “So … unless the murderer found the pages, or unless Charlie destroyed them, they might still be here somewhere.” She stopped, zeroing in on him. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “Oh, I think you’re talking enough for the both of us.” And why are you smiling? Get a grip, this isn’t a date.

  “Fine. You can be Sherlock. What are you thinking?” She stripped off her gloves and propped her hands on the curve of her waist, her feminine wiles running circles around his brain—reducing his sharp, disciplined mind to some pathetic, infatuated blob.

  Don’t you dare touch her. Don’t even look at her.

  With the way his thoughts kept careening off course, he’d cross the line faster than he could draw his firearm.

  He needed a safer visual so he consulted his watch. “I’m thinking we call it a day. We made some good progress, and we can mull over your theories more once we get this stuff back from the lab. You ready to head out?” He was riffing, he had no idea what to say. If he vocalized the things on his mind she’d probably deck him.

  Though, it might help if someone beat some sense into him.

  The choppy rumble of a motorcycle filtered into the room. “Shoot! What time is it?”

  “About six, why?” He knew he’d just suggested that they leave, but now he didn’t want to go.

  “I gotta go. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.” The words trailed behind her. Before he could get a word out she was gone.

  Not a proud moment, but Archer found himself peeking through the shades. A man sidled off a motorcycle, and a moment later Sadie was flinging into his arms. They walked together toward Sadie’s door. Motorcycle boy’s arm draped possessively over her shoulder.

  A twinge of something unfamiliar burned in his chest.

  What was he, jealous?

  A sober laugh tripped from his lips as he tried to chase the thought from his mind. Unfortunately the image of Sadie in that guy’s arms settled in for an extended stay.

  Saved by the bell. His cell phone buzzed from his pocket.

  A missed call from Sal? The stupid phone didn’t even ring. Aha! Again with the no signal. This place was like the Bermuda Triangle.

  When he stepped out into the muggy night, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Mom. “Oh sure, now you work.” Archer dismissed the call, knowing Sal’s call took precedence. Before pulling out of the lot he shot a parting glance at Sadie’s condo.

  Who was this guy, a friend? A boyfriend?

  Not that he cared. To prove it, he dialed Sal and drove away.

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I called you twice.” Sal said without preamble.

  “Dude, that’s a little needy don’t you think?”

  “Whatever, man. I need your help with a case tomorrow, you free?”

  “Yeah, I could probably swing it. I need to drop some stuff by the lab tonight, and it might take a couple days. My other cases will solve themselves.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. See you around eight. Later.”

  Archer grabbed a quick bite on the way to the office and got to work pouring over Westwick’s financials. The will could be crucial in providing a motive, but it hadn’t yet been released. And since Charlie’s family lived in Chicago, Archer was still trying to set up a time to question them in person. It had only been a few days but everything about this case was dragging.

  Until he could get his hands on the will, he intended to find out what happened during the time frame of the missing notebook. Archer had already found out that Charlie had been stationed overseas with the Army during World War II. If some of the men Charlie served with were still alive, they might be able to provide some insight into what went on and what might be in the missing notebook.

  Or maybe one of them was the murderer. It seemed absurd to have a ninety-year-old killer, but Archer had seen crazier things over the years. He couldn’t afford to rule anything out just yet.

  Stretching his neck he huffed a sigh, trying to expel the tension in his body. He was in for a long night. Maybe the busy work would keep him from thinking about a certain feisty blonde.

  Chapter 8

  Sadie Carson

  “Mawage … Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday.” The wedding scene from The Princess Bride played in the background while Sadie and her brother Finn gobbled down pizza and root beer floats.

  “Speaking of marriage,” Finn spoke through a mouthful of pizza like the true Neanderthal he was, “has mom been harassing you more than usual? I swear, with me, she’s like the Energizer-Matchmaker. She won’t rest until she marries me off.”

  “Do you even have to ask me that?” Surely, their mother wasn’t as relentless with Finn. He wasn’t into relationships. Lately he seemed like a “flavor of the week” kind of guy. She hated those guys. Deep down she knew Finn wasn’t a pig, but he was putting up some pretty incriminating evidence to the contrary.

  “I blame Jay. I thought for sure once mom had grandbabies she’d ease up. It looked promising too until Jay relocated the family to Oklahoma.” Sadie loved joining forces against their oldest brother for a change. When they were kids, she’d always been the odd man—er, girl—out.

  “Yeah, he up and ruined everything. So you gotta date for this benefit dinner?” Finn wagged his eyebrows.

  “Nope. Why, do you?”

  A slow grin spread across his handsome face.

  “You do, don’t you? Oh, you traitor. I thought we were staging a protest.”

  “Easy, Trigger.” He held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not set in stone. I’m working on it, okay. Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Working on trying to find a date.” He sent her that annoying big brother look that said, “duh.”

  “Oh look at you—you’re just as bad as mom.”

  “Am not!” he replied in five-year-old fashion.

  “For your information, Finnegan, I do not need a man to rock out a gorgeous dress and eat steak Diane. I can do that all by myself.” With a firm, final nod of her head she returned a smug smile. And she absolutely did not envision how fine Agent Hayes might look in a tux.

  The following morning Sadie ran and prepared for a long day with her favorite little old lady, Elsie, and then girls’ night out with her best girl, Joselyn. With everything that had happened she felt relieved her other patient Andy had been hospitalized for gallbladder surgery and wouldn’t require home care until his family left the following week.

  And then she felt guilty. Felt the futility of her efforts layer on top of that. Felt an unhealthy dose of discontentment smother the rest until it inevitably fed back into guilt. And on and on it went. The self-deprecating cycle continuing until she hopped in the Camaro and cranked up the oldies to drown out the noise in her head.

  The autumn leaves were in full splendor, showcasing their range of dynamic shades from buttercup to plum. A thick mist rested over the road, wispy threads of white wove through the trees. It looked like fall, and yet the temperature held stubbornly to the last fringes of summer heat.

  Pulling in to the circle drive of Elsie’s beautiful old estate in Frontenac, the uber-wealthy old money suburb of St. Louis County, she grabbed her bags and headed in the side door. After peeking in on Elsie, who was still fast asleep in bed, she went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast.

  Elsie’s sixty-something bachelor son, Tom, lived with her and managed the estate. Though technically retired, he kept busy so he had Sadie come and help out
with his mother a few days a week to assist with bathing, physical therapy exercises, checking her vitals, and managing her medications. But mainly, Sadie thought, he’d hired her for companionship.

  At least they had the resources to finance the right kind of equipment and care, though Elsie refused to wheel around in a scooter, claiming she’d always had killer legs and didn’t want to see them wither away from getting old and lazy.

  At ninety-six years old the woman hadn’t shown a hint of senility. An avid believer in crossword puzzles, word searches, and above all, the daily showing of The Price is Right, she claimed they kept her mind nimble and young.

  Spending the day with Elsie never really felt like work. Other than the physical assistance she needed getting around the house, Sadie felt like part of the family hanging around talking and playing games with her, and helping cook or clean here and there.

  Most of her patients over the years were not quite as easy or pleasant to deal with, but Sadie always felt divinely positioned where she could attempt to make an impact—though most often if it was only with egg salad, hot tea, and an ear to hear.

  Sadie heard Elsie stirring on the baby monitor she carried around the expansive home and went to help her get up.

  “Good morning, Elsie,” Sadie sang as she entered the room.

  The normally spunky little old gal looked fragile. The tired dregs of her eyes portrayed a restless night. “Good morning, my dear.”

  “How’d you sleep? Did you hear that storm? I love sleeping when it rains.” Sadie angled the blinds, letting in a soft pour of morning light.

  “Oh, I slept all right, I guess.”

  Sadie gently levered her up in bed and helped her scoot to the edge. Elsie draped her arms around Sadie’s neck, and Sadie waited for her to adjust to being vertical before standing. Glancing down to check the position of Elsie’s feet, she saw some mild edema accumulating in her left ankle. She released her arms, bent down to examine her leg, and observed a deep purple bruise that wrapped the entire medial portion of her ankle and inked down to the arch of her foot. “What happened here?”

  “It was so silly, I just, well …” Sadie sent her a motherly look, prodding her along. “I needed to use the restroom last night, my walker was right here, and Tom works so hard I didn’t want to bother him, and—”

  “Elsie.” Sadie scolded. “I’ve told you before you can’t be doing that. Tom doesn’t mind helping in the middle of the night, he told me.” She softened her words with a smile. “It looks like a mild sprain, but it could have been a lot worse so promise me you’ll call for Tom next time, okay?”

  Elsie crossed her heart with her crooked little index finger and conceded with a bashful grin. “We all need somebody, don’t we Sadie?”

  Sadie felt her blood squirm under her skin and knew her guilt was displayed bright enough for an almost one-hundred-year-old woman with cataracts to see clearly.

  “Okay lady, let’s get you ready. A few of the girls asked if we were up for some bridge today, whaddya say?”

  “As long as it’s after the morning news and The Price is Right.”

  “Of course. And it will give us a chance to tend to that swollen ankle. How do we treat, doctor?”

  “PRICE.” Elsie announced with pride, giving a little tug to her fist.

  “That’s right. Protection, rest, ice, compression, and elevation. You’re so smart.” Sadie patted her hand.

  Elsie patted her hand right back, her pale blue eyes flickering with compassion. “That’s because I have such a smart doctor.”

  “Hey Joss.” Sadie called out to her best friend as they approached P.F. Chang’s from opposite ends of the small strip of upscale dining and shopping in Brentwood.

  After a brief hug, Joselyn pulled back, looking Sadie over with furrowed brows.

  “What?” Sadie checked for a wardrobe malfunction.

  Joselyn let out a low whistle. “You look hot! Dang, girl!”

  “Oh, I do not. I look the same as always.” Except Sadie had put a little extra effort into her appearance tonight, though her reflection still showed the same average tomboy staring back from the mirror. She’d straightened her hair for a change and put on real clothes. Real as in skinny jeans instead of yoga pants, a black empire-waisted halter top instead of a band T-shirt, a long gold pendant necklace and gold leaf earrings instead of none. And sky-high wedge heels instead of her Chucks. Heck, she’d even tried some smokey eye shadow and managed to not look like she’d acquired two black eyes.

  “Nope, something’s different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Joselyn tapped her finger to her lips. “Hmm.”

  “There, there, crazy girl. What matters is I’m wearing a shirt and shoes, so I’m thinking they’ll serve us food. Let’s go in. I could eat a horse.” Sadie pointed to the statues flanking the doors of the restaurant. “Though I’d rather not.” They both laughed, linked arms, and entered Chinese food heaven.

  After eating their fill of lettuce wraps and crispy honey chicken, Joselyn blotted her mouth with her napkin. “All right, spill it. Is there a guy or something because you look … what’s the word? Smitten? Glowey?” Joss looked up, her silky black hair slipping behind her shoulders as she pondered. “Is that a word? I’m thinking it should be.”

  “Fine. I’ll dish, but honestly there’s not much to tell.” Sadie described her last few days in detail, feeling little flakes of tension slough off from the confession.

  “I can’t believe Charlie’s gone. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean I deal with this sort of thing a lot, but with Charlie …” She shook her head, willing away the blubbering ascending her throat. “I dunno, it’s different—especially given the circumstances.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” Raising a devious, yet perfectly sculpted eyebrow, Joselyn daintily cleared her throat. “Does this Agent Hayes have any suspects?”

  At least now she didn’t feel like crying. “Not that I know of. And stop it with that eye. I know what you’re thinking, but you can forget it. The man is so irritating.” At the arching of Joselyn’s other brow Sadie continued her defense. “We can hardly be near each other for five minutes without having some blow-out argument. There’s too much friction.”

  “You know what friction produces, right?” Joselyn’s violet-blue eyes danced with mischief. “Heat.”

  “Please, really. I’ve been getting it from all sides—my mom, Finn, I could use a break.”

  “All right, fine. You are so not fun. Could you at least tell me what he looks like? I’m picturing tall, dark, and tasty.” Joselyn propped her elbow on the table, dropped her chin onto her palm, and nibbled her perfectly manicured pinky fingernail.

  “Pretty much.”

  She deadpanned, let her arm drop. “Aw, come on! That’s all I get? How tall?”

  Should she humor her? Sadie pursed her lips to one side. “At least six three or four.”

  “Oooo. How dark?” Joss leaned forward as if hanging on every word.

  A bubble of laughter burst the balloon of stress filling in her belly. “Well, he’s got sort of olive, naturally tanned skin, a little curl to his mocha-brown hair, and really intense light brown eyes—with flecks of gold and maybe a little green. And his smile …” She was swooning, lost in the image she’d just conjured up with life-like animation. Abruptly, she reeled her pathetic brain back from its trip to la-la land, not caring to complete the rest of the sketch.

  Not seeming bothered by the ellipsis, Joselyn sighed dreamily. “Wow. If you don’t want him, can I have him?”

  “Please. He’s all yours.” Sadie looked to her friend and saw sympathy etched across her flawless face. And that was her cue to change the subject.

  It was late by the time Sadie pulled in to the parking lot outside her and Charlie’s building. Really
dark too, she noted. The street light that illuminated the path to her door was out. Making a mental note to call maintenance tomorrow, she locked up the Camaro and headed down the eerily dark path to her door.

  Wow, the inky black darkness was nearly complete. Not a speck of moonlight in sight. A coffin of dense foliage hiding even the stars. Her breath tightened. With each wary step her corked heels struck soundlessly against the pavement.

  From behind her an almost imperceptible scuff marked the still night air, jolting her dormant spidey-sense to red alert. Then she heard it again.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Suffering a momentary arrhythmia, her heart then tripped into overtime, pounding Hawaii Five-O on her eardrums. The walkway only led to her and Charlie’s building. Who else would be here this time of night?

  The math nerd segment of her brain took one panicked moment to calculate the successful outcome of the twenty-yard dash—in heels—combined with accurate aim and precision with the keys yielding to safe refuge. Clumsiness, nearly blind darkness, tomboy in heels, all the variables were factored in. The equation blinked back a success rate of about three percent. Which seemed generous.

  Increasing her pace, time stretched like taffy as she started digging through her purse for her phone or maybe a pen. Anything sharp or heavy.

  Why wasn’t she carrying her gun? At her dad’s discomfort with her living alone, Sadie had gotten a license to conceal and carry years ago, but she never thought she needed to walk around packing—after all she lived in a relatively safe part of town.

  Then again, Charlie was murdered. Perhaps nowhere was particularly safe.

  Who lurks around on a dark walkway? None of the profiles she conjured up seemed promising. Should she turn and face the person head-on or run as fast as the stupid heels would carry her?

  Her skin prickled as the presence closed in, her search in the cluttered purse proving useless. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. OhGodohGodohGod. Help. She acted as quickly as her panicked mind would allow.