Ms. Calculation

by Danica Winters

  It felt like the world was collapsing around him. He glanced back at Gwen. She didn’t need to see this, but he couldn’t keep her from the truth...or what they might find if they went into the shop. He needed to get in, clear the building and get help if there was someone hurt inside. And yet, he had promised himself he wouldn’t let her be alone again.

  “Gwen...” he said, turning around to face her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. All the playfulness she had been exuding disappeared.

  “I need to go in there. Something’s happened.”

  “To Monica?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t be sure until I look.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He could make her wait in the car, but just because she was in his car didn’t mean she’d be entirely safe. Whoever was gunning for her had to be someone they both knew, someone close to them, and it was likely someone who could lure her out.

  He couldn’t risk it.

  Though he had a feeling that it was unlikely they had arrived in time to help whomever the blood belonged to, he notified dispatch and requested that they send an ambulance.

  He twisted the shop’s doorknob, but it was locked.

  “Follow me,” he said, taking Gwen by the hand and leading her around to the back of the building.

  Her hand was sweaty in his, but he couldn’t tell if it was her sweat or his. Normally he would have been fine in this situation, he would have easily gone into work mode, but he couldn’t let his emotions go. Not when he was holding the hand of the person he cared about most in this world. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

  The back door was wide-open. The alley behind the store was empty except for a large blue Dumpster and an orange tabby cat that quickly scurried out of sight. The alley muffled the sounds from the street and the muted effect made chills run down his spine.

  “No matter what happens, you need to stay back. Got it?” He couldn’t help the darkness that flecked his tone.

  He squeezed her fingers and then let her go. Drawing his gun, he made his way up the steps. He charged the door, stopping with his gun drawn as he flagged the room. The back of the shop was empty except for shelf after shelf of dust-covered knickknacks. He looked back at Gwen and waved for her to follow him.

  Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared at him, but he couldn’t let her fear get to him any more than it already had. He had to keep them safe and he had to do it by being prepared and taking the lead.

  “Lake County sheriff’s deputy! Come out with your hands up!” he ordered.

  They were met with a sickening silence.

  “Monica Poe, are you in here?” he called again.

  There was no answer.

  The hair rose on the back of his neck.

  He silently prayed that his intuition was wrong and that Monica was okay.

  He lowered his Glock as he moved forward and toward the main area of the store.

  Next to the doorway was a smashed clock in the shape of a black-and-white cat. The jovial cat’s face looked up at him, and right between the eyes was a droplet of blood.

  There was another spatter of blood as he stepped inside the room. A cabinet full of glass ornaments had been pushed over and he stepped around it, the glass crunching under his shoes.

  There was a smear of blood on the floor, where it looked as though someone had crawled toward the front desk.

  “Wait here,” he said, motioning for Gwen to stop and stay out of the crime scene as much as possible.

  He moved toward the front desk. A pair of feet with black high heels poked out from behind it. The shoes had red bottoms. Christian Louboutins.

  “Monica?” he asked, but he knew it was too late.

  She wouldn’t respond to her name.

  She wouldn’t answer to anything ever again.

  He stepped around the desk. Her hair was wrapped around her face, almost obscuring her open, sightless eyes. Blood pooled around her. So much blood.

  Her neck had been cut so deep that he could see the white viscera of her severed windpipe. Whoever had wielded the weapon had been vicious. It was the kind of savage attack that came from a place of deep-seated hate.

  He’d seen death at least a hundred times, but this was the first time he’d ever been forced to turn away.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a print. One solitary boot print, each groove and line perfectly preserved and captured, thanks to Monica’s blood.

  Chapter Sixteen

  There was a crowd of people outside the store and everyone was trying to get to Gwen to ask her their questions. Wyatt was standing next to a reporter who was holding up a microphone so close to his face that Wyatt had to remind himself to breathe.

  He hated this part of his job, when he had to play to the media. They wanted to know every detail, and in cases like this, details were in high demand and short supply.

  It wasn’t every day something like this happened in Mystery.

  He really felt worse for Gwen. She wasn’t used to this kind of thing, and as the reporters descended on her, she looked like a shivering puppy. He tried to get closer to her, but the reporter stepped between them and raised the microphone higher.

  “Deputy Fitzgerald, it has come to our attention that you are the lead investigator on the Bianca Johansen murder case. Do you believe your involvement is a conflict of interest since the murder happened on your family’s ranch?”

  It was low, but as Wyatt ignored the annoying reporter and moved past him, he did his best to step on the toe of the man’s well-polished leather loafers.

  Who did he think he was? He didn’t tell the reporter how to do his job. What gave the reporter the gumption to come at him like he had no business taking this case?

  “Out of the way,” Wyatt said, elbowing the man as he grabbed Gwen by the hand and led her out of the crowd.

  Another officer pushed the reporter back as the guy tried to move after them and cast another net of questions. “Everyone back!” the officer ordered. “This is an active crime scene! We would appreciate your keeping your distance until we have finished our investigation. At that time you are welcome to reach out to our public information officer and they will provide an official statement. Until then, go on about your day!”

  A few of the people turned away, but they didn’t move off the sidewalk.

  Wyatt was filled with disgust. Normally he didn’t mind living in a small town, where everything was fair game for the rumor mill, but right now he just wished the crowd would leave him alone.

  An officer walked toward them as he finally helped Gwen out of the melee. “Fitz, I think you may want to step inside,” the officer said, motioning toward the shop. “We found something.”

  Gwen glanced at him with a look begging him not to leave her.

  “Gwen’s coming with us,” he said to the officer. He turned toward her. “You don’t have to stay out here with the vultures.”

  She relaxed. He was glad he could be there for her, that she needed him...and truth be told, he liked it.

  The officer led them up the steps, through the creaking door and into the front area of the store, carefully avoiding the body that was now being photographed and documented. He was glad Gwen didn’t have to look at her friend’s body. She hadn’t taken it well, and he didn’t want to put her back in that kind of position again.

  He turned to her. “Do you want to wait here?”

  She stared over in the direction of the front desk, where Monica’s body lay just out of view. She didn’t say anything, but gave him a slow, stiff nod.

  “We haven’t called Monica’s husband yet,” the other officer said, walking with him toward the desk. “I know that you’re acquainted with the family...”

&nbs
p; They were trying to pass the buck. Not that he could blame them. He glanced back over at Gwen. She had her arms pulled tight around her body. The memory of her lying on the floor, crying after he had told her of Bianca’s death, came to mind. William Poe wasn’t Gwen, but Wyatt had had more than his fair share of notifying the next of kin for a while.

  Besides, he cringed at the thought of what William would say when he found out about his wife. Though, would it come as a surprise? It was possible that William had a hand in this.

  “I’ll get someone to take care of it,” Wyatt said. “Now, what did you guys find?”

  The officer walked over to him. Lyle was standing beside the cash register, his round belly pressing against his shirt and pulling the buttons open. He hitched up his pants, giving a break to his struggling suspenders. “How’s it going, man?”

  “It’s going. Heard you found something?” Wyatt couldn’t help the little bit of surprise that filled his tone.

  Lyle raised a brow, like he’d heard the unintentional jab as well.

  Wyatt started to open his mouth to apologize, but Lyle turned around before he had the chance to speak.

  “By the way, I’m real sorry about missing the syringe...but you know what they say about a needle in a haystack,” Lyle said with a laugh. “And we did manage to pull some fingerprints from that vet bag, but they ain’t comin’ up in the database. We’ll keep tryin’, though. However, look what I just found...” Lyle lifted the cash register. Underneath was a white envelope. He pulled it out and handed it over to Wyatt. “There’s some interesting stuff in there. In fact, I’d like to think it might just break your case wide-open.”

  He wasn’t sure he believed the guy.

  Wyatt flipped open the envelope and a series of pictures slid out. On the top was a photo of Bianca. She was standing in her cabin, wearing only a black lace teddy. Wyatt instinctively looked away. It felt so wrong seeing her like that, in a private moment meant only for the person she was with. Without looking too closely, he flipped to the next picture. It was of a brunette woman, her head down in William Poe’s lap and her face completely out of view. Even from behind, he could tell by the hair color it wasn’t Bianca. Picture after picture was William Poe with a different woman.

  “What do you think? Gonna help your case?” Lyle asked.

  Wyatt looked up from the pictures. “Why would Monica have these?”

  Lyle shrugged. “If I had to guess I’d say she’s been keeping an eye on her husband’s bedroom activities. From the pics it looks like there’s been plenty of ’em.” The man chuckled.

  He wasn’t wrong about that. Wyatt wasn’t even a third of the way through the pictures. There had to be at least forty of them. His thoughts went back to what Monica had told him about William’s relationship with Bianca—and how William had slowed down when it came to dating other women. Seeing these, it was no wonder she knew exactly what had been going on as far as his affairs.

  He flipped to the next picture. There, standing in front of William, bent over, was a woman in red boots. Red. Ariat. Boots. The woman’s face was down, but she was small. Just like the person he’d seen in his window.

  He tried to see anything that would give away the woman’s identity, but there was nothing beside the boots and her naked body for reference. There were no visible tattoos, no birthmarks or piercings. He lifted the photo for Lyle to see. “You know who this woman may be?”

  Lyle shook his head. “No, but William had good taste.” He chuckled, but Wyatt didn’t think there was anything funny about the picture, or the woman in it.

  The woman in the photo had to be the killer.

  He flipped to the next picture.

  She was there again. This time she was standing in the middle of a hotel room wearing nothing but those damned red boots. She was smiling, almost as if she knew there was someone right outside the window taking the picture.

  It was the smile of someone who knew they were guilty—and didn’t care.

  It was the smile of Alli Fitzgerald.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The parking lot at Dunrovin was full of guests’ cars. They ranged from old beat-up trucks like hers to high-end sports cars. As they got out of Wyatt’s squad car, for the first time since she’d been working with him, he didn’t come around to open her door. He was a man on a mission.

  How could they not have seen Alli was behind this? It all made sense. She had been at the ranch. It would have been all too easy for her to get the drop on Bianca. Bianca would have trusted her. She probably wouldn’t have thought anything of the woman coming into the barn. If anything, maybe Bianca had thought she had come to help.

  Deep, burning hate filled Gwen. Bianca hadn’t done anything to Alli, and yet Alli had come after her. All because of a man and what Gwen had to assume was jealousy. Alli must have wanted him all to herself.

  A lump grew in Gwen’s throat as she tried to keep her anger and tears in check.

  Her sister had fallen in love with the wrong man, but who hadn’t made a mistake when it came to love? Love wasn’t an emotion that made sense. It wasn’t something that could be controlled or put in a vacuum.

  She glanced over at Wyatt as he strode through the parking lot, and she rushed to keep up.

  Once someone had told her that there was no such thing as a selfless act. She couldn’t disagree more. Being in love was the most selfless act anyone could ever undertake. Just like with Bianca. She had given up who she was and what she believed in in order to be with a man. In the end, that love, that need to be with the person her heart yearned for, had cost her everything—even her life.

  Winnie ran out of the barn toward them. “Wy-ant!” she called, waving wildly.

  Wyatt rushed over to the little girl and pulled her into his arms, the action so protective that it made Gwen wonder if he feared for the girl’s safety. Alli wouldn’t do anything to put her daughter at harm. Then again, she already had—she had murdered. Twice. And she’d tried to kill Gwen’s mother.

  Gwen stopped and just stared as Winnie hugged Wyatt’s neck. The girl reached into his shirt pocket without asking and pulled out her beloved banana taffy.

  Why had Alli tried to kill Gwen’s mother? There was no way William Poe would go after her. She wasn’t his type. The attack couldn’t have been motivated by jealousy. So why?

  It didn’t make sense.

  “Where’s your mama, Ms. Winnie?” Wyatt asked.

  “Which one?” Winnie asked, ripping open the candy’s wrapper and popping the little morsel into her mouth.

  “Huh?” Wyatt asked, walking with her in his arms toward the main office. “What do you mean by ‘which one,’ sweetheart?”

  “Mama say she not my mommy no more. Mommy gone. Christina’s mommy now.” Winnie was surprisingly nonchalant about her mother’s sudden disappearance.

  When Gwen had been a young child, if her mother would have disappeared, she would have been distraught. Then again, those had been the days when her mother was sober and almost normal. And maybe Winnie’s age, added to the fact that she had no concept of time, was the reason she didn’t understand the ramifications. Maybe to her, as young as she was, she thought of her mother’s disappearance as if it was nothing more than her mother going to the grocery store.

  Gwen was going to be without a sister forever, but she wasn’t the only one who had lost someone.

  “Have you seen your grandmother?” Wyatt asked, bouncing Winnie gently in his arms.

  Winnie shrugged, sucking the stickiness off her fingers.

  What Gwen would give to go back to those days, when life was easy, things were simpler and she had spent her days ranking which candy was best. Even with everything going on, the thought made her smile. She loved Winnie. She couldn’t understand how her mother would just leave her behind.

 
Maybe it was just another example of love—maybe Alli knew her life was a mess and giving her daughter to her sister was the one selfless thing she could do to make things right for the girl.

  The lights in the office were off, so they made their way to the main house. The wooden steps that led to the front door creaked as they walked up—the sound was disquieting and it made the hair stand to attention on Gwen’s arms.

  Before they could even get to the door, Mrs. Fitzgerald opened it. “We heard about Monica. Are you guys okay?”

  Gwen nodded as Wyatt stepped inside with Winnie. He set the girl down. “Stay close. Okay, sweetheart?”

  Winnie nodded, but she turned toward the kitchen before the words were even completely out of his mouth.

  “There are homemade cinnamon rolls on the stove. Your auntie is in there and can help you,” Eloise called after the girl.

  “So, what did you hear?” he asked, turning to his mother.

  “About Monica? Just that she was found dead in her store. Why? What happened?”

  “Have you seen Alli?”

  Eloise shook her head. “Why?”

  “Do you know what kind of car she drives?” Wyatt asked, motioning toward the parking lot.

  “She just bought a new little black Genesis, why?”

  Wyatt’s face fell. “Son of a... When did she buy it?”

  “I don’t know. She and I aren’t that close. Maybe a week or two ago?”

  Gwen turned to him. “Can we put out a BOLO on her?”

  Wyatt nodded. “We can try, but I have a feeling that with all the roads around here...” He looked down at his watch. “If she’s smart, she’s already in Canada by now.”

  Wyatt’s phone rang. His face tightened as he looked at it. It was his sergeant.

  “Sir?” he answered.

  Even from where she stood, she could hear the husky voice of Wyatt’s superior. “Did you find the woman yet?”