Chapter Nine #2
“Darinda wasn’t unkind, but she naturally focused on Sharee more.
Their personalities were alike—outgoing and dramatic.
Darinda is an amateur actress and she really wanted Sharee to follow in her footsteps, so there were a lot of beauty pageants and dance classes and school drama productions.
But Sharee wasn’t as driven as her mother.
She didn’t like learning lines or routines or putting in that much effort.
She complained about anything that wasn’t what she saw as fun. ”
“What about your father?”
“He’s a great guy. But once Darinda came along, she was the one really in charge. She focused most of her attention on Sharee, and Dad kind of followed her lead. Most of the time, anyway. And I was a quiet kid. I didn’t ask for much. I made it easy for them to forget I was even there.”
He winced, then tried to cover up his dismay by taking a big drink of iced tea.
But Chloe hadn’t missed his expression. “I’m sorry.
That sounded pathetic,” she said. “I didn’t have a horrible childhood, by any means.
And since my parents weren’t watching me that closely, I could do what I wanted.
I had my own interests and my own friends, and they took up most of my time.
I graduated from high school a semester early and went straight to beauty school.
I even persuaded my dad to turn over my college fund, which paid to help me set up this business. ”
“Smart move.”
“What about you?” She finished the last of her potato chips. “Did you go to college?”
“Believe it or not, I have an accounting degree.”
She laughed. For some reason, he got this reaction a lot.
As if he wasn’t people’s image of a number cruncher.
“I’ve never actually worked an accounting job, but I’m good at math,” he said.
“And I don’t dislike the work. But the day I graduated, I headed straight for the ski slopes and never looked back.
” He grinned. “I think I surprised everyone, even myself.”
“You are a rebel at heart.” She laughed again, and her whole body relaxed, the tension erased from around her eyes and her shoulders straight instead of hunched as if to ward off a blow.
He wanted more than anything to make this moment last. And not only for the way he could make her feel.
He was able to relax with her in a way he hadn’t been able to with anyone in so long.
Or rather, the tension from all the stresses and bad things in his life was replaced by a different kind of tension—an awareness of the softness of her skin when her hand brushed his, the curve of her breasts swelling the front of her shirt, the heady floral scent of her hair, and the heat and pull low in his gut when her eyes met his.
They finished eating and left the deli together.
When they reached the sidewalk, she took his hand, and he squeezed gently.
Neither of them said anything as he walked her to the lot behind her salon where she had parked.
They stood for a moment in the glow of a security light, hands still clasped.
She tilted her face up to his and he focused on her lips, drawn to their softness.
To the possibility of passion. He wanted to kiss her, but once he made that move, he couldn’t take it back.
They were friends, but could she possibly want more?
He was still the man accused of killing her sister.
She was still a woman grieving the loss. What right did he have to intrude?
He released her hand and stepped back. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night.” Did he hear regret in that word, or was that only his imagination?
He took another step back. “Call me,” he said. “Tell me what you find out.”
“I will. I promise.”
“CHLOE ANDERSON! WAIT UP!”
Chloe was running errands on her lunch hour Thursday when she looked back to see the reporter Jay Kleinman, jogging toward her. She faced forward again and began walking faster.
But his long-legged stride enabled him to quickly catch up with her. “Don’t run away from me,” he said. “I’ve got something you’re going to want to hear.”
She slowed, then stopped and faced him, waiting. He was red-faced and panting. “Give me a minute.” He held up one hand. “I’m not used to this altitude.”
“I really need to get back to work,” she said.
“You’re the boss, aren’t you? You can wait a few more minutes for this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is this?”
“One of my followers dug up the name of a guy you need to check out.” He pulled a narrow notebook from the back pocket of his skinny jeans. “Somebody who knew your sister.”
Her heart beat a little faster and she dropped her arms. “Who? And why would I want to check him out?”
“Darrell Cooperman.” Kleinman read from a page in his notebook. “Seventeen, goes to school here in town. On the ski team.”
The name sounded familiar, but Chloe couldn’t place him. “What about him?”
“Your sister dared him to race her down an expert run. Word is she spanked him. Really humiliated him in front of his friends.”
“I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Then you also probably hadn’t heard that the two of them went out a couple of times.”
Her eyes widened. “Her friends said they didn’t think she had dated any local boys.”
“She dated this one. At least twice.” He returned the notebook to his back pocket. “My source tells me it didn’t work out so well between them. The message he sent me says Cooperman had nothing good to say about Sharee Anderson. You might even say he hated her.”
“Hated her enough to kill her?” Chloe had to force out the words.
“I don’t know. But I thought you might be interested. The cops won’t talk to me, but maybe they’ll listen to you if you suggest they question this guy.”
She considered Kleinman in a more favorable light.
He was older than she had first assumed—maybe mid-thirties.
And his manner today held less arrogance than when he had entered her shop a few days ago.
“The sheriff’s department suspects a ski patroller of killing my sister,” she said. “What do you think?”
“Brian Weeks.” Kleinman nodded. “The case against him is a little too weak for my liking. And the guy is like, a straight arrow. The adjective everyone uses to describe him is ‘nice.’ And from what me and my team have been able to dig up, he didn’t really have much of a beef with your sister.
Maybe she made some prank calls to make him look bad, but nobody took those seriously. ”
Some of the tightness in her chest loosened. “Thanks for the tip about Cooperman.”
“One more thing. Cooperman has a record—drunk and disorderly, and assault. He beat up a guy at a party, supposedly for hitting on the girl he was dating at the time. He got a deferred sentence and it will be wiped if he keeps his nose clean until he’s eighteen.”
“How did you find out all of this?” she asked.
“True Crime Online has a huge community of amateur detectives who work to solve crimes. Some of them are hackers, and some of them have access to certain records through their jobs.”
“Is that even legal?” she asked.
“We’re careful, and everything is done in the name of aiding justice. But we don’t take the law into our own hands. We turn over everything we find out to law enforcement. Or, in cases like this where the cops turn a deaf ear, we share what we know with the families of victims.”
“Thanks.”
“Just do me a favor and let me know if anything comes of this.”
“I will.”
He pulled out his phone. “And maybe you’d like to answer a few questions now about your sister?”
She smiled, but shook her head and moved past him. Maybe later, if Sharee’s killer was ever arrested, she’d consider talking more with Kleinman. Now she needed to track down Darrell Cooperman and find out where he had been the night Sharee was murdered.