Chapter 4

FOUR

STEPH PUSHED HER MOUSE to the side, rubbed her eyes, then glanced at her phone. Then at the little five-by-seven pink notebook sitting by her water bottle.

Still no return call from Cole. She’d give him another hour, then she was going to try James. But if James and Cole were together on a SWAT call, he wouldn’t answer either.

She opened the notebook once more and tried to figure out the weird letters and numbers Brenda used. “ ENNB ,” she whispered. “What’s that?” Seems like she should know, but she didn’t have a clue. They all had their own way of keeping up with their work, but this coded method was a new one, and Steph had no idea what made her friend use it—or how to decipher it. On a whim, she snapped pictures of each page. She was going to have to turn the book in to the police but wanted a copy for herself. Just in case she could figure it out.

Her phone stayed silent for the next ten minutes. “Oh bother.” She pulled the other detective’s card from her pocket and ran her thumb over the slightly raised black print. Detective Tate Cooper.

His gray eyes with a tinge of green still played in her mind. He’d been tired and hadn’t tried to hide it, but he’d also been focused on the task before him. And he and Cole seemed to get along well despite the experience gap between them.

Then again, that was probably mostly due to Cole. He didn’t have anything to prove, and Tate didn’t act like he did either.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned to see Stan. “Hey.”

“Hey, just walking around checking on everyone. How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I’m not getting much work done. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I know. I’m considering sending everyone home. It’s Friday. We could all probably use the long weekend.”

“Might not be a bad idea.” She hesitated, then held up the notebook. “The cops missed this when they were cleaning out Brenda’s desk. It was taped to the side of one of her drawers and came loose. I found it when the drawer wouldn’t slide back in right.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” She handed it to him. “Have you seen it before?”

“No.” He flipped through it. “Weird. None of that makes any sense.”

“I think it’s a code of some kind.”

“ ENNB ? What’s that?”

“Beats me, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t I keep it? Maybe I can study it.”

“The cops will want it. It’s part of the contents of her desk.”

He frowned. “They’re on the way to get it?”

“Not yet. I called and told them I had it, but no one’s called me back yet. Someone will.”

“Right.” He passed the book back to her. “Well, let me know if they need me for anything. I’ll be in my office for a little bit, then I’m taking off. I’m like you. Can’t concentrate.”

“Yeah.” She studied him a moment. “Stan, are you sure you don’t know what Brenda was working on? I mean, did she mention a specific client she was having trouble with?”

He shook his head. “Nope, and that’s what I told the police. I even went through her entire client load looking to see if a name jumped out at me, but”—he shrugged—“nothing.”

“Okay. Well, thanks.”

“And now, I’m going to make a phone call and take off. My kids said something about coming home for the weekend, so I want to help the wife get things straightened up for them. You should go home too.”

“I will. Soon.” She gave him a hug, then went back to work. After an hour of nothing, she finally gave up and dialed Tate’s number.

He picked up on the third ring. “Tate Cooper here.” His voice sounded different. A deeper bass than earlier. Like he had a sore throat.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’s a good thing. I was taking a break and fell asleep.”

“Sleeping on the job is allowed these days? I need to switch careers.”

“Cute. I had permission due to bad scheduling on my part.”

“Ah. You worked all night and then caught this case before you could go home.”

He chuckled. “Exactly. Now you know my secrets. What can I do for you?”

“I found something that I think you need to see. It’s a notebook that belonged to Brenda. I’m going to leave work in about five minutes if you want me to meet you somewhere.”

“What if I just swing by your place?”

“That works.” She gave him her address and hung up, gathered her things and Brenda’s notebook, then waved goodbye to Stan, who was still on the phone and pacing his office.

He returned her wave, then went back to his phone conversation. And his pacing. He was usually so even-keeled it was odd to see him off-kilter, but Brenda’s death had obviously thrown him. Like it had all of them. She almost stopped to ask if he was okay but didn’t want to interrupt since he was obviously making a number of calls. Probably to clients who needed to know about Brenda’s death. She’d catch up with him next week.

In the parking garage, she hurried toward her Subaru Outback, pumps clicking on the concrete floor. Leaving early meant getting a head start on the usual flood of traffic exiting the building, and it was eerily quiet except for the road noise two floors down.

And something else. Footsteps. Quiet ones, but nevertheless...

She stopped.

The footsteps behind her continued for a moment, then stopped too. Was she being paranoid or was it just someone else leaving early and the footsteps stopped because they’d arrived at their vehicle?

She scanned the area, her eyes sweeping right, then left. Nothing. Or was someone actually following her? She shivered. Brenda’s death had spooked her, making her more jumpy than usual.

Steph picked up the pace, wishing she’d found a spot closer to the door, but she’d been running late this morning and the only spot available had been all the way at the end of the row.

Naturally.

Once again, she swore she heard footsteps and the rustle of pant legs rubbing together. Just a swish of a sound, but it was there. She clicked her remote to unlock her doors. Finally, she slid behind the wheel and slammed and locked the door.

She pressed the Start button and her engine purred to life. Steph aimed her vehicle toward the exit, faster than she should, but looking for anyone who might have been following her. And there. A man dressed in jeans, a blue short-sleeved shirt, and a baseball cap stood next to an older model SUV, head averted. She was tempted to stop and ask him if he was following her, but decided that might not be the smartest thing to do and kept going.

All the way home, she watched her rearview mirror, but finally pulled into her garage without incident. Only when the door was lowered behind her vehicle did she get out and scurry into her home. With the doors and windows checked and double checked, she stopped a moment to look at her phone.

Tate was on his way.

TATE PULLED INTO Stephanie’s drive and cut the engine. She had a smaller home in one of the more affluent neighborhoods. It was a Victorian cottage–style house that somehow seemed to suit her. He propelled himself out of the vehicle and onto her front porch. It was nearing dinnertime, so he’d grabbed some Chinese from his favorite place after consulting with James about what his sister liked.

He rang the doorbell.

Seconds later, footsteps sounded and the door swung open. Steph stood there with a forced smile and pale face.

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“I look that bad?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You just look ... scared.”

She waved a hand. “I just got home. I ... uh ... had a weird experience in the parking garage at work and it shook me.”

He held up the food. “Want to tell me about it over sweet-and-sour chicken?”

Her eyes widened. “My favorite. How’d you know?”

“I called James and asked him.”

She blinked. “Oh. Well, thank you. The kitchen is this way.”

Tate followed her into the spacious area just off the den and put the food on the counter. “Now, tell me what happened.”

She filled him in and he mulled it over. “And no one else was there?”

“No, no one other than the one man I saw as I was leaving. I mean, it was four o’clock in the afternoon. Most people don’t leave until five or five thirty. Sometimes even later.” She shuddered. “I’ve never been afraid in that garage. Not even at night. There are cameras and security patrolling—most of the time anyway. And before you ask, I have no idea where security was earlier. Probably on another floor.” She sighed. “The point is, yes, it was weird, but the more I think about it, I’m pretty sure I overreacted. I’m actually a little embarrassed.” She pushed a bag toward him. “Let’s eat and forget about that while I show you what I found.”

“Okay, sure.” And while she could have overreacted, as she said, Tate wasn’t sure he was comfortable just brushing off the incident. While she busied herself readying her food, he tapped a request for the security footage of the garage. Just out of curiosity.

He then grabbed one of the plates she offered, dumped his food on it, and carried it to the table. “You mind if I say grace?”

She smiled. “I’d love it.”

He said a short prayer of thanks for the food and for guidance to find Brenda’s killer, then looked up to find her watching him. Heat started to crawl into his neck and he cleared his throat. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare and make you feel uncomfortable. I was just thinking that you’re a nice guy, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.”

She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “So, what got you into police work?”

His mind flew back to the incident that started it all. Did he want to get into that? He looked at her. She was waiting, expectant. Listening. “When I was fifteen, my best friend’s father was killed in a grocery store holdup. The killer had just been released because of a technicality that very day.” Tate rubbed his chin, wishing he could rub away the memories. “I saw what that did to my buddy and his family. It made me want to be the kind of cop who didn’t make mistakes. The kind who got it right the first time so that no sharky lawyer could get someone off and put them back on the street to kill again.”

“I’m so sorry, Tate. That’s awful.”

He blinked the past away and took another bite. “It was, but my buddy became a cop too and just testified at the killer’s parole hearing, keeping him behind bars for another few years.”

“Good for him,” she said, her voice soft, eyes wide and focused solely on him, drawing him in, making him want—

No, that wasn’t the plan. No romantic entanglements until he was settled.

You’re pretty settled, Detective Cooper. You’ve reached your goal. You can—

He shut off the little voice in his head and cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s why I do what I do. Each time I catch a bad guy—and make sure I do it right—I think about the fact that maybe, just maybe, I kept someone else’s family from going through what my friend’s did.”

“Very admirable.”

“Thanks. Enough about me. Tell me what made you delve into the world of numbers.”

She laughed and he was grateful she let him change the subject. “I was always good at math,” she said. “I like things that make sense, and numbers make sense to me. When I found I could make a living helping businesses balance their books, it was a no-brainer. I love my job.” She sighed. “And Brenda loved hers, but something was definitely going on. I don’t know what, but I think it’s highly possible it’s connected to someone running her off the road.” She pulled a small pink notebook from her purse and handed it to him. “You missed this. It was taped to the side of the drawer at one point. All of the opening and closing must have loosened it. I went through her desk, looking to see if you left anything. You didn’t. Anyway, when I opened and closed the top drawer, this was dislodged. I found it because the drawer wouldn’t shut properly.”

He frowned and opened it to the first page. “This looks like a bunch of random stuff.” He looked up. “Code?”

“That’s what I think.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. If I had time, I might be able to figure out the key.” She shook her head. “It’s weird that she would feel the need to do this. She’s not into conspiracy theories or anything.”

“But she obviously came across something she didn’t want anyone else seeing—or if they did see it—she didn’t want them understanding it.” He pressed his lips together. “All right, well, I already have a list of her clients, so we don’t have to ask for them. Maybe if we go through this and the client names, we’ll see something that matches?”

“Maybe. I have her clients too. We all have a list of each other’s clients in case we have to handle something while someone is on vacation or ... in case of an emergency.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment and he placed a hand on her shoulder while she fought the emotion. “It’s okay to cry and grieve,” he said.

“I know. But not now. Crying won’t find who killed her, and that’s what I want to do more than anything at the moment.” She glanced at him. “Have you talked to her husband, Greg?”

“We spoke with him briefly when we told him of her death, but he was in no shape for questioning. We’re supposed to go back in the morning for a more in-depth interview.”

“Could I be there?”

“You’re friends with Greg?”

“I am. I often babysit—sat—for him and Brenda when they wanted a date night.” She offered him a sad smile. “Yes, I’m that single friend all married couples with children want.” Tears appeared and she blinked them away. “But I didn’t mind. Her children are precious, and I love them dearly. Greg is a wonderful man and husband. He’ll miss Brenda terribly.” She looked away and sniffed. “We all will.” Then she straightened her shoulders and her eyes steeled. “Which means we must find the person responsible and get justice for her and her family.”

“Yes,” he said. “But not we . Me. And Cole.”

She sighed. “I know you need to take this with you, but what do you say we spend a little while trying to decipher it?”

Her desire to help him get justice for her friend warmed him, and he nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Maybe it was we after all. At least for the next little while.