Текст книги "Twisted Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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“Is it all there?” Drake asks, his eyes still burning into me.

“I think so,” I say hesitantly. “Let me finish.”

The problem with being an ex-cop is that I know the law inside out. I can’t see right now how this file will help solve Lena’s murder. All it’s going to do is add Julia to their suspect list—if she isn’t already there. I mean, this is a great motive to murder Lena. Especially since Ryan used the wedding he’d planned with Julia to marry Lena.

But I also know that I can’t not hand this over to HWPD. Drake is already eying his handcuffs, and despite my jokes, I know he won’t hesitate to use them and make some menial bullshit charge stick to get me out of his way until he’s solved the case.

Still though… “Is Trent in his office?”

“Have you finished?”

“Yes. He helped me out a little on this and I need to speak to him about something.”

Drake’s eyes narrow. “He should be there.”

Bingo.

HWPD can have my file—because I want something, too.

I run down the hall to Trent’s office. Well, I teeter, because no one can run in heels.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Drake thunders after me.

Trent opens his door and groans. “What are you doing here?”

“I have evidence.” I slip past him and flatten myself against the wall. “Could give you a suspect.”

“Hand me the fucking file, Noelle Bond,” Drake growls.

In my most immature move for a while, I shove the file up the front of my shirt and look at my brother. “You want the file?”

“Noelle, don’t fuck around,” Trent warns.

“You can have it. But I want the autopsy report.”

“You know I can’t—”

“And I’ll babysit. On a weekend. Twice.” Jesus, this is an expensive autopsy report.

“Or we could get a warrant.” Drake’s anger is vibrating through the room.

“You could,” I reason, “but everyone knows Judge Barnes plays golf on a Sunday and doesn’t have his phone anywhere on his person. So you couldn’t get one until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, because tomorrow morning, he’s in court with the guy I busted for dealing drugs last month.”

That was a fun case. My client had thought her boyfriend was cheating, but he was running a drug-dealing business. Apparently, HWPD hadn’t been able to solve it and I stumbled on it by accident.

“The same guy your colleagues couldn’t identify,” I remind them smugly. “So you can wait twenty-four hours and miss a lead, or you could just hand me that report and have it right now.”

If Drake’s eyes could kill, I’d be ashes on the carpet right about now.

“Fine,” Trent sighs. “Fine. You can have the report.”

“Great. You get it while I copy this.”

“Copy it? Trent, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Drake looks between us. “You can’t seriously be giving her the report.”

“My clients’ files are confidential. Did I forget to mention you need more than a simple warrant to get them?” I smirk over my shoulder.

“Noelle, I’m going to seriously arrest you one day.”

“Again with the cuffs.” I walk across Trent’s office and start up the copier. One by one, I photocopy every page of the report and compile them in order.

“Here,” Trent says, handing me several sheets of paper attached together by a clip. “Complete autopsy report.”

“Complete report on the infidelity case.” We switch at the same time, and I scan the cause of death. “She was poisoned?”

“It was likely what weakened her for the killer to torture her,” Drake says softly, but there’s still a sharp edge to his voice.

Hemlock poison.

“And she wasn’t raped?” I look up from the paper.

He shakes his head. “No sign of sexual activity at all.”

“So, why the mutilation of her breasts? And her…lady parts.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

I swallow. Jesus—I didn’t even deal with murders like this in Dallas when I was a rookie officer in homicide. I quit before I made it to detective.

The irony that I’m now technically one doesn’t escape me.

“Okay. I’m going to take this back to the office. Thanks.” I tuck the autopsy report into the Perkins file and hug them to my chest.

At least, I’m taking them back to the office after I’ve spoken to Julia.

“Nothing! She has an alibi. She was working, and she showed me a picture of the roster to prove it. Whoever killed Lena, it wasn’t Julia in a fit of jealous rage.”

Bekah licks frosting from the side of her hand. “Do you think Drake will be pissed that you gave him a dead-end suspect and got a crap ton of info out of them?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Probably. He’s always pissed at me, so I don’t see how it makes a difference. I’m just going to have to get my information through Brody now. Maybe Devin, but that’ll be tough because he’s not working the case.”

“Kinda sucks that Julia has an alibi.”

“You wanted her to be the killer?”

“Well, no. I like her. It would just be easier, right?” Bek drums her fingers against the desk.

“Yeah. She was the perfect suspect. She has the best and only motive I know of right now, but also an ironclad alibi. I asked her boss after she’d left and she didn’t leave during her shift.”

“Not even for a minute?”

“Nope. So I can cross her off my board.” I reach behind me and put a big, red cross through Julia’s name. “Which leaves Dean, Mike, and Marshall. Oh, and Grecia.”

“Are you kidding? Grecia has only just mastered lifting the kettle. She’s not strong enough to kill someone. She’s, like, five foot one and ninety pounds of taco and quesadilla.”

“She can slam a door like nobody’s business though.” I sigh and conference-call everyone.

A chorus of hellos rings out.

“Can y’all come into my office now?”

A second chorus, this time of yeses, and I hang up.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting everyone’s alibis. The good Detective Nash and my brother didn’t share those. Come in!” I call to them at the knock on my door. When everyone’s inside, I take a deep breath. “I need y’all to tell me where you were at the time of Lena’s death and the time she was deposited in the Dumpster. Dean?”

“I was at home with Emily when she died, and I found her when I came back from the store,” he answers.

“And your wife can verify it? So can the store?”

“Well, sure, Miss Noelle. I saw your brother’s wife at the store with their youngest.”

Okay. He’s good. Alison will confirm that with a quick text message.

“Thanks. Mike?”

“I was at home when she was killed and out working a case when she was left here,” he replies, his eye twitching.

“Alone? Both times?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. Grecia?”

She sniffs. “I was here. Eating lunch in my office and watching a sitcom.”

“Did you buy lunch out someplace?” I glance at Bekah, who’s writing everything down.

“Chuy’s. And the manager was in there, so he can confirm I was there.”

“And the night before? When she was killed?”

“Getting my beauty sleep.” She sniffs again.

“Okay. Marshall?”

“I was at home with my mom on Friday night and here working on something for Bekah on Saturday when y’all were at lunch.”

“Ooookay.” I breathe out slowly and nod. “Thanks. Y’all can get back to work now.” Then I wait until the door has been shut for several moments and there’s no noise outside before meeting Bekah’s eyes.

“Uh oh,” she whispers.

“Mike is lying. So is Grecia. I’ll call Danielle and Alison tonight to confirm Dean’s alibi, but we can rule him out, I think. Same with Marshall, but you call his mom. Her number is on file.”

“You really think Mike and Grecia are lyin’?”

I nod sadly, a heavy feeling in my stomach. “Whether it’s to do with Lena or not, I don’t know. But they definitely weren’t where they said they were.”

“Grecia said she was at Chuy’s. You want me to confirm that?”

“Already done,” Drake Nash drawls from the doorway.

“Were you a boomerang in a previous life?” My eyes find his. “You just keep comin’ back here, huh?”

“Can’t stay away,” he says, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Grecia was at Chuy’s when she said. I already called the manager.”

“Told you,” Bekah muses. “Ninety pounds of taco and quesadilla.”

“Probably Corona, too,” I reason.

“Whereas we’re a hundred and forty pounds of cupcake and margarita,” she sighs.

“Probably forty-five at this point if we’re honest with ourselves, and that’s pushing it.”

“I’ve never known anyone to go off on a tangent as much as you two. You especially,” Drake snaps, looking at me. “You’re investigating a murder.”

“No shit. You fancy yourself as the next Sherlock? ’Cause Cumberbatch is way prettier to look at,” I lie, my hackles rising.

Truth is, not many people have anything on Drake Nash in the looks department. Especially not when he’s rocking a five-o’clock shadow the way he is right now.

Shit me. If I didn’t think I’d be tempted to uppercut him, I’d probably run my fingers across that stubbly jaw and purr.

“You’re kind of cute when you get defensive,” he replies with a smirk. “Do you realize your ‘potential’ suspect was a total dead end?”

“After I talked to her, I did.”

“I knew you didn’t come straight back here.” His eyes glint with annoyance and amusement. “Since you know how she died anyway, and I’m assuming Rebekah does, too”—he cuts his gaze to her for a brief second before it finds its way back to me—“Tim is putting hemlock poison, ingested, as her cause of death on the death certificate. Toxicology reports found it in her stomach. All the torture was inflicted on her as the poison killed her.”

I shudder. The first thing I did when I got home yesterday was research hemlock poisoning, and I needed a good measure of Jack Daniel’s once I’d finished to wipe the memory of Lena’s body and her suffering from my mind.

Every part of the hemlock plant is poisonous. It can take as little as fifteen minutes for symptoms to set in, but when they do, they’re horrific. The muscles weaken at a fairly rapid speed, causing extreme pain and paralysis. Sight can be lost as the muscles deteriorate and die, but the mind stays fully awake until the moment of death.

Basically, Lena Perkins was fully aware of every ounce of torture her killer was inflicting on her. She felt the poison threading through her veins and leaking out into the rest of her body, freezing her inch by inch until everything but her mind was rendered useless.

She absolutely knew she was dying.

I wouldn’t wish that death upon my worst enemy.

“Poor Lena,” I whisper, breaking eye contact for a moment. “So, what are you doing here?”

“To tell you that I meant what I said. Stay away from my investigation, Ms. Bond.”

“Detective Nash, please be assured that I have no desire to be a part of it. I have everythin’ I need from the HWPD.” I pat the autopsy report with a small smile. “Now, be a doll and keep out of my investigation.”

Slowly, Drake backs toward the door. He pauses and points at me, his biceps flexing. “Remember—you get anythin’ at all that could tell us who the killer is, you call me.”

I stand sharply and flatten my hands on my desk. I focus on him with angry eyes. “I’m a private investigator, but I’m not stupid. I’m not tryin’ to step on your toes. I’m tryin’ to do the job I’ve been trained to do. So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate if you’d go and do yours and refrain from insulting me every time our paths cross, or I’ll report you for police harassment.”

“Are you threatening me, Noelle?”

“You bet your fine ass I am, Drake. Now, get out of my building before I have my two-hundred-and-eighty-pound ex-marine help you remember where the door is.”

I stare him down for exactly fifteen seconds before he turns and leaves.

“Sometimes,” Bekah says, “you’re real damn lucky your family is on the police force.”

Tell me about it.

I’ve decided that I’ve had just about enough of Drake Nash thinking he can control every inch of my investigation by sticking his nose into it. He—and, by default, the HWPD—are so far up my freakin’ backside that I’m starting to get piles from trying to get rid of them.

And, really, it’s not my fault that my file has given them nothing to work from. I could have warned him, but eh. He’s such a righteous bastard that it was much more amusing seeing him figure it out himself. Even if he is determined to get me off this investigation.

I’m trying to figure out what kind of women Drake works with, because if they roll over backwards for him, I’m on the fence as to whether or not they’re cop material. There’s doing as you’re told and then being bullied into doing something.

Drake is undoubtedly attempting to bully me into stopping. Unfortunately for him, I’m not afraid of him or of his scare tactics. They’re pathetic, and he’s beginning to look a lot like a petulant child.

Maybe he just doesn’t like the competition. Maybe he hates the fact that someone in Holly Woods doesn’t trust the police force to find the murderer, but they trust a poor, little woman to do it.

News flash: I’m not a poor, little woman. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old badass who has more guns than probably should be allowed on one permit. I’m not planning on bringing that up with the Government any time soon, but by badass, I mean I have three guns within grabbing distance at all times.

I don’t believe in overkill.

After Drake left, it became clearer than ever that what the big bad detective is scared of is being made to look a fool by the little private eye. If I solve this case before him, then he’s going to look like the world’s largest idiot in front of his bosses.

I’m not interested in feeding his ego. I’m interested in finding the asshole who killed my friend.

“Lena’s store goes to you now, correct?”

Ryan nods. “I don’t know what to do with it. She ran it by herself…but I can’t stand to sell it.”

“That’s okay,” I soothe him. “You have plenty of time to figure it out. Now, I hate to ask you this, but did Lena have any enemies? Business deals gone wrong? Maybe some dissatisfied customers?”

“Not that I know of. She’d been trading with the same two suppliers since she opened the store three years ago, and she was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known.” His voice cracks. “Even if something was wrong, she always made sure her customers were happy before they left the store.”

That I know to be true. Once, I bought a pair of shoes from her and the heel snapped off the first time I wore them. I let her know next time I saw her, and she all but dragged me into the store to replace them. Then she bought me a coffee to apologize, because that’s just the kind of person Lena was.

I know, I know. It makes no sense that she was Ryan’s mistress for a while, but that was…well, apparently a very serious burst of desire and emotion. I’m not here to judge, after all.

I thank Ryan, and he leaves. After calling both Lena’s parents and sister and getting no answer, I leave messages asking for them to call me at their earliest convenience on either my office line or my cell and give the numbers.

Even the sweetest people have enemies.

Somewhere, Lena must have had one, too. If she hadn’t, she’d be alive.

My office phone rings. “Noelle Bond.”

“Noelle!” my father shouts down the phone. “Did you threaten Detective Nash?”

Fucking snitch. “Only because he won’t leave me alone.”

“He’s a police officer, honey. He’s supposed to bug you when a dead body turns up in your parking lot!”

I narrow my eyes at the door. “There’s bugging me and then there’s bugging me, Dad, and he’s bugging my kidneys right out of my body. We’ve agreed to stay away from each other’s investigations now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You can’t just stay away from his investigation! You’re supposed to help him!”

“Noelle? Are you in there?” Devin opens the door. “Dad’s just been to the—”

“Is that Dev?” Dad asks as I frantically wave my hand at my brother. “Let me talk to him.”

“Can’t, Dad. Sorry. He promised to take me to Lena’s store so I can talk to her staff.”

“I did?” Devin asks.

I stare at him, wide-eyed and tight-lipped.

“Devin? But I thought you just said—”

“Not Dev’s investigation. Gotta go okay bye see ya.” I hang up and drop the phone into my purse. “Will you take me to Lena’s store?”

“Fine. But you have to tell me why Drake just came storming into the station, cursing about ‘fucking Noelle’ and ‘fucking harassment my ass’ and ‘fucking private investigator.’”

“I might have pissed him off.”

“Oh, goodie. You should know that he’s currently trying to nail your ass for something so he can throw you in jail for the night, so you’ve starred there.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, walking to Grecia’s door. “I’m going to be out for a while. If Lena’s parents or sister call, tell them to get me on my cell.”

“Yes,” she replies. “We’re out of coffee.”

“Mike’s gotta lay off it,” I growl to myself, walking out to my brother’s cruiser. I climb in the front and buckle up.

“All right. If you’re making me go in that fancy-ass store, start talkin’ about Drake.” Devin starts the engine and turns onto the main road.

I summarize Drake’s attempts at convincing me to lay off the case, and my brother responds with a giant laugh.

“Jesus. Did no one tell him about your famous temper?”

“I don’t have a temper!” I snap. And pause. “I’m simply passionate.”

“Passionate. Right. And how do you explain your attitude?”

“Attitude is male-speak for a woman being right all the time.”

“Spoken like Nonna’s granddaughter,” he mutters.

“Heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

“Are you engaged yet?”

“Are you dating yet?”

Thankfully, at that moment, we pull up outside Lena’s boutique. Sadness pangs my gut as I walk toward the store. It’s something about knowing that I’ll never be greeted by her smiling face again or I’ll never hear her laugh as we discuss Nonna’s attempts to marry me off.

Inside, it feels empty without her. The warmth she brought to the air is over, and all her assistant manager, Penny, can give me is a wan smile.

“Hi, Noelle. Officer Bond,” she says with a glance to my brother.

“Hey, Penny. How are you?”

She shrugs and pushes some hair from behind her ear, a hand resting on her round stomach. “I’m…lost.”

I squeeze the hand she’s resting on the counter. “I understand. I need to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind. I know it’ll be hard, but I want to find this monster.”

“Ryan said he’d hired you.” She looks down. “If anyone can solve it, it’s you.”

Wow. No pressure, then.

Drake’s voice travels from the back room, and I narrow my eyes as he enters the store next to a sales assistant named Mallory.

His eyes harden when he sees me. “What are you doing here, Ms. Bond?”

“I’m shopping for a new dress,” I reply. “My nonna kindly has me a date set up for the weekend.”

“That right?” He looks at Devin. “Officer Bond.”

“Detective.” Devin nods to him.

“Why are you here in a police car, then?”

“Dev often comes shopping with me. You know, to give his opinion on what a good little Italian boy would like.” I grin and pinch my brother’s cheek. He’s so going to kill me for that.

“I come under duress and promises of no cop favors,” he grinds out, batting my hand away.

I fight my laugh and turn to Drake. “Working?”

“Am I wearing a gun?”

“Three.” My eyes flick to his arms.

He stares at me, confused, and I really have to fight my laugh at the look on his face.

“What’s the matter, Detective? Can’t take a compliment?” I wink.

“Good Lord,” Devin mutters.

Penny giggles, and Mallory looks like she wants to shoot me.

Drake’s eyes spark, and I know he’s finally understood. “If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not working.”

“Not distract you. Throw you off? Maybe.”

“You’re here to work, aren’t you, Ms. Bond?”

“Perhaps I am, Detective Nash, but a girl can talk and shop simultaneously. Killing two birds with one stone is my favorite thing to do.” I smile sweetly. “But I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your questioning. Please continue.”

“Shut up,” Devin mutters. “Your niceness is suspicious.”

“I’m done here,” Drake says, his eyes hot on mine. “Ms. Chandler, Ms. Prescott, if y’all hear anything or think of anythin’ that might help me, please give me a call.” He slides a card onto the desk and gives a courteous nod before walking past me.

Mallory pouts when he glances at me before leaving the door to shut behind him.

“Jesus, it’s hard to be nice to that guy,” I breathe. “Okay, ladies. Where were you the night Lena was killed?”

“Are you accusing us of killing her?” Mallory squeaks.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m merely trying to get a picture of her routine. Ryan told me she was here unpacking inventory then went to get some food on her way home, except she never got home. She called him and told him there was a problem here.”

“I was here,” Penny offers. “One of us always helps her unpack inventory, and it was my shift this time.”

“We were both here,” Mallory adds. “I needed to change some shifts next week, but she wouldn’t let me since she was supposed to take a few days off. She couldn’t cover me because her and Ryan’s vacation had been booked for weeks.” She sighs.

“Did you have a fight?”

“We argued, sure. She’s been working less and going away more since she got married. I get it, right? But it ain’t fair on us. We’ve been picking up the workload.”

Motive? Maybe.

“When did Lena leave the store?” I ask, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.

“Around eight?” Penny frowns. “She came back because we’d been sent the wrong amount of the tartan dresses over there in the corner.”

I look over. Oh, they’re cute.

She continues. “She also had a fight with Ryan about the vacation.”

Interesting.

I keep my face blank, turning back to her. “When did y’all leave? Where’d you go?”

“Maybe nine thirty? We parted in the parking lot and both of us went home. Lena said she was going to order takeout and sleep on the couch in the staff room,” Mallory replies. “She hated going home when they argued.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was super paranoid that Ryan was cheating on her like he did Julia.”

“Mal!” Penny hisses.

“Something to tell me?” I stare at Penny.

“He was,” she whispers. “We slept together. Once. Before they got married,” she adds hurriedly.

Another motive?

“Just once?” I clarify.

“Yeah. It was a drunken mistake.”

“Aren’t they always?” Devin mutters.

I flick my fingers against his hand to shut him up. “When did it happen?”

“Maybe a couple weeks before they got married. I can’t remember exactly.”

“Mhmm.” I glance down at her burgeoning stomach. “And that would be…”

Her silence tells me everything I need to know.

“Thanks, girls. I can see you’re upset, so I’ll leave you to it. But like with Detective Nash, y’all think of anythin’, you call me.” I hand them two cards from the holder in my purse and grab Devin’s arm.

We leave the store to two hushed goodbyes, and I open the cruiser door.

“Did you know that?” I ask my brother.

“Not a clue. And I don’t think Drake does, either.”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking they both have motives. And that I need a cupcake to process this.”

Three cupcakes and a measure of Jack Daniel’s later and all I’ve done is make more suspects for myself. Which is a good thing—kind of. Dean and Marshall have been wiped off the board, but Mike and Grecia are still very much up there, now accompanied with Penny, Ryan, and Mallory.

If Ryan knew that Penny was pregnant with his baby, he may have wanted Lena out of the way, and the same for Penny. She may not have wanted Lena around in case she found out, because I’m assuming she hadn’t. Both of them have strong motives and weak alibis. They were both alone at the time of the murder—unless they were together, which could be a possibility. Penny said that they’d only been together once, but then again, she’d slept with her best friend’s husband, so she’s not exactly a reliable source.

I rub my temples. A continuing relationship would be the strongest reason for a motive. Both of them could have wanted her out of the way.

Mallory has a motive, too, though. Albeit a weak one. Maybe she got mad and came back after she left. But she’s tiny. How would she get Lena to take the poison? The autopsy said that it had been in her dinner, so maybe she snuck in, laced her takeout with hemlock leaves, and hid again.

Or maybe Penny did that and Ryan did all the leg work.

After all, the husband is always the most suspicious, and I certainly have reason to be suspicious of him.

Baking a bun in another woman’s oven is a big-ass secret to keep from a woman you’re paying several thousand dollars.

Of course, that raises another question.

Why would he pay me if he were the killer?