Still Waters (10 page)

“Are you suggesting I’m addicted to my work? That I don’t care about anything else?”

Sean exhaled a big breath. “I’m suggesting if you can’t see yourself living a personal life in addition to your career, then you won’t be able to have both. You’ll have to choose one or the other, and there will always be regrets with whichever choice you make. Isn’t that the true definition of addiction? Being willing to sacrifice everything else for the one thing you want most?”

The doorbell rang, and Amber jerked at the sound. “Barbara said she’d bring me some of her clothes.”

“I’ll get the door.”

Amber took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why in the world had they been discussing her love life and career decisions? It was her own fault. She’d started it. The conversation was meant to learn more about him and what happened in LA. It was never intended to dissect her life.

Could he possibly be right about her? Was she incapable of balance? She couldn’t deny being singularly focused. She’d recognized her type A personality at the ripe old age of twelve. She’d decided then that she wanted to be the next Barbara Walters.

Barb’s voice in the other room drew her from her thoughts. This wasn’t the time to worry about her love life. Two women were dead—possibly murdered by the same man who had poisoned her. Finding Adler’s partner and presumably his murderer had to be top priority right now. Just because Sean Douglas made her heart pound and her pulse skip was no excuse to revert to being controlled by adolescent hormones.

Amber squared her shoulders and joined her sister and Sean in the living room. Barb took one look at her and rushed to where she stood. She grabbed Amber in a bear hug. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Amber tried to breathe. Sean stood on the other side of the room, his arms loaded with clothes, shoes and a small bag hanging from his long fingers.

“Really, I’m okay,” Amber assured her.

Barb drew back and surveyed her from head to toe and back. “You look like hell. You definitely need all that makeup Gina shoved into the bag the cutie-pie over there is holding.”

Sean looked at the floor in an attempt to hide his grin.

“Thanks.” Amber knew she was okay when her big sister told her she needed makeup. Barbara Roberts hated makeup. How she ever fell in love with a television journalist like Gina was a mystery to Amber. “The cutie-pie,” she said, using Barb’s term, “is Sean Douglas.”

“A pleasure.” Barb gave him an approving nod and grabbed the bag he held. “Come on, little sister.” She reached for one of the outfits he held, as well. “We have work to do. You’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Douglas.”

“Take your time,” he suggested. “I’ll follow up with Lieutenant Harper.”

Amber flashed him a smile as her sister ushered her from the room. What was it about a near-death experience that made a woman suddenly bemoan all she’d given up for a career?

How did she capture that elusive thing called balance?

As soon as the person trying to kill her was caught, she intended to find her balance.

She glanced over her shoulder one last time. Maybe she would start with Sean.

Chapter Ten

Frontier Drive, Vestavia Hills, 11:00 a.m.

Rhiana Pettie’s mother had agreed to a meeting.

Amber looked considerably better even if she still felt weak and weary. Barb had helped her pull herself together. Her head was still just a little foggy, but an extrasweet café mocha had helped immensely.

Sean parked at the curb and checked his cell. “Harper sent me a text. So far your place is coming up clean for toxins, but he’d feel better if you gave them another day just to be sure.”

“I can live with that.” She searched his eyes. “Can you?” After all, he was the one sharing his place.

“My job is to keep you safe, Amber. I can do that just about anywhere.”

“I guess it’s settled then. I’ll be at your place again tonight.”

His blue eyes darkened. “Technically it’ll be your first night at my place. It was already morning when I took you there today.”

“I used your shower and spent time sleeping in your guest bed.”

He nodded. “You did.”

“I rest my case.” Amber reached for the door. As usual, he somehow managed to appear at her side of the car before she emerged.

Forty-eight hours ago she’d found his persistent presence frustrating, annoying even. Now she was very grateful he was here. The reality that someone had come into her house and touched her things was bad enough. To recognize that he’d meant her physical harm made it all the worse. It was one thing to have an obsessive fan, even a stalker; it was entirely another to be targeted for death.

Amber turned her attention to the brick home nestled on the corner of Frontier and Kingswood. According to her research, the Petties had lived here for thirty-five years. Rachel and Tom, Rhiana’s parents, had three grown children, but she had been their only daughter. People always pointed out statistics like those. If they’d had another daughter, would Rhiana’s death have been easier? Of course not.

The door opened, and Mrs. Pettie stared at them as if she’d forgotten they were coming.

“Mrs. Pettie, I’m Amber Roberts. We spoke about an hour ago. You said my associate Sean Douglas and I could come by to speak with you about Rhiana.”

She nodded and opened the door wider. “You look different than you do on television.”

Amber relaxed a little as she crossed the threshold. “Most people say I look much taller on TV.”

Pettie managed a faint smile. “I think they’re right. You do look taller on-screen.”

Rhiana’s mother went through the usual steps, offering refreshments, which they both declined, and steering them toward the sofa. Pettie was tall like Rhiana. Her blond hair was more gray now than blond, but the resemblance to her daughter was unmistakable. Amber had inherited her red hair and green eyes from her mother. Barb, on the other hand, had inherited their father’s rich brown hair and dark eyes. People who didn’t know them rarely believed they were sisters.

“The police told me they may have found the man who took her from us.”

Amber nodded. “Yes. I hope the BPD can confirm those suspicions soon. I’m certain they’ll contact you again as soon as they do.”

Pettie’s brow furrowed into a frown. “Are you reporting on the investigation?”

Amber glanced at Sean. This was where things got a little muddled and a whole lot sticky.

“Mrs. Pettie,” Sean answered for her, “the police have reason to believe Amber was the next victim on the killer’s list. As you can imagine, she’s anxious to help solve the case.”

“Is that why they thought you killed him?”

Amber hoped that debacle wasn’t going to follow her forever. “I was and still am a person of interest in the case, but the police have cleared me of any suspicion related to his murder.” It felt really good to be able to say those words.

“Can you tell us about the last few days before your daughter went missing?” Sean asked. “Had she met anyone new? Was she working on a new case at the firm?”

Amber flinched. He’d gone straight to the point rather than easing into the hard questions.

“The police already asked questions about those days,” Pettie said, her gaze drifting to the floor. “After she first went missing and then again yesterday.”

“Sometimes it helps to have new eyes and ears on a case. That’s why we’re here,” he explained gently.

Pettie cleared her throat. “Rhiana was a hard worker,” she said softly. “She put in a lot of long hours. I cleaned her apartment for her every couple of weeks.” She smiled. “I didn’t mind. Anytime she was home in the evenings she had dinner with her father and me. I think that’s what I miss most...doing things for her. I loved hearing about her day. She would share the details she could, and it was always so exciting.”

The loss she felt thickened in the room. It was moments like this when Amber wondered how on earth anyone could bear to have a child. How did a parent survive losing a child?
Keep your attention on the goal—finding this bastard.

Amber braced for a no. “Can we see her apartment?”

Pettie hesitated, but then she stood. “I’ve left it just as it was. ’Course, the police went through her room twice, but otherwise it’s exactly the way she left it.”

“We’ll be very careful,” Sean promised.

“Follow me,” Pettie offered.

There was something immensely comforting about Sean’s hand at the small of her back as Amber followed Pettie up the exterior stairs that led to the apartment over the garage. She unlocked the door and stood back for them to enter first.

Rhiana had a large space that included a small bathroom and kitchenette. It was roomier than Amber’s first apartment out of college. She’d refused the offer to move back in with her parents. The tiny apartment had been her only option.

The pajamas Rhiana had slept in the night before she disappeared were on the unmade bed. The bowl and coffee mug she’d used that morning were in the sink. A large bouquet of dead flowers sat on the coffee table in front of the small sofa. Amber leaned down for a closer inspection. Roses...red ones, she suspected, though they had turned black, many of the petals falling to the table.

“She was excited about the flowers,” Pettie said. “She thought the junior partner she’d been smitten with for a year had finally noticed her.” Her face fell. “When he was questioned, he told the police he didn’t send them.”

“Were they delivered here or at her office?” Sean asked.

“Her office. She brought them home with her the same day she received them. She was so excited,” Pettie repeated.

Amber’s heart ached for her. “Was there a card?” She searched the area around the bouquet.

The older lady wrung her hands in front of her. “There was, but as far as I know the police never found it.”

Rhiana had gone missing Valentine’s Day, eight months ago. The chances of finding the card now were slim to none. Amber straightened. “Did someone from the firm send home the personal items from Rhiana’s office?”

Amber felt certain they would have cleared out the office reasonably soon after the body was found. The law firm where Rhiana had worked was a busy one; up-and-coming attorneys and paralegals were essential to the fast-paced operation of the firm. Office space was no doubt a premium.

“One of her colleagues packed everything in boxes, and Rhiana’s father brought them home.” She sighed. “At the time I wasn’t up to facing people. I think he put the boxes in the garage. That’s usually where he puts everything.” She glanced around the room. “I meant to bring them up here, but I...I never got around to it. We can go down and look for them if you’d like.”

Amber and Sean followed Pettie down to the garage. Sean pulled the two boxes from the top shelf where Mr. Pettie had stored them.

“May we have a look inside?” Sean asked.

Pettie nodded. “Are you looking for the card that came with the flowers? I think the police went through her office and didn’t find it.”

“We know new details now,” Amber offered. “Perhaps something else we find will mean more than it would have all those months ago.”

Sean opened first one box, and then the other. Rather than being sealed with tape, each had been closed by folding the flaps one over the other. Careful with the items that had likely decorated Rhiana’s office, Amber emptied the first box. Sean glanced at her, and she shook her head. Nothing potentially useful to the case.

Amber’s hopes plummeted as the second box provided nothing relevant to the case, either. The last item in the box was a stack of business cards bound together with a rubber band. She might as well verify that the card wasn’t among them. As she reached the final three, her fingers stilled. Holding one of the cards by the edges, she turned it for Sean to see.
Thrasher Floral.

It wasn’t the warning Amber had received, but it showed a connection to the same floral shop. The police couldn’t have recognized the connection when Rhiana went missing.

“Mrs. Pettie, do you have a plastic bag we could put this in?” Sean asked before Amber had the presence of mind to do so.

The lady nodded and hurried into the house.

“We need to see Kimberly McCorkle’s home.” Anticipation seared through Amber’s veins. They were on to something here. “If we can find even the smallest connection to the floral shop, we’ll have something to take to Lieutenant Harper.”

“We should call him first,” Sean countered. “This is evidence.”

Sean was a former cop. Amber understood his desire to be a team player—particularly since the cops involved were his friends. Unfortunately there wasn’t time. A murderer—possibly a serial killer—was out there, and it was more than probable that he still intended to make Amber his next victim. Not to mention there were two families who desperately needed answers sooner rather than later.

Amber made up her mind. “We can call him after we see Kimberly’s house.”

Sean would have argued, but Mrs. Pettie returned with a sandwich baggie.

The memory of their rush to the emergency room when Amber had been poisoned surged to the front of her mind. She had to see this through. Now.

Beckham Drive, 12:45 p.m.

S
EAN
WAS
SURPRISED
when McCorkle agreed to meet them at her daughter’s home without asking the first question. He parked in front of the small house near the popular Five Points district. The cottage had been a present to Kimberly from her parents when she graduated from college. Like Rhiana Pettie’s apartment, the house had been closed and left just as it was the day their daughter walked out the last time—except for the official BPD investigation.

He didn’t like doing this. Despite his misgivings, he climbed out and went around to the passenger side as Amber emerged. “You know Lieutenant Harper will be ticked off,” he reminded her for the third time. He had no desire to step on the toes of the BPD’s finest. Jess would not be happy, either. But Amber was the client. Wasn’t it his job to keep the client safe
and
happy?
Damn.

“We will call him as soon as we’re done here,” Amber repeated the same response she’d given him last time he’d raised the issue.

He exhaled a big breath and followed her up the walk to the front door. McCorkle was waiting just inside. She opened the door wider as they approached.

“I was surprised when you called me again so soon.” The older lady looked hopefully at Amber. “Does this mean new evidence has been found?”

Amber smiled. Sean should have looked away, but he didn’t. Her smile was part of what had landed her in the television business, in his opinion. When she smiled, everything else faded into insignificance. She was genuinely beautiful.

No going there, pal.
He’d spent plenty of time admiring her physical attributes before they even met. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d gone way past the admiration stage. He had to put the brakes on for now. Maybe when this assignment was finished...

Had he just made a plan to pursue something beyond work?

“We’re hoping to find a connection no one knew about before,” Amber explained as she glanced around the cramped living room.

Her words dragged Sean back to the here and now.

Like Rhiana Pettie’s house, there was no security system, Sean noted. A small sofa and cocktail table were overpowered by a massive drawing desk and light. One wall was covered with bookshelves, but rather than filled with books, the shelves were stacked with rolls of architectural drawings. The shelves were labeled alphabetically.

No flowers in the living room.

“May we see the rest of the house?” Amber asked, her anticipation showing.

“Oh, sure.” McCorkle gestured to the far side of the room. “The hall leads to the two bedrooms and a bathroom. The kitchen is that way.” She indicated the doorway to the right. “The police moved things around a bit, but otherwise it’s all just like she left it that last morning before she went to work.”

A narrow pair of swinging doors separated the living room from the tiny kitchen. In the sink sat the vase of flowers. Adrenaline fired across Sean’s nerve endings. It was way past time to call the cops.

Amber leaned close and visually examined what was obviously an arrangement of dead roses. She turned to McCorkle. “Do you know when she received the flowers?”

The older woman nodded. “The day before...”

“Did she mention who they were from or if there was a card?”

McCorkle shook her head. “She didn’t. She only said that she was mad that he wouldn’t let go.”

Another blast of adrenaline nailed Sean. “Who did she mean? An old boyfriend?”

“Yes. They had broken up the month before, but he kept calling. The police interviewed him and eventually ruled him out. They said he had an airtight alibi.”

“What was the ex-boyfriend’s name?” Amber asked.

“Quentin Yates. He works for another architectural firm in town.”

“Do you mind if we look around for a card?” Sean didn’t wait for Amber to ask. As mad as Harper would be, this could be a major break in the case.

“I’ll help you,” McCorkle offered.

Since the flowers were in the kitchen, that was the logical place to start. The evidence techs had taken the garbage to the lab. Sean figured if they’d found a card with a sinister note, they would have marked it as evidence. Since that wasn’t in any of the reports, he was going with the theory it hadn’t been found.