Chase straightened, seeming colder and more distant with every passing minute. “His name?”
“Travis Strongman.” My throat ached with the words. “He’s doing his medical residency at Good Samaritan.”
“Know anything else about him?” He held a notepad and pen in hand, scribbling notes and snapping into professional mode.
“Not really,” I said. “He likes mountain biking and vacationing at the beach. He’s a car enthusiast, and he wants to help children with life-threatening illnesses.”
Chase nodded slowly and wrote something else on that pad of paper. “I’m going to need you to hang around, Holly. You too, Jamie.”
“Of course,” we both said at the same time.
As soon as he walked back toward the Mustang, I turned to Jamie. My stomach roiled as everything flashed back to me.
Please don’t let me throw up. It would only serve to humiliate me more, and I’ve had enough of that tonight.
It was just the two of us now. Too-cool Luke had said he was going to get coffee for us. That was twenty minutes ago. I didn’t think he’d be returning. Go figure. A person’s strength could be determined not by how they reacted to the good times in life but to the hard times. My dad had often said that. He may have been a blue-collar worker, but he’d had the wisdom of a philosopher.
“Could you tell how he died?” I whispered to Jamie, some of my shock wearing off and my wheels starting to turn.
Jamie shook her head and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “No, I couldn’t. I didn’t see any blood.”
I rubbed my arms, staring at the sea of onlookers. Was the killer here? Had he come back to watch the crowd react to what he’d done? I scanned the faces around me, but none looked suspicious.
“Why does stuff like this always happen to us?” I muttered, replaying all the mysteries and adventures Jamie and I had somehow been involved with in the past.
“That’s a great question. Last time, it was an abandoned baby. The time before that . . . well, it was your fault.”
It couldn’t argue. It had been my fault. I’d been concerned about Chase, so I’d followed him to Louisville. It wasn’t my proudest moment. In fact, it had been slightly stalkerish. But I’d had good intentions. I promise.
“The time before that it was because a psycho provoked you to do his bidding.”
“Psychos like to provoke me apparently.”
“And then, the time before that, it was because you decided to break into people’s homes in order to clean them and brighten their day.”
I frowned. “Also not one of my brightest ideas. Especially when it’s said aloud and without explanation.”
“I’m not really sure how I let you talk me into these things.”
“The good news is that we have no personal connection to this case,” I said, trying to look on the bright side. “I mean, as far as we can tell, right? So, after we’re done here today, we should be done. No investigating or getting involved or running for our lives.”
“That’s right. Those days are behind us, girlfriend. They’re as gone as WKRP.” She paused before singing, “in Cincinnati.”
I nodded, wishing I felt as convinced as I sounded.
I shivered and glanced around. The crowds remained. Patrol officers tried to control the scene. A traffic light changed to green above us.
None of those things answered the question that had rammed into my mind. Why did I feel like someone was watching me as I stood here on the sidewalk? Like I had a spotlight on me, alerting everyone that I was vaguely connected to this?
I also had the feeling that this wasn’t over, despite what I’d said to Jamie. I’d been trying to convince myself, just as much as Jamie.
Was this some sort of purgatory for my sin of online dating? That’s what it felt like.
Dear Lord, help this be over, and I promise I won’t ever try online dating again. Never. Ever.
Two hours later, I was at the police precinct. Chase had more questions for Jamie and me, and he preferred we come into the station where it was more private.
And I felt awkward. Again.
A classy woman was graceful. That was what I was aiming for—to act like a lady, despite living in a society that applauded unladylike behavior. Instead, I felt self-conscious and obstinate at the moment and like the opposite of whom I wanted to be.
I didn’t want to feel this way around Chase. But I did. My well-used Book of Manners didn’t exactly tell me how I should handle this situation.
After all, my life could be the punch line of a bad joke right now. A murderer, an ex-boyfriend, and a blind date walked into a bar . . .
I shifted nervously in the padded chair across from Chase’s desk and glanced around his office. I’d been in here many times before. I remembered sharing quick lunches, exchanging lovelorn glances, feeling the charge between us as we bonded over investigations. Over justice. That’s what it was all about for me. I wanted to be a voice for the voiceless.
There was a blank area on his desk where a picture of the two of us used to be. It was gone, a stark reminder of what had been but was no longer. My throat clinched at the thought.
Jamie sat in the chair next to me, texting an update to her family. If I had my phone with me, I might text my own mother, but she was out of town at a real estate conference in Florida.
As I sat there, legs crossed at the ankles and my head straight enough to balance a book on, my thoughts drifted back to Travis. Every time I closed my eyes, I could picture him tumbling from his car and onto the street. I could visualize his lifeless eyes. I could feel the despair that death caused.
I shivered.
Now that my brain fog had cleared, questions raced at a frightening speed through my mind. How had Travis died? When? Most importantly, why?
Finally, Chase came into his office and sat across from us. His presence filled the entire room—as did his person. Chase was six feet three inches, as broad and thick as Thor, and he had a personality to match. He’d played professional football for a few years before an injury sidelined him and ultimately led him to turn his life around from self-serving playboy to community-minded detective.
I held my breath as I waited for what he had to say. I dreaded the disappointment I might see in his eyes. I felt a well of loss at how our relationship had been transformed into this stiff, uncomfortable menagerie of emotions that twisted my thoughts and heart.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” Chase’s gaze darted back and forth between me and Jamie. “I’ll start with the bad news. According to his driver’s license, Travis Strongman wasn’t that man’s real name.”
My mouth gaped open. The man had clearly listed his name on his online profile as Travis Strongman. I hadn’t even considered that he’d fake that.
“Really?” I asked. “Why would he lie about his name?”
“Welcome to the world of online dating.” Chase’s jaw flexed again.
He didn’t like the fact that I was trying to move on, did he? Yet he had the power to change our relationship status. However, he insisted he couldn’t.
And that was that.
I shoved those thoughts aside and cleared my throat. “What’s the good news?”
“The good news is that you didn’t physically interact with this guy, who was not whom he presented himself as. We don’t know his true identity yet, but we’re bringing in the owner of the car to see if he can shed some light on things.”
“He didn’t even own that car?” I blinked, honestly stunned. “How . . . inconsiderate.”
I’d been scammed. I’d thought I was smarter than that. But I was a fool for love, just like so many other single gals out there.
Jamie threw me a compassionate look and gripped her phone, as if waiting for a return text.
“No, the car belongs to someone named Drew Williams.”
I leaned back, still reeling from everything I was learning. I expected guys to exaggerate how much money they made, ju
st like women underestimated how much they weighed. But not this.
“I never expected this level of deceit,” I finally said.
Chase’s heated gaze lingered on mine again. I knew him well enough to know that he was struggling with how to respond. He’d always been protective of me. And we had a great friendship. These were new waters to traverse between us, and, the sooner we learned how to navigate them, the better.
We went over everything I knew about Travis, which wasn’t much. I’d begun chatting with him two weeks ago. He’d seen my picture on the site, and he’d winked at me. That was how it all started on Winkable.com. Our online conversation had continued for much longer than most of the people I’d connected with there.
Travis whatever-his-real-name-was had seemed nice enough. He was thirty-one—two years older than I was. As far as I knew—if he’d been telling the truth—he’d never been married and didn’t have any kids. Now that I thought about it, we hadn’t gone very deep in our conversations. He’d actually asked a lot of questions about me, which was a bit of a role reversal.
I was usually the one probing for more information about other people. I’d discovered early in life that people loved to talk about themselves and that most people craved someone who truly listened. I liked playing the role of nurturer.
“May I ask how he died?” My hands trembled in my lap as I asked the question. I had too much experience with death and murder and grief. It never got easier. And I never wanted it to. Struggling with those things made me human.
Chase’s hard gaze met mine again, his blue eyes full of questions. “We don’t know for sure. The medical examiner will give the final verdict. There was a small puncture mark on his neck, however.”
My blood cooled even more.
“You were both standing close by,” Chase continued, tapping his pen against the desk. “Did you see anything unusual in the moments before you discovered he was dead?”
“We were actually around the corner before we stumbled upon Travis,” Jamie said. “The car was out of sight for the majority of time we were waiting. We didn’t spot it until we started toward the restaurant.”
“So, you never rode with him?” Chase clarified, his gaze wandering to mine again.
“No, of course not,” I said. “We agreed to meet outside the restaurant.”
“That’s good. If you’re going to date strangers you meet online, please don’t let them know where you live.”
A flash of irritation jolted through me. Chase had no right to dictate what I did in my dating life. He’d lost that privilege. Nor should he treat me like I was naïve. I was smarter than that. People often mistook my kindness for weakness, and it made me want to do something . . . something . . . something very unkind.
Chase let out a long breath. “Is there anything else that stands out to either of you?”
I started to shake my head, simply ready to get out of here. Before I could complete that thought, Jamie jolted into an upright position, and she snapped her fingers.
“That man who ran into you!” Jamie turned toward me, excitement lighting her eyes.
That was right! I’d forgotten about the man who’d nearly pushed me down on the sidewalk. But could he possibly be connected with this? It seemed like a long shot.
“He seemed in a hurry,” I said. “Or like he was being chased. I didn’t think terribly much of it. You know how people can be sometimes. They’re especially brisk downtown. And he told me to be careful.”
“To be careful?” Chase raised an eyebrow.
“I thought it was strange, but everything happened so fast.”
“Can you describe him?” Chased shifted in his seat and pulled out that pad of paper again.
I recalled our encounter. How the man’s hands had gripped my arms. How he’d muttered he was sorry while glancing around. How he’d never made eye contact. “Sure. He was Caucasian, probably in his early thirties, and he had a thin build. He had dark hair, a thin beard—”
“Thin how?” Chase asked.
“Thin as in it just skimmed the edges of his jaw, like an outline,” I explained. “I’m sure there’s a better word for it.”
“I believe it’s called a chinstrap beard,” Jamie chirped.
“Chinstrap beard it is.” He nodded. “Keep going.”
“He was probably five inches taller than I,” I continued. “Five ten maybe? He had a lean build. Light eyes. Maybe green. Possibly hazel. I’m not sure—it was dark outside.”
“Anything else you noticed?”
I closed my eyes and remembered the scene again. What was I missing? There was something else at the edge of my remembrance, begging for me to share it. “He smelled like curry.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting that one.”
I nodded, a surprising surge of excitement rushing through me. “It’s a pretty noticeable odor. Maybe he’d just eaten Indian food somewhere? I know there are a couple of restaurants downtown.”
“We’ll look into it. Good detail.”
A knock sounded outside Chase’s office. As my head swiveled toward the noise, I spotted a man standing in the open doorway. He was probably my age, maybe a little older. He had black hair, classic features, and a certain warmth exuded from him.
“Detective Dexter?” he said.
Chase rose. “Yes?”
“I’m Drew. Drew Williams.” He extended his hand and smiled, but the action was almost apologetic. “The Mustang’s owner.”
“Thanks for coming,” Chase said. “I have some questions for you.”
“Of course. Anything I can do.” Drew’s gaze flickered over to Jamie and then me. He paused, and his gaze latched onto mine. Uncertainty fluttered in the depths of his deep browns. “Have we met before?”
I smoothed my skirt, squirming under his scrutiny. “I don’t think so.”
I’d remember someone who looked like Drew Williams. At first glance, he struck me as the type who’d break out tap dancing on the city streets while holding an umbrella for his woman like in one of those old movies. Something about him screamed “gentleman.”
I stood, knowing I couldn’t be here for Chase’s conversation with Drew, even though I longed for some answers. Unanswered questions drove me mad, and they were likely to be the death of me one day. It was like leaving a wall half-painted or a cake unfrosted.
Drew continued to study me with unapologetic curiosity, one hand casually stuffed into his pocket. “You go to Community Church, don’t you?”
Surprise washed through me—half curious surprise and half cautious surprise. “I do.”
A satisfied look replaced his uncertainty. “I’ve seen you there. You sing in the choir.”
My cheeks warmed. It was a large choir—seventy-five people. Not the kind I usually got noticed for being a part of. “Guilty as charged. Mezzo soprano. Second row on the right. Beside Gladys who has bright red hair styled in a beehive.”
A grin cracked his face. “Yes, you stand out on stage. I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re like an angel up there.”
My cheeks warmed even more. This was all flattering . . . but awkward. Chase stood between us, listening to every word of our conversation.
“Thank you . . . I think.” I nodded at Chase, wishing I could catch my breath and gather my thoughts and maybe even make some cookies. Cookies always made everything better. “I should go now.”
Drew made no effort to move and let me through the doorway. “Listen, I know this is unusual and kind of forward, but I’m not sure when I’ll get the opportunity again. I’m having a Bible study at my place on Monday evening. Come.”
My thoughts flatlined. “Um . . . I’ll need to check my schedule.”
“Do that. But I hope it works out. Call me at Wilford Funeral Home, and I’ll give you my address.”
“What?” Why would I call him at a funeral home? Had I misunderstood something?
He smiled again, flashing white perfect teeth. “I know it sounds strang
e. But I own the place. My assistant can track me down there. Otherwise, I can call you back once my duties are done.”
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said.
I glanced back at Chase, unsure what he was thinking right now. Even though the man was just asking me to a Bible study, the whole exchange felt a little strange. Of course, Drew probably had no idea what my history with Chase was. To him, Chase was just the detective on the case.
Drew stepped out of the way, and I started through the door, catching a quick whiff of sandalwood cologne. Before I could flee the scene, Chase called out to me.
“Holly?”
I pivoted toward him, and our gazes caught. “Yes?”
“Could you wait around a few minutes? I’ll give you a ride home if Jamie needs to go.”
My head started pounding. Why did this feel so complicated? “Sure. I’ll wait.”
Those cookies would have to be delayed until a little later. Right now, I had to prepare myself to work with Chase, even if it was just momentarily. And I somehow needed to do it without letting on just how catastrophically he’d crushed my heart.
Chapter Three
As soon as the door to Chase’s office was closed, I released my breath, finally feeling like I could breathe now that I was away from Chase—and Drew.
“You want me to wait?” Jamie asked, her car keys dangling in her hands. “You head-turning, angelic-looking, choir-singing woman.”
I slapped her arm. “Oh, stop.”
“I’m the only one who sings onstage at my church, and no one notices me.”
“That’s not true. Everyone loves you.”
“Hm hm.” She sounded doubtful. “Now, back to my question. Wait or go?”
“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll be okay.” I knew she had a busy day tomorrow. She was leading worship at church, and then they were having a luncheon afterward. She was in charge of both.
“You sure?” She scrunched her eyes and studied my face like only a BFF could.
I plastered on a smile, trying to make her feel better, even though a tornado still spun inside me. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Random Acts of Fraud (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
