Shocking Pink (14 page)

A
ndie decided that if the police wouldn’t help Mrs. X, she would have to do it herself. A sense of urgency and impending doom pressing in on her, she made a plan to watch from the tree house every night, just to make sure that when Mrs. X arrived, she also left again, safe and sound.

Sometimes Andie had only a half hour to wait, sometimes several hours. However long, the waiting was agony. Boring. Nerve-racking. Each time the couple arrived, her stomach knotted and a headache would form at the base of her skull, increasing in pressure as each minute passed. When Mrs. X drove away, relief would be instantaneous.

Problem was, one night Mr. X drove away.

But Mrs. X didn’t.

T
he phone awakened Nick from a deep sleep. It took him a moment to realize that the high, frightened voice on the other end of the line belonged to Andie Bennett. It took him a moment more to comprehend what she was saying.

When he did, he sat straight up, instantly alert. “Where are you, Andie?”

“Olsen’s drugstore,” she whispered. “The phone booth.”

“Stay put.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be right there. Five minutes.”

Nick dropped the receiver into the cradle and looked at Jenny. She was awake, though barely. “I’ve got to go.”

“It was that kid, wasn’t it? The girl you told me about?”

“Yeah.” He pulled on his pants, then went to the closet and rummaged in it for a pullover.

She yawned. “You could call Peters.”

He stopped and looked back at her. “And why would I do that?”

“It’s the middle of the night and he’s lead detective. He’s the one, officially, who took the girl’s statement.”

“And he’s the one who officially blew her off.” Nick tugged a cotton shirt over his head, then began tucking it into his jeans. “I’m not going to let him do it again.”

She sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “He told you to drop it, Nick. Isn’t there some type of cop protocol or something?”

“Cop protocol?” He grinned. “You worry too much, hon. The kid called. She’s in trouble.” Nick slipped into his shoulder holster, then grabbed his jacket and crossed to the bed. He bent and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

He found Andie huddled in the doorway outside Olsen’s, which had closed since she had called him. He pulled up to the curb, leaned over and opened the door. “Get in.”

With a glance in either direction, she hurried across the sidewalk and scrambled into the car.

“Which way?”

She told him and he started off, glancing sideways at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, the expression in them alarmed. She gnawed at her bottom lip and kept clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap.

“I thought you were going to leave this Mr. and Mrs. X thing alone? I seem to remember you promising me you would.”

“I couldn’t. I just… I couldn’t.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened tonight.”

She nodded but didn’t immediately begin to speak. When she finally did, her voice shook. “I was watching the house. From the empty lot next door. I just watched to make sure…to make sure whenever she arriv—”

“Mrs. X?”

“Yes. To make sure whenever she arrived, she left again. Tonight she didn’t.”

“Did it occur to you that she may have decided to spend the night there. It’s pretty late.”

“No,” she admitted. “But she never has before.”

“So you called me.”

She shook her head. “First I waited. About ten minutes. Then I went down there and—”

“To the house?”

She nodded. “I checked the windows. I mean, I peeked through them.”

“Jesus, Andie.” He couldn’t believe what she was telling him. “You suspect a man of murder, but you traipse down to the scene and peek in the windows. If you were my daughter, I’d spank you.”

She blanched. “You’re not old enough to be my father, and you don’t know anything. I told you, Mr. X had left.”

“Sight can deceive, kid. You don’t know who might have been in that house. You don’t know what kind of people—”

“I’m here, okay. I’m fine.”

Her teeth began to chatter, belying her tough demeanor. He decided to back off. “Go on.”

“It was dark. I couldn’t see anything.”

“Did you hear anything. That music? Someone moving around? Anything?” She shook her head again. He glanced at her. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try the door?”

“I was too scared.”

“Good girl.” She directed him to Mockingbird Lane. “Down there?” he asked as he crested the hill.

She sucked in a quick breath. “Yes. The house next to the empty lot.”

He nodded, then rolled down the street, pulled into the driveway and cut off the engine. “You wait here. Under no circumstances do you get out of this car.” He looked at her. “Got that?”

“Don’t worry.” She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. “I’m not moving.”

He swung the door open, then stopped, glancing over at her. “This is probably nothing, Andie. But no matter what I find in there, you’re through with this. When we’re done here, we’re going to your parents. Got that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, head down. “I’ve got it.”

Nick climbed out of the car and went to the front door. No one answered either the bell or his knock. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure the kid had stayed put, he went around back.

The house, the layout of the land around it, was just as Andie had described. He scanned the surrounding area. The house backed onto farmland. On one side was an undeveloped lot, large and wooded, on the other, another empty house.

The perfect place for a sick little tryst.

He approached the back door, unsheathing his weapon. He knocked. When he got no reply, he tried the knob.

The door swung open.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had a bad feeling about this, he didn’t know why, but he did. Holding his gun in front of him with both hands, he nudged the door wider with his foot.

“Police,” he called.

Silence answered him. An unnatural kind of silence. One that almost hummed. Mouth dry, heart pounding, he made his way into the house, moving from room to room, careful of the shadows and of his back.

He should call for backup now, he thought. He should get the hell out, and do things by the book. Instead, he kept going, letting his gun—and his instincts—lead the way.

He found Mrs. X in the master bedroom. Hanging from her neck, blindfolded, hands bound in front of her. Black silk scarves. A tall kitchen stool lay on its side under her dangling feet. Judging by the scuff mark on the white wood, it had been kicked out from under her. A shorter stool sat a foot or so away, undisturbed.

His stomach rushed up to his throat. He gagged, forcing the vomit back, forcing himself to cross to the woman to check her vitals though he didn’t have a doubt that she was dead.

She was.

He spun away for a moment, bending at the waist, breathing deeply through his nose. His first homicide. His first real death. This wasn’t a cadaver at the morgue. It wasn’t old Mrs. Trotter who died in her sleep, a small, pleased smile on her face.

No, this was gruesome. It was ugly and violent and…wrong.

He made himself straighten and turn back to the victim. She had been young. And pretty. Not ready to die. She had been—

He stared at her, at Mrs. X, realization dawning with a sense of impending disaster. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Even with the blindfold, he knew who she was. He recognized the sexy mole to the right of her mouth, the striking strawberry-blond hair, recognized her from countless pictures in the newspaper and on TV; recognized her from the dozens of police functions he had attended since joining the force two years ago.

Behind him a floorboard creaked. He spun around, weapon drawn. “Freeze, asshole!”

The kid.
She stood in the doorway, her eyes on Mrs. X, her face a mask of horror.

“Dammit, Andie! You were supposed to stay in the car. I could have shot—”

Her gaze went to his. “He did it,” she said, her voice almost devoid of expression. “He did it, just like…just… Oh my God—” Her voice rose; she started to shake. “He killed her! He killed her!”

Nick hurried to the doorway and put his arms around her, trying to shield her from the awful sight. She fought him, growing hysterical, repeating those same words over and over.

Nick pressed her face to his chest, too aware of Mrs. X hanging there behind them, the smell of death already in the air. Too aware, also, that Andie Bennett was in more trouble than she even imagined.

Mrs. X was none other than Leah Robertson, the police commissioner’s pretty young wife.

M
rs. X was dead.

Mr. X had killed her. Just as Andie had known he would.

Andie’s stomach rolled, and she clung to Detective Raphael, pressing her face to his chest. Just beyond the safety of his broad shoulders,
she
hung.
Dead. Murdered.

Andie struggled for a deep breath, thankful for the detective’s warmth; for she was cold, so cold her teeth chattered. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, concentrating with all her might on the steady beat of his heart under her cheek and the reassuring sound of his voice.

Try as she might, she couldn’t expel the image of Mrs. X’s lifeless body.

“Don’t look, Andie.”

She nodded, her head beginning to swim. “Is she…are you sure she’s—”

“Yes, Andie,” he answered quietly. “She is.”

Tears flooded her eyes. They filled her throat, nearly choking her. She fought to hold them back, the fight leaving her trembling.

Nick laid a hand on the back of her head. “It’s okay to cry, Andie. It’s okay.”

So she did. Sobbed so hard she could hardly catch her breath. Sobbed until her throat and chest ached, until her eyes burned and she was too weak to stand without his support.

Until she had nothing left but small whimpers of despair for a woman she had not known but had wanted desperately to help.

“Feel better?” he asked

She shook her head no, unable to find her voice but certain she would never be okay again.

“Can I get you a glass of water? Do you need to sit down?”

“I just feel…if only I had—”

“You tried to help her,” he said softly. “You came to us, you tried to watch out for her. People like this…” He paused, as if struggling to choose the right words. “People like this live on the edge. Sometimes, that’s the way they die. You’re not to blame.”

She shuddered. “Then why do I feel so bad?”

“Come on. I want to get you out of here.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the door, careful to shield her view of the body.

She let him steer her out of the bedroom and back to the main part of the house. When they reached the family room, he led her to the lone chair.
His
chair.

She stopped, gazing at it in horror, her mind flooding with memories. “No. I don’t want… This is where he…where he always sat.”

“Mr. X?”

“Yes.”

Nick pointed to the window a couple of feet beyond the chair. “And that’s the window you watched through?”

“Yes.” She curled her arms around her middle. “I need to sit down. On the floor.”

She did, and he squatted in front of her, giving her nowhere to look but right into his eyes. “We have to talk.” He searched her gaze. “You have to tell me everything, Andie. You have to tell me the truth.”

“I have,” she whispered, nervously wetting her lips. “I’ve told you everything.”

“A woman is dead, Andie. Murdered. We need to find the person who did this.”

“Mr. X did it!” she said, panicked suddenly—that he didn’t believe her, that Mr. X was going to get away with it. Get off free as a bird.

And she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Just as she had been unable to do anything to save Mrs. X.

“Do you know his name? Where he lives? Or works? Can you even describe to me what he looks like?” She shook her head, and he looked her dead in the eyes. “We need more information, Andie. Your friends might have noticed something you didn’t.”

“My…friends?” she croaked. “But I told you, I did all this alone.”

“I know what you told me and I know you weren’t alone in this.”

“But I was!” she cried. “I promise, I was!”

He caught her hands. “You didn’t break into this house alone, then having been frightened out of your wits, come back to peek into the windows, not once but several times. You didn’t do these things alone, Andie Bennett.”

Andie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, confused and uncertain what to do. If she refused to tell, would he find out anyway? Would she get into more trouble?

She couldn’t tell. She had promised Raven and Julie that she wouldn’t. She had promised them that she wouldn’t get them into trouble.

“You want us to catch this killer, don’t you, Andie?” She nodded, and he went on. “Homicide investigations are very much like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. You have to sort and lay out all the pieces, studying them carefully, looking at their shape and size, trying to determine where they fit. But it doesn’t matter how carefully you sort and study, you’ll never see the whole picture until you have all the pieces.
All
the pieces, Andie.”

Tears stung her eyes, a lump formed in her throat.
She couldn’t let her friends down.

But if she didn’t…

Nick squeezed her fingers. “Do the right thing, Andie. You already have, by coming to us, by trying to watch over Mrs. X yourself. Finish what you started. I know you don’t want to get your friends in trouble, but you can’t protect them anymore. Do the right thing,” he said again. “Help us catch this guy.”

A tear slipped past her guard and rolled down her cheek. She hung her head, unable to look him in the eyes another moment.

“You weren’t alone in this, were you?”

“No.”

“Tell me everything, Andie.”

So she did. Everything. About her parents splitting and how she had sneaked out to seek comfort with Raven and Julie. About how they had heard the music and become curious. She told him what had happened next and even how she and her friends had argued about what they should do. She told him about the rift Mr. and Mrs. X had caused between them.

“Thank you, Andie.” He flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “You did good. You’re a kind of hero, kid.”

Once upon a time, she had wanted to be a hero. She had fancied herself one. Now she felt like a snake who had betrayed her best friends. “I promised them I wouldn’t tell. I promised them, Detective Raphael.” She searched his expression, pleading without words for understanding, for reassurance. “They’re going to get in a lot of trouble. Worse than me. A lot worse.”

“A woman is dead. They’ll understand.” He squeezed her fingers, released them and stood. “I have to call this in. Okay? When I do, I’ll have them notify your parents. The next few hours are going to be rough.”

She dropped her face into her hands. Her life had just changed. Because of her, Raven’s and Julie’s lives had changed. She lifted her gaze to the detective’s sympathetic one once more, though she didn’t know why or what she hoped to see in his warm brown eyes.

What she saw scared her. He knew it, too.

Nothing would ever be the same again.