Chapter Five
ZOEY SAT OPPOSITE BARRETTin the mansion”s huge living room and had to admit that, in this case, she was biased.
Well, Barrett seemed the most qualified candidate to prevent her reluctant homecoming from becoming her murder. And he checked the boxes for both investigation and protection services. Aaaaaand her newfound family vouched for him, as well as many other clients Kennedy had called on Zoey’s behalf for references. Zoey had spent the evening and the morning with her father, who’d sung Barrett’s praises. Not only was Barrett highly respected and well liked in town but he’d also done some excellent work for her father.
Just what kind of work was that, though?
She tapped her fingers on the smooth, white leather surface of a milky-hued armchair that felt as comfortable as if she were sitting on a cloud. But the main reason she’d told her father to hire Barrett was that she felt sort of... comfortable with him. Yes, he unnerved her every time he as much as looked at her. But a quiet reassurance oozed from him. In the thunderstorm of her current life, she needed that reassurance like air. And okay, she craved his company with a frightening fierceness.
Of course, she’d been wrong before. Like about her father. Her cousin. Her two exes. And most recently, her mother.
Fine, pretty much nearly everyone she’d met in her life. Except for the dog she’d dog sat, but that said more about the good nature of dogs than her skills.
Those were the closest people to her, and she’d still been mistaken about them. Clearly, she wasn’t a good judge of character even of the people she was supposed to know well.
And Barrett was still a stranger—a stranger who made her blood rush faster in her veins, but the latter should be irrelevant. If she had a list of reasons not to fall for him before, she’d now added a new one. She became his client.
Her heart shifted. Maybe hiring him wasn’t such a good idea.
“I know this conversation can be difficult. And I apologize for it. But it needs to be done if we want to figure out who is behind what’s going on.” Barrett’s gaze was intense. Very intense.
With his chocolate-brown cowboy hat resting near him on another milky-white leather armchair, she had a weird urge to run her fingers through his perfectly combed dark hair, ruffle it up a bit.
“I’m ready.” Though how could one be ready for something like this?
She tucked her feet under her and covered them with her green skirt, which looked like a patch of grass pushing through the snow. Then she studied him from beneath her eyelashes.
Dressed in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, pressed black slacks, and cowboy boots, he sat across from her in Kennedy’s tastefully decorated living room. Geometric figures in black, white, and gray decorated the rug easily viewed through the glass-topped coffee table and reflected from the long mirrors. Frameless oil paintings also depicted soulless spheres and squares—not her kind of art, but she understood people had different tastes. Round lights spotlit it all and caught the blue of his eyes, the brightest color in the room.
Not only were his clothes different. His expression was different now, as well. He looked much more serious than he did when they’d met, and his jaw set tighter than it had even after he’d rescued her from the near-collision. He didn’t take advantage of the beverages and sandwiches the maid had left on the coffee table before disappearing silently. Zoey ignored them, as well, despite the tempting aroma of her favorite mint tea. So a gold-trimmed porcelain set and crystal goblets with sparkling water just perched proudly but untouched on the gleaming silver tray.
Or was it a platinum tray? She didn’t know the difference except that platinum was more costly.
Her return here could turn out costly, as well. It could cost her life. The thought twisted her gut.
“I want to thank you for hiring me.” His gaze softened slightly, and his fingers brushed over the armchair.
She had another irrational urge that made her heart flutter, the urge to have those fingers touch her skin. She hadn’t been touched that way for a while. She hadn’t let people in her life easily, and when she did, it was usually a mistake.
Barrett would be a very attractive mistake. One to remember the rest of her life, however long that turned out to be because someone seemed intent on shortening it.
Stop.
She returned her mind to matters at hand—important ones. “Thank my father and your sister-in-law. They gave you outstanding recommendations, and so did your former clients.” She swallowed hard. “And my father seems relieved to have someone shadow me.”
She wasn’t used to people worrying about her. Well, her mother had, but more from fear of losing her than from worry about her well-being. Zoey knew it now. But was her father truly worried about her, or was it just for show? And he still didn’t want to discuss his illness.
Barrett’s expression turned grim. Apparently, the pleasantries were over. “I have some new information.”
Zoey tensed, and her fingers gripped the smooth armrests. “I didn’t expect anything less.”
Yet, she missed the camaraderie and warmth emanating from him yesterday. She needed him as a shrewd investigator and a skilled bodyguard, but her heart preferred him as a simple cowboy with an open smile. Now the only thing left from that cowboy seemed to be the hat near him and the boots on his feet.
“I talked to my police contact, then the owners of the stores closest to the downtown pedestrian crossing where that silver truck tried to hit you. I asked the store owners if I could see camera footage.”
Her eyebrows jumping, she leaned forward. “And they let you see the footage, huh?”
The corners of his lips shifted up, but only slightly. “I can be... persuasive.”
“I can believe that.” She said it drier than she’d intended. After all, he’d persuaded her first to go on a picnic and now to hire him. Was he just another manipulator in her life? She didn’t want to believe that.
“Sadly, mud covered the truck’s license plate, and tinted windows hid the occupant or occupants. I couldn’t see any identifiable scratches, bumps, or decals on the vehicle, but it passed by so quickly it was sort of a blur, even when we slowed the feed. I have its make and model, but that’s about it. Sorry I don’t have more information.” He paused. “I heard the police found your luggage in the victim’s possession?” He left off there as if hoping she’d take it from there.
Zoey flinched at the word victim. A young life cut so short. And Zoey had probably caused her death, even if inadvertently. “Her name”—calling her “the victim” seemed to depersonalize her—“was Nora King. And... yes, they did. They showed me things from the luggage. They were all mine. At first, I was angry that someone, um, took my luggage off the carousel.” She didn’t want to call the dead woman a thief any more than she wanted to call her a victim. “But now I feel so sad. In a way, Nora King bought me some time to stay alive.”
Her throat went dry, but the tea must be cold by now. So she reached for the sparkling water in its silver-rimmed crystal goblet. Or like the tray, was it platinum? She had no clue which companies produced the best crystal in the world, but no doubt, the one in her hand was made by one of them.
She took several sips, then gulped down the rest of the sparkling water. Cold water sluiced through the knots in her gut. “If not for me, Nora could still be alive.”
“It’s not your fault. At all.” Barrett moved toward her but then shifted back as if catching himself. “And while what Nora did was wrong, she paid too high a price.” Barrett’s eyes narrowed. “She deserves justice, and so does her family.”
Gone was the generous grin he’d greeted her with earlier, and she wished for it like one wished for sunshine and warmth on a cold, rainy day.
“They do.” She reached for another glass. She hadn’t just hired Barrett to protect herself but also to ensure justice was served and served in time. Her mother had gotten away with her crimes for decades, making Zoey suffer. Did her father hate her mother? Did he, in some way, transfer at least some part of that hatred onto Zoey?
No. Stop.This was about the present, not the past.
Her stomach signaled it would like something more substantial than sparkling water. With her tummy still quivering after she’d seen part of the woman’s body yesterday, Zoey hadn’t eaten much during breakfast with her father and cousin, though the food looked and smelled amazing. And Zoey had returned the contents of her stomach after driving home—no, not home, driving back to Kennedy’s place—from the cove yesterday.
Hmm. She picked up a sandwich with caviar. She’d never tried caviar before. Might as well do it now while she had the chance.
She pushed the sandwich past the lump in her throat. It tasted a little salty and weird. That was what all the fuss was about?
Then guilt stabbed her again. She was here, eating a pricey sandwich while Nora would never be able to breathe, see, eat, or otherwise enjoy life. While her family mourned their loss. “Was Nora a local or a tourist?”
“Ms. King was from the city about two hours’ drive from here. She was twenty-nine years old, single, no children, high school education. She had your height and build, but maybe a little shorter. She lived in an apartment and worked as a cashier at a local grocery store.” He showed her a photo of a pretty woman, smiling, with long dark hair, upturned nose, and blue eyes. Her facial features were nothing like Zoey’s. Nora looked chirpy and happy and beautiful. When she was still alive.
The caviar soured Zoey’s mouth. This was so unfair. So wrong.
I’m so sorry.
As if Nora King and her family could hear the apology Zoey said in her mind.
“According to her sister, Naomi, Nora dreamed of a two-week vacation in Italy, and she and her boyfriend finally saved up for it. Upon return, she was going to stay in that cottage Kennedy owns. It, well, it...” He cleared his throat.
“That cottage has a bad reputation?” Zoey finished the sentence for him. It must be the place Kennedy owned where for some reason bad things often happened.
“Yes.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Naomi King said it was because the rent there was so low.”
This was personal for Barrett, wasn’t it? According to Kennedy and local rumors, his abusive father had committed suicide in that place under strange circumstances. She suppressed a shiver. Growing up with an abusive father must’ve been horrible.
She replaced the crystal goblet with sparkling water she’d just picked up, and her focus sharpened. “Did she rent it by herself? What about that boyfriend she went on vacation with? Did anybody visit her there?” After all that had happened in that building, her cousin had, no doubt, installed cameras in and around the cottage.
“She rented it by herself. She broke up with her boyfriend after they returned from their trip.”
Zoey lifted her hand. “So he might have a motive.”
Barrett nodded his approval. “Good thinking. But he has an alibi. As for the cottage camera recordings, Kennedy showed me a copy. She surrendered the originals to the police. Nobody visited Nora while she stayed there.”
“Could the footage have been manipulated? I don’t know, recorded over?” She was good with arts and crafts, but not so much with technology. She only knew that a painting could be painted over. Easily.
“The police said there was no sign of digital manipulation. So did the computer specialist Kennedy employs.”
The next question was a moot point, but she asked anyway. “Was there any sign of a struggle at the cottage?”
“No.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I know I should be objective. That place just... just gives me bad vibes.” He looked aside, then seemed to gather himself enough to look her in the eye. “Do you want to know about the murder weapon?”
Did she? She nodded.
“Something heavy struck her head from behind. The murder weapon wasn’t found on the scene. There were no signs of blood or struggle in the cove. She was murdered somewhere else, then taken there.”
“It’s so tragic and ruthless and unfair.” Her stomach wrenched again as if she’d somehow caused Nora to steal that luggage. Maybe, if Zoey hadn’t let other people go first and deplaned faster, Nora wouldn’t have had the time and opportunity to snag that bag and, therefore, would still be alive.
Which also meant Zoey probably wouldn’t be.
Alive, that was.
“Tell me... tell me more about Nora King.” That was a desperate question, as if talking about her could somehow keep her alive for a few minutes longer. “What was she like? Was there an abusive relationship in the past? A sudden inheritance? Someone who’d wish her harm?” Was it wrong of Zoey to hope Nora died for another reason than looking like Zoey from the back?
“I talked to Nora’s boss and several of her colleagues and her friends and her neighbor, as well as her sister. Nora was friendly, easygoing, well liked, and described as the life of the party. She loved fashion jewelry and bright clothes. She broke up with her boyfriend after returning from her trip to Italy, but there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings. No angry exes were banging on her door. No inheritances, sudden or otherwise. No pending inheritance, either. Her estate is small. She was renting an apartment and still paid for her car and didn’t have many valuables. Mostly, what she left were debts. I couldn’t find anyone who’d wish her harm.”
“What about the trip she took? What countries did she visit, besides Italy? Did anything suspicious happen there?” She rubbed her temples. Could Nora have witnessed something she wasn’t supposed to?
“No other countries. They went to Rome, Naples, and Palermo. According to her boyfriend, who went with her, and her friends and sister whom she called, the trip was fun, but nothing suspicious happened. Her boyfriend gave me access to all the photos they took, and I’ll look over them again. I’ll run facial recognition for other people in case he or she captured a photo with some criminal while taking a selfie, I don’t know, in front of the Colosseum. But so far, nothing stood out to me.” He studied her. “Let’s move to a more unpleasant part. Who’d want you harmed?”
“I don’t find this part so unpleasant because I have no clue. You tell me.” She waved a hand in the air. “Is this because I shook up things here, where my father’s company’s dealings are concerned? Because if you’re asking about who’d benefit from my death, it would be Kennedy.”