Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hannah stood off to the side, watching the proceedings, numb with shock.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the necklace.
Her necklace. The one hanging from the wall wasn’t hers; she knew that much.
The matching locket was in her jewelry armoire, the clasp broken from so many years of wear.
This one was pristine, and it looked exactly the way it had when they’d received them for Christmas, only a few months before Selah was murdered.
She was acutely aware of Luke shooting furtive glances her way every few seconds. It was both reassuring and unsettling. He’d immediately taken charge and called the cops in. Now he and Detective Sanchez stood off to the side, speaking quietly while the others combed the room.
The locket hung from the wall, the chain dangling from the blade of a deadly knife.
Even from there, it looked wicked with a heavy-duty black handle.
A chill snaked down her spine. Was that the same knife he’d used on Selah?
The killer had left it for her, out in the open where she’d be sure to see it.
Was he bragging about his accomplishments or indicating that she would be next?
The bastard had been in her house. How long had he been watching her, just waiting for the right moment? A combination of anger and fear sent her limbs trembling.
Within seconds, Luke was at her side. “You good?”
“Fine.”
He planted himself in front of her, obscuring her view of the room. “Sweetheart, you should sit down for a minute. Detective Sanchez wants to ask you a few questions anyway.”
Briefly closing her eyes, she swayed on her feet, and Luke yanked her against him. “We’re going downstairs. Now.”
“No.”
“Yes.” His eyes were hard as he stared down at her. “You need a break. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”
“Luke…”
“Hannah.” His tone brooked no argument, and she huffed out a sigh of resignation.
“Fine. I’ll go make some coffee, and we can talk in the living room.”
She trudged downstairs, and the sound of the men’s footsteps followed several minutes later.
Unintelligible words floated toward the kitchen as she measured out the coffee grounds and set the pot to brew.
Her mind remained curiously blank as she loaded three mugs, milk, and sugar onto a serving tray.
She carried the tray out to the living room and set it on the coffee table.
Studiously avoiding both men, she returned to the kitchen.
She leaned against the counter as the percolator spit out the last of the coffee, then carried the carafe to the living room and set it on the table.
Grabbing up a pillow, she hugged it to her chest as she curled into the corner of the couch.
Detective Sanchez shot Luke a quick look before glancing her way. “I’m sorry to see you again under these circumstances, Dr. Whitmore.”
She nodded politely, digging her fingers into the pillow. Luke poured coffee into a mug, then peeled the pillow away and pressed the mug into her stiff hands. Despite the temperature outside, she felt frozen, and she was grateful for the heat seeping through the porcelain.
“Thank you for coming.” She forced the words past the lump in her throat.
“So, you believe that the necklace belonged to Selah Wilson?”
She nodded.
His brow furrowed. “And you own one that’s identical?”
“Selah and I received those matching necklaces for Christmas. We wore them all the time. When the police found her…” She broke off and glanced away. “They assumed it was lost during the struggle, but they weren’t able to find it. Now… I guess he’s had it this whole time.”
“We’ll certainly analyze it. You’re positive it’s not yours?”
She shook her head. “Mine is broken. It’s been in my jewelry box for the last year or so, and I keep forgetting to get it fixed.”
“Would you mind if we took a look to compare them?”
She nodded reluctantly. “Of course.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to get it?”
Luke’s voice startled her, and she turned to him before glancing back at the detective, who nodded. “I’d like to see it.”
Luke looked at her for permission, and she hesitated, biting her lip. She didn’t really want to go back in there. “The tray lifts out. It’s in a black box at the bottom.”
“I’ll be right back.” Luke brushed her leg as he stood, and she wondered if it was intentional—just a small connection to let her know that he was there for her.
She stared into the cup of creamy hazelnut-flavored coffee and felt a tiny smile curve her mouth.
He’d fixed it exactly the way she liked it.
“Since we’re alone, would you mind answering some questions?”
She met Sanchez’s gaze. “Sure.”
“You said you were gone last night. Were you with someone?”
“I was with Luke. We went to dinner, then…” She trailed off, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Fortunately, she didn’t have to explain because the detective nodded.
“Good. Under the circumstances, I would advise you to watch your surroundings carefully and be aware of your interactions with people. This person clearly knows a lot about you.”
“He obviously has some sort of obsession with me; I just can’t quite figure out what it is.”
Sanchez tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “Hard to tell. You changed your name, moved away. Maybe he’s held on to the fantasy all these years.”
Her stomach flipped, gruesome visions dancing in front of her eyes. “He’s going to kill me. Just like Selah, and just like Monique.”
“We’re going to do everything in our power to keep that from happening.” The detective’s voice was grim, and she threw a look his way.
“No offense, detective, but you don’t have the manpower to watch over me every minute of the day.”
“No.” Sanchez glanced toward the stairs as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. “But I would advise taking extra precautions. Stay with someone you trust for the time being.”
Someone she trusted… Luke immediately came to mind, and her attention was drawn to the man in question as he moved into the room, a dark expression on his face.
He handed the small black box to the detective before settling beside her.
A proprietary hand landed on her knee, and she almost smiled despite the severity of the situation.
The box snapped open with a soft click, and the detective inspected the locket.
He tapped the tablet on his lap, enlarging an image on the screen.
He nodded, swiping through photos, murmuring to himself, and she shot Luke a look.
Dropping his gaze to her now cool coffee, he extracted the cup from her frozen fingers and set it on the table.
He leaned back against the cushions and draped an arm around her shoulders, easing her into his embrace.
A few moments later, Detective Sanchez gazed over the table. “Looks identical, so I believe you’re correct, Dr. Whitmore.”
She’d suspected as much, but the words struck a blow to her heart. The man had killed her best friend, and now he’d been watching her. Toying with her. Leaving trophies in her house. She wouldn’t let him get away with it.
“He’ll come after me again; we all know it.” At the sound of her voice, both men’s heads swiveled toward her.
Detective Sanchez leveled a look at her. “It’s likely, yes.”
“We could draw him out, make him come to me—”
“No.” Luke’s hard voice immediately cut her off.
Sanchez’s gaze flicked to Luke before returning to her. “I’d like to exhaust every other option before we do anything extreme.”
“Whoever this guy is, he’s starting to unravel. He’s making mistakes.” Luke laced his fingers with hers and squeezed gently. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger. Let the police catch him. Your job is to stay safe and help other people.”
She nodded once, not quite a promise. She would help others—by finding a way to put this guy behind bars.