Two
Helena’s blood turned to ice.
“You found…human remains? Are you sure they’re human?”
This couldn’t be real. She locked eyes with Trevor, whose expression was graver than she’d ever seen it.
“I’m sure, Helena. A full skeleton. The bones are with the ME now—we’ll know more soon. But I have to wonder…”
She was already tracking, and by the look on Trevor’s handsome face, he was, too.
Bones, meaning someone had been there for a long period of time. Alicia had been missing for twenty years. While she couldn’t bear the thought…she had to go there. It was a logical deduction even if she hoped differently. But it was possible…
“It could be Alicia,” she rasped, her voice catching in her throat just before a coughing fit overtook her.
Trevor quickly handed her a paper cup of water. She took a sip—not because it helped, but because it gave her something to do. The doctor had warned her nothing would help the coughing for a while. Still, this…this was impossible.
Alicia? No. It couldn’t be.
Who would’ve done something like that? Why?
Alicia had been loud, fun, fearless—always the first to laugh and the last to exclude anyone.
She was kind. She had no enemies, not even an ex with a grudge.
Yeah, she had gone down that night to put Denton in his place, and yes, it could have angered him…
but enough to kill her? Besides, Denton had a rock solid alibi and had been crossed off the suspect list.
“It can’t be her,” Helena whispered.
Trevor laid a warm hand over hers. The gentle pressure startled her at first—he’d never touched her before—but she didn’t pull free right away. She needed comfort more than she realized. And that realization scared her.
She slowly pulled her hand back. She didn’t want to need anyone. Needing led to depending, and that led to losing.
Trevor didn’t seem to mind. “Either way, your house is now a crime scene,” he said quietly. “And we’ve got a cold case on our hands.”
“Indeed,” Hank added. “I’ve already updated your police chief. I imagine you’ll hear from her directly soon. I’ll keep you posted as more develops.”
Helena spoke through a sputter. “Chief…is the house salvageable? Is there structural damage?”
“Thanks to Trevor getting there when he did, it’s salvageable,” Hank said.
“But don’t celebrate yet. Everything’s soaked in smoke.
You’re looking at months of cleanup and repair.
Maybe longer. But insurance should cover it—once the adjuster rules you out for arson, of course.
” The smile could be heard in his voice. “Which we all know you’d never do.”
That brought a flicker of relief, though the idea of waiting a year to return to her home made her stomach churn.
She wasn’t hurting for money—Dad been a careful steward, and her grandparents had owned a successful construction company in Colorado Springs.
There was a trust in her name, passed down.
But they’d always lived modestly. Dad never flaunted it, and neither did she.
“Thanks, Chief. We’ll talk soon.” Trevor ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m really sorry, Helena.”
Her mind drifted—memories of Alicia mixing with flashes of her family home.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “This is…shocking. I’m seriously shook.
Alicia? And if it’s not her, then who? My parents bought that house a year after it was built.
No one but us ever lived there. I don’t understand any of this. ”
She was overwhelmed, nauseated from the smoke and the news. All she wanted was a shower to wash off the last two hours, clean pajamas and eight uninterrupted hours of rest. But none of that was happening any time soon.
Trevor studied her. She must look awful, her unruly curls even wilder. “With the smoke damage… What do you want to do about toiletries? Do you have what you need in your duffel bag?”
“I’ve got basics. I’ll buy what else I need.”
Trevor nodded, rubbing his chin. A deep furrow creased his brow. “You’re going to be asked this, so I’m just going to ask it now—so when Police Chief Keller calls, I can give her a straight answer.”
Something in his tone made her uneasy. “Okay…” she said, drawing the word out.
“Did you set the fire? For insurance money? Or to cover up the bones in the crawl space?”
Helena blinked.
What?
The fire chief had literally just said everyone knew she’d never do that. Why was Trevor asking her this?
Police Chief Natalie Keller wouldn’t have asked.
She’d known Helena since she was a baby—back when she was still on patrol.
Came to their family barbecues. Hired her to manage the fleet.
It was Keller who’d encouraged her to become a forensic mechanic.
Helena had testified in court more than once—helped put away drunk drivers, hit-and-run perpetrators, even those with manslaughter charges. Her testimony had weight.
But Trevor? He must not trust her.
So why offer her a place to stay?
She ripped off her oxygen mask, shoved it aside, and swung her legs over the bed.
“Of course I did,” she snapped. “I meant to pass out from smoke inhalation just so you could rescue me. Great way to throw off the cops and insurance adjusters. Are you serious right now, Trevor Slate? You think I killed my best friend and shoved her body in the crawl space? And that if I did, I’d be dumb enough not to throw her duffel bag, purse and her CDs in there with her to make it look like she ran off?
You think I have that kind of malice in my heart? ”
She pushed past him, coughing violently but moving on pure rage. Her lungs burned, her legs wobbled, but her will was like steel—Mom always said she got that from Dad.
“Helena, wait! Come back—stop!”
She was nearly at the sliding-glass doors when his hand caught her forearm, gently but firmly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breathless. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was trying to be careful. But you will be asked that question—by the insurance company and by investigators. I was trying to prep you. I know you’ve got a short fuse—”
She spun around, incredulous. “Who told you that?”
Trevor’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting a grin.
“I could go back three years, but let’s just talk about last week when you combed through our second victim’s vehicle for the third time, found nothing, and threw a crowfoot wrench at the doorframe—right next to my head—while yelling, ‘What in the monkey’s uncle is going on here? ’ That one stands out.”
Helena flushed and crossed her arms. “In my defense, I didn’t see you there.”
He smirked. “Not sure that would hold up in court.” His face softened, his expression turning compassionate.
“My point is, I don’t think you set the fire or murdered your best friend.
But someone who doesn’t know you might assume your defensiveness means guilt instead of integrity.
You need to stay calm when this comes up. ”
She hated that he was right. Hated even more that he’d said it like it was obvious. Cool. Collected. The exact opposite of how she felt.
“Fine.”
“‘Sorry’ or ‘fine’?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push it, Slate.”
Her dizziness returned with a vengeance and she reached for the door for support. Trevor moved beside her instantly, offering a steadying arm.
“Come on. Let’s sit down. I’ll get you some water or tea if you want.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Just lightheaded. I didn’t do any of those things. I don’t need the insurance money. I have a trust passed down from my grandparents and the inheritance Dad left me.”
She let go of his arm and made her own way to the lobby couch, stubborn pride in every step. He followed, sitting beside her.
He smelled like faint smoke and something subtle—clean, understated cologne that made her want to lean closer. Not that her lungs could handle it.
“That’s good to know. That you’re secure financially. Now, tell me about Alicia,” Trevor said gently. “What do you remember from the night she went missing?”
Helena pushed a heavy mass of sooty curls off her face and tightened her messy bun. Her hair never behaved. Another curse.
“I remember everything,” she said. “It was the summer before senior year. We went whitewater rafting all day in Bighorn Sheep Canyon—came home fried from the sun. We slathered ourselves in aloe vera and started a SpongeBob SquarePants marathon in my room upstairs. It was late, I was wiped. We heard rock pecks on the window, and Alicia looked out. Denton Wiley was outside.”
“Wiley Construction?”
She nodded. “He took over for his dad a few years ago. Back then…he had a crush on me. Sweet guy, but I wasn’t into him. Alicia went outside to him—said she’d handle it. I fell asleep. When I woke up around three a.m., she was gone.”
“You thought she left with him?”
“No. I assumed she just never came back inside after he left. His alibi is strong. It wasn’t him. We called her parents, and mine. Her car was still in the driveway—she’d ridden with me since I’d just gotten a new car.”
“No chance she left with another guy?”
“No,” Helena said firmly. “She had crushes, sure. But no boyfriend. Our windows were locked. Only people with keys were me and my parents. She just…vanished.”
Trevor exhaled slowly. “No one just vanishes, Helena. And I’m about to make your head explode again.”
She braced herself, rolling her eyes. “Go ahead. Let’s hear it.”
* * *
Alibis appeared solid all the time, but Trevor would revisit the police interview with Denton and go from there.
He might have been the last person to see her alive if he wasn’t the perpetrator.
But that brought him to the next topic. He inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly.
He hated this part of the job, and she wasn’t going to like it, either.
But it had to be asked. Personal feelings had to take a back seat to the investigation.
“Did they ever question your father?”