Chapter Twelve #2
“Maybe so, but they still weren’t with her when she was found.”
Chloe swallowed hard. She couldn’t speak.
“Does that mean the person who broke into Chloe’s apartment is the same person who killed Sharee?” Brian asked. “They took Sharee’s keys and used them to get into the apartment?”
“Why do you think they would do that?” Renfro asked.
“I don’t know,” Brian said. “Because they thought Sharee had something of theirs? Or because they wanted to frighten Chloe?”
Chloe gripped Brian’s arm. “Do you think Sharee’s murderer is after me?”
“I don’t think you need to concern yourself with that,” Renfro said. “But you do need to find somewhere else to stay for a couple of nights.”
“Of course.” But in the back of her head she was envisioning her bank account drained by the cost of two nights at a hotel in a resort town during peak season.
Brian waited until Renfro had left before he spoke. “You can stay with me.”
“You don’t have to do that, Brian. I’ll find someplace to stay.” Maybe she could sleep on the massage table at the spa.
“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he said. “And I’ll feel a lot better if I’m sure you’re safe. Which you will be at my place. It’s a ways out of town, and we have Daisy.”
The dog looked up at her name. Chloe almost smiled. “She doesn’t look very threatening.”
“No, but she can be loud when she needs to be. That alone would scare someone away.”
“That’s really sweet of you, but I could call one of my stylists to put me up.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I can sleep on the couch. And you won’t have to explain yourself to anyone at my place.”
Relief replaced a little bit of her fear. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
ALL brIAN WANTED was to get Chloe to safety.
Away from the devastation inside her apartment.
Away from the accusing looks from law enforcement officers, or the open curiosity of neighbors who had emerged from their apartments to stare.
They drove in silence out of town, down a narrow road that led to a vineyard.
His trailer sat on a lot overlooking the neat rows of dormant grapevines, snow collecting on the graceful loops of vines like tiers of lace curtains.
Half a dozen similar mobile homes were scattered among the rows of fruit.
A previous owner had painted Brian’s trailer a deep teal, and replaced the metal shutters with redwood.
“This is cute,” Chloe said as she emerged from the truck.
“Thanks.” He led the way up the steps to the small front porch and unlocked the door. “I had a chance to buy it, cheap. I don’t own the lot, but the trailer is mine. Home sweet mobile home.”
The space was small—living room in the center, kitchen and dining to the left, the single bedroom and bath on the right. The furniture had come with the place, comfortable but shabby, a lot of clutter and dust. “It’s not fancy, but no one will bother you here,” he said, hoping he was right.
He swept a pile of clothing from the sofa. “Have a seat. Or would you like to take a shower first?”
“I don’t have anything to change into,” she said.
“I can find you something of mine.”
She sank onto the sofa. Daisy immediately jumped up beside her and laid her head in Chloe’s lap. “Maybe in a bit. Right now I just want to sit here.” She began stroking Daisy’s head. The dog’s eyes drifted shut.
Brian sat on her other side. “Would you like something to drink. Tea? Whiskey?”
She forced a smile, though her eyes remained sad. “Nothing right now.”
He fell silent, listening to her breathing. The events of the day were catching up to him, and he had to fight to keep his own eyes open.
“Tell me about the avalanche,” she said.
He roused himself more awake and thought how to sum up the afternoon’s events. “Some snowboarders accidentally triggered an inbounds slide in an area called Ransom Ridge. It’s part of the ski resort, but not served by lifts. Three snowboarders were caught in it.” He paused, swallowing. “One died.”
Her hand gripped his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
He could have protested that he hadn’t known the man.
That this wasn’t the first time he had dealt with a death at the resort.
But that didn’t really matter. The loss had been hard.
His job was all about saving people, and when he couldn’t, it felt like failure, even when there was nothing anyone could have done. So he only nodded, and squeezed back.
“What caused the slide?” she asked.
“Mother Nature. We mitigated that area yesterday morning, but after we opened today we received a lot of wet, heavy snow. It built up so fast, then broke loose.”
“Was Daisy there? Afterward, I mean?”
“Yes. She helped search for the missing man.” He reached over to pet the dog. “She doesn’t like it when she doesn’t find anyone.”
“You both must be exhausted.”
“A shower and dinner will revive us. Well, the shower for me. Daisy doesn’t like baths.”
“Take your shower then. I’m going to sit here and decompress.”
“You’re sure you’re okay being alone right now?”
“Daisy will keep me company.” She smiled down at the dog.
He shoved off the sofa. If he stayed here right now, he would fall asleep before he had even offered her anything to eat.
Before taking his shower, he made his bed and stashed yesterday’s dirty clothes in the closet.
Then he stripped down and stepped under the steaming water.
Real warmth seeped into him for the first time in hours, driving the numbness from his limbs and from his brain.
But a whirlwind of thoughts rushed in as the numbness receded.
He hadn’t seen the inside of Chloe’s apartment, but what she had described was horrifying.
Who would do something like that—and why?
Could it be the same person who had murdered Sharee?
He couldn’t tell if the cops believed it could or not, but what were the odds that Chloe would be targeted only eleven days after Sharee’s death?
And by someone with a key to her apartment?
CHLOE TRIED TO shake herself out of the paralysis that had gripped her in her wrecked apartment.
The reality of the attack—that was what it felt like, a personal attack—had been too much to accept.
But here in this quiet place, with a sleeping dog resting against her and the soothing sound of running water from the shower, some of the shock receded, replaced by anger.
How dare someone invade her home that way. How dare they destroy her belongings. She didn’t have anything that belonged to anyone else. She hadn’t done anything to anger anyone. They had no right.
Music from her phone intruded on her fury and she pulled the phone from her pocket. Darinda’s number flashed on the screen. She started not to answer, but knew her stepmother well enough to know that Darinda would keep calling.
“Hello?” she said, trying to sound normal. As if her life wasn’t falling apart.
“What’s going on?” Darinda asked. “I got a call from the sheriff saying someone broke into your apartment. He asked me a lot of questions about Sharee. As if she had something to do with it!”
“Someone did come into my apartment,” Chloe said. “They tore everything apart, as if they were looking for someone. But they didn’t break in. They used a key.”
“The deputy asked me if Sharee had given a key to anyone. I told her I had no idea. I was living a thousand miles from my daughter. If they want to know something like that they should ask you. You were the one responsible for her.”
Chloe winced. Darinda wasn’t known for being subtle. “I don’t know how the person who broke into my place got a key,” she said. “And I don’t know what they were looking for. I don’t have anything of great value or anything that belongs to someone else. I don’t think Sharee did either.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Darinda said. “As for valuable, the sheriff’s department took Sharee’s laptop and phone, and they refuse to give them back.”
“They’re still looking for her killer,” Chloe said.
“And now they’re dealing with this burglary or whatever they’re calling it at your place. That’s only going to take resources away from solving Sharee’s murder.”
“I didn’t plan to have my place broken into,” she said.
“Just a minute. Your father is saying something. What is it?”
Muffled voices. Then Darinda came back on the line. “Your father wants to know where you are right now.”
“I’m staying with a friend.”
“What friend?”
She could have lied and made up a name. Or said she was with one of the stylists at her salon. But lying wasn’t her default mode. “I’m with Brian.”
“Brian who?”
“Brian Weeks.”
Darinda’s shriek forced Chloe to hold the phone away from her ear. “What are you doing staying with your sister’s murderer?”
“Brian didn’t kill Sharee.”
“And you know better than the sheriff? They arrested him.”
“And they released him,” she said. “They don’t have any evidence against him.”
“They found his glove next to your sister’s body. I can’t believe you would betray your sister this way. I can’t believe you would be this horrible.”
She held the phone away from her face as Darinda ranted on. Brian emerged from the bedroom, dressed in knit joggers and a T-shirt. He studied her, forehead creased with worry. It’s Darinda, she mouthed.
He nodded, listened for a moment, then gently took the phone from her hand and ended the call. He set the phone aside, settled on the sofa beside her, and gathered her close. “Whatever she’s saying isn’t true,” he said. “And you don’t have to listen to it.”