“Mel?” Callie’s voice took on that calming professional tone she used with her psych patients on the military base. “We should call them before the coroner does. We knew her.”
Mel swiped at the tear weaving its way down her face. Callie was right. But the thought of hearing Nia’s parents cry… The Muse of Tragic Poetry inside of her soul loved tragedies in movies and books, but no matter how hard she wished it, this wasn’t fiction.
She pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. “I can’t do it.”
Callie took the phone from her and scrolled through the contacts. “They’re in Texas, right? I hope I can catch them before they’re in bed.”
Mel stared out the window. There was no convenient time to learn that your daughter was dead. No polite hour existed for that kind of call.
While Callie spoke in soft, empathetic tones behind her, Mel kept replaying the night’s events in her head, trying to recall every detail of the crime scene. Had she missed something? Had anyone dashed out of the condo complex? Anything been out of place?
But other than the lights being out, nothing seemed off.
Then she turned her attention to Detective Malone. Something bothered her about him. He’d been all business when he questioned her at the police station, and he seemed certain Nia’s fall had been an accident. Case closed. But everything had changed when they got back to her place.
He’d walked her up to her porch and offered to go inside to make sure it was safe, but the moment he’d touched the light switch, something shifted. When the lights came on, he’d been rubbing his eyes, pale and shaken up. She’d been preoccupied while it was happening, but thinking back, his placating tone had vanished and he’d suddenly wanted her out of the condo. A cop’s hunch, he’d called it.
So why the change of heart about the danger?
“Mel, I’m going to text our sisters and have them come over. We need to put our heads together, and this will save me from having to repeat the awful story over and over.” Callie was the Muse of Epic Poetry, so if anyone could rally them to circle the wagons and fight back, it would be her.
Mel nodded. “Okay. Tell them to be careful.”
All we need is to lose another sister to a car wreck.
Mel massaged her temples, wishing she could wipe the dark thoughts from her mind. Being the vessel for the Muse of Tragic Poetry was no picnic. Although she tried to think positively, she was a glass-half-empty kind of girl.
Within the hour, eight muses were sitting and standing around Callie’s living room. Mel stood in the corner, watching as Callie greeted each of them. Trinity and Erica were the Muses of Music and Lyrics, respectively. Best friends and roommates, they almost always traveled together, and you could usually hear them coming.
Not tonight, though. Dread hung heavy tonight, silencing the duo.
Beside them, Polly stood behind Tera and braided her long, chocolate-colored hair. It was surreal to see Tera so stoic and still. The Muse of Dance was always in motion.
But not tonight.
Polly finished the braid and crossed her arms. Although technically she was the Muse of Harmony and Hymns, she was also integral to their finances for the theater renovation. She came from a rich family, and her trust fund saved their precious theater from its date with demolition.
Thalia lingered near the door. No doubt the lack of smiles ate at the Muse of Comedy, but she made no move to lighten the mood. A testament to the urgency in Callie’s voice on the phone. She may not have told them what happened, but the message had been clear: the news wasn’t good.
Even Clio, the Muse of History, sat at the edge of her chair, no sign of a book in her hands. Usually she was happiest reliving the past, which made getting her to notice the present challenging at best.
Callie finished her quiet greetings and turned around, her gaze prodding Mel to speak. She’d been hoping Callie might do it for her, but as the Muse of Epic Poetry, Cal probably wasn’t a great choice to break the news. She’d blow everything into some quest, a battle between good and evil.
Being realistic wasn’t always Callie’s strong suit.
Gradually, all their stares landed on Mel. She bit the inside of her cheek, struggling to find her voice.
Thalia beat her to it, asking, “Where’s Nia?”
Mel took a slow breath as she glanced around the room at the friends who had become like sisters to her. “Nia is…” She swallowed hard. “Nia is dead.”
A couple of gasps broke the silence as the air sucked out of the room.
“What?” Polly dropped her arms, a crease marring her brow. “How? What happened?”
Mel’s vision blurred behind a wave of tears. “I came home after work tonight and she was at the bottom of the stairs. She…fell.”
Their questions piled on top of one another until Mel raised her hands. “The police think it was an accident, but when I came home, there weren’t any lights on. Not even on the porch outside.”
Whispers filled the room. Mel forced herself to hold back her tears at least a little while longer. “I think someone pushed her. She never would have turned off all the lights. Someone had to have done that after she died.”
“Were they maybe hoping to grab you in the dark?”
Polly’s question sent a chill creeping down Mel’s spine as she shrugged. “I don’t think so. There was no one there when I found her and called 9-1-1.”
At least not that she’d seen.
Callie came over and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder. “Mel doesn’t think Nia had any enemies, but we should all be careful. And if you think of anything that could help the police figure out what happened, let Mel know so she can pass information on to the detective working on the case.”
“But they think she fell, right?” Clio wrung her hands as her gaze wandered between Callie and Mel. “Why would they help us?”
“I think Detective Malone believes me,” Mel said. “He didn’t want me to stay at the condo tonight.”
Callie raised her free hand toward the kitchen. “I have some hot water for tea on the stove. Let’s go sit down and make a list of anyone who may have known Nia. It’s a place to start anyway.”
Mel watched them go. Could someone have been waiting for her, too? But why? The only connection between her and Nia were the spirits of the muses inside of them, and no one else could possibly know that. Could they?
But nothing from the condo had been stolen and Nia didn’t have any enemies that she knew of… What other motive could there be to connect them?
She shook her head almost violently. Impossible. She was letting her tendency toward tragedy get the best of her.
She stared at the door. But if it was true and someone was hunting the muses, then they were all in danger.
“I’m calling it a night. You going home soon, Nate?”
He glanced away from his computer screen for a second. “Yeah, I’m almost done here.”
John had been his partner long enough to see right through his bullshit. But unlike John, Nate had nothing to go home to. No wife and kids, not even a dog.
John tipped his head toward the list on the monitor. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you?” He heaved a disgruntled sigh. “There’s no evidence anyone else was in that condo, Malone.”
Nate leaned back in his chair. “According to her roommate, our vic had a thing for leaving all the lights on. But everything was off. Even the porch.”
“Could’ve been our guys.”
Nate nodded and minimized the window. “Maybe downstairs, but every light upstairs was off, too. None of our team was up in the bedrooms.”
“What’re you thinkin’?”
That I’m completely losing my shit.
“Just a hunch,” he said instead. “I think she might be on to something.”
“It’s a stretch without any sign of forced entry.”
“Unless our vic didn’t believe in locking her doors, either.” He made a note to ask Mel later.
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John pulled a chair over. “I’ll stay and help you out.”
“It’s probably nothing.” Nate shook his head. “Go home and kiss Beth and the kids for me.”
John gripped the back of the chair without sitting. “You should get out of here, too.”
He glanced up at his partner, who somehow managed to look sympathetic and suspicious all at the same time.
“This isn’t about Maggie,” Nate insisted. For the first time, it didn’t hurt to say her name.
“You sure about that?”
I’m not sure of anything anymore.
“Yeah. Just covering all our bases before the coroner reports it as an accidental death.”
John’s silent, piercing stare brought many suspects to unexpected confessions, but Nate was no suspect and he had no intention of talking about what he’d seen in Mel’s condo.
Finally, his partner broke eye contact and stepped back. “All right, then. Catch you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
Nate reopened the search window the second John vanished down the hallway. A digital wall of masks stared back at him. His finger rolled the mouse in a slow downward scroll.
“Okay, you bastard. Where are you?”
Chapter Three
Mel’s alibi had checked out. Nate loosened his tie and popped the top button on his shirt. She had been in a staff meeting until five thirty the night before. What surprised him was discovering that she had come into work today. Everyone dealt with the death of a friend differently, and the shock of finding the body might have left her aching for normalcy. It was hard to tell how any given person would react, but he hadn’t expected her to be teaching.
Standing in the hallway outside her English classroom, he glanced at his watch. Ten minutes left until her lunch break. Rather than interrupt, he leaned against the lockers and pulled out his cell phone. A guitar chord sounded, distracting him from skimming his e-mail. He frowned and moved closer to the door. Mel taught freshman English, Creative Writing, and Poetry. So why was someone inside playing the blues?
Mel’s voice came through the door. “Do you see how the rhythm and tone of the poem mirror the music? Who wants to try next? Cara, why don’t you come on up?”
The guitar music picked up again and a girl’s nervous voice spoke between the chords. “I tried hard not to see.” Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun. “But his smile grabbed hold of me.” Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun. “It may not be headline news.” Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun. “But I’ve got a bad case of the high school blues.”
The classroom erupted in applause, and Nate smiled. Mel wasn’t just teaching an English class; she was inspiring another generation. These kids would remember her long after they left these halls. Sadly, not all teachers had that gift.
When the bell rang, a river of teens flowed past him, buzzing about writing more poems, and songs and lyrics. They actually wanted to write and create. Amazing. After the flood of students dried up, he stepped into the doorway and discovered Mel had company.
A curvy woman with shoulder-length black hair and porcelain skin looked up from her guitar case and glanced at Mel. “Looks like you’ve got a guest.”
Mel stopped sliding binders into her bag and straightened up. “Detective Malone.” She gestured to her friend with the guitar. “This is Trinity. Trin, this is the detective working Nia’s case.”
Trinity closed the guitar case and stretched out her hand. “Good to meet you.”
He gave her a firm handshake. “Heard you playing the blues in here.”
Trinity chuckled, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “Thanks. It was Mel’s idea.”
He started to speak, but his mouth went dry. Hanging on the wall behind Mel’s desk was a large black mask with purple trim and a deep frown. On a normal day, he might not have even noticed the thing, but since he’d touched the light switch and the bannister at Mel’s place last night, he’d been on edge.
Until the vision of the man in the golden mask flashed in his head, he’d never really given them much thought, but now the eyeless, soulless, frowning face on her wall had dread tightening around his gut like a vise.
Mel turned, following his gaze. “That’s the Tragedy Mask. It represents tragedy in theater.” Her focus shifted back to him, capturing his full attention. “Sort of a mascot for my high school English classes.”
“I’m going to get out of your way,” Trinity interrupted, her guitar case in hand. “See you at the theater later?”
Mel nodded, giving her a short embrace. “Yeah, I’ll be by after work.”
After Trinity left, Nate struggled to keep his eyes off the mask on the wall. “I wasn’t expecting to find you working today.”
Mel leaned against the edge of her desk. “Sitting around crying at Callie’s place isn’t going to bring Nia back. And the kids were really excited about the poetry project today. I couldn’t call in a sub. They’d probably send some fresh-out-of-college Algebra teacher who would make them watch Good Will Hunting or something…” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I’m not feeling very optimistic at the moment.”
He almost smiled. Her devotion to her students was admirable, regardless of her current state of mind. “I’ve got a couple questions about the case for you. Do you have time now, or should I come back later?”
Mel straightened to her full height. Usually that meant she’d be adjusting her gaze downward, but Detective Malone still had a few inches on her. “If you don’t mind watching me eat my sandwich, I’ve got an hour.”
“Works for me.”
She brought a black Velcro lunch sack out of her desk and led him to a large round worktable at the back of the room. Once they were seated, she withdrew a sandwich, an apple, and a soda from her bag.
“Do you still think it was an accident?” She pulled out her apple and took a bite.
He ignored her question and set a few printouts of masks before her. “Do any of these look familiar?”
She looked down at the images and nodded. “These are all masks of Kronos.” She took a closer look. “Yeah. Different time periods maybe, but that’s definitely Kronos.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “What do these masks have to do with any of this?”
He shifted in his chair and pulled out a pen. “Kronos. He was a Greek god or something, right?”
“Actually, he was a Titan. Zeus imprisoned him in the center of the Earth.” She set her apple down. Her appetite was nonexistent today anyway. The meal was more out of habit than hunger. “And this will help us catch Nia’s killer how?”
“I’m not sure.” His green eyes mesmerized her for a moment. “But I think you’re right… It wasn’t an accident.”
Dark thoughts whizzed through her mind. Everything from Detective Malone slapping cuffs on her wrists, to him confessing he killed Nia and she was about to be next. Mel let her hands slip off the table into her lap. She flexed her fingers before clenching them into tight fists in an effort to release some of the anxiety that her worst-case scenarios were dredging up.
“What changed your mind?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek as his attention shifted to the pages of Kronos’s likenesses, but he didn’t answer her question.
She nudged one of them. “If it will help, I have a great Greek mythology book I could loan you.”
He slumped back in his chair, bringing one hand up behind his neck. His shirt barely contained his bicep. She swallowed and forced her gaze elsewhere. This was no time to get distracted, regardless of how well built this detective might be.
“The book couldn’t hurt at this point,” he said.
“Great.” Mel got up, relieved for an excuse to put a little distance between them. She needed to stay focused on figuring out what happened to Nia, not how good Nate Malone might look without that shirt. She crossed to the bookcase on the far wall, running an index finger along the spines of collections of Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Shelley, and Shakespeare. “Do you have any leads?”
“Not anything to
convince the medical examiner it wasn’t an accidental fall.”
She slid a small jade-colored hardcover from the shelf and turned around. His eyes moved up to her face. Had he been staring at her ass? Suddenly she didn’t feel so bad about ogling his biceps. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
Seriously? Smiling?
She must’ve been in some kind of shock.
Mustering up as much indifference as she could, she walked over and placed the book in front of him. “If there’s no evidence, then why the sudden change of heart?”
He looked up at her, and the urge to touch him swelled. She crossed her arms, no longer confident she could trust her hands.
“You told me she never turned off the lights, and they were all off, even upstairs. Your alibi checked out, so if it wasn’t you and she never turned them off, then who did?”
She tapped her fingernail on the printouts he’d brought. “Where does our pal Kronos play into all this?”
He slid all the pages back together and put them into the manila file folder. “Call it a hunch for now.”
She raised a brow. “Another hunch? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Look, when I have something concrete, you’ll be the first one to know.” He stood up, taking both the mythology book and the folder in one large hand. “Thanks for the information and the book.”
He was hiding something from her. “You’re welcome.” He turned to go and her heart hammered in her chest. “Detective Malone?”
He stopped and glanced back. “You can call me Nate.”
Nate. She filed that away for later. “I’ll be finished here at three thirty. I was planning on grading a few papers at the café at the end of the block before I meet my sisters at the theater. If you come by, I could give you a crash course on Kronos and the Golden Age of Man.”
The corner of his lips tugged up in a lopsided smile that awoke the butterflies in her stomach. “I can use all the help I can get,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 93
