What's Done in Darkness (29 page)

“And you have no clue what he was going to tell you?”

Shawde shook her head.

A few beats passed. “You're not even sure what was going on with your brother and Katrina. And you assume that she tampered with his car to kill him?”

“It's the only thing that makes sense. I've talked to some people from UB, and I'm even more convinced. Katrina and my brother weren't just having a relationship spat. When I talked to him, he sounded … conflicted. Scared, even. Something big was going on. That's why he was heading home. To talk to me and my family about it. And I know my brother. He would never get into a car with faulty brakes.”

I felt for her. I did. Losing someone—and so suddenly and horrifically—was no doubt crushing. It left a person needing to place blame, to find a reason for the inexplicable.

Melody was obviously doing the same thing.

“You don't believe me,” Shawde said, “but before you dismiss me, there's more you need to hear.”

I met her gaze. “Go on.”

“I think Katrina is also behind the deaths of her parents.”

The proclamation left me speechless for several seconds. And not because I believed it to be some sort of bombshell. But because it was the kind of statement that pushed Shawde's theory into the realm of the unbelievable. She was blinded by grief, finding sinister motives in tragic accidents.

“I'm sorry,” I said, shaking my head with disbelief. “Her parents? Now that's just crazy.”

“It is. That's exactly what I'm saying. Katrina is crazy.”

I refrained from making the obvious correction … that Katrina wasn't the one who was crazy. Instead, I pushed my chair back and stood. “I think I've heard enough.”

“Sit,” Shawde commanded.

Perhaps it was the unexpectedly stern tone in her voice, but I found myself obeying her. I sat back down, saying, “Look, I don't understand why you're telling me any of this. You think Katrina killed your brother, her parents, Christian.… Even if she did, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“For five years I've been waiting for Katrina to slip up, make another mistake so that I can get justice for my brother. I think she just did.”

I stared at Shawde, not sure what to say. I wasn't entirely convinced. But I could tell that she was entirely convinced that she was right.

“How?” I asked, sounding exasperated. “I already told you, I was with her. She was with me at the club. She didn't kill Christian.” And I seriously doubted that she had killed Shawde's brother. Especially if the police didn't even buy the story.

“If she didn't hold the knife herself, then she got someone else to slit that poor man's neck.”

It was the same thing Melody had said, and my body flinched at the allegation. But that's all it was. An allegation. And yet I could suddenly see the possibility of it. Why would Katrina ram her tongue down a stranger's throat?

Unless …

No,
I told myself.
It isn't possible.
“I wasn't lying when I told you that I was with Katrina in the bar. The guy she was with—her boyfriend—they'd had a fight and he left. Katrina and I were in the bar for the rest of the evening until we went back to the hotel. I know that because I watched a lot of her bad behavior. Lots of flirting and drinking, and some other inappropriate stuff that doesn't matter. The point is, at the time that Christian was being killed, she was with me. We left and went back to the hotel together. She couldn't have killed him.”

“I heard the guy was her husband, not her boyfriend. That she married him last week.”

I swallowed. “Yes. That's something I found out later. After his death. His sister told me.”

“So when you went to Mexico with them, you thought that Christian was her boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“So Katrina obviously lied about that.”

“She said that she didn't want to tell me. She thought it would look bad. Because they had a rocky relationship. She figured I would judge her for marrying him. They hadn't known each other all that long.”

Shawde scoffed. “Right. More likely, she wanted you along for their honeymoon … so you could be her alibi. Nobody brings a third person with them on their honeymoon. Nobody.”

I swallowed. I thought of Melody's adamant stance that Katrina had killed Christian and Sergeant Ramirez's own questions.
Oh God … could Katrina really have planned something like this?

I shook my head. No, the idea was ludicrous. Wasn't it?

“Katrina told me her parents died in a carbon-monoxide accident in their home,” I said, hoping that if I debunked the allegation that Katrina had killed her parents Shawde would realize that the story she was spinning was coming from a place of grief.

“Right after Katrina was in town. Did she tell you that part—or conveniently leave it out? She left town the morning her parents died. One minute she's there; the next they're leaving a car on in the garage? You know she inherited a fortune after they died?”

“They wouldn't be the first people to leave their car running in the garage.” Though my voice quavered. I hadn't known all of the details, and I had to admit that Katrina having been there didn't bode well.

“Katrina's a very clever killer.”

“So you say. How can you know any of this?”

“Because I've been waiting for her to slip up for five and a half years. I've paid attention to everything she does.”

Silence fell between us. After a long moment, Shawde said, “I can see you're finally getting it. You're finally seeing the big picture.”

“I'm seeing the picture you're painting, but who's to say you're right? You're spinning events and facts to make it look like Katrina's a killer. But if you're right, how could every cop be so blind?”

“People get away with murder, Jade. It happens.”

I exhaled sharply. “Even if you want me to help you, I wouldn't have the first clue how.”

“Gordon told me that he'd seen you go upstairs at the shop. You're living with Katrina, right?”

I gave Shawde a look of dismay. I still couldn't believe she'd had someone watching us. “How long has Gordon been spying on us?”

“For a while. After I learned she opened up shop here, I knew it would only be a matter of time before something tragic happened. She's a psychopath.” Shawde paused. “You
are
living with her?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you're in the best position to find evidence about what she's done.”

“Evidence?” I shot back, incredulous. “How?”

“I've studied serial killers over the past five years. I think … I think it's likely that Katrina has kept trinkets from her victims.”

“Oh my God,” I uttered. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Or maybe a journal. With every kill she gets away with, she feels more and more invincible.”

I stared at Shawde, wondering for a moment if I was having some weird out-of-body experience. Surely this wasn't really happening.

“You may not be crazy, but you're deluded by grief.”

“Grief?” Shawde countered, and I could detect anger in her tone. “You think my fight for justice is about grief? My God, do you know what it's cost me?” Her jaw flinched. “More than you can imagine. And I assure you that I have not put my personal relationships on the back burner for five years simply because I'm sad over losing my brother.”

Things were becoming clearer now. She'd probably lost her husband—or perhaps fiancé—over her quest. “What you want, I can't be a part of it. You want me to spy on Katrina?” I shook my head. “Your brother died, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm not convinced it was murder. And neither are the cops.” I pushed my chair back.

“Please,” Shawde said, “don't leave.”

I stepped away from the table. “Whatever your issues are, you're on your own. I don't want to be involved.”

“Jade.”

“Don't contact me again,” I added over my shoulder.

“Ask yourself, where's Gordon?” Shawde said, and I halted. “Suddenly he's nowhere to be found. I thought he was in Mexico following you guys, but I still haven't heard from him. And by your own admission, the last time you saw him he was talking to Katrina.”

The implication was clear. That Gordon had met with foul play at Katrina's hands.

“Watch your back, Jade. Katrina's dangerous.”

I resumed walking, hurrying out of the restaurant, hoping that I would never hear from Shawde again.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

My pulse didn't stop racing after I left Shawde, not even during my long walk back to the shop.

The story Shawde spun was incredible. She made Katrina sound like a cold-blooded serial killer. One who had killed her college boyfriend and now Christian. Heck, Shawde alleged that Katrina had even murdered her parents.

That was where Shawde lost me, for good. Even if I'd been able to suspend my disbelief and see Katrina as some sort of black widow, I couldn't believe that a person would kill her parents. Not without being seriously evil.

I hadn't seen that kind of evil in the weeks I'd spent with Katrina. And even if that wasn't long enough to truly know someone, my sister had known Katrina for years. I might not always get along with Marie, but there was no way she'd ever send me down here to be with someone who had a dangerous side.

But Katrina was in your room. Was she the one who sent those nasty messages to Wesley and Michelle?

I halted on the sidewalk, my stomach knotting as I remembered the feeling of fear when Katrina had woken me in the middle of the night. She'd been desperate to convince me to go to Mexico with her and Christian.

Had I been a critical part of her plan?

Stumbling over to a nearby light pole, I placed a hand on it to steady myself. Then I drew in a few deep breaths and tried to regain my composure. How could I believe that I'd been living with a killer? Coincidence wasn't proof.

The police hadn't found any evidence to connect Katrina to Shemar's accident, and Katrina had been in the bar with me when Christian had been murdered. And as for her parents, when Katrina had told me about their deaths I'd felt her grief. She hadn't been faking it.

I knew firsthand how awful it was to lose not one parent, but two. No one would kill their parents. At least not loving, caring parents. And that was how Katrina had described hers.

“Miss, are you okay?”

I looked over my shoulder, saw a tall woman regarding me with concern. Easing off of the light pole, I forced a smile. “I'm fine. Just hot.”

The woman nodded and continued on her way. Then I did the same. Despite the heat of the day, I shuddered as I neared the café. Christian's murder and now Shawde's allegations … All of it was surreal. I felt as though I'd been thrown into an alternate universe, one where nothing made sense.

The only thing I was certain of as I went to the café's back door was that grief could cripple a person. And Shawde was clearly crippled. She'd been devastated by her brother's death and hadn't been able to move on for years. It wasn't surprising that she'd conjured a story where Katrina was the villain. It was a place for Shawde to focus her attention and energy because she simply hadn't been able to make sense of the loss of her brother.

I opened the door and entered, finding the lights off and the place quiet. I had contemplated telling Katrina about my meeting with Shawde as I'd walked home but decided against it. Katrina was dealing with enough. She didn't need to hear that someone from her past was accusing her of murder.

*   *   *

Upstairs, it was also dark and quiet. Katrina still wasn't home?

And then I heard a sound. Was that …
laughter
?

I moved forward slowly, putting each foot in front of the other as quietly as possible. Yes, Katrina was here. In her bedroom.

Another sound. Words I couldn't make out, followed by more laughter.

I made a face. Not that she had to be curled up in bed crying, but the laughter struck me as odd. After everything that had happened, I wasn't sure I'd be able to smile for weeks.

I crept closer.

“… well, what can you do?”

Was she talking about Christian's death?

“… police in Mexico, do they ever solve any crimes?”

She didn't sound frustrated or even worried. But perhaps … sarcastic?

I was at her door now and took a step closer. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and I cringed just as Katrina whipped her head in my direction. The smile that was on her face instantly went flat, and she looked at me with an accusing, angry glare.

“Um, hi.” I raised a hand in a wave and smiled, hoping that she would think I had just gotten home and was checking on her. Rather than the truth that I was eavesdropping.

Into the phone, she said, “I'll have to call you back. Touch base with me about what we said.”

“You're home,” I said uneasily.

Katrina tossed her cell phone onto the bed, then got to her feet. “How long have you been standing there?”

I didn't answer right away. I didn't want to seem on edge. So I drew in a slow breath and replied, “I just got back. I heard your voice so I figured I'd say hi.”

“Where were you?”

“I got up, you weren't here. So I decided to walk around Key West. Explore. You know, do something relaxing to ease my mind after all the stress we've been through.” My voice ended on an uneasy note, but I hoped she wouldn't suspect that I was lying.

“I see.”

“And where were you?” I asked. “You left early.”

“I—” She stopped abruptly, and then her face seemed to crumble. And whether it was the conversation I'd had with Shawde or my own intuition, I suddenly thought that the action looked insincere.