CAPTURED INNOCENCE (15 page)

“Shhh. It’s
me.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Conley rubbed her back and peered over the top of her head.

             
A young girl lay on the floor of the gazebo. The white gown she wore was splattered by blood. The slice in her neck appeared black in the light of the moon. Her eyes stared sightlessly up at them. Raven tresses fanned around her head. Conley wrinkled his nose against the rusty metallic smell of blood. The cloying scent of late blooming flowers mixed with the odor.

             
“It’s the girl from Blake’s house.” Jo’s words were muffled in Conley’s chest.

             
Footsteps pounded from the other side of the wall. Inquiring voices rose and fell, questioning as they tried to discover the source of the scream. Harold Woodward burst through the foliage and stumbled into the garden, followed closely by Blake.

             
Harold stopped short, eyes wide behind his spectacles. “What…who?”

             
“Who is that?” Blake’s words hung heavy in the air. “What happened?”

             
Jo raised her head. “You know who she is. Conley and I saw her at your house earlier today.”

             
“We don’t know what happened.” Conley’s finger traced the path of Jo’s tears, wiping them from her face, before he turned to Blake. “Maybe you can tell us.”

             
He shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve never seen that girl before.”

             
“She was there, Nielson.” He set Jo away from him and shrugged out of his jacket. He laid the jacket over the dead girl’s face to hide her from prying eyes as people crowded around them. It was then he noticed her right index finger was missing. It had been severed at the knuckle. He placed the sleeve of his jacket so it covered her hand. “She was standing on your front porch decked out in a red dress.”

             
“What are you implying?” Blake clenched his fists at his side. “Are you insinuating I had something to do with this girl’s death?”

             
“I’m not insinuating anything.”

             
“Stop it. Please.” Jo sank to the concrete bench beside the gazebo. “The girl is dead. Let’s not fight over where she was or wasn’t.”

             
“I’ll phone the police.” Harold turned and ushered the other guests from the garden. “I’ll have to tell, Sylvia, too. She’ll be curious … and disturbed.”

             
Conley spared the man a glance and his eyebrows rose.
Curious and disturbed?
 

             
Blake stepped forward. He planted his feet in the fallen leaves covering the ground. He stood close enough Conley could see the moon reflected in the man’s dark eyes and smell the sweet fruity scent of the wine he’d drunk.  “What were you doing at my house?”

             
“Taking a walk. Why? Worried?”

             
“I’ve nothing to be
worried
about.”

             
“Really?” Conley’s attention was diverted by the squeaks coming from Jo with each breath she took. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out her inhaler.

             
“Thank you. How did..?”

             
He sat next to her on the bench. “I knew you’d be stressed with your parents and ex-husband. Thought it better to be prepared. You really need to get into the habit of carrying it with you, although that dress doesn’t leave many places to stash it.” He placed an arm around her shoulders when she trembled. “Why don’t you go in the house?”

             
She shook her head and administered a puff, visibly relaxing. “I want to stay with you.”

             
“Don’t ignore me, Hook.” Blake pushed Conley with the palm of his hand. The shove caught him in the shoulder.

Conley leaned back before catching his balance and lunging to his feet. “Don’t touch me again.”

              Blake pushed him again. “What are you going to do about it? Steal my car? I checked your rap sheet. You’re a petty con. Worthless. That tux you’re wearing is worth more than you are.” His gaze rested on the jacket covering the girl’s body. “Or it was.”

             
Red hot anger rose in Conley. A scarlet haze spread across his mind, and he dug his fingernails into his palms as he doubled his hands into fists. “You need to walk away now, Nielson.”

             
The other man scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

             
“Turn…and…walk…away.” Conley’s face heated.

             
Blake laughed. The sound loud in the still night air.

             
The contact of his right fist smashing against Blake’s teeth, scraping his knuckles, surprised Conley. He’d swung before thinking, pulling back when the other man fell to the ground.

             
“I’ll kill you for that.” Blake pushed to his feet. He wiped his split lip on the back of his hand.

             
“You can try.”

             
“No one touches me.” He lunged to his feet and barreled into Conley.

             
Conley wrapped his arms around the man’s middle, heaved him off his feet and slammed him to the ground. Blake grunted, cursing. Conley bounced lightly back and forth. He balanced on the balls of his feet and raised his fists in a defensive position.

             
“You…” Blake shoved against the bench and rose to his feet.

             
The arrival of two police officers interrupted them and Conley stepped back to take his place beside Jo.

             
She sat rigid, silent. Tears ran steadily down her cheeks. She stared straight ahead, not acknowledging when he placed his hand over the ones she’d clinched in her lap. Her hands were cold beneath his. He rubbed them, trying to instill some of his body warmth.

             
The older of the officers, a stout man of approximately fifty with salt and pepper hair, shook Blake’s hand before standing in front of Jo. “Mrs. Nielson?” He held a clipboard with a pad of paper in one hand.

             
“It’s Mrs. Hook,” Conley corrected, his eyes not leaving Jo’s white face.

             
“And you are?”

             
“Mr. Hook, her husband.”

             
The officer was visibly confused and glanced from Conley to Blake and back to Jo. “I was under the impression…”

             
“Everyone is.” Conley closed his eyes and scratched his forehead. “We’re newlyweds. Married on the way out here.”

             
“Okay.” The officer nodded and wrote on his pad. “I’m Officer Settler and this is my partner Downs. Mrs. Hook, I was told you found the body?”

             
“Yes.”

             
The officer had to lean close to hear her. Her eyes flicked to Downs who lifted the jacket from the girl’s face. She lowered her head and turned away.

             
“The body is exactly as we found it.” Conley pulled Jo’s tense body closer. “Except for the jacket, which is mine.”

             
“Any idea of who she is?”

             
Conley look at Blake, who answered, “We’ve no idea, Officer. She’s a stranger.”

             
“Anyone see her at the party?”

             
“No.”

             
The officer’s eyes raked the garden. “Any idea of how she got onto the grounds?”

             
“There are a million ways. She could have walked on the property while we were eating dinner and no one would have been the wiser.” Blake pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.

             
“How’d you get the cut on your lip?”

             
“I tripped running in here after my wife…ex-wife screamed.” Blake touched his lip with his index finger. “Look Officer Settler, we’re tired, and it’s been a traumatic evening for everyone. Take the girl and call it a night.”

             
“Once we’ve interviewed everyone, we’ll be on our way.” The officer turned to Conley. “I hope you don’t have plans on leaving town, Mr. Hook.”

             
Conley shook his head and smirked. Once they punched his name into their computers, there’d be no question of them allowing him to leave.

             
The play between Blake and the officer kept Conley riveted. It was obvious by Blake’s smile, it was an act. The officer knew Blake and knew him well. For Conley to speak up and contradict this man who appeared so highly favored in Prestige would only serve to put more suspicion on himself. He ran his hands up and down Jo’s icy arms. Her flesh was pimpled with goose bumps.

She placed her head on his shoulder.

###

             
Unhooking the shoulder clasp of her gown, Jo allowed the gown to float to a silky puddle at her feet. She stepped out of it and into a tub of hot water, fragrant with a musky scented bubble bath. Candles flickered along the window sill, bathing the room in a comforting glow.

             
She sighed deeply and slid until her head and body were submerged. She only wanted to erase the events of the evening. Her body tingled as it adjusted to the warmer temperature. The images of the dead girl played in a never-ending circle through her mind. First in the red dress she’d worn at Blake’s, her face tilted into the wind, then sprawled out in the white one, blood splattered. Eyes staring.

Terror for
her son rose, breaking into her thoughts. She stayed submerged until her lungs screamed for air then she pushed herself to the surface. Why hadn’t Conley mentioned to the police that they’d seen the girl at Blake’s?

             
Her hand groped the edge of the tub, searching for the dry towel she’d placed there. She brought it to her face and wiped the bubble bath from her eyes.

             
The bedroom door closed with a faint click. A shadow passed by the arch leading to the bath. She strained her neck to see more. “Conley?” She leaned further over the tub. The marble was cold against her stomach. Nothing moved, and she shrugged before settling back against the inflated bath pillow and closing her eyes.

             
An image of her Uncle Dave flashed to the front of her mind. She gasped. In her memory, he laughed and reached for her. More sounds issued from the bedroom. A muffled groan. A thud. Her eyes snapped open. The bedroom was dark. “Conley?” Her voice trembled and sounded hoarse to her ears. She wasn’t alone with her bad memories.

             
She stood. Her body moved slow and heavy as if through thick mud. Bubbles slid down her body to rejoin those in the water. She picked up the towel and wrapped it around her as a breeze whipped past. The candles flickered, then blew out.  The bathroom was plunged into darkness. Jo stepped forward and put her back to the wall. She froze as icy terror engulfed her.

             
Stealthy footsteps slid across the wooden floor. A groan issued from the far side of the room. Jo fought against her increasing panic and squelched the whimpers rising in her throat.

             
A man wearing a dark ski-mask darted around the corner. Jo slid sideways in an attempt to duck beneath his outstretched arm. A hand tangled in her hair.

             
He pulled her close and slammed her against the wall. Her head connected with the tiles. Her teeth clicked together. Bile rose and burned the back of her throat. She swallowed convulsively.

             
She kicked. Her knee connected with the man’s inner thigh. He grunted and banged her head once more against the wall. Pinpricks of light swam before her eyes. She lashed out again. He back-handed her across the mouth.

             
Her lip split. Her mouth filled with the copper taste of blood. Where was Conley? Fear rose in her, filling her stomach and squeezing her heart in its iron fist. She increased her struggles, refusing to go down without a fight. The man’s hands tightened on her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh, pushing against bone.

The towel fell to the floor
, and Jo grappled desperately for it. Her assailant pinned her to the wall with his forearm across her throat, constricting her breathing. She wheezed. Her bronchial tubes seized closed.

She opened her mouth to scream and the man’s other hand clamped over her mouth and nose cutting off her oxygen supply. With a whimper, her world went black.

              She came to lying on the icy marble of the bathroom floor. She was curled into a fetal position and stared at the muddy boots of her attacker.

             
Hazel eyes stared through ski mask eyeholes at her. Full lips pulled back into a sneer.