Текст книги "Twisted Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Brody. My favorite brother.” I lean against the frame of his front door. My smile is so sweet that I’m in danger of rotting my teeth.

“What do you want?”

“I have two questions.” I hold my fingers up.

“No. I can’t answer them.”

“Oh, come on. They’re yes-or-no questions. I’ll swap you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Trent and Drake already fell for that.”

“Fine. I’ll go first, and if you already know it, I’ll go.”

He sighs. “Shut the door and spit it out.”

I hurriedly close the door and skip into the front room. “Penny Prescott is pregnant.”

“Oh, really? The rapidly inflatin’ beach ball on her front didn’t clue me into that,” he says dryly.

“With Ryan Perkins’s baby.”

“Fuck off.” Brody turns lightning quick, dropping all traces of sarcasm from his tone. “Where’d you find that out?”

Aha! “From her, yesterday. When I went to Lena’s store. And neither of them has an alibi for the time she was killed. They were alone, supposedly.”

“You’re not saying it to fuck with Drake?”

“No. If I were, I wouldn’t have told you, would I? I get how much this could change the investigation, so I’m being the bigger person.”

“Because you want information.”

“Yes.” I grin.

“Spit it out,” he sighs.

“Do you know where Lena was killed?”

“No, but a salad inside a kebab containing Lena’s DNA and suspected traces of hemlock leaves were retrieved from the store. We’re currently assuming that she was taken to an unknown location, tortured, then kept there until she could be transferred to your Dumpster.”

“Great. So it was one hundred percent premeditated.”

“That’s the theory, sis. Yeah.”

I sigh. “Great. Random killing?”

“Can’t say. It originally appeared that way, but like you say, Ryan and Penny have one hell of a fuckin’ motive to get rid of Lena.” He pulls his phone out. “Detective Nash? Yeah, this is Detective Brody Bond… I’m bringing Noelle in to talk to you. She found out some very interesting information while talking to Penny and Mallory yesterday… No, trust me, they didn’t tell you this… All right.” He pockets it. “He said if your ass isn’t in his office in five minutes, then he’s definitely arresting you.”

It just doesn’t sound as sexy when the message comes from my baby brother.

“You’re kidding me,” I hiss, grabbing Brody. “Hide me and get me out of there!”

“You have-a Italian cops?”

“Brody,” I hiss again, hitting him. “You cannot let me go in there!”

“Why-a not?” Nonna yells.

“Nonna?” Trent’s voice breaks through Nonna’s go-to Italian obscenities. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Trying to get-a Noella a husband!”

“Kill me,” I groan. “Just do it. Right here.” I point to my forehead. “You have your gun. Please.”

Brody laughs hard and opens the door to the station.

“Noella!” Nonna exclaims. “They have-a no Italian cop-a!”

“Nonna.” I fake a bright smile. “What a surprise. What are you doin’ here?”

“I try to get-a you a husband!”

“No. I don’t believe you,” I reply flatly, sarcasm hitting my words hard. I meet Trent’s eyes. “Please take her home, Trent. No one needs to be subjected to her husband-finding efforts.”

“My granddaughter will be-a no zitella!”

“She’s not thirty yet, Nonna. Come back to this next year when the matter is slightly more pressin’,” Trent intervenes, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go get you one of those pies you like from the bakery and take you home.”

“No husbands here!” she mutters, trotting past. “I want-a the paper! Lonely hearts section-a!”

“Sure, Nonna. Whatever,” Trent responds to her.

“You just lost all babysitting privileges!” I yell after him.

No, no, no. I cannot believe she did this. Dammit, I have, like, eight years before my ovaries send my eggs to the grave, maybe even ten years. This is not a pressing manner. I could even freeze them, right? That’s a thing now? This is not serious.

She is not serious, coming into the local PD and searching for a husband for me.

God, she is. She damn well is.

I want a new grandmother.

I turn around and bury my head in my arms on the reception. Charlotte pats my shoulder with a, “There, there, hon,” and I take deep breaths. Honestly, the woman knows no bounds. Devin is older than I am and she’s not pressing him to marry Amelia. No, she’s happy he’s found a good Catholic girl. Hell, Brody is single and she’s not getting on his back, and he’s only a year younger than I am.

But God forbid I should be twenty-eight and not married. God forbid I should be twenty-eight without even the prospect of a husband.

“In my office, Bond.” Drake’s voice booms through the ground floor of the station.

I flip the bird over my shoulder. Sometimes, a girl needs a moment. Especially when she has to be in an enclosed room with a sinfully handsome detective right after her nonna demanded everyone in the building show her an Italian police officer.

Hands grab my waist and pull me up. Before I can protest, I’m spun around and propelled into Drake’s office. He lets me go when I’m in the middle of the room. Then he turns to lock the door.

“I’m pretty sure that was police brutality.”

“Noelle, police brutality would be me flipping me over my knee and slapping your ass for keeping important information from me for almost twenty-four hours,” he says firmly, his eyes flaring with heat. “Now, talk.”

Sensing I’m going to get no sympathy for my predicament with my matchmaking grandmother, I sigh and tell him everything Mallory and Penny told me yesterday. His face gets angrier with seemingly every word I say, but for once, I sense that it isn’t anger at me. It’s anger at them for having withheld vital information.

Judging by Mallory’s face, I’d guess she was too busy trying to convince Drake to get her pregnant instead of telling him about Penny.

“How’d you get that out of them?”

“I’m a woman.” I perch on the edge of his desk and cross my arms over my chest.

“I noticed.” He drops his eyes to my chest, and I let my arms fall back down so my boobs aren’t quite so…boobish. With the excessive cleavage gone, Drake meets my gaze again. “Explain.”

“It’s easier to talk to other women about that stuff.” I shrug. “I’m also a pretty good interrogator, which is why I started my business instead of flipping burgers or something.”

Drake raises his eyebrows. “So, what else did they tell you?”

“Exactly what they told you, I guess. Your mistake was that you didn’t interview them together. They gave each other away.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Women share everything down to their bra sizes with their best friends, and get them together and we can’t keep shit to ourselves. Do you know nothing?”

“Evidently so.”

“Sit down, Nash,” I sigh, swinging my legs from the chair and throwing my butt into it instead. I cross my legs and wait for him to sit next to me.

“You should be aware, Ms. Bond, that swinging your legs so vigorously while wearing a dress may allow others to see your other items of clothing.”

“That was a very formal way of informing me you just saw my panties.”

“I try to be polite.”

“No, you don’t. You purposely go out of your way to be an asshole.”

“Only with you.” He winks, smirking. “Now, explain to me about woman friendships.”

Words you’ll never hear another man say. Ever.

“Actually, I have to get back to my office.” I stand. Because, hell yeah, I’m kind of totally fucking embarrassed right now. My panties vary from touching-the-belly-button to what’s-the-point-in-those? and I so cannot remember what I slipped on this morning.

Basically, the good detective either saw my Nonna-style panties or got himself a good glimpse of my vagina. Neither of which is appealing.

“Noelle,” Drake growls.

I roll my eyes and twist the key Drake left in the door. He comes up behind me and closes his hand over mine on the handle. His chest is solid against my back, and I swallow as the close proximity of our bodies causes my heart to skip a beat or two then speed up so my blood thunders through my body.

“If you know something I should know, I advise you to spit it out,” he rasps quietly, his breath cascading across my neck.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” I reply quietly, turning my face back toward him slightly.

“You’ve realized somethin’, though, and you’re hiding that.”

“Women tell each other everything, except for what they don’t want someone to know. Mallory knew things about Penny that Lena clearly didn’t. That’s what I just realized.”

“Are you saying…”

“I’m not saying anything. Now, kindly unhand me. I need a cupcake.”

He steps back slowly before coming close to me again. This time, though, we’re face-to-face and his icy-blue eyes are boring into mine. If I thought my blood was rushing through my body a moment ago, I was sorely mistaken. I can feel it all over, a sweet heat that has every hair on my body standing on end.

Drake drops his eyes to my mouth for a split second. “Nice panties,” he whispers huskily.

I snatch my hand from his and step back, disguising my sharp, lusty breath as indignation. “If I wouldn’t be arrested, I’d punch you.”

His laugh follows me down the hall, getting louder when I snap at Brody to move his butt.

If Mallory knows things about Penny that Lena didn’t, then it stands to reason that Lena may have known things about Mallory.

“Marsh!”

“Boss.” He pokes his head out of his door.

“Do we know if Lena Perkins had a life insurance policy?”

“We could in a few minutes.”

“That’s my boy.” I walk out of my office and into his.

Marshall’s office is very much like him—small and plain. The only thing in here other than work stuff is a potted plant Bekah insisted he use to brighten it up. Grecia tried talking him into having a sombrero on the wall, but he paled so quickly that we thought he was dying on us. Since then, we’ve given up on the decorating thing.

“One life insurance policy for Mrs. Lena Perkins, taken out four months ago, covers every circumstance of death,” Marshall reads.

“How much?”

“Almost a million dollars.”

I whistle low. “Lotta money for a girl who runs a clothes shop.”

“Wanna know the best part?” He looks up, a slight smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.

“I have a feeling you’re about to mess with me, Marshall.”

“The person down to collect the money isn’t her husband.”

“What?” I shriek, walking around his desk and putting a hand on the back of his chair as I read. “Hmm. Print this.”

Seconds later, I have the policy in my hands and I’m knocking on Bekah’s door.

“Come in,” she calls.

“Read this.” I put it in front of her.

Her gaze flicks side to side as she does. “That’s a big policy for a chick who owns a clothing store.”

“That’s what I said. Now, keep reading. To here.” I tap my nail against the line.

“Huh.”

“Why would Mallory Chandler be down as the recipient of eight hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in the event of Lena’s death?”

“I’m thinking what you’re thinking.”

“I think we need to talk to Mallory.” I grab the policy. “Let’s go.”

After giving Grecia the usual spiel about messages and requesting that she try to contact Lena’s family again, I lead Bekah to her car.

“Where’s your crock of shit?”

“On my drive. And I’m still too lazy to go to Austin.” I shrug and start the car. “Let’s go by the store first. You run in and, if it’s Penny working, pretend that Lena ordered something for you before she died but she didn’t say when it’d be in. Obviously, it won’t be there, so walk out. I’ll wait in the car, and if Mallory is working, scratch the top of your head and I’ll come in. Okay?”

“Got it.”

Luckily, the store is only a couple of blocks away from my office, and we’ve barely concocted our plan by the time I pull up outside. I pull my phone out and pretend to call someone, watching discreetly for Bekah’s signal. It doesn’t come.

She walks out and gets in the car. “She’s not here.”

“Let’s try her house.” I put my phone in my lap and pull out onto the main road.

Mallory Chandler lives in one of the newer parts of town. Her apartment block is barely a year old, and if I weren’t so fond of my little house in the original part of Holly Woods, I’d be jealous. Or I would be if I weren’t aware of how much it costs to rent one of these apartments.

I park in the lot, and the shiny, new vehicles hit home how old my crock of shit is. The more places I drive, in my car or Bekah’s much newer one, the more I realize I need to go to the dealership.

Maybe I’ll get a nice Audi. I already own my house, so maybe I should spend my savings on a car.

“Okay.” Bekah scans the list of tenants. “She lives in apartment 8B.” She presses the button.

“Hello?” Mallory says through the intercom.

“Hi, Mallory. This is Noelle and Rebekah from Bond P.I. We have a couple more questions for you about Lena.”

“Uh, sure. Come on up.”

The door buzzes open and we dart through. While taking the elevator up to her apartment, I wonder how Mallory can pay for this. Surely its way out of her budget as a retail sales assistant.

If not, I’m in the wrong damn profession.

She has the door open when we step out of the elevator. “Come in,” she says wearily.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.

“Just long hours now that Lena’s gone. I think it’s really starting to hit me, you know? Plus, Ryan came in yesterday and said he’s considering selling the store, and Penny’s giving me a hard time over telling you about her sleeping with him, and…” She stops and swallows back a sob. “I’m sorry. It’s just real now.”

“Of course. I’m sorry to bother you again, but I just found something out and I’d like to talk to you without Penny around.”

“Sure. Sure.” Mallory sits down. “What can I help you with?”

I pull the insurance policy from my purse and set it down in front of Mallory. “What can you tell me about this?”

Mallory draws in a sharp breath. “I forgot all about this,” she whispers.

“You knew?” Bekah asks.

“I had to sign it, too,” she says softly.

“Mallory, why is it in your name?”

“She seriously suspected that Ryan was cheating on her—or that he would at some point. Her family has a strong history of cervical cancer, and she was afraid that, if she developed it like her sister and aunt did, Ryan would get all the money, but she wanted to have one. She told me that I was supposed to buy the store with the money.” She stares at the paper. “Ryan didn’t know. About the policy.”

How about that?

“Did she think Ryan was sleeping with Penny?” Bekah asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I think she regretted marrying him as soon as she’d signed the marriage certificate. After all, Ryan and Julia had been together for years before he cheated on her with Lena. Then they got married so quickly. I think she was preparing for every eventuality. The shop was her baby.”

“It sure was,” Bekah agrees.

“Will they pay it now that she’s been murdered? I-I want to buy the store. I don’t want Ryan to sell it to someone else.”

“I haven’t read the terms, but at a guess, they’ll at least need police proof that she was murdered. You’d have to call them.” I pause. “Mallory… You knew about Penny and Ryan. Is there anything Lena may have known about you that could have led to her being killed?”

Mallory shakes her head, her sad eyes on mine. “No. Nothin’. I don’t talk more than menial gossip. I’m taking my secrets to the grave.”

“Wise girl,” Bekah notes. “You think she’s still a suspect?”

“She doesn’t have a solid alibi, so she is. But no, I don’t think she did it. I didn’t notice a tell when I showed her the policy. If she really hadn’t forgotten, I would have known,” I muse. Body language has always been my strong point and why, as a cop, I was always taken in on interviews and interrogations. “Same with buying the store. She really does want to buy it.”

“Any chance she killed her to get the store?” Mike asks, looking around the room at everyone.

I shake my head and grab a chocolate cupcake. “She genuinely forgot about the policy, and I can’t imagine where else she would have gotten the money to do such a thing.”

“But her apartment is crazy expensive,” Bekah argues.

“Her parents are rich,” Grecia inputs. “Her father owns a big construction company in Houston. She moved here to get away from everything. He owns the building she lives in.”

“They why would she need the policy money to buy the store?”

“Because other than that, she’s independent,” Grecia explains.

“Okay. That makes sense now.” I frown at the wall.

“How’d you know that?” Dean asks.

“I also enjoy shopping in Lena’s boutique.” Grecia smiles. “I see Mallory a lot. She’s a nice girl.”

Huh. Surprises everywhere these days.

“Okay, y’all. If you’re okay with your plans for today, I’m going to head home and try to make sense of some of this.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Marsh says.

The others all express their agreement, so I stand.

“Bekah? Can you give me a ride home? I walked to Brody’s this morning.”

“Sure.”

I grab my things and follow her out to her car. I don’t say a word as she pulls away. Instead, I nibble steadily at the skin by my thumbnail and stare blankly out the window.

Something isn’t adding up in this case.

I have two prime suspects: the husband and the mistress. They both have the motive and the means to kill her. I mean, I don’t understand killing someone to be with another person when divorce is so easy, but hey. Some people are crazy, and hemlock has been implanted in North America for years now. You can drive down a country road and pick it, for the love of God.

But… It doesn’t seem like it’s enough.

It seems too simple.

“What’s your gut telling you?” Bekah asks, parking at the end of my driveway.

She knows me so well.

“That I’m barking up the wrong tree.”

“Then we’ll look at another angle.”

I nod and pat her hand on the gear stick before getting out. She drives away as I fumble in my purse for my keys. Unsurprisingly, I find them in the toes of my Chucks. Along with my phone, a stick of gum, and my favorite red lipstick.

I’m just pulling the keys out when something inside my car catches my eye. Slowly, I move toward the little red vehicle, my eyebrows dipping into a frown.

And I freeze.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I almost drop my keys as I dig my phone out.

“Detective Nash.”

“I have a problem,” I say shakily.

“Stuck already, Bond?”

“No. There’s a dead body on the back seat of my car.”

“I hope this isn’t gonna be a habit.”

I look up from my front step at Drake. “You and me both.”

“You okay?”

“Honestly? Not really. Another dead body being found on property I own isn’t exactly the greatest thing I’ve ever had happen to me.”

“Stupid question,” he mutters, sitting next to me. “It’s only midafternoon. Your brother has asked that your house be searched with the car so you can at least sleep here tonight.”

I lick my lips. “My house doesn’t feel that safe right now.”

“You got a place to stay?”

“I’ll call Bekah. Then someone to install an alarm in this place.” I stare at the cherry blossom tree just coming into bloom across the street.

“Good thinkin’. You know it’ll be a while before you get your car back, right?” He touches a hand to my lower back. “We can arrange for a rental for you, given the nature of this.”

“Fuck that.” I snap my head around and look at him. “You can send it to the scrapyard. You ain’t getting me back in that damned thing even if you handed me a million dollars!”

“I’m gonna need that in writing.”

“Of course you are.”

“You know I have to question you, right? Things look suspicious for anyone looking on the outside in.”

I lean against the wall and run my fingers through my dark hair. “I worked late last night, and I can get you the tapes from my building to prove it. I left around eleven, came home, downed a shot of JD, and collapsed on my sofa. This morning, I woke with a stiff neck, went to see my brother, then you, then headed back to the office. After that, I visited Mallory Chandler with Bekah, went back to the office, then Bekah dropped me off around two minutes before I called you.”

“Airtight alibi,” Drake notes, his hand still on me. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

I glance at him and open my mouth to snap, but I realize he’s teasing me. I sigh. “If you go to the office, Marshall will get you the tapes from last night and a list of everyone’s phone numbers to check alibis.”

“If only you were this cooperative in the investigation, I might have you in my bed already.”

“Seriously? I just found a dead man in my car and you’re hitting on me?”

Drake’s eyes blaze, his fingers tightening at the hem of my shirt and causing the tips of them to brush my back. “I saw your panties only a few hours ago. I don’t care how much you piss me off. You wear panties that nice and I’m going to be preoccupied.”

His words jolt through me in a mix of lust and annoyance that counteracts the fear lingering in my stomach. “You’re an asshole,” I mutter, getting up. “Trent, can I go in and get some things? Please?”

My brother looks toward Drake, and my heart sinks. That’s a no, then.

Drake surprises me by cocking his thumb toward the door. “Get in and out before anyone notices,” he warns Trent then looks at me. “You take nothing but essentials from drawers. You understand?”

“Understood.” I hold on to Trent’s arm as he takes me inside my house and upstairs to my room. I shove a change of clothing into my purse and grab my cowboy boots, knowing I have a spare phone charger at the office and I can buy a new toothbrush. I grab my makeup bag as an afterthought from the dresser.

The whole time, Trent’s eyes are scanning the house, looking for signs someone’s been in here, too.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. This is my fucking space, dammit. No one violates my house unless they eventually want a bullet through whatever limb I aim at when I find them.

“You think they’ve been in?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No signs of it. In your car, your window was smashed in. That’s good for us. We’re going to bring some extra officers in to talk to your neighbors and see if anyone saw or heard anything. Someone has to have heard the smash, and if they did, it’ll let us know when the body was placed in your car.”

I nod, biting my tongue so I don’t say what I’m thinking out loud.

It’s not a coincidence that both bodies have been placed on my properties once dead.

“I guess there’s no chance of bribing this autopsy report out of you,” I mutter.

Trent laughs quietly. “You’ll have to charm Detective Nash. I’m second-in-command here, Noelle.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Can’t you maybe hook him up with the flu or something until the case is solved?”

Trent looks at me like I’m mad.

“Or not,” I mutter. “Maybe I should read up on charming people. I’m not that great at it.”

“If you’re thinking about charming me for the autopsy report, it won’t work,” Drake says as we rejoin him on the porch. His hands are in his pockets as forensics remove the body and examine my car with a thousand fine-tooth combs.

“Dammit. Don’t I have a right to know how he died? I mean, my car and all that.”

“Nice try, Bond.” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor, Noelle. Go chill out and try to relax.”

I look at my car and snort. “Yeah. I’ll just do that and pretend this never happened.”

It definitely isn’t a coincidence.

That much has become painfully and somewhat scarily clear since I locked myself in a hotel room with a box of cupcakes and a bottle of JD. So it’s not Gigi’s, but cupcakes are cupcakes, and since I have no car to get to Austin, I have to deal with it.

I’d only just gotten the images of Lena in the Dumpster out of my mind, too. If that isn’t a bitch, I don’t what is. Thankfully, I clearly learned my lesson, because this time, all I saw before I called Drake was that the man was clearly dead and covered in blood.

At least he matched the paintwork.

I tip the glass full of Jack Daniel’s to my lips and stare blankly at the television. I have all the case files for Lena’s murder spread in front of me, but they’re all a mess of words and lines. All I can think of is that there were two dead bodies in the space of a week and both of them were planted on or around property I own.

Unless this body comes back as belonging to Ryan Perkins and the murderer is Penny Prescott, the only connecting factor in these cases is…me.

And I’m enough of a nuisance that it wouldn’t even be surprising.

I don’t think anyone hates me that much though, and they’re way too early for my birthday.

Not that dead bodies are great birthday presents. I’d rather receive shoes or something.

I roll the glass across my lips from side to side and put my ringing phone on speaker.

“Oh, my baby!” Mom cries.

“I told-a you! No job-a for a woman!” Nonna shouts.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Dad asks, much calmer.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

“You had a dead body in your car! How are you fine?” Mom.

A string of Italian. Nonna.

I swear the woman will never speak English where she can use Italian.

“Dad? Can you get away from the crazies?”

There’s some shuffling and then I hear hushed words as my father hopefully escapes from them.

“Okay, Noelle. I’ve locked them in the house and I’m in the car. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Daddy. Another dead body has shown up on my property in, like…four days. Or something. It might be five. Six, even. They’re all blurring together.” I swallow. “Drake took my alibi at the house earlier, let Trent go in with me so I could get some stuff, and I have to head down to the station tomorrow at some point so he can talk to me properly.”

He blows out a long breath that crackles down the line. “You wanna come stay at home for a few days?”

“No offense, Dad, but I’d rather ram a stiletto through my baby toe.”

“Can I join you, then? Ever since Trent called earlier, your mother has been going crazy. It’s a miracle she went five hours before dialing your number herself.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “I’m good. I’m at the Oleander downtown. I have my gun on the nightstand. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, love. If you want me to come to the station with you tomorrow, I will.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I just want to go in, do what I need to, and find out if they think the new murder is connected to my case right now.”

“Do you think it is?”

I don’t say anything. If I say it out loud, then that kind of solidifies that it is.

“Possibly. Or I’ve just really pissed off someone in town and they want to frame me.”

“Not at all reassuring, darlin’.”

I smile at the phone. “I’m gonna try sleep some now, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I promise. And try to get Nonna to cancel the whole date at Friday night dinner. I definitely don’t have time for it now.”

“I’ll do my best. ’Night, Noelle.”

“’Night, Daddy.”

I hang up and gather my papers. I stuff them haphazardly into the folder, something I know I’ll regret tomorrow. But right now, I don’t care. With the folder on the floor by the side of the bed, I finish the last of my JD, drop the glass on the nightstand next to my gun—double the weapon—and bury myself beneath the covers with the television still on.

I attach my gun to my ankle holster and admire my cowboy boot in the mirror. It hides the weapon perfectly, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

After I came to the conclusion that there’s a high chance I’m more deeply involved in these murders than I’d imagined I was, I spent the whole night tossing and turning. I eventually slept with my gun on the other pillow, my fingers brushing the handle. I got around two hours of sleep before I woke up, my mind buzzing with theories that are mostly total nonsense.

I’m freaked out. I am. I’ve done this kind of thing before, but never has it felt so personal.

Even if I’m not embroiled in it, the killer is dumping the bodies in my fucking space.

Asshole.

I pack my things back into my purse, relieved when my heels fit in there, too, and go downstairs to hand in my room key. I leave it on the reception desk with a note of my room number just so no one will talk to me. Then I all but run out of the hotel.

The spring sun is warm on my face as I step onto the sidewalk, and I pause to savor it for a moment. The sun really does make a difference to your mood, because there’s a tiny lift in my spirits.

My office is only a block away, and I walk down the street until I reach the turn that’ll lead me there. Everyone’s cars are in the parking lot, including a police cruiser. I groan, recognizing it as Drake’s, and push the door open.

Grecia looks up. “Oh! Noelle!” She stands and hugs me tight. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her, smiling. “Can you get everyone to meet me in the conference room across the hall?”

“Of course. Detective Nash is in your office. Bekah let him in,” she adds.

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath and take the stairs to my office. I dart into the room before anyone notices me and shut the door.

“Noelle.”

I turn to see Drake standing. “You’re here early.”

“I’m useless at the station until we get results back, so I thought I’d see how you’re doin’ this mornin’.”

“In other words, you’ve come to question me,” I say wearily, putting my purse down on the desk.

“That, too. Sheriff wants to know what your connection to the murders is.”

“Well, next time you see him, tell him that, as soon as I know, I’ll give him a call. Failin’ that, send him around with cupcakes and I’ll save you the trouble.” My phone rings. “Noelle Bond.”

“Everyone is downstairs,” Grecia says.

“Thank you.” I hang up and look at Drake. “Since you’re here, I guess you may as well sit in on our meeting.”

“I’m honored,” he drawls.

“Don’t be. Someone’s gonna pay if there isn’t a big-ass box of cupcakes today.”

When he doesn’t reply or move, I stop.

“What?”

He frowns at my feet. “You’re wearing boots.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You want a gold star for that observation, Sherlock? Your powers of deduction truly amaze me. I finally understand why you’re off beat and the top detective in homicide.”

Drake smirks, his eyes showing the laughter he’s struggling to contain. “You’re always in heels.”

“I wear Chucks when I have to observe clients,” I correct him.

Sighing, though, I reach down and pull my gun from the boot. His eyebrows go up, his smirk growing, and I put it back.

“But neither Chucks nor heels hide a gun, and I have no issues shooting my way out of this situation.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he murmurs, following me downstairs.

I’ve barely stepped foot in the conference room when Bekah is running at me. She wraps her arms around me, and the force of her attack pushes me back into Drake. He steadies us both by grasping my waist and holding me there.