He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not (14 page)

“You’re staying at Logan’s house,” Pierce’s voice called out from the entryway, announcing his return. He strode across the room and stood beside Logan. “Only a handful of people know he owns that property. It’s not even in his name. It’s listed under a real estate investment company he set up. I’ve already made the arrangements. All you have to do is pack a suitcase.”

“Wait, wait. I’m confused,” Amanda said. “What are you telling me? That I’m staying at the chief of police’s house? That’s . . . unusual, isn’t it?”

“Ms. Stockton,” Riley said, drawing her attention. “It might be unusual but it’s an excellent alternative. Most of the department still thinks the chief lives in town in an apartment, but he loaned that out to the FBI and moved outside of town when this case started.”

“A police officer would stay with you during the day,” Pierce said. “Logan would be there at night. You’d have ‘round-the-clock protection in a secure location. Close enough that you can continue to assist with the investigation. But perfectly safe.”

“I guess it makes sense,” she allowed, watching Logan carefully. He’d remained silent during the entire exchange, watching her with a solemn expression on his face. “But I don’t think Logan wants me there.”

His mouth tightened. “I want you safe. That’s what I want.”

“What’s the problem then? Wouldn’t I be safe at your house?”

One of his brows arched up, as if she’d asked a ridiculous question. “Of course you’d be safe.”

“Good, it’s settled.” Pierce said. “We have two unmarked cars waiting on the street behind your house to escort you to Logan’s house. A female officer is on her way here to act as a decoy for the press out front.”

In spite of her decision to be brave, panic filled her at the thought of leaving her sanctuary. “I didn’t say I would go to Logan’s house.”

Logan’s expression softened and his eyes filled with concern. He reached out and took her hands again, oblivious of the two men watching. “I think having a witness living at the chief of police’s house is a conflict of interest. I need to concentrate on solving the case and I’m worried my attention will be divided.”

She started to interrupt but he squeezed her hands to let her know he wasn’t finished.

“For now, though, if you’re determined to stay in Shadow Falls, then staying at my house is the best alternative.”

She noticed the tension in the tiny lines at the edges of his eyes for the first time. Riley looked agitated too. It dawned on her that what they’d been arguing about earlier had nothing to do with the decision about where she should stay. “There’s something else, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, as if carefully weighing his words before he spoke. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“What? Tell me.”

“There’s been another murder.”

F
rank Branson didn’t mingle with the reporters in front of Amanda Stockton’s house. He remembered some of them from four years ago, and he was afraid they might remember him. Drawing attention to himself was not part of the plan.

The overgrown shrubs on the property next-door gave him the perfect vantage point. Hiding beneath the bushes, he could see both Amanda’s side door that opened onto the carport, and the sliding glass doors in the back. When the press got tired of their vigil out front, and the cops thinned out, he’d pay the Stockton bitch a visit.

Two hours later he was stiff and sore, he’d drained the last of his six-pack, and he really needed to take a piss. He stumbled through the bushes, away from the cops and reporters, and relieved himself behind the neighbor’s house.

Later. He’d come back later, maybe tomorrow, or the next day, when there weren’t so many people around.

F
or the second time in less than a week, crime scene tape cordoned off a section of the park and a young woman’s body lay broken and discarded among the pine needles. Detectives walked the grid, shoving evidence markers into the ground, and Dr. Cassie Markham processed the body.

Logan approached the tape, Pierce at his side. They’d both stayed behind at Amanda’s to ensure the decoy worked. Riley had gone ahead to the crime scene and now hurried over to give them his assessment. His constant FBI shadow was there, too—only Riley thought the man was there to assist him. Instead, he was there to keep an eye on Riley.

“What are we looking at here?” Logan asked as he ducked under the tape.

“The vic has short blonde hair, hazel eyes. She was killed here, not killed somewhere else and dumped. The only similarities between her and O’Donnell are that both bodies were found in the park and both vics were holding a red rose.”

“What about the thorns? Was the stem stripped?” Logan held a low-hanging pine branch up for the other two men to walk beneath.

“No,” Riley said. “It had all its thorns.”

“COD?” Pierce asked.

“Gunshot wound. One bullet through the chest, close range. The perp tried to mask the bullet wound by stabbing her post-mortem.”

“Copycat,” Logan said.

“Yep,” Riley agreed. “Not a very good one either.”

Logan frowned. Had Riley’s voice sounded boastful? Or was he just imagining that slight inflection? “Did the vic have a boyfriend?”

“Husband. Detective Reid is interviewing him at the station. No alibi, fidgety, not too broken up about his wife’s tragic death. Reid’s sure he’ll crack soon.”

Logan sighed in relief that another woman hadn’t been brutally tortured like Carolyn O’Donnell, although if she had, it would have been quick proof of Riley’s innocence. He’d been under surveillance since leaving the boxcar scene earlier today.

But regardless of whether this woman was killed by a stranger or by a supposed loved one, she deserved the same professionalism and attention to detail the O’Donnell case was getting.

He glanced at the lights his officers had rigged. “We’ll need more lights, better lights, to comb a scene like this at night.” Six months as chief of police hadn’t given him enough time to squeeze city hall for a better budget and better equipment.

“Already on it,” Riley said. “Department of Transportation is bringing some lights. They might have to halt construction somewhere for one night, but they didn’t give me any grief over it.”

“Good thinking. Let’s get those reporters further back. I don’t want any shots of the vic on the evening news.”

“You got it.” Riley headed toward the reporters lining the street in front of the park’s main entrance.

Logan mentally prepared himself for the gruesome scene.

“Ready?” Pierce asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Eight

A
manda bolted upright in bed, panic shooting through her at the unfamiliar furnishings in the room, the unfamiliar smells wafting in from the hallway. Was that coffee? She didn’t drink coffee. Wait, last night, the reporters. She’d had to leave her house.

Officer Karen Bingham and two FBI agents had escorted her here last night, to Logan’s house, in unmarked cars. Karen was an old family friend and had been in Logan’s house before. She knew where everything was and had insisted on settling Amanda into the master suite.

In Logan’s bed.

If Logan came home last night, Amanda hadn’t heard him, and she didn’t know which of the other bedrooms he’d slept in.

She lingered on the massive four-poster bed, smoothing her fingers across the luxurious, mocha-brown comforter, enjoying the faint scent of soap and aftershave that clung to the silky, rich fabric. The room was decorated in muted golds and browns, entirely masculine, like its owner.

A glance at the bedside clock told her it was half past seven, an obscenely early hour for her, but she imagined the local police chief would leave for work soon, if he hadn’t already. The ominous words he’d spoken to her last night ran through her head,
there’s been another murder
.

She threw the covers back and hopped out of bed, heading toward the master bath. Hopefully she could still catch Logan before he left, so he could tell her what had happened. After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of shorts and a teal blue t-shirt from the suitcase she’d packed last night, and headed downstairs.

She automatically started to pull her hair forward, but Logan’s admonitions to stop worrying about her scar echoed through her mind. If he didn’t mind her scar, she’d try not to mind either. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and hurried down the last few steps. Turning toward her right, she followed the smell of coffee to the back of the house where she and Karen had entered last night into an informal eating area next to the kitchen.

To her disappointment, Logan wasn’t there. Karen was. She was sitting at the round, mahogany table in front of the French doors that led onto the back deck. Amanda remembered there was a matching porch on the front of the old Victorian, but she’d noticed little else last night because the agents had rushed her inside.

“Good morning,” Karen greeted her as she lowered a coffee mug and a copy of the
Shadow Falls Journal
. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I did tell you last night I’d be here today, didn’t I?”

Amanda pulled some of her hair forward. “You didn’t startle me. I’d hoped Logan was still here though. Seems kind of early in the morning for you to start babysitting duty.”

Karen laughed, the deep-seated lines crinkling around her eyes. “Babysitting huh? I guess you’re not too thrilled about this arrangement.”

“Nothing personal. I’m used to being alone.”

“Some fresh coffee will make you feel better. Always works for me.” Karen pushed back from the table and went around the black granite bar into the kitchen. “How do you take it?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not a coffee drinker.”

Karen’s brows raised in surprise, as if someone not drinking coffee was a mortal sin. “Water? Soda?”

“Soda would be great. Thanks.”

“Coming right up.” Karen opened the refrigerator. She came back carrying a can of Dr. Pepper, which she set on the table in front of Amanda. “Is that okay?”

Amanda blinked, surprised Logan had her favorite drink on hand. “That’s perfect, actually. Thanks.” She sat down at the table.

Karen didn’t sit. Instead, she took a long sip of coffee and picked up her newspaper. “I’m here to protect you, not babysit you. I’ll try to stay out of your way most of the time. Lord knows I have plenty of paperwork to catch up on. I’ve set my laptop up in the mother-in-law suite in the front of the house. Yell if you need me.”

“Wait.” Amanda softened her request with a smile. “I was wondering, about last night, do you know anything about . . . the murder?”

Karen shook her head. “Not really. By the time Logan got in, it was close to two in the morning. We were both too tired to talk shop. I ended up crashing in the mother-in-law suite instead of going home to Mike, my husband. Logan was gone before I got up.”

Amanda pulled the soda can towards her and ran her finger across the condensation. “Do you think Logan would mind if we called him?”

“I don’t see why not.” Karen’s brow crinkled with concern. “Are you worried about your safety? I assure you Logan’s got the best security system around. The entire perimeter of the yard has sensors and cameras. If anyone steps on the grass, we’ll know it. Besides,” she tapped the gun holstered on her belt, “this isn’t just for decoration.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Amanda hastened to reassure her. She was relieved to hear about the security system, but she was more concerned right now with the murder. She wanted, needed, to know what had happened. Had the same man who’d attacked her killed another woman? Just the possibility had anger pulsing through her. Had she waited too late to offer her help? Could she have prevented the murder? “I just need to talk to him.”

Karen shrugged. “Sure, I’ll call the station first and see where he is. I don’t want to call him if he’s interrogating someone and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Karen nodded and punched some buttons into her cell phone.

Amanda drummed her nails on the table.

The call ended quickly. “He’s not in the station. He’s out in the field, off Mill Cove Road on Black Lake. Not sure why. I’ll go ahead and call his cell.”