Everywhere She Turns (30 page)

She paused at the newel post, surveying the sweeping stairs
as if for the first time. Imported, piece by piece, from Italy. Every brick, every stone, every timber and finish piece of the prestigious residence was a work of art.

But her favorite room was the library. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books. Decorated and furnished like a den or study, complete with fireplace. It was amazing. She and Edward shared the love of books.

She climbed the stairs and found the guest room she always used when visiting Edward. She set her glass on the bedside table and ventured to the chair by the window where three—no, four—bags waited. Slacks, blouses, sandals, even underthings. All in her size and in her preferred colors. The price tags had been removed, but the designer labels told her he had spared no expense. She fingered the delicate lacy panties. Exactly the styles she loved. She would have to thank him again in the morning.

For now, the wine was calling. She climbed amid the mountain of pillows on the massive four-poster bed. It felt so good. Safe and quiet. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed the silence until just now.

Her phone vibrated, reminding her that she had a voice mail. She should see what Cost wanted. Not that he likely had anything important to say. There was always the possibility that he’d remembered or heard something about Shelley. Only one way to find out.

He didn’t mention what he wanted, only that she should call him. Very clever. Now she had no choice. She couldn’t totally ignore contact from anyone who had known her sister.

Her fingers entered the necessary keys, then reached for her wine. He answered on the first ring.

“Carter, it’s CJ.” He asked about the autopsy. She filled him in on what she had learned from the autopsy report. He, too, was puzzled by the lab results versus what the ME had found. He agreed with CJ that labs made mistakes at times.

Then the real motive behind his call became apparent. He wanted CJ to have dinner with him tomorrow night. This was the third time he’d asked. Maybe he was hoping it would be the charm. He claimed this would be a business dinner to discuss her continued work at the clinic. She knew better.

Same old Carter.

“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I already have plans.” With Tyrone Nash, if she was lucky. “Of course I’m committed to helping at the clinic for a while longer.” Why was he suddenly worried about her rushing back to Baltimore? “Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I won’t leave you or Juanita high and dry.” He made one last attempt to entice her into saying yes to dinner. She declined once more and ended the call. She stared at the phone and shook her head.

Funny, she never would have imagined that she would be working with those two
ever
, in any capacity.

Then again, she wouldn’t have imagined her sister being murdered, either.

Pain tightened her chest.

Damn it. She missed that crazy girl.

As long as she was involved in the investigation, she didn’t dwell on her sister’s death.

Maybe that was the reason she couldn’t let it go.

To put it behind her meant that Shelley would no longer be a part of her life. She sipped her wine, considered that thought.

She would go back to Baltimore and there would be no reason to come back here. To be a part of her past.

Not once in her life had she ever missed this life or her past. Now it felt as if leaving it behind would close the book on her sister.

And Braddock.

She hugged her knees to her chest. She’d had one lover before now. That jerk Carter Cost back in college. That was the only time she’d let herself have a physical relationship. Between what she’d witnessed growing up with her mother and all that Shelley had gone through, CJ hadn’t wanted a physical relationship. She’d steered clear of men beyond the platonic level. Beyond that one dumb slip in college, Braddock was the first man she’d wanted to know . . . to be with.

Maybe that was part of the reason that thing between him and Shelley had thrown her for such a loop. She understood that she had possibly overreacted. But he had to understand that the kind of trust it took to give her body to a man was difficult for her. She
was damaged goods. Who wouldn’t be after what she’d lived through?

But she’d had no trouble the other night. She downed the last of her wine, savored the exquisite flavor.

She shivered when she thought of how it had felt to have him inside her. Her eyes closed and she let the sensations flow over her. She loved touching him. His skin was so hot, his muscles so lean and firm. She’d definitely never experienced an orgasm like the ones he’d given her.

Okay. She had to stop. She set the empty glass on the table and burrowed into those fabulous pillows. What she needed was sleep.

Her brain refused to cooperate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Braddock. What he’d gone through losing his niece.

He and CJ were both pretty much in the same boat.

Some foolish part of her still wanted to be angry with him for allowing that single moment with Shelley. But she was learning damned fast that life was too short.

There was no promise of tomorrow. A smart woman would start living today.

She had learned a lot these past few days. As a kid, things had been different. Life in the village had been about staying out of her parents’ way and playing games in the street. She was only just beginning to understand the intensity of that life as an adult. Of being a part of the village the way Shelley had been. Of investigating heinous crimes day in and day out the way Braddock did. Getting caught up in a moment—in the struggle for survival—wasn’t so hard to understand.

She needed to put the past behind her. Whatever happened between her and Braddock from this point forward didn’t need to be about the past.

CJ had to remember that when this was over, she still had a future. So did Braddock.

Whether the two would intersect was yet to be seen.

Her eyes drifted shut with the wine’s coaxing.

Tomorrow maybe she would figure this all out.

She really didn’t want to die trying.

Ditto Landing, 10:30
PM

Carter watched the headlights go black.

His heart rate bumped up a notch.

He surveyed the dark, wooded park around him. As he’d turned from the parkway onto Hobbs Road, he’d been nearly certain he was being followed. But when he’d taken the first entrance into the park, the other car had continued on.

This whole cloak-and-dagger shit was just too fucking much.

Carter stared at the Escalade a few yards in front of him. No one had gotten out. Carter damned sure wasn’t getting out first.

What the hell did this scumbag want now?

Carter needed that video. He didn’t have to ask what was on it. He remembered every goddamned detail of that night in gut-wrenching detail.

The argument he’d had with Shelley, the things he’d said . . . they were motive. He didn’t need a lawyer or a cop to tell him; he knew perfectly well. According to CJ, the police didn’t have a damned clue who had killed Shelley.

If Carter was lucky, it would stay that way.

The whore was dead.

End of story.

And Lusk. When he found that bitch he was going to get the truth out of her one way or another.

The autopsy had determined that Shelley had not been pregnant. He had agreed with CJ that labs did occasionally make mistakes.

But not with his goddamned life!

Someone was going to pay for that mistake.

Starting with Lusk.

If he found out she’d had anything to do with this screw-up, she would so regret it.

His hands shook. He reached for another Vicodin. Swallowed it dry. This was bullshit.

One of Nash’s bodyguards approached Carter’s car.

Stay cool
.

He powered the window down and looked up at the man.

“The King says join him in his car.”

The King. Carter gritted his teeth. “Fine.” Deep breath and he climbed out. He followed the goon to Nash’s car. The rear passenger door opened and Carter peered inside.

“Get in. Close the door.” Tyrone Nash reclined in the leather seat, a Black & Mild in his right hand contaminating the air inside the SUV.

“What do you want, Nash?”

The goon who’d knocked on his window moved in behind Carter. “He said get in.”

Fury broiling, Carter climbed into the seat and closed the door. A front interior light remained lit, preventing total darkness.

“Did you decide what your future is worth?” Nash asked.

Carter thought about the question. His fury dissolved into amusement. He was going to enjoy this. “Funny thing about that, Nash.” He turned to the black bastard. Lowlifes like Nash made him long for the days of slavery again. “According to the autopsy report, Shelley wasn’t pregnant.” He let the amusement slide across his lips. “So, you see, that video you have is no longer relevant.”

Nash took a long drag from his Black & Mild. “When did you get this news flash?”

“Just a few hours ago.” Carter relaxed, enjoying the upper
hand Nash couldn’t possibly deny. “I considered calling you, but I didn’t want to waste my time.”

Nash chuckled. “You hear that, boys? The man didn’t want to waste his time.”

The two goons seated up front burst into laughter.

The laughter abruptly stopped and dead silence reigned for about ten seconds.

“What you fail to comprehend,
Dr
. Cost,” Nash countered, “is that at the time the video was made you thought Shelley was pregnant. You reacted based on that concept. Just because you found out she wasn’t pregnant after you killed her—”

Carter tensed. “Who said I killed her?”

“Don’t matter who said what.” Nash shook his head. “Uh uh. That don’t matter one bit. What matters is what you thought the night she was murdered. What you think or know now don’t mean shit.”

Carter couldn’t breathe. His heart rammed mercilessly against his sternum. “What do you want, Nash?” He’d asked him that twice already. Why didn’t the son of a bitch just answer the fucking question?

“What I want is simple,” Nash said. “About a quarter mil ought to convince me to part with that video.” He took another puff of his cigar. “Maybe we better add another fifty thou for the sentimental value. Shelley was my favorite ho, you know.”

“Three hundred thousand.” Carter felt his insides twisting into screaming knots. “I . . . I can do that.” His mind raced with the hoops he’d have to jump through to pull together that kind of cash. But he had to do it. He couldn’t risk that video getting out.

“Why don’t I give you a couple days to come up with the money,” Nash offered, “then we’ll talk again? Course, unless you think it might be a waste of your valuable time.”

“How . . .” Carter scrambled to think clearly. “How can I be sure you won’t make a copy of the video? You could keep blackmailing me—”

“Blackmail?” Nash reared his head back and guffawed. “This is a business transaction. What you talking about
blackmail
?”

Carter blinked. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“You pay me,” Nash said, “I give you the only copy of the video. A simple business transaction.” Nash leaned in close. “Then you never have to see my pretty face again.”

Carter couldn’t help himself. He stared at the scar on the man’s cheek, flinched when Nash reached up and traced the scar.

“You see, if you’re smart, you can learn something from our business relationship. Never, ever let a bitch get you in a vulnerable position.” Nash turned his attention forward. “You’ll get fucked every time.”

Monte Sano

Saturday, August 7, 9:00
AM

“Why did you bring me here?”

Braddock surveyed the rustic setting, then looked across the top of his G6 at his passenger. “I rented this cabin so we could talk without any distractions.” The state park’s campgrounds and cabins were no more than half an hour from Huntsville proper, but there was nothing else this deep in the woods atop Monte Sano.

He’d rented a cabin here a couple of times. Once just to get away for the weekend; the other time so that he and Cooper could escape to brainstorm on a particularly puzzling case.

Escape was the other reason Braddock had made the decision to come here. He had allowed his need for vengeance to override his logic twice now. Shelley Patterson was dead for that reason. Now CJ was going down that same path. Both had made that decision of their own accord. He’d gone along with Shelley out of sheer desperation. But he couldn’t let CJ do this.

He’d suspected she wasn’t going to wait for him. If she’d gotten away before he’d arrived at Abbott’s this morning . . .

He couldn’t let that happen.