Chapter 2
I brushed a few crumbs from the bottom of my office drawer and set my half-finished mocha down on the corner of my desk.
Luka, my Samoyed, pressed his nose against my knee, his white fur glowing in the morning light.
He always sensed when I dove into a task that bored me, which explained the slight pout in his eyes.
“Trust me,” I said, “I dislike this as much as you do, but we’re a little light on cases right now.”
As I continued to rearrange things in the drawer, he perked up, his ears stiff and alert.
His gaze shifted toward the office door and then it opened.
A young woman stepped inside. Her long red hair framed her face in loose waves beneath the knit beanie on her head, and she wore a thick charcoal parka over a pair of dark, ripped jeans.
Her eyes swept the room until they landed on me.
She took a moment to catch her breath, then said, “Hi, I’m Wren Fairfax. I’m looking for Georgiana Germaine.”
“You’ve found her. Come in. Take a seat.”
She closed the door behind her, and then crossed the room with quick steps, her coat flaring around her legs. Luka rose, his tail wagging as he waited to see if she’d give him a pat, but she brushed by him without acknowledgement.
Maybe she wasn’t a dog person. But given Luka was one of the most fetching dogs around, few had ever resisted his charms.
Wren pressed a hand to her chest. “Sorry if I’m a little out of breath. I rushed here. I took a bus, then another bus, then I walked through town, and here I am.”
Her voice was tense and unsteady, and it seemed like she was fighting to keep it together.
She plopped down in one of my office chairs, smiled at Luka, and then fixed her sights on me. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this and not calling first. When I made the decision to come here, it was after hours, and the office was closed.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back. “It’s fine. What can I do to help you?”
She took a long, shaky breath. “I’m Holly Honeywell’s roommate. I mean to say, I was Holly’s roommate. I’m guessing you’ve heard what happened?”
“Bits and pieces.”
What I knew was that Holly had been murdered a few weeks earlier. Chief Foley and Detective Whitlock of the San Luis Obispo Police Department were on the case, but from what they’d told me, so far the leads were few at best.
Wren attempted to say something more, then stopped, her fingers dropping to Luka’s fur.
She stared at him for a long moment, then flicked a tear from her eye.
“Holly called me about a week before she died. She sounded stressed, and she wasn’t the type of person who got that way often.
I told her to come home, but she said she needed to stay. ”
“Where’s home?”
“I suppose Holly considered Cambria her home, since she grew up here, but we were in college together at Bellmont Pacific University in Huntington Beach.”
“Did you know Holly before college?”
She shook her head. “I’m from Salinas, a couple of hours from here. The reason why I’m here … well, it’s because I feel awful about what happened, like I’m to blame for Holly’s death somehow.”
“What makes you think it was your fault?”
“When Celia died, Holly’s mother, she asked me to go with her to Cambria, but I had a few big tests coming up, so I didn’t. I figured checking in with her every day would be enough. I had no idea she’d … she’d …”
I leaned forward. “Wren, listen to me. There was no way you could have known what was going to happen. None of this is your fault.”
She shook her head. “Holly trusted me, and she didn’t trust most people. Now she’s gone, and I don’t know who took her life or what drove them to do it. I want answers, and I don’t want to wait forever to get them.”
“I understand.”
“I came here because I need help. I need someone who knows how to solve murders, and I hear you do. One of the girls I go to school with found out what happened to Holly, and she told me about you. And since the police won’t tell me anything, I was hoping you could help.”
“Who’s the girl?”
“Bronte Remington. You investigated her sister’s murder, and you caught the guy who did it.”
“Ahh, yes. I remember the case well.”
“What do you think? Will you help me?”
“Before we discuss me taking the case, I need to know more about Holly and why anyone would want to murder her.”
Her voice thinned, stretched tight with fear and grief.
“I might know why. Holly was going through some things in her mother’s house, and she found this old shoebox in the closet.
Inside were adoption papers. When she read them, she realized the woman who raised her, the woman she thought was her biological mother, wasn’t. She was her adoptive mother.”
“Are you saying Holly was never told she was adopted?”
“I am.”
I reached for my notebook and flipped it open, the pen cool between my fingers. “Start from the beginning. I want to know everything.”