Fatal Fiction (Harbour Bay Book 5)

by Camille Taylor

  Nick cleared his throat. “Can you tell us about Brittany? Who her friends are? If she’d been having any trouble lately?”

  “No. None. Britt kept her head down. We have a small circle of friends. Women we went to school with.”

  “What about men? Was there someone special?”

  She blushed. “Just me. We’re a couple.” She corrected herself. “Were. Her parents don’t know so we were keeping it quiet.”

  “Could someone have taken offence to your relationship? An ex-boyfriend perhaps?”

  It amazed him how many times the killer turned out to be people the victim knew. People they’d trusted. Even loved.

  “Britt never had a boyfriend. I’m her first relationship. We didn’t set out to find each other. Or even looked. It just happened. From the moment we met, we just clicked, you know?”

  “She never mentioned anyone who may have been paying her too much attention? Anyone who made her uncomfortable, or maybe said something that looking back could be interpreted in a new way?”

  Lisa’s lip quivered, probably imagining why he continued asking the same questions over and over, only worded differently.

  “No, I’m sorry. Everyone loved Britt. She was so sweet and kind.”

  And yet Brittany Hudson had been slaughtered. Somewhere, somehow, she’d attracted her killer and managed to get on his radar. A perp well-schooled in forensics and had a taste for blood. A man who’d been at this for some time. No way could tonight’s carnage be attributed to a man just getting a feel for crime.

  Worse, he’d enjoyed himself.

  Nick swallowed at the sour taste in his mouth. He needed a couple of beers to erase what he’d seen tonight. But it could wait. He’d pop open a six pack when he had the sick bastard behind bars.

  Lisa hugged herself. “Who would do that to another human being?”

  He planned to find out.

  Chapter 3

  Riley woke refreshed and full of energy. Something she hadn’t experienced in so long she couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this way. Instead of rolling out of bed, she practically jumped out and stretched as she waited for the water in the shower to heat up.

  Even her usual unruly curls fell into line as she twisted the strands into a knot and secured it. Make-up done and teeth brushed, she dressed in one of her many skirt suits and slid on a pair of tan hose so her Irish skin wouldn’t clash horribly with the snow inspired fabric. A collared tangerine shirt completed her outfit. The bold colours weren’t her first choice but Michelle had sworn they were perfect for her and she had to agree, though her assistant had to leave her with a guide to what could be paired with what. God forbid she made a fashion faux pas.

  Checking her phone, she was pleasantly surprised to see her brother had called and quickly retrieved the message, smiling as his rich timbre filled her ears and heart.

  “Hey, Riley-O. Just checking in. I know how you worry. Talk to you later, lil’ sis.”

  Hell yeah, she worried. Her brother had followed her father’s footsteps by joining the police force. Not just Patrol, but Tactical, the guys who went in guns blazing. She always worried.

  As she walked past, Riley switched on her TV. The continuous chatter broke through the deathly silence of her apartment, making her feel less alone.

  She breathed in the delicious scent of caffeine which her wonderful coffee machine had begun brewing the moment her alarm had woken her.

  Who needed a man when a machine could keep her deliriously happy?

  After pouring herself a cup, she delighted in the first sip. Caffeine traversed her body, hitting her just where she needed it. Riley was completely immersed in devouring her first cup that she almost didn’t hear the news anchor announce the top story. Slowly, the words penetrated her bliss filled mind.

  “Last night, the body of twenty-seven-year-old Brittany Hudson was discovered.”

  Riley’s gaze fell to the television as a candid picture of a pretty brunette appeared behind the news anchor. Her attention now diverted, she stepped forward and listened.

  “The young dentist was brutally slain in her own home, and while police have not commented beyond the victim’s name, witnesses have reported the crime scene had been bloody, leading some to see similarities between the horrific crime and that of deceased serial killer, the Butcher who was gunned down in Harbour Bay almost five years ago. Police are requesting anyone who has information about the crime to contact them immediately.”

  Riley deflated, shivering as she imagined the horror the woman had experienced, knowing no one was coming to help her. Her heart ached and hoped Brittany had finally found peace.

  Usually, she refrained from watching the true crime headlines, opting instead for the lighter human-interest stories but something compelled her to continue listening.

  Riley rested a hand over her throat. A brunette brutally murdered? The circumstances were so familiar to her. Almost identical to…

  She sucked in a breath and her hands shook. No. It couldn’t be so. Could it? Still, her thoughts ticked and wouldn’t be quietened. Riley headed to the table and found the manuscript she’d dumped there the night before. She swallowed, her stomach clenching as though it already knew the truth.

  Flicking through the pages, she skimmed the words, hating herself as they once more took form inside her head, chilling her blood like no winter could do until she found what she was looking for. With the image of Brittany fresh in her mind, she reread the lines describing the victim. She bit her lip, easily transposing Brittany in the place of the victim. The blood that soaked the carpet spilling from her body.

  Had the killer sent her a warning of what he’d been about to do? The similarities were too close for a coincidence. Or was she purely seeing something that wasn’t there?

  Either way, it left an unsettling feeling twisting in her belly.

  Another hour later she was still trying to convince herself she was wrong. More importantly, what the hell was she going to do?

  ***

  Later that night, Riley sat at Dean’s and Megan’s dining table, savouring Megan’s beef hotpot—her speciality. A year ago, Megan had been utterly useless in the kitchen now she was a culinary genius or near enough. Riley had no complaints. She swirled her glass containing the Moscato Megan always had laying about and was determined to enjoy herself. She had spent the entire afternoon waging an internal battle with herself going from, ‘you’re making too much of this’ to ‘who the hell should she call?’ In the end, she figured she’d ask for an opinion.

  I’d like to call a friend, Eddie.

  Now here, enjoying the time spent with two friends and their adorable six-month-old, Riley knew she had made the right choice. She would ask for Dean’s opinion later, once little Miss Heather-Feather was safely tucked away in bed.

  Dean studied her. “So, Meg has it in her mind to find you a husband.”

  She blew out a breath. “Like I have time for a man. Besides what man would put up with me?”

  He scratched his jaw. “You’d be surprised, Riley. You’re quite the catch.”

  Her tummy warmed. “Aw. That’s sweet. We both know it’s a lie. Anyway, I don’t need a man. They only get in the way. There’s nothing wrong with my life the way it is. Gives me plenty of time with my friends and Heather-Feather.”

  She smiled at her goddaughter.

  “Well, that’s good to know, Ri. Because my editor is going to need my new book soon and having a baby underfoot isn’t helping my workflow.”

  Riley took a sip of her Moscato, savouring the flavours bursting on her tongue. “Your editor won’t mind if you’re late. But seriously let me know when you want a day to write or if you and Dean, you know…want some time together, alone. I’ll be there to whisk Miss Heather away.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Riley cleared away the dishes, allowing the couple and child a few moments alone together before she re-joined them. Holding her wine glass, she entered the family
room which was currently littered with many of Heather’s favourite toys. Heather lay on the plush carpet and grinned at anyone who looked at her which was currently all three adults.

  Megan brought out a video camera and pleaded with her daughter. “Come on Heather, crawl for the camera.”

  Riley sat beside Dean on the carpet, resting her bum on the heels of her feet. “Here.” She handed Dean her glass and took Heather’s hands in her own and raised her to her feet, holding her little body upright when she would’ve fallen over.

  “Let’s go to Mummy, Heather.” On her knees, Riley moved towards Megan while holding Heather upright as she moved her little legs, giving the impression that she was walking.

  “That’s it, Heather.” Megan cheered her daughter on, scooping her up when she and Riley finally arrived in front of her.

  Dean handed Riley back her wine glass. She took a sip. It was amazing how something so simple as spending time with friends and the innocence of a child could wipe away any lingering stress or tension one had. Riley was feeling positively alive. She hadn’t smiled and laughed this much in days. Not since last week when she’d made her weekly visit to the Matthews home.

  Laying down beside Heather, who was now sandwiched between herself and Megan, Riley listened as Megan read her daughter one of the classics. A combination of Megan’s soft voice and wine made her as sleepy as the girl in the book. She rested her head in her hand and watched as Heather’s eyelids drooped ever so slightly.

  Riley reached out to touch the mahogany baby fuzz on top of Heather’s head. Her womb contracted almost painfully as if reminding her she was a woman too, and it was a waste of space if she wasn’t going utilise it.

  She pushed the feeling away.

  By the time the book was finished, Riley was half asleep and Heather was completely. Megan lifted her sleeping angel into her arms and took her down the back of the house where the bedrooms were located.

  “How’s paternity leave treating you?” Riley got to her feet and collapsed onto the sofa beside Dean who watched an NRL game on TV. Riley had been so absorbed with Heather and the story, she hadn’t even realised Dean had turned on and muted the set.

  “Good.” He hesitated. “As much as I love being with Meg and Heather…”

  “You’re chomping at the bit to get back to work.” She finished for him. “Believe me I get it. People like us, work is our passion.”

  He smiled and she knew she’d read him right.

  Her mind drifted back to the thought that had swirled around inside her head since the morning news.

  She licked her lips, dry from nerves. “I have a question to ask.”

  Dean’s manner changed, assessing as though he could pull all your secrets with just a look. She squirmed under his scrutiny. It wasn’t because he unnerved her, but the fact she wasn’t sure about the question she was about to ask.

  “What is it? And it better not be about me spending the night with you. Meg told me what you said.”

  Riley’s cheeks flamed to the point they burned. “I only said that to shut her up.”

  Dean laughed. “I know, but Riley you should see your face.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  He grinned. “You women aren’t the only ones who tell each other everything. Married couples do it too.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Dean turned serious as if sensing she wasn’t completely at ease with her decision to discuss this with him. Of course, he senses it, Riley. He is a detective after all.

  She shifted position on the sofa. “I had something arrive at my house—a manuscript. However, this novel was different from the others. I think whoever wrote it might be involved with a murder.”

  Dean frowned. “You think it’s a confession of some sort?” At least he was taking her seriously for which she was thankful.

  “Something like that. All I know is that the story bears a strong resemblance to a murder and I’m worried about letting it slide. What if this does have something to do with the crime and I just ignore it?”

  He tapped the remote in his hand against the armrest as he contemplated her question.

  “I’ll talk to the guys and have one of them come and see you. They’ll hear you out and decide whether it’s worth investigating or not.”

  The tension in her muscles melted. “Thanks, that sounds perfect.”

  Chapter 4

  What the hell was he doing here? It wasn’t the first time Nick’d had this particular thought in the past half hour. He was doing a favour for his partner in meeting with Riley. That was the only reason.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

  He shifted restlessly on the seat in the foyer of the building that housed B&G Publishing House. He knew he was early, deciding to get the interview over with before heading into work. There was a new killer in town and he, along with the rest of Harbour Bay’s Detective Unit were pulling double duty until the man was caught.

  Nick glanced up in time to see Riley dressed in a white knee-length jacket enter through the revolving door. Her unruly hair was pulled back into a tight bun, sharpening her features. Her quick, steady steps ate up the ivory marble floor. His gaze swept a slow burn over her figure. No doubt there were plenty of pretty women in the foyer but he only had eyes for one. Nick stood and stepped into her line of sight. Her blue eyes widened and she grimaced, looking down at the watch adorning her delicate wrist. Everything about Riley was delicate…except her spirit.

  “Detective Doyle.”

  Nick wasn’t sure if he should offer his hand or not, it was after all a business meeting but then again, he and Riley were friends—a loose term, very loose. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were, hovering somewhere between acquaintances and friends, only in the company of the other when the occasion called for it. He decided against a handshake. The last thing he wanted to do was touch Riley.

  “Ms. O’Neill.”

  They stared at each for a few beats before Riley broke the silence. “I was wondering which one of you he’d send.” The look she cast his way told him she would’ve preferred another. “I thought it may have been Matt or James.”

  He tried not to take offence. His behaviour toward her had never been friendly, needing to keep her at a distance for his own preservation. It was clear to him he had successfully turned her away. Perhaps too successfully.

  “We’re all a little busy.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?” She motioned with her hand for him to follow her as she made her way across the foyer to the bank of elevators at the far side of the room. She tapped the ‘up’ button with a manicured finger.

  “Not long. A couple minutes.” Or half an hour. Although she could hardly be blamed for that. He had arrived twenty minutes early for their interview eager to get it over with.

  The elevator door opened and they stepped inside. Riley pressed the button for the sixth floor. “Thank you for seeing me. I know you’re busy. To be honest, I’m not even sure I’m not wasting your time.”

  The scent of apples and cinnamon filled his lungs as an automated voice indicated the floor number. Nick waited for Riley to precede him. She automatically thanked him.

  He blinked as he stepped out into a sea of fuchsia, though even to his untrained eye appeared artfully, if not, tastefully done. The stained wood floors shined and a few leafy green pot plants added another splash of colour to the reception/lobby area. The walls had little adornment, a few framed photography prints that no doubt cost a fortune.

  Exactly what he expected from Riley’s piece of the world.

  Nick glanced over at her as they walked together, Riley leading the way.

  “Dean didn’t mention why you wanted to meet with me.”

  His partner had caught him at his parents’ trying to unwind, allowing his family’s innate goodness to wash over him. He’d needed it after leaving Brittany Hudson’s.

  Riley stopped outside an office and began fumbling through her gargantuan cream purse, be
fore retracting her hand, a set of keys clinking together as they moved. She unlocked the door and this time waited for him to enter first before following him.

  “It’s hard to explain. You’ll probably think it’s a waste of time.”

  She moved behind her desk; dumping her purse unceremoniously on the dark stained oak. When she turned and faced him, her fingers moved to the centre of her chest as she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal a navy blouse and tan skirt that emphasised her small waist. Nick’s gut tightened. He’d been too long without a woman, that watching Riley O’Neill remove her winter coat was turning him on.

  Nick ran a hand over his head. His morning run hadn’t helped keep his libido down. Maybe he needed to add another kilometre to his routine.

  He’d always had a thing for Riley. How could he not? She was the perfect woman, or at least, near enough and Dean knew only too well his penchant for red-heads.

  Occupying his thoughts elsewhere, he glanced around Riley’s office as she hung her jacket on the back of her black leather chair. He’d never been inside her office before but it was exactly how he imagined it. Clean lines. Tidy and professional. All that shouted to her success.

  “Noted. But Dean seemed to think it was worth me coming to see you. So why am I here, Riley?”

  She shivered, and not a delicate tremor but a whole body, walk over your grave, spine-tingling shiver before turning toward him, chewing at her bottom lip, a habit he well recognised. Even now after seeing her do it a thousand times he was still drawn to the small insignificant motion. Nick’s attention went to her plump pink lips. What would it be like to kiss her? He quickly pulled his gaze back, no small effort, to look at her eyes.

  “I saw the news report about the murder of Brittany Hudson.” She stopped, her gaze searching his face.

  It was the case he’d be assigned to but he didn’t share that with Riley.