by KyAnn Waters
Dawn, Steven, and now two neighbors all made sworn statements regarding McKenna’s whereabouts on Sunday night. One or all of them were covering for her.
“I think I might have found what you’re looking for.” Tyson tossed photocopies from a computer search in front of Dustin. “You’re hunch was right. She’s never been accused of murder, but her high school boyfriend offed himself with his dad’s .38 revolver. She witnessed it.”
* * * * *
McKenna met Dawn at Conversations. She burst into the building and scanned the people sitting at table until spotting Dawn in the corner. She rushed over, pulled out a chair, and sat. Taking a deep gulp of air she said, “Something’s wrong!” Breath burned in her lungs. Heartbeats pounded against her ribs. Inhaling through her nose, she willed her racing pulse to slow and tried to get a hold of her nerves. “Suddenly Elliot’s death feels very real.” Her breaths came hard and fast. “I think I’m hyperventilating.”
“Jo! I need a paper bag.” Dawn ran to the counter and took a takeout bag from the barista. “Here!” She thrust the bag into McKenna’s hand. “I heard somewhere if you breathe into a bag it helps.”
McKenna put the bag up to her mouth and tried to calm herself. Tightness gripped her chest. Just like on the stairs with Dustin, she felt like she was suffocating. Breathing easier, she took the bag from her mouth. “Someone did murder him.” The revelation finally hit her.
“No shit!” Dawn’s brows furrowed as she ripped the bag from McKenna’s hand. “Where have you been? I know I haven’t been conspiring by myself.”
“I’m sorry. It didn’t feel real. Like a dream, I was watching myself from somewhere else. I hoped I’d wake up and Elliot would be his pissy self in the office, tell me to leave him the hell alone and take another one of his long naps.
“But after I left Albert’s office, I went to the bank.” She leaned across the table. “Dawn, the accounts are empty.”
“Empty?”
“Shh, keep your voice down. I’m scared now. I called his accountant from the car.” She paused and looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. If what she felt was paranoia before, there was no word to describe what she was feeling now. Was she recognized from the news? Were cops watching to see if she’d lead them to the body, or perhaps the people responsible for taking her father, correction Elliot, were lying in wait to get her, too?
“He said he wished he could help me, but Elliot fired him six months ago. He’d used the same firm for twenty years. What would make him fire the very people he’d always trusted?”
“The accountant didn’t say why?”
McKenna shook her head. “Not really.” With a sigh her shoulders slumped. “He said Elliot had made some risky investments. Could he have lost everything in six months?”
“I don’t know.” Dawn took a sip of coffee. Her face scrunched while she thought. “Did anyone really know what was going on in Elliot’s head?”
“No.” With her elbow on the table, McKenna rested her forehead in her hand. “Since I don’t have a job anymore, I’ll try and find out.”
Dawn reached into her purse for a pen. Taking a deposit slip from the back of her checkbook, she said, “Let’s make a list of all the questions we have. Prioritize.”
“I only have one question,” McKenna said. “Why would someone kill Elliot?”
“That could be a list itself. He wasn’t exactly making friends and influencing people.”
No, her father was reclusive and often abrasive. “Well, I hope we find out quickly. I don’t think I have much time before two tenacious detectives throw the book at me.”
Chapter Eight
Black absorbed the heat of the summer sun. It also described perfectly the way she felt inside, a black hole. “I can’t do this.” McKenna stood with Dawn and watched people file past an empty casket draped with yellow roses.
“You’re going to bury the coffin without a body?” Dawn asked.
“Yes. If they ever find Elliot—”
“Stop. I don’t really want to know.”
A picture of Elliot was placed next to the coffin. “It’s strange to think I’ll never see him again.” The photo had been taken six months before in recognition of his contributions to Ronac. His image hung on their Wall of Research Fame. His expression couldn’t be called a smile, but his lips did turn up slightly at the corners. He looked proud. Why shouldn’t he have? He’d just brought several investors to the table to finance his new arthritis research. The company’s stocks felt an immediate bounce making the board very happy and a lot of money.
“To hell with them,” Dawn said close to McKenna’s ear.
“We’re in a church. Be careful what you say.” McKenna glanced back over the crowd, taking seats in the pews. “I didn’t know he had so many friends. We rarely had company. People came over, but they’d go in his office and close the door for hours.”
“One of these friends probably killed him. Don’t forget, everyone is the enemy. Everyone is a suspect.”
McKenna furrowed her brows and stared hard at Dawn. “This isn’t one of those movies you watch. I’m under investigation, and you sound like you’re enjoying it.”
Dawn squeezed McKenna’s hand. “Of course not. Although I do find Detective Jones to be as entertaining as he is infuriating.” She paused. “I’m sorry I was flippant. I just want you to be aware. If anyone looks suspicious—”
“I’ll tell Detective Pearce. Now, go sit near the front. I’m going to need someone to look at when I talk about a man I lived with for twenty-five years but never really knew.”
Once the procession of mourners took their seats, McKenna walked up the long aisle. The pipe organ filled the room to the rafters with soulful hymns. She sat alone on the front pew reserved for family of the deceased. Dawn and her family occupied the pew behind her. The comforting squeeze of Dawn’s dad’s hand on her shoulder steeled her resolve. She could do this.
At the appropriate time, McKenna went to the pulpit, shared a few rare memories, and pretended her father gave a damn.
After the service, McKenna asked Dawn and her family to ride with her in the limo to the graveside. It seemed frivolous to bury an empty casket, especially next to her mother, but the plot had been purchased long before McKenna had even been born.
The entire Porter family was buried in Olden’s oldest cemetery. Now, because she wasn’t a Porter by blood, Elliot had been the last surviving. She looked around Elliot’s plot. Large headstones dated back to when Mormons first settled Utah. Narrow winding roads weaved through the grounds. Hedges surrounded metal fences and privacy gates.
A handful of people had followed from the church. McKenna hadn’t noticed Dustin at the service, but she suspected he was there. Somewhere.
An unfamiliar voice sounded behind her.
“Ms. Porter, you have our deepest sympathies.”
She turned. A trio of men wearing black suits with olive green ties stood before her, shoulder to shoulder. Strong jaw lines and similar large, straight noses--they shared distinct family traits along with bushy, black uni-brows stretching across their high foreheads. Military flattops, thick necks, with barrel chests, they were large and intimidating like you’d see in a gangster flick.
“Robert Marino.” The man in the middle extended a hand.
The moment her fingers were wrapped in his large palms, chills broke along her arm. “Thank you.” She snatched her hand back as quickly as was polite.
“We were recent acquaintances with your father. We, too, are very sorry for his untimely and unfortunate death.”
“Thank you.” She attempted to move away, but the man gently clasped her elbow.
“This is most likely an inappropriate location to discuss such matters, but we have unfinished business with your father. We’d like to offer you a ride home.”
She pulled her elbow from his grasp.
“We insist, Ms. Porter,” the man on the left spoke.
“Elliot didn’t discus
s his business with me. You’re welcome to talk with his team at Ronac. I’m sure they can help.”
“We’re looking for an associate of his, a woman.”
“As I said, I wouldn’t know. If you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting.”
“Of course.”
When she saw Dustin, she needed to tell him about these men. Their appearance definitely fell under the condition of, if you see anyone suspicious, if you feel a tingle run down your spine, don’t ignore it.
Muffled voices drifted away the further she distanced herself from the men. A few more steps and then she’d look. Dustin would need additional information than what she’d garnered from the quick conversation. Her pulse raced and her tummy fluttered. Finally, without drawing attention, she glanced over her shoulder.
The men moved toward a charcoal gray sedan with dark tinted windows. She couldn’t make out the license plate from this angle, but as soon as they pulled away from the curb, she made a mental note of the numbers.
Other thoughts rolled together in her mind. This is it. Life would never be the same. One by one, cars left the cemetery. Elliot’s colleagues would go back to work while others went home. Either way, thoughts of Elliot Porter would be far from their minds.
McKenna stood alone. Only a few cars lined the narrow road. Dawn and her parents waited for McKenna to join them in the limo.
“Can I take you home?” a deep and too familiar voice said from behind her.
McKenna hadn’t noticed Detective Pearce waiting for her to finish accepting condolences. Her heart skipped a beat. His voice disturbed her in many ways. One—on an intimate level, he made her want for the erotic caresses shared between a man and a woman. Two—and more disturbing was her responses to those wants. She tingled deep in her core. Her breast felt heavy and her nipples tightened.
However, she be smart if didn’t think of him as a man, only as a cop. Detective Pearce offered protection. Dustin, the virile man, had the potential to work his way inside…a dangerous, emotional place she preferred to keep to herself.
“Unless you’re hungry?” he said. “We could get something to eat.”
“Dawn and her family are waiting for me. But I do need to talk with you.” She glanced to the parking lot where Dawn waited.
“You remembered something?”
She turned back to Dustin. “No, but there were three men at the service and they said they had unfinished business with Elliot. You said to tell you if something didn’t feel right. I got the license plate number if you want it. Only one of the men gave me his name. Robert Marino.”
“Three guys, big?”
“Yes.”
“I saw them talking to you.” Dustin took a notebook from the inside pocket of his sports coat and wrote down the information.
“Yes, and Dustin, they tried to make me leave with them.”
“Where?”
“They didn’t say, but they also didn’t want to take no for an answer.”
“You did the right thing.”
She nodded.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. They asked me about a woman. I don’t know whom they were talking about, but I thought you should know. Well, I better go. Let me know if you find out anything.”
“You let me know if you see them again or anyone else suspicious.”
McKenna nodded, turned, and walked away, the heels of her black pumps sinking into the soft soil.
* * * * *
It was late and the house was quiet. McKenna checked the doors for the last time and made sure to set the security alarm. The darkened streets appeared deserted as far as she could see with the light from the lamp at the base of the driveway.
Alone, the house seemed large and ominous. Garage door, kitchen door, two sets of French doors off the second floor balcony, and sliding glass doors in the large formal living room that were never opened, too many entry points. A shiver slid along her spine. Deadbolts and door locks didn’t make her feel safe. She went through the house and closed all the interior doors.
In the bedroom, she put her cell phone next to the cordless phone on the bedside table. Feeling safer in the dark, she didn’t leave so much as a bathroom nightlight on.
Noises toyed with her imagination. Her heart beat frantically. Deep breaths didn’t calm her racing pulse. She rationalized that the sounds were only the house settling. The hiss of the air conditioner came to life. Curtains ruffled and swayed beneath the vent. A horn blared and she startled, but it was only a car full of noisy teenagers passing in front of the house. Sleep eluded her. Fear kept her eyes wide and her ears tuned for the testing of a doorknob or the breaking of a window.
The security alarm hadn’t protected Elliot. She wasn’t convinced it would do her any good either. What she wanted was for Dustin to be sleeping in her—in her father’s bedroom so that she could finally rest. Her eyes burned. If Dustin slept in her room, she’d need him in her bed, over her, on her and—oh god—in her. She wouldn’t sleep at all. And she wouldn’t care that she was tired.
Maybe if she just heard his voice she’d be able to sleep tonight. She leaned up on her elbow, felt in the dark for her cell phone, and touched the screen. The face emitted enough light to see the detective’s card lying on the nightstand. Knots tightened in her stomach. Picking up the card, she rubbed it between her thumb and finger, indecisive on whether or not to call.
All she needed was a reason. Fearing shadows and noises wasn’t enough. A few minutes passed and her anxiety increased. Sitting up, she held the card with trembling fingers and punched in the numbers.
Now she was scared shitless and excited. Releasing a shuddering exhale, she waited for him to answer.
“Pearce.” His gravelly voice stiffened her nipples. Breath froze in her lungs. What was she doing calling the detective at…holy shit, 12:18 a.m.?
“Pearce,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“McKenna? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She heard the edge of tension lacing his voice. She shouldn’t have called. Not being able to sleep wasn’t an emergency. Still, a tinge of fear built to a sweeping pitch. Anxiety surged through her, and just his voice had a calming effect. However, the gnawing awareness of the man behind the badge intensified.
“I’m fine, but I can’t sleep.”
He sighed. God, she could picture him in her mind. All those hard delicious muscles stretched out on the bed. In her imaginings, he was on her bed, in this room—gloriously naked. The serve in To Serve and Protect, didn’t mean her sexual appetite. Yet, he was what she craved. Her pussy twitched and she ached deep in her core.
“There was something else I needed to tell you. Elliot’s bank accounts are empty. I don’t have any details, but I have a meeting with his accountant.”
“Good. Let me know what you find out.”
“I will.” The line was quiet. “I should’ve waited until morning. It’s late and you were sleeping.”
“Yep, so what’s really going on here?” He growled, and she closed her eyes, remembering the way his biceps flexed when he stretched.
“I’m alone,” she whispered, slipping down into the sheets. “And I guess, with all that’s happened, my overactive imagination is working overtime.”
“Is the alarm set?” His words sent shivers over her flesh.
“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “But maybe I should go to a hotel.”
“Would it make you feel safer?”
“I don’t know.”
Each breath he exhaled brought him into her room—into her bed. “What would make you feel safer?”
Could she tell him? “I’d feel safe if you were here.”
“I’m not sure you should.” His rough, seductive chuckle sent heat between her legs. “If I were there, your safety wouldn’t be on my mind.”
Her heart tripped on a beat. “Is that a confession?”
“Do you want one?”
Fire licked her clit and her pussy c
lenched. She reached a hand between her legs, slipped her fingers into her panties, and touched her damp curls. “Yes,” she whispered and clamped her legs together.
“Our situation could become precarious.”
“I still want to know.” She slid her finger between her pussy lips and grazed the hot knot of her clit.
“You want to know what? Whether or not I find you attractive?”
She wet her suddenly dry lips with her tongue. “Yes,” she hissed. “Do you?”
“You’re a beautiful woman. You call me in the middle of the night and say you need me to make you feel safe. And you wonder if I want to come over and fuck you?”
She inhaled sharply, a tide of desire swamping her.
“I do.” He groaned. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why? I want to hear it.”
“Because I’m the detective assigned to the Porter investigation. Getting involved would be dangerous in an entirely different way. You need me to solve this case.”
Pressure tightened her chest and churned in her stomach. She pulled her fingers out of her panties. “I guess I should let you get some sleep.”
“Call me whenever you need me.”
“Thank you. Good night, Detective.” Fatigue finally weighted her body. At 2:17 a.m., the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock finally faded behind closed eyes.
Chapter Nine
A few days later, McKenna stood in the shadowed shelter of the garage and peered out to the street before going to the curb for the mail. The last thing she needed after a long day was a lengthy inquisition from one of the neighbors. She knew they meant well, but the refrigerator was starting to smell with all the hospitality plates of food she couldn’t eat.
One by one, she flipped through credit card applications, grocery store door busters, and bills addressed to Mr. Elliot Porter. She tossed the store advertisements in the garbage, walked down the hall into the office, and sat down behind the desk. The message indicator light on the answering machine caught her attention.
The first message was from Dawn. Although she needed a reprieve from worrying, an evening out didn’t sound appealing. And whoever the last caller was hung up before leaving a message.
