by Regan Black
He smiled and the tension in her shoulders eased a bit. She was so glad he was here, on her side. Not just because he was handsome and promised to get her out of this mess. More than that, he exuded reliability and stability. These days she needed an extra measure of both. Trusting Carter felt as natural as breathing.
Trust wasn’t easy for her. She’d learned early in life that her last name and her father’s money made her a target for potential friends who didn’t always like her. As early as middle school she could recognize her peers kissing up to her for one agenda or another. The worst was when their parents got in on the act. She could skillfully and politely divert unwanted attention, though it resulted in a persistent sense of isolation.
Better that than used.
The important thing was that now she could recognize true friends and keep them close. She couldn’t claim to know Carter in such a short time, but her intuition was guiding her to drop him straight into her “trusted friend” box.
“Coffee?” she offered.
“Yes, please.” He studied her. “It looks like you’ve been up for a while.”
“I gave up a couple of hours ago,” she said. “Too many bad dreams.”
“Understandable,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised. “We’re going to put the police on the right track.”
She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know how he planned to do that. But that hadn’t been what kept her up. “It’s going to sound petty to you,” she began, handing him the mug of fresh coffee. “I’ve been worrying over this party.”
She leaned back against the counter, her hands curled around the warmth of her mug, breathing in the rich aroma of the coffee. “Finding another chef won’t be difficult if it comes to that, because y’know, it’s a Coker event.”
He cocked an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
“Sometimes the name helps,” she said. “I feel like such a spoiled little rich girl because I don’t want to throw this party at all. My joy is gone. It marched off and took my motivation right along with it.”
“Not a surprise, considering what you’ve found.”
“That’s just it. He’s my dad. Whoever my mom is, he is my dad. But I’m pissed about it. How could he do this? How could he hide a secret this big all my life?”
Embarrassed by her outburst, she reluctantly met his gaze, relieved to see compassion rather than judgment in his golden-brown eyes. “When I was little all I wanted was a sibling,” she continued. “I asked for a big brother when I didn’t understand how that worked. I asked for a sister. I asked why I didn’t have either one. They told me all the platitudes parents use, claiming I was the best miracle and all they ever needed.”
“Sounds like a loving response,” Carter interjected when she paused.
“Of course it does. Jack and Cora Coker are inherently nice people. Good people. And they raised me to be a good person too. Yet here I sit, grumpy and moody because I always wanted a sister and now that it looks like I have one, I find out she’s a killer.”
“Hang on. We don’t actually know that she killed Melissa.”
His tone caught her full attention, snapping her out of the pity party she’d been wallowing in for hours.
“That video shows a woman who looks like you holding a gun and checking on the victim,” he reminded her. “There is no angle that shows her pulling the trigger.”
Paige sipped her coffee, letting that soak in. “That gap on the video, along with my last name, is why the police released me.”
“True. Those factors, plus your influential and extremely competent legal team.”
Right. “So what do I do now?”
“What do you need?
“Answers,” she replied without thinking. “It wouldn’t hurt if you could offer some advice on how to celebrate a man who has lied to me my whole life.”
Carter set his coffee down on the countertop, his features somber. “You were adopted through a private contract. My assistant found the records.
“Additionally, as of this morning, my assistant Jenna tells me no one close to Melissa seems to have a viable motive for the murder. The police are still investigating, focusing on your relationship with her, and searching for any indication that you were not where you said you were that night. If they stay on the current track, they are going to find those indications,” he warned, his brow furrowed. “My assistant found images of the woman in the kitchen on traffic cams nearby.”
Paige’s hands trembled and she set her coffee on the counter. The heavy ceramic mug clattered against the granite. “H-how does this change things?” she stammered. “What do we do?”
Her worries about the party evaporated. Would it come down to her parents keeping a brave face with their guests while Paige sat in a jail cell, accused of murder?
“Can I look at your closet?” he asked. “The woman at the scene dresses differently than you do. I’m wondering if it’s a matter of style or something else.”
“Seriously? You think if I had a disguise I’d leave it here and incriminate myself?”
“You might be surprised how many mistakes people make when trying to carry out a crime or cover it up,” he said. “I just want a look.”
“That sounds really off-base,” she challenged.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have something to hide?”
“Only my fury with my dad,” she replied. “Unless you count the secrets about my birth.”
Faking a breezy confidence, she headed back to her bedroom, wondering what he might notice besides the decor. She hadn’t looked at her room like a stranger might in ages. Hadn’t even brought a date home in over a year. That kind of behavior brought questions from her mother she didn’t enjoy answering.
The intention had been for this house to give her privacy and independence. In reality, her parents still had a pretty good idea of her comings and goings. Although that helped—a bit—when it came to an alibi, it was more of an impediment when it came to having a personal life as an adult.
“Could you explain what you have to gain?” She opened her closet, letting him walk in first.
“Just confirming my suspicions that you and the woman in the video dress differently. The cops will want to do that too.”
She felt self-conscious, bordering on embarrassed. Most of her girlfriends didn’t have closets so ruthlessly organized, but she enjoyed separating business attire from casual wear and her dating outfits from dresses better suited to charity events. There was even a turnstile with cubbies for hats and another for shoes.
“I’m sure this is all very ridiculous to you,” she blurted out. “I’ll wait over here.” She couldn’t bear to watch him go through the drawers of her more personal items.
“I know a lot of women who would love this closet and never manage to keep it this neat and orderly.”
“That’s me, Paige Coker the oddball.” She stood in her closet doorway where she could see the morning sunlight play across the trees. Though she listened, she didn’t hear the sound of drawers opening and closing. She turned around to see him staring at the hanging racks, hands on his hips.
Carter studied her wardrobe. “I don’t see anything that resembles the clothing the other woman wore.”
“She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I have plenty of both in here.”
“No,” Carter said. “She wore snug jeans torn at one knee and a low scoop-neck, dark t-shirt. From the additional images my assistant found, she wears boots rather than flip-flops or tennis shoes.”
“It’s winter. Most people have stored the flip-flops. Maybe boots are her style.”
He did that eyebrow thing again.
“I have boots too,” Paige pointed to her shoe rack.
“Not anything like the boots she’s wearing,” he countered after a moment. “My point is, you two look alike but you’re not. What would you wear if you wanted to sneak around?”
“Black I guess,” Paige replied. “But I don’t sneak around.
”
“Exactly.”
That was supposed to be helpful? She clearly didn’t have sharp investigation skills. Did shoe choices mean that much? It felt like her world had been sent spinning and she couldn’t get off the terrifying ride.
“If you’re done investigating my closet, what’s next? Fair warning, it will drive me crazy if I have to sit here and wait for things to happen.”
“You like to get things done. That’s good.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You also like to keep the peace, or so it seems.”
“Where are you coming up with these grand assumptions?” she wondered.
“Your reputation, to start. And that day on the beach you were all about a peaceful resolution with your friend and her dog. You showed a great deal of compassion for the family and you held your friend accountable.”
“For all of half a minute.” Paige shook her head. “That woman is still self-absorbed.” He smiled, and a sweet warmth rushed over her. It was like being out on the beach under a warm morning sun. Peaceful, content, fun.
“You looked a lot younger on the beach that day.” The minute the words left her mouth, she wanted to snatch back the observation, especially when his smile faded away.
“It was a few years ago,” he allowed.
“It was.” How could she explain without offending him? “You just don’t seem as carefree right now.”
“I’m on a case. Your case, to be exact.”
And she was grateful. “Are there many cases like mine?” she asked, leading him out of the closet and her bedroom.
“You might be surprised how many people need some help getting out of trouble,” he said, following her back to the kitchen.
She prepared more coffee for each of them. “Are you big on breakfast?” she asked. “I make excellent French toast.”
“You’re such a softie,” he said, smiling. “You don’t need to treat me like a guest.”
“I don’t know how to treat anyone differently,” she admitted. “When people are in my home, I go into hostess mode.” She rested her hands on the cool countertop. “One more reason I was in shock when Ronnie—Detective Lewis—thought I could actually commit murder. He’s been here. He knows me.” She shook her head. “I will not melt down again. How are you going to get him on the right track?”
“My assistant is tracking down the woman from the kitchen. We will unravel her connection to you or Melissa. Whether or not this is an elaborate frame job, we’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure to clear your name.” Carter vowed.
His support and confidence gave her a better boost than the caffeine.
“Can you help me arrange a private meeting with your dad at some point today? I’d like to ask him about the attorney on record for your adoption.”
“Sure. I’d like to ask him about the adoption, period,” she said.
“Absolutely you should,” Carter said. “As long as you’re prepared for answers you might not like.”
That was the real risk, she supposed.
“If you’re not hungry, let’s go back to the office and see if we can learn more about the woman in that picture you found,” he said.
“The woman who is probably my mom.”
“That’s right,” he said gently. “We need names and details if we’re going to sort out why someone has decided this is the time to cause your family grief.”
Each of them carrying a cup of coffee, they headed back to the office. A cool draft touched her stockinged feet, streaming through the crack under the door. Had a door or window blown open in the night?
She opened the door and gasped. “What in the world?” Her desk had been ransacked and the boxes under the worktable had been dumped and searched as well. “When—”
“Stay put,” Carter interrupted. “Don’t touch anything.” He stepped around her, taking pictures with his phone.
“Should I call the police?”
“Give me a minute,” he said.
She noticed the lock on the door that led to the garden had been broken. “They walked right in.” The hair lifted on the back of her neck. “But how? Dad keeps the best people on the payroll, has top tech installed.”
“I’m aware.” Carter’s voice was a low growl. “Someone slipped through. Can you tell at a glance if anything’s missing?”
“Are you kidding?” The place was trashed. “They didn’t take the computer, it’s the most valuable item. I’ll need to go through the boxes to be sure. I’m glad you had me move the most sensitive originals to the safe.”
“Me, too.”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “What a mess! Why didn’t we hear anything?”
“We really should have. Unless they searched while we were with your parents last night.” He moved toward the broken door. “Still, anyone good enough to sneak past a patrol and bypass the security system probably is good enough to search quietly.” He scowled at the mess.
She started trembling and wished she could blame it on too much caffeine or the restless night. But it was terror pure and simple. Someone had been in her home.
“Paige, come on. We need to get out of here and leave it for the police.”
“I-I can’t move, Carter.” Her knees were locked and she wrapped her arms around her middle as a chill of dread rattled down her spine. Someone had been in her home, searched her office. For what? She couldn’t make sense of it.
“Paige!” Carter shouted, his eyes wide and wild. Then he rushed her, taking her to the floor, her body pinned under his.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. She heard three sharp cracks and the sound of breaking glass. Carter eased up and nudged her out of the room. A cold fog clouded her mind. She was completely out of her element.
He shoved her over the threshold and into the hallway. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Call the police.” He pressed her phone into her hand.
“Was that—was that gunfire?”
“Yes. Call the police. Paige.” He snapped out her name like a whip crack. “Can you do that? For me?”
“Yes,” she promised. She wouldn’t be helpless. Coffee had spilled over her phone but she wiped it clean with her T-shirt.
“Make the call, Paige.” Then he closed the door between them.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t possibly be confronting a shooter alone. No, not alone. The police would help. She fumbled with the phone, managed to hit the right numbers.
Carter didn’t have his weapon on him, only his phone, but he didn’t double back to the bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest as he crawled along the floor, ignoring the glass biting into his skin. When he reached the door, he shoved it open and braced for another three-round burst of gunfire.
It didn’t come. There were times in his work when silence was the worst. He bolted through the door in a low crouch. Still no more bullets.
Was someone simply trying to scare Paige away from her discovery? But who would know what she’d found? She claimed she’d only told him about it. Hiding behind a thick azalea bush he listened for any sounds and considered the possibilities.
Her father knew the truth, but he had no motivation to discuss it or to hurt the chef, a friend of the daughter he clearly adored. The friend who’d run the paternity test? That didn’t fit either.
During his years with the Guardian Agency, Carter had seen some strange things and kept his clients out of harm’s way. Teamed up with exceptional tech assistants, they found leads and solutions quickly. This case felt nothing like any he’d managed before.
It would be a long time before he purged the memory of that red dot on her chest. Finding the shooter would take the sting out of this morning’s attack. He didn’t like leaving her alone when she was scared, but if there was any chance he could get a lead, he had to try.
Staying low, he found a boot print within a few paces of the door. Too small for the average man, with a tread pattern that looked industrial or non-slip. Had the woman
from the kitchen come after Paige?
He took a picture of the print and sent it on to Jenna for research. Studying the area, he tried to pinpoint where the shooter had been hiding and waiting. Trees blended with the tall marsh grasses at the edge of the Coker property and a boardwalk led to a boathouse. Still, the entire perimeter was tied into the security system. Someone should’ve noticed the intruder.
Assessing the likely trajectory and the best approaches in and out, he decided whoever had taken the shot knew what they were doing. Not great news for him as her protector. Worse, he hadn’t heard a boat engine, but how else could the shooter escape without being seen?
Scanning the ground, he spotted the next imprint from that same boot, and the one after it. Small stride, light impressions. Definitely a woman. Praying the shooter was gone, Carter stood tall. It seemed as if the whole world paused, waiting for another crack of gunfire, but he only heard the expected police sirens and raised voices near the main house.
The trail of small boot prints led him away from the most likely trajectory of the shooter. Though he only saw evidence of one intruder close to the house, based on the angle of the bullets, someone else with deadly intent had been out here as well.
He called Jenna while he was still alone. “I need a safe house,” he said as soon as she picked up. “Gamble or Swann will need to smooth that over with Mr. and Mrs. Coker.”
“On it,” Jenna replied.
“I’m assuming you’ve been monitoring the Coker security system. How did two people get on this property?”
“There are blind spots.” The irritation in her voice mirrored his own. “That said, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
He knew she would, but he couldn’t keep reacting. He had to flip this around and get ahead of whoever was targeting Paige. “Let me know when you get something on that boot. I think it’s going to be a match to what the woman was wearing around the scene of the murder.”
“Why would she be sneaking around the Coker house?” Jenna wondered.
“Not the main house. Paige’s place. She broke into this office for a reason.”
“I’m on it,” Jenna repeated. “Keep your cool with the cops,” she said, then ended the call.
