Chapter 8
One hour and a little more than one butterscotch schnapps later, Paul offered to give Lexie a ride home. Vikki lived in an apartment not far from their street, so they left her and Annie to their own devices. They’d been staggering around the kitchen in search of a snack when Paul and Lexie left.
“You know, we worry about you on your own all the way out here,” Paul said as he pulled the car into Lexie’s driveway. He appeared to be eyeing the surrounding woods with distaste. “I know this house means a lot to you, but it’s not safe—especially now.”
“You sound like Wade.” Lexie got busy digging around her bag for her keys. “It’s not that far out of town.”
“It is if you’re in trouble.”
At his scolding tone, she looked up. This was not something she wanted to discuss while intoxicated and about to walk into her dark and empty house.
“You do take precautions, don’t you?” he asked. “Alarm system? Security cameras?”
Lexie softened. “No, nothing like that,” she admitted. “But I’m careful. I lock the deadbolts and bar the windows. Anyway, it’s not like there’s a need for crazy security measures around here—at least there never used to be.”
“Yeah, well, I’d feel a lot better if you let me install something for you.”
Having built a successful career in tech, Paul was forever helping people out with their computers, television issues, phones, and now, apparently, home security.
She sighed. “Alright fine.” Then with a dramatic bow of her head, she said, “Do what you will.”
Paul smiled. “Smart ass.” He waited a beat before asking, “So, you and this Nico guy, huh?”
“Oh—no. Not really. I mean—maybe. I don’t know.”
“Sounds complicated.”
Lexie unclipped her seatbelt. “Thanks to you-know-who, it always is.” She opened her door and stepped out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
She stumbled through the front door while Paul watched—and probably laughed—from the car. He stayed put until she was safely locked inside. She waved through the foyer window as he drove away, then kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch.
Full of booze and self-pity, she pulled out Nico’s card.
What was wrong with her? It wasn’t so long ago that she’d sworn off men altogether after she learned the hard way that happy endings didn’t exist.
Fool me once . . .
Why, then—while she was still in the process of recovering mentally and emotionally from the last bout of violence and heartache—was she even entertaining the possibility of things with Nico becoming more?
She wasn’t.
Wouldn’t.
He was kind and funny, with an infectious zest and a cheekiness she couldn’t help but like. Masculine and virile, he also held an undeniable air of danger about him—but not to her; the feeling more akin to the self-assuredness of owning a well-trained dog who would tear trespassers to shreds yet still play gently with the children. And the feel of his body, warm and firm against hers, had branded itself onto her memory. She wanted to feel it again. Closing her eyes, she let out the smallest groan as she imagined what it might be like to wrap her legs around that muscled waist, to wake up to that sexy smile the next morning.
It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. She never got that far with Dalton and before him . . . well, she’d rather not remember too much of her time with Kyle. Like every other aspect of their relationship, he had been sweet enough in the beginning, but the more time went on, the less sweet he became. He’d never forced himself on her, but Lexie had spent far too many nights with him inside her feeling used, simply because it wasn’t worth the fight if she were to protest. She had let him disrespect her in so many ways, made excuses for his behavior, told herself time and time again that he didn’t mean the awful things he did and said. She felt like an idiot for losing so much of herself to such a man. She imagined things would feel different with Nico. Good. Easy. In her fantasy, he would be gentle. Attentive. He’d whisper sinful things in her ear, take care of her needs, and be just the right amount of alpha male to turn her inside out with lust.
Maybe Annie was right. Maybe it was time to take her life back and stop letting fear control her. Letting Kyle control her. The man was still telling people they were together, saying they were just going through a rough patch or whatever other garbage he could come up with as to why she no longer lived with him. Enough was enough. He—and everyone else in this town—needed to be set straight. Because Lexie Bowen would wear the Garrett brand no more.
Suddenly feeling all her inhibitions drain away, Lexie whipped out her phone, typed a message telling Nico about her favorite little Italian restaurant on Gregory Street, and grinned to herself as she hit send. He’d said his offer for dinner was a standing one, after all.
Ten seconds later her phone was ringing.
Crap. Omigod. Shit!
She’d expected a return message, not this. A cold shower would have shocked her less.
Sitting up, Lexie answered, trying her best to sound in complete control of her faculties, which she absolutely was not.
“Lexie?”
Nico’s deep voice was thick with sleep, and it caused a wonderful clench inside her.
“Oh my god.” She covered her face with one hand. “I’m so sorry, I should have waited until the morning—”
“It’s okay.” The sound of rustling sheets hit her ear. “What time is it?”
Lexie cringed. “Late. Why don’t we talk tomorrow?”
“Or we could talk now.”
She sensed him smiling on the other end, her own lips curling up at the corners. “We could. If you’re not too tired . . .”
“I’m never too tired.”
Lexie bit her lip at that.
“So,” he said. “You changed your mind.”
“I did.”
“And you want to take me out for Italian?”
She laughed at the irony. “Please don’t tell me you hate Italian food. I don’t think I could handle that.”
“Are you kidding? A life without Italian food isn’t a life worth living.”
“Good,” she said. “Because I also happen to know they make the best Spaghetti Bolognese you’ll ever taste.”
“That’s a bold claim, Miss Bowen. You’ve never tasted my mother’s.”
“Well then, I guess you’ve got no choice but to accept and defend her honor.”
“I guess you’re right.” For a moment, the line went quiet. “Uh, but the timing isn’t exactly—I mean—it’s not that I don’t want to—just—the new lieutenant wining and dining while there’s a killer at large probably isn’t the best look . . .”
“Say no more,” she said. “I understand.”
“You sure? Because I don’t know how long . . .”
“I’ll wait.” With a grin, she asked, “Any suggestions for what we can do in the meantime?”
Inside, she slapped her own forehead. That was bad. Clearly, she was no longer in the driver’s seat, alcohol having tied her up and locked her in the trunk while it wreaked havoc on her brain-to-mouth filter. Time to hang up. Say goodbye and—
Nico’s laugh was like warm honey drizzling over her skin. “I can think of plenty of things I’d like to do with you.”
Lexie couldn’t speak. Couldn’t focus on anything except the erratic beating of her heart. The quickening of her breath. The throbbing deep down below. She listened to the silence, stretching longer and longer until—
“But I’d hate for you to think I wasn’t a gentleman.”
Incapable of anything more than a whisper, Lexie asked, “Why would I think that?”
More silence. She heard him take a deep breath.
“Let me take you out, buy you a nice meal. You deserve that.”
Lexie melted, her whole body going all soft and gooey as she nestled into the couch cushions with a smile.
“Very smooth, Nico.”
He laughed again. “Glad you think so.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll, uh, see you around?”
“See you around. Oh, and Lexie?”
“Mm?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
With that, he disconnected.
“Alright, people, quiet down.”
West’s bellow sent a hush over the police bullpen the following morning.
Nico—who’d been casually resting one ass cheek on the corner of Frank’s desk—stood and crossed his arms, prepping himself for whatever news the chief had. Seth and Zoe stopped whatever paperwork they’d been doing. Even Cora paused to look over from her place at the front desk. Everyone was wrung out, anxious, and more than ready to catch a break on this case.
“I just got off the phone with the ME,” West began reading from his notes. “Given what was found in the autopsy, they’ve concluded that even though there was evidence of blunt force trauma to the head, the official cause of death is blood loss. Based on a thorough inspection of the victim’s stab wounds, the murder weapon is a small, sharp blade, slightly serrated on one side. Possibly some kind of flip-blade hunting knife.”
“So, a hunter or a fisherman. That narrows our suspect list down to just about everyone,” Frank mumbled.
Sara Riley was killed with a kitchen knife.
Nico let the thought drift by as West kept talking.
“I also spoke to the lab last night. We officially have zero salvageable DNA evidence left at the scene—bar our mystery man whose semen turned up nada in CODIS.”
A few disappointed curses and groans swept through the small crowd, Nico among them.
“I know that’s not what any of us wanted to hear,” West said. “But it just means we’re going to have to work even harder to bring this asshole in. You two,”—he turned to address Seth and Zoe who’d been in charge of canvassing majority of the surrounding neighbors for possible witnesses—“tell me you got something.”
Seth huffed out a breath. “Wish we could.”
“Nobody saw anything. Nobody knows anything.” Zoe shook her head. “This guy’s a ghost.”
“Shit.” West pursed his lips, hands on hips. “What about you, Frank?”
“This just in,” Frank said, holding the printed piece of paper he and Nico had been discussing moments before. “Footage from Betsy Harland’s security cameras shows an old Chevy driving around on the night of the murder. Betsy lives six blocks from the crime scene. She handed the footage in this morning because she thought it looked suspicious. I ran the plates; vehicle is unregistered, but we did get a rough image of the driver’s side profile. You’re gonna love this.” He cast a look over at Seth as he handed the paper to West. “Looks to be Logan.”
“One of our interviews turned up something interesting yesterday,” Nico added, noting the serious glance West threw in Seth’s direction at the mention of the vehicle owner’s name. “Colin Rowe said there were rumors of a boyfriend named Logan, even though the victim’s best friend and family say otherwise. Frank’s been filling me in on these recluses we apparently have living above us.”
West rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. They’re a pain in my ass. All of them.”
“We’re going to need to talk to this guy,” Nico said. “Do you know how to find them?”
Rather than answer, West turned a pleading gaze to Seth, silently questioning the young officer.
Seth hesitated, then sighed. “Okay.”
“You sure?” West asked him.
“Not in the least.”
“You’re the only one he might actually speak to.”
“I know, Chief.”
It didn’t seem to matter what the topic of conversation was, Seth’s features barely moved when he talked, and his chin often lowered an inch or two, like he was afraid someone might hit him simply for speaking. It was peculiar enough for Nico to take notice, but so far from the top of his list of things to think about that he’d let it sit at the bottom a while longer.
Scrutinizing him a moment longer, West nodded. “Good man. Alright, you’ve got your ride up there,” he announced, facing Nico again. “But I wouldn’t expect a kind welcome.”
“What is this, some kind of Hills Have Eyes deal?”
Nico got the feeling West was trying not to smirk at his fearful tone.
“Nah, just some folks who have no respect for the law, or anything else for that matter. My advice? Let Seth do the talking. Trust me. It will cause the least problems.”
“Right.”
Moving on, West asked Frank, “What about Archie’s Hardware?”
Frank’s mouth twisted. “The old man doesn’t recall anyone buying duct tape recently. That’s not to say it didn’t happen, just his memory isn’t the best these days and let’s face it, every household in America has a roll of duct tape in the junk drawer.”
“It didn’t look like it came from a junk drawer,” Zoe countered. “It looked brand new.”
“Still, you can buy it almost anywhere,” Seth said. “For all we know the killer is a tourist who stocked up on the mainland.”
“So,” Frank said. “I guess the next question is do we go ahead and call this lead a dead end, or do we spend an inordinate amount of valuable time going through hardware receipts in the hopes of turning up a possible—albeit unlikely—suspect.”
West considered the options, then surprised Nico by asking, “What do you think?”
Nico worked his jaw. “I think it’s too soon to call it a dead end. Whether the killer is a local or not, one thing that’s clear is that this wasn’t just a random crime. It was planned. Organized. And personal.” He walked over to the huge whiteboard they’d erected on the back wall—away from the view of the public—and ran his eyes over the crime scene photos for the thousandth time. “Stabbing someone thirty-two times, making sure their death is excruciating . . . That takes rage. A reason.” Turning back to the rest of them, he concluded, “I think she knew her killer. I think we need to be looking close to home, for now.”
“So, we make Logan priority number one,” West said. “He’s got a criminal record, so it’s safe to say the condom didn’t belong to him. But it belonged to someone. We need to find out who that someone is before the trail goes cold.”
Frank stood with a groan that could have come from an old man. “Alright, I’ll head over to Archie’s now and get started.”
“Later,” West instructed. “I want you to go up the mountain with Seth and Nico.”
“Actually, Chief,” Nico halted them both. “I’d like to follow up with the victim’s best friend first. See if I can press her for more information before we leave.”
West’s eyes narrowed. “I interviewed her myself. What makes you think you’re gonna do any better?”
Nico shrugged, clearly conveying his lack of competition in the matter. “I don’t.”
West shook his head. “Fine but be quick about it. I don’t want you lot driving down the mountain at night.”
“I’ll take Zoe with me,” Nico said, grabbing his keys and nodding for her to join him.
“Thanks for asking me along,” Zoe said as they cruised down Main Street.
Nico had asked if she wanted to drive and she’d accepted without hesitation, snatching the keys from his hand and hopping straight in. Nico didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to see more of the town without fear of hitting a pedestrian.
“No problem,” he replied, watching the swarms of people drift by. “Are you surprised that I did?”
Zoe made a face but kept her eyes on the road. “Sometimes—” She stopped herself, like she was unsure if she should say what she was thinking.
“Go ahead,” Nico coaxed. “It can be our little secret.”
She laughed, then gave a conceding nod. “Sometimes the guys coddle me a little. I wish I could say it’s because I’m less experienced, but I think the truth is—”
“You’re a woman,” Nico finished for her.
“Yeah.”
“I get it,” Nico said. “We preach equality, but at the end of the day, we males still have that DNA-fueled urge to protect the fair maiden.”
“Seth graduated the academy a full year after I did,” she said. “I love him like a brother, but I’m also tired of being assigned menial jobs while he gets to work on actual cases.”
She’d worn her hair loose today—a seldom sight—so it was difficult to see her face beyond the thick curtain of inky black, but he saw enough to know her grievance was genuine.
Watching to gauge her reaction, he asked, “So, it’s a real boys club?”
Zoe winced. “No, it’s not that bad. I don’t think any of them do it on purpose.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
She sighed. “It would just be nice to be taken more seriously, that’s all.”
Nico frowned. “You think they don’t take you seriously?”
“I think they’re afraid to let me do my job.”
“Why would that be?”
For a moment, Zoe froze. Nico knew he’d touched on something both private and pivotal to the issue at hand but couldn’t guess what it was.
Before he could inquire further, she cleared her throat. “Darcy lives right here.”
The plot of land Darcy Walsh lived on was wild and well-maintained at the same time. Surrounded by lush forest on all sides of the boundary, the four acres were mowed neatly, right up to the semicircle garden bed surrounding a big, silver trailer. The dwelling was obviously permanent, propped up on brick stilts with a wooden deck stretching along the front. Shelves for flowerpots had been drilled into the exterior under the windows. A beat-up Volkswagen sat under a shade cloth to the side.
Zoe parked and they both stepped out. They made it as far as the gravel path before the trailer door swung open and a skinny blond with smeared mascara and a sour look leaned against the doorjamb. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days, and she wore a pale-green dress that did nothing for her figure.
“Hello, Miss Walsh,” Zoe greeted. “I’m Officer Lane and this is Lieutenant Dominici. I hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“Nice place you have here,” Nico said, looking around.
Darcy lifted her chin like the statement offended her. “It’s rented.” Her eyes bounced between them before settling back on Zoe. “Did you find out who killed her?”
For a second, Zoe looked to Nico, who kept his gaze forward, intent on letting her do her job, and, as she’d put it, take her seriously.
“That’s why we’re here,” she told her. “The lieutenant has some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Questions, questions,” she scoffed. “I already told Chief West everything I know.”
“There’s just a few details we’re not entirely clear on,” Nico said.
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that Isabelle was in a relationship with a man named Logan,” he said. She went from sullen to spooked in seconds. “You seem to have left that out of your statement.”
Reigning her emotions in, Darcy shrugged. “Don’t know him.”
“You were her best friend,” Nico stated. “I’m no expert on women, but I find it hard to believe she didn’t tell you about him.”
If looks could kill, Nico knew he would have dropped dead at the snarling glare Darcy speared him with.
“What the hell do you want from me?” she demanded.
“The truth.”
“Oh, the truth? How about this: my best friend is dead.” Her lip trembled. “And instead of going out there and arresting the person who did it, you’re here harassing me about some asshole she barely knew.”
“I’m sorry,” Nico said, because he was. “But thisis how we find her killer, by leaving no stone unturned.” Darcy rolled her eyes as he continued. “Now, according to some of Isabelle’s neighbors, the three of you were seen together at her place on more than one occasion. Is that right?”
“Like I said, I don’t know him.”
“But you’ve met him? Seen them together?”
Darcy licked her lips and ran a stressed hand through her hair. “Once or twice. What does it matter?”
“You don’t think it’s suspicious that she started dating a known criminal and then ended up dead?”
“I think if I keep talking, she won’t be the only one.”
Both Nico and Zoe blinked, regarding Darcy with new interest. But it was too late. Darcy—realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended—backed up and grabbed the door.
“Look, I don’t know who killed her. I don’t know anything, okay?”
“What about a way to contact Logan?” Nico pressed. “Or when he’s next coming to town?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll just go grab his cell number and his appointment book from the top of my refrigerator.” She gave an incredulous laugh. “You wanna talk to Logan? Do your fucking job and go find him yourself.”
The sound of the trailer door slamming echoed through the trees.
Nico sighed.
“Well, that was the shortest interview in history,” Zoe said. “Is pissing people off part of a larger investigative strategy for you or does it just come naturally?”
A little shocked at her boldness, Nico turned his head to find her smirking.
“For your information,” he replied, making his way back down the deck stairs. “I got a lot more out of that conversation than you think, clearly.”
“That so?” She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Well, we got confirmation of the relationship, for one thing.”
“I’d say that’s about the only thing we got before she slammed the door in our faces.”
“Not quite.”
Zoe glanced over to him. “Okay, Lieutenant. What else did we learn, besides the fact that she—like everyone else—is obviously terrified of Logan?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Nico admitted, focusing on the road ahead. “But she’s not just scared of Logan. She actually thinks he might kill her.”