Chapter 2
Chicago Police Detective Cade Laurier had been yanked away from his planned day off, leaving his girlfriend and their warm bed behind to answer a home invasion call.
Not the first in this affluent neighborhood, unfortunately.
The mayor and powers that be were pushing to resolve the situation before anyone else got hurt.
A crime scene wasn’t his favorite start to the day.
Unfortunately, it happened way too often.
As a soon-to-be father, he increasingly wished for people to behave themselves and put him out of business.
Oh well. Until society figured out how to live in peace and harmony, he’d stand in the gap, doing his thing to protect the peace and find justice for victims.
Starting with the crime scene in front of him.
There had been a mighty struggle. His well-trained eye assessed the overturned chair, toppled lamp, shattered coffee table, and miscellaneous debris. This hadn’t been staged, it was the real deal.
The expensive rug in the front room, along with the runner in the hallway, showed parallel drag marks, as if someone had been hauled away.
If this incident was related to the other home invasions in the area, the culprits had escalated to kidnapping. Never a good sign.
He checked his watch. There were hours yet before he was expected at today’s ultrasound appointment where he and Samantha would get their first look at the baby.
They were so excited to welcome a little one.
A baby before the wedding wasn’t the order he’d envisioned, then again, Samantha coming into his life—and sticking—had been a surprise.
She was solid. Didn’t freak out while he was on duty, which was more than could be said for his previous relationships. Being involved with a cop wasn’t an easy road. He loved her and he trusted her, and he appreciated her patience with his career.
Prior to getting called away, he’d planned on taking her out to shop for the nursery before their appointment. Ideas only. Although he knew they wouldn’t walk out without something.
But this... He looked around, stifling a sigh. He had plenty of time to get this situation squared away. Assuming it was just as it appeared. And if not, he was sure she’d be just as eager to shop after the ultrasound.
Maybe that was better. Assuming they could agree on whether or not they should learn if they were having a boy or a girl.
“What are you going to do?”
The husband’s sharp demand came right on cue.
Daniel Pereda, wearing rumpled slacks and a dress shirt radiated impatience and entitlement, but not a lot of grief.
Cade didn’t want this to be another cliché, but people had patterns, tendencies.
There was a reason the police always looked at the spouse first in situations like this.
“We’re going to investigate,” Cade stated calmly. “We’ll do our best to find your wife.”
“Thank you.”
“While the team gathers evidence, I have a few questions.”
“I’ve told the officers everything I know,” Pereda snapped.
“Great. Thank you.” Cade had spoken with the first responding officers before he’d walked in. The forensic team was just getting started. He was working with a small window of investigative opportunity, and he intended to make the most of it. “I just need to clarify some details.”
Pereda gave a brisk nod, gesturing for Cade to get on with it.
The clarification confirmed the same story the husband had given the responding officers.
Daniel and his wife, Nell, had gotten into a fight last night.
Over the phone. Typical marital stuff. The wife wanted to change things, and the husband was resistant.
Pissed off, the husband slept at the office last night.
Had resistance turned to abuse? Maybe the verbal had turned physical.
The age-old question rolled through his mind while Cade walked the house, looking for anything that would add or detract from the theory.
He couldn’t be sure what had happened until they found the wife to corroborate the story. “So, you stayed at the office.”
“Yes.” The man was testy. “It happens when we’re busy.” He plucked at his wrinkled shirt. “Happens more often when my wife picks a fight.” On a sigh, he added. “I called first thing this morning to apologize. When she didn’t answer, I cancelled my morning meetings and came home. To this.”
Standing beside the husband, Cade used his pen to gesture to the room. “Must’ve been a shock walking in on this.”
Daniel nodded. “Yes. As I’ve said, the door was open.”
“Open or unlocked?”
“Both!” He closed his eyes, took a breath. “I apologize, it’s just too much. Can’t you please do something, take some action, to find my wife?”
The desperation sounded sincere, but something in Cade’s gut wouldn’t accept it at face value. “Do you have somewhere else to stay while we handle the scene?”
“The scene?” Daniel echoed. He scrubbed at the stubble shading his jaw. “Yes, of course. I’ll be at the office.”
The man was a classic workaholic and Cade knew better than to offer his opinion on the decision. His own girlfriend would stick him with the same label. He tried to find that elusive work-life balance, yet here he was, knee-deep in the case on his day off.
After verifying the contact information, Cade cut the husband loose. “Someone will reach out when you can come back into the house.”
“Great.”
“Wait. One more thing.” Cade stopped him at the front door. “Does your wife have someone she might stay with? Maybe a place she goes to cool down after an argument?”
“Of course.” Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket. “She spends plenty of time at her favorite spa. Damned expensive spa,” he groused under his breath. “She has a couple of friends nearby.” He gave the names, but didn’t have any other contact information.
Cade noted that Daniel didn’t think the friends were in the neighborhood.
His mind kept returning to the wife’s missing car. The department had issued a city-wide BOLO and Cade extended that be-on-the-lookout for the state. Maybe the wife had hit her limit. Packed up and left the man who spent too much time at his office, with his work.
Cade made himself a note to look for a mistress. Work was often an easy excuse for an affair.
With the forensics effort focused on the main room, where anyone would think a battle royale had gone down, Cade wondered why no one called in the fight itself. Looking through the front windows and out into the neighborhood, he shook his head. “Someone would’ve heard something,” he grumbled.
“Maybe the wife trashed the place to set up the husband?” an officer suggested.
Definitely possible. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Cade allowed. “Has anyone been upstairs? Did we walk the husband through to see if anything’s missing?”
“Far as I know, just the wife’s friend. Husband said everything is here. Luggage, her belongings—”
Cade stopped, one foot on the first step. “What friend?”
Whatever the officer might have said was lost as Cade stormed up the stairs. He paused at the second floor, then followed the sound of a voice. Female, and not speaking in the cadence of a police officer.
“What the hell?” he demanded when he reached the main bedroom. “Who are you?”
A woman stood near the bed with a phone to her ear. Her black hair was tied back, the long tail a stark contrast against the ivory sweater. She turned, and her gaze struck him like a punch. The shock of her pissed him off. She wasn’t a cop he had ever seen. No way he’d forget those deep eyes.
His gaze skated over her, head to toe. High-end clothing, no sign of a badge. If she was new to the department he hadn’t been introduced. Whoever she was, this wasn’t her case.
“Who the hell are you?” he barked. “Put that phone away. This is a crime scene.”
“Got to go,” she said to whoever was on the other end of that call. She paused, her eyes on him. “We’ll see.” Lowering the phone, she slid the device into her pocket, as if she had all the time in the world.
The relaxed move, so damn confident, pissed him off more.
“Identification,” he snapped. “Now.”
“I’m Devyn Norris,” she said. “A friend of the victim.”
There was a hesitation in there. Subtle, but he’d caught it. “Do better,” he said. “ID. And quit stalling.”
“The ID is in my purse.” She held her hands out as if he held her at gunpoint and the absolute serenity in her voice was a cheese grater against his sudden frustration. “In my wallet. Can I show you.”
He nodded once, his jaw aching as he watched her. She should not be here. How had she entered the house unseen?
And where was his professional detachment? The calm he was known for when things boiled over. He blamed her. Her presence. Her confidence. Something about her was off.
“You are in a crime scene. Interfering with evidence.”
“I am. I’m sure it’s not the only one,” she added. “I haven’t touched anything. Here is my ID.” She held it out for him. “As I said, my name is Devyn Norris. I came to check on my friend when Nell didn’t meet me as planned this morning.”
The ID looked legit. He took a picture of it with his phone. Faster than copying the details by hand. “You had an appointment with Nell Pereda today?”
“Yes, we talk on the phone or video chat frequently. We had an appointment for a video chat this morning. Nell is rarely late and if her schedule changes, she always gives me ample notice.”
There it was again, that tiny hesitation. In his experience, friends had plans, not appointments. They gave excuses not notice. “You’re not just a friend,” he accused.
Her smile flickered, and he thought maybe he’d put a crack in her composure. But she fixed it in a hurry.
“You’re right.” Her smile was smooth, professional. “Nell first reached out to me as a counselor. The friendship has come with time.”
He folded his arms and stared her down. “You’re about to pull some client confidentiality crap.”
“I’m not actually,” she countered. “As I said, when Nell missed our appointment, I was concerned and came straight here. She mentioned some tension between her and her husband in our recent conversations.”
Cade checked his notes. “Mr. Pereda didn’t identify you as one of her friends.”
Ms. Norris only shrugged.
“What did your recent conversations cover?”
“A variety of things. Nell wanted to make some changes in her life.”
“Like getting rid of her husband?” He stretched out an arm to return her ID.
“I saw the mess downstairs, Detective Laurier.” Her movements were sharp as she returned the ID to her wallet, the wallet to her purse. “From where I’m standing, it seems more likely her husband wanted to get rid of her.”
He couldn’t argue since that was his own take on things. But with the investigation at square one, he couldn’t allow a prime suspect to walk out. “Does Nell pay you for these conversations?”
“She does.”
“You told the cop downstairs you were a friend.”
Her sharp chin lifted. “I am.”
He snorted. “Her husband didn’t mention you.”
“I doubt he knows anything about me.”
“Or maybe he got fed up with you filling her ear with divorce talk?” It was a risk, could shut her down, but he took the chance.
She didn’t flinch. Her gaze locked with his. Held steady. “If there was talk of divorce, it’s new to me. Nell wanted to go back into the workforce, she wanted to follow her passion into a new career. I was basically her sounding board.”
He didn’t believe that for a minute. There was something else going on here, something more to the relationship. Before he could ask, she plowed on.
“Nell and I have been meeting for some time. Phone consultations mostly. She asks questions and looks for guidance.”
“Guidance?” he echoed. He wanted to roll his eyes. She couldn’t seriously be telling him she was a fortune teller.
“Yes.” Still steady. “Guidance is what I offer. That’s all.”
“Except you’re not a friend if she pays you.” Why did so many people fall for this kind of scam? “Do you guarantee your advice? Or do you make vague promises about the future, stringing her along for more money?”
Her jaw set. He’d hit a nerve. Good. He dared her to argue. “I’m listening if you’ve got a better explanation.”
“I wish you were listening.” The tension faded and she cocked her head. “I’ve offered you the best explanation I can. It’s your choice to believe me or not.”
“I choose not.” What did she think she could suck him into her gimmick? “I need your contact information. Then you need to leave.”
“Does that mean I’m a suspect or I’ve been cleared?”
“The home address on your ID was current?”
“Yes.”
“Phone number? Cell phone? Any aliases?”
He snapped out each question, and her replies came back at him just as sharply. It was a wonder they weren’t both bleeding from the exchange.
“Leave my crime scene. Someone will call if you become a suspect.”
“Gee, I can’t wait.”
He was done with the snark. He was done with her stonewalling. Except, she’d cooperated. Somehow that only pissed him off more. “Do you have any idea where Nell might be?”
She shook her head and, irritated, he jerked his thumb toward the door. He didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence.
“Detective Laurier, could I please have your card?”
“In case the elves tell you where to find, Nell?” Her dark eyes blazed, the only indication he was getting to her. “You know what, Ms. Norris, if you are a psychic, you can find my information through your special sources.”
He watched her take a careful, measured breath. “Fair enough, detective. Good luck with your case.”
As soon as she started down the stairs, Cade shouted over the railing, instructing the officers to make sure she cleared the house. Then he returned to the bedroom to look around.
But all he could see was Norris. The last thing he needed was someone nosing around, making things harder.
He shook it off. Psychics came out of the woodwork at the oddest times. Usually on big, flashy cases. But the Peredas had money, so hangers-on like Norris or other charlatans would show up quickly. Especially a con-artist with hooks already in the wife.
Damn it.
Focusing on what was real, he poked through the closet and dresser. He studied the bathroom. Nothing was out of place or missing. Nothing up here implied that the wife packed up in a hurry.
So, what the hell had happened here and where was Nell Pereda?