“And you’re sure it’s her?” Derrick asked.
“Yes, but we can’t figure out the make of her car,” she said. “But, if you let me, I can track down the woman she spoke to and ask her tomorrow if she saw anything...”
She waited for the backlash from suggesting she help in the murder investigation, but it never came. With an exhalation so loud that Oliver chuckled in the seat next to her, Derrick relented.
“I’m only saying yes because we’re swamped...and I know how crafty you can get.” Darling smiled at the windshield. Being called crafty was a much nicer descriptor than what private investigators were usually given. “Call me if you get something, and try not to do anything illegal.”
“He acts like I do illegal things all the time,” Darling said once the call was over. Oliver raised his eyebrow. They were still seated in his rental, parked at the curb outside her apartment. “I don’t, I should add.”
“Of course not.” A wisp of a smile trailed across his lips, suddenly bringing her attention to his mouth. His lips were thick, yet entirely masculine. And, when pressed against hers, made the world feel whole. Darling cleared her throat and reached for the door handle at the thought. Fantasizing about the bodyguard in any way was dangerous. Considering there was a murderer on the loose, there was enough danger for all of them without reigniting old feelings. A monumental distraction that could cause either one of them to slip up at their jobs.
“Well, I guess I should turn in for the night,” she said, hoping her heated cheeks weren’t visible in the darkness of the SUV. “I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Oliver nodded and started to get out, too.
More heat ran up her neck. Did Oliver want to come up to her apartment? There wasn’t much they could do other than watch television, talk or get reacquainted. However, Oliver didn’t seem to care about any of that.
“I’m going to walk you to your door, if you don’t mind,” he said, coming around to her side. “Mulligan is a little too surprising for my liking at the moment.”
“And it’s appealing, too, right?” she teased.
He cast her a sideways look as they walked up the sidewalk and to the front door. “It has its perks.”
If she hadn’t been blushing already, she would have blushed then. Or maybe it wasn’t a blush at all. Maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, she led him into the foyer and up the stairs to the left. When they stopped in front of her door, she turned with every intention in the world to say good-night, but he had stopped much closer to her than she had realized. Having to tilt her head up to meet his eyes, Darling’s thoughts scrambled.
The world became quiet. It didn’t make a peep as she held Oliver’s gaze. She imagined the feel of his lips against hers—soft yet rough, full of desire and passion—and almost rocked up onto the pads of her feet to close the space between them. The rest of her body tingled in anticipation of such a bold move.
The bodyguard had been in town for two whole days. Almost a decade spanned between now and their past. Even though they had gotten to catch up on the major life changes they had gone through, they were still swimming in a sea of unknowns.
Yet at the same time, Darling felt as if they had picked up right where their old lives had ended. Fitting together without resistance like two pieces in a large, complicated puzzle. Could it be that easy? And if it was, did that mean they should?
Darling felt weight settle in her feet, declaring they weren’t going to support her pushing up to make an impulsive decision. It was time to break the news to her brain that kissing Oliver—although almost every part of her wanted to—wasn’t going to happen.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” she said, almost whispering. She took a step backward and grabbed the doorknob. “I should probably get some sleep now.” She unlocked the door and opened it wide, breaking eye contact for a moment so she could cool slightly. “Thank you for dinner, too. Next time is on me.”
Oliver blinked a few times before simply nodding. He didn’t hesitate as he turned and headed for the stairs.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder. But he didn’t stop, and he certainly didn’t turn around.
Chapter Eleven
Harriet Mendon lived in a tiny yellow cottage surrounded by one hundred or so other tiny, brightly colored cottages. Darling parked at the curb and waved to a mother and her young girl who were walking past. They smiled and waved back, their minds already returning to the beautiful day.
Darling wished she could follow suit. Not have to worry about talking to a stranger about another stranger who had been murdered. She could—get back into her car, drive to the coast and relax next to the water—but she was too invested in Jane Doe’s case to stop now. Finding her body had somehow given Darling a sense of protectiveness over the case, deeply investing her into the pursuit of truth in what had happened. Sure, getting into the car and leaving would have been easy, but it wasn’t an option her heart could reason was good.
The cottage’s front door was baby blue and sounded thin as Darling rapped her knuckles against it. After taking the security tape from Zippy’s to Acuity—and watching it a few more times—Darling had plugged Jane Doe’s pump mate’s license plate number into her computer. Using a private investigator database she paid for monthly—a tool that often came in handy when searching for a name—Harriet Mendon had been the result. In a town as small as Mulligan, it wasn’t hard to find her address thanks to a stack of old telephone books Darling’s former boss had left behind. Now, waiting for Harriet to open the door, Darling wondered if she should come up with an alternate story for how she’d tracked the woman down. One that sounded less calculating.
As far as broaching the topic of Jane Doe, Darling wasn’t going to dance around the reason for her visit. She was going to ask Harriet to tell her about her conversation with the young woman and hope it was enough to identify her. Or damn her killer.
However, Harriet didn’t come to the door. Darling knocked again and listened for any noise from inside the house. It remained quiet.
“Great,” she muttered. She took out one of her cards and quickly wrote a note across the back before placing it into the jamb next to the doorknob. Hopefully Harriet Mendon’s interest would be piqued enough to call.
Darling drove back to Acuity with her mind somewhere else entirely. The day might have been beautiful, but the temperature was already dropping. She wondered how Oliver was faring with the chill but then decided it wasn’t safe to think about the man. Thinking of him in any capacity—no matter how innocent—pushed thoughts of his lips and their almost-kiss right between her eyes. Would it be a familiar feeling or some new sensation since the last time their lips had touched? Her parents would get a kick out of how, after everything they had said and tried, Oliver Quinn had found his way back into their daughter’s life after all.
The thought of her parents brought on another set of memories she needed to stay away from, but it also helped her trail back to what was important.
Jane Doe had tangoed with the wealthy, too.
She just hadn’t survived the dance.
Darling recalled her silent laugh and jovial attitude when talking to Harriet at the gas station. “I need to find you, Harriet,” she said aloud. “I will find you.”
A handful of cars were parked in the lot behind Acuity, all of which Darling recognized as belonging to the strip mall’s tenants. Still, she kept alert. It was best to not forget about her mystery note writer and the fact he or she had been watching her. With caution, Darling swept her eyes all around her as she went to Acuity’s door. Her mind dropped to the next task on her mental list. She wasn’t the most patient person. Waiting for Harriet to see her calling card was beyond Darling’s current capabilities. She was going to have to find her at work and go from there.
All she needed was to search a little longer on the internet until—
“Whoa.”
Acuity’s front door was cracked open, the top window pane broken out. Through the hole, Darling could see shards of glass littering the lobby floor. Her hand went to the doorknob on reflex, but fear caught up to her. What if the culprit was still inside? She pictured Jane Doe wrapped up in the tub.
Maybe she needed to call in some backup.
* * *
NIGEL WAS ACTING STRANGE. There was no doubt about it.
“Are you okay?” Oliver asked when the businessman came down from his office. He was visibly shaken. Eyes too wide. Face taut. Oliver glanced up the stairs where he knew Thomas stood guard next to the office door. Grant wasn’t on the clock for another few hours. Oliver had rotated between perimeter checks and standing guard at the two entrances to the house’s main floor. He’d looked out at the gatehouse each time he made an outdoor pass but kept his distance from it. He appreciated the loyalty George had for his job, but he didn’t want to get caught up in a conversation with the man. Aside from the three bodyguards and their client, Oliver knew they were alone. The lawyer and Jace were at the new Charisma branch’s office. Which was why his concern was so acute. There was no reason Nigel should look as off-kilter as he did.
Nigel blinked several times, clearing his throat when the words still didn’t come.
“Yes. I just got off of the phone with Deputy Arrington.” His voice wavered as he answered. It put Oliver on even higher alert. Why would Derrick call Nigel if Nigel alibied out? What was the point? “He told me how the young woman was killed. I don’t think he believes I had nothing to do with her death.” He gave Oliver a weak smile and went to the refrigerator. Unlike his son, instead of a water, he went for a beer. “I didn’t kill her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sympathy for her...” He dropped eye contact for an instant. “Bludgeoned to death with a hammer seems barbaric.”
“A hammer?” It was the first Oliver had heard about it.
“Yes.”
“Seems cowardly.”
Nigel gave Oliver a look that questioned him and agreed simultaneously. The older man wanted to say something—Oliver could feel it—but he didn’t. Instead he nodded and made his trek back up the stairs.
A few minutes went by before Oliver decided to check in on their client. Thomas was standing in the hallway next to the door. When he saw Oliver, he shook his head.
“What?”
Thomas lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t know what you said to him down there, but he’s really upset.” Oliver raised his eyebrow and the younger bodyguard shrugged. “I heard a weird noise and looked in and he was crying.”
“Crying?”
Thomas nodded. “He stopped when he got a call but, man, I hope he doesn’t do it again. I wasn’t trained to handle all of that.”
Oliver didn’t know what to say to that, so he left the bodyguard to go back downstairs. He didn’t know if he should feel sympathy for the man. Had he been crying for the loss of Jane Doe? The woman he claimed to not know?
His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. When he saw it was Darling, he knew she’d find the information interesting.
“Quinn,” he answered.
“Oliver, can you come to the office right now?” she asked in a rush.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
There was worry in her voice. “I—well—the thing is...” She sucked in a deep breath before another gushed out with her words. “I think someone broke in to Acuity and might still be here but I don’t want to call the cops just yet.”
“Wait, where are you now? You aren’t in there, are you?” He could imagine the spunky private investigator hiding in the office bathroom as the culprit went through her things a few feet away.
“Of course I’m not in there! I’m sitting in my car, watching the door from the parking lot,” she defended herself. “If they are still inside and decide to leave, I’m going to catch them on film.” Again, it wasn’t hard to imagine Darling sitting in her car, looking through the lens of her camera at her office.
“You need to call the police, Darling. This isn’t some kind of game.” As he said it, he was walking upstairs to Grant’s temporary room.
“I know it isn’t a game, but the police have a lot on their plates already. I’m not going to call them until I’ve personally assessed the damage. If you can’t come, though, I’ll wait a few more minutes before going in myself.” Every word held a stubborn edge.
“No. Don’t go in.” He knocked on Grant’s door. “I’m headed that way now.”
If Grant minded stepping in for Oliver while he “attended to a personal matter,” he didn’t show it. Oliver didn’t like up and leaving during his shift, but he took solace in the fact that Nigel planned on working from home for the rest of the day. Just in case, though, he paused at the gatehouse as he was leaving.
George took his time coming out. He looked ruffled, as if he had been caught napping. Oliver didn’t have time to admonish the guard for sleeping on the job. Not when he was leaving in the middle of his own shift.
“Hey, George, I’m running out for a bit,” Oliver said. “Until I get back, call Thomas if anyone shows up here. Okay?”
George nodded, and Oliver left before the man could get a conversation going. He had a private investigator to worry about.
Minutes later, he pulled into the strip mall’s parking lot, next to Darling’s car. He was relieved to see her face bob into view when he walked up. True to form, her camera was in her hands.
“No one has come out,” she said in lieu of a hello. “I didn’t hear anything when I first was at the door, either. I just wanted to be on the safe side.”
“Caution isn’t a bad thing,” he pointed out. “You stay here and let me go check it out. If you hear anything, take off and call the cops.” He could see an internal battle wage across her face. Why had she called if she was going to argue about him going inside without her? She must have been really nervous.
“Okay,” she agreed after a moment.
Oliver adjusted his shirt to keep his gun covered as he walked to Acuity’s entrance. He didn’t often carry it—Orion’s bodyguards used nonlethal weapons as much as they could—but it was never too far away from him, either. If someone had broken into Darling’s office—in his opinion—that showed malicious intent for her. Oliver wasn’t about to go easy on someone who had shown that level of disregard for the investigator. Especially when she was in the parking lot, yards away.
The door was cracked open. Whoever had broken the glass had snaked a hand through the window to unlock the door. He wondered if anyone else in the strip mall had heard the break. Pulling his gun out, he quietly pushed the door open enough to get a good look at the lobby. No one was inside. He moved into the room, gun raised and ready. Whoever had broken in was either being really quiet or wasn’t inside anymore. Oliver moved slowly to Darling’s personal office. The wood was splintered; the door was ajar. He paused to listen again for any movement.
Nothing.
Using his foot, he nudged the door open. Anger flared within him. He stood alone in the office.
It had been tossed.
Desk drawers were on the floor, the filing cabinets had been toppled over and pried open, papers were scattered around and—the detail that made Oliver’s blood run hot—every framed picture on the wall had been smashed.
He went back out into the lobby and made sure to check the small bathroom before going outside to wave Darling in. She was more than ready and hurried over. Oliver returned his gun back to the back of his jeans and frowned.
“I hate to say it, but someone trashed your office,” he told her before she could move through the lobby to her personal space. Oliver didn’t like watching her face fall at the news.
&nb
sp; “Is it bad?”
“It’s not pretty.”
He followed her back into the small, disheveled room. She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, eyes roaming over the mess. Then, like a switch had been flipped, she hurried to the other side of the desk and started to move through drawers on the floor and their spilled contents.
“It’s gone, Oliver!”
“What’s gone?” But before she could answer, it dawned on him. “The security tape.”
Darling nodded, clearly upset and stood straight again. An overpowering urge to comfort her pushed him forward. He put his hands on her shoulders, making her look up into his eyes. The moment from the night before played back into his mind.
She was close enough to kiss.
“Oliver, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” his voice dropped low. Her green-eyed stare could stir up a drove of feelings in mere seconds.
“I think I know who did this,” she whispered. “And you aren’t going to like it.”
* * *
“YOU SHOULD HAVE told someone—told me—about this note writer, Darling,” Oliver fumed. He hadn’t liked her story about the warnings—plus the mention of her parents and the news article—she’d received from her anonymous stalker one bit. He’d already called the station and talked to Derrick directly, recounting everything she had told him.
The doubt she had harbored that the note writer was trying to help had left the moment she’d seen her office and found the security tape gone. She wasn’t dealing with a third-party player anymore.
Darling believed they were dealing with Jane Doe’s killer.
Oliver paced back and forth in the lobby, face reddened with emotion. His words were angry, but she knew he was worried. However, that didn’t mean she liked being scolded by Oliver, of all people.
“You can’t keep making these decisions,” he continued. “It’s reckless and stupid.”
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