Chapter Nineteen

Here you are.”

Emmet glanced up to see Adam in the doorway of the conference room. “Hey, Adam, what’s up?” he asked, flipping through the police report from Nicole’s incident.

“I got a lead.”

“What’s that?”

“A lead. With the Lambert case.”

Emmet shoved the report aside and grabbed his notepad from the witness interviews. All four witnesses agreed the vehicle involved was a black SUV with tinted windows and silver hubcaps. But accounts differed on the model of the vehicle. The three Emmet had talked to said it was a black Chevy Tahoe, while the witness Adam had interviewed said it was a black Suburban.

“Don’t you want to hear this?”

He glanced up, and the excited look in Adam’s eyes pulled his attention away from the report.

“I do, yeah.”

“So, yesterday you said you thought that name Sam Pacheco gave us was bullshit.”

Emmet leaned back in his chair. “Brenden. What about it?”

“Well, I wanted to follow up. I think it’s important that we nail down who Aubrey Lambert spent the night with right before she was murdered.”

“You’re right, we should.”

“And I figured it out. I went to her AA group that meets over at the Methodist church and interviewed a couple people who knew her. Turns out, she’s got a boyfriend there in the group.”

“Her AA group,” Emmet said.

“Yeah.”

Emmet stared at him, impressed. “Who is this boyfriend?”

Adam pulled a spiral notebook from his pocket. He was in his field uniform today—a navy golf shirt and brown tactical pants—and Emmet tried to picture him crashing some AA meeting. He needed to learn how to look less conspicuous.

“Scott Kinney,” Adam said. “He’s thirty-six.”

“Yeah? Interesting. And he admits to being Aubrey’s boyfriend?”

“Well, I don’t know if ‘boyfriend’ is really the term,” Adam said. “Sounds more like friend with benefits. He said they hooked up every now and then. Including last Friday.”

“This guy seem legit?”

“Yeah, I mean, he admitted spending the night with her, didn’t seem evasive about it or anything.”

Emmet laced his hands together behind his head. “What about his demeanor? He seem broken up about her death?”

“Honestly? Not so much. I don’t think he really knew her all that well.”

“He have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

“I asked that. Indirectly. He said he flew to Dallas on Saturday afternoon for some kind of meeting.”

“So, he was in Dallas?”

“That’s what he claims.”

Emmet watched him, trying to gauge the usefulness of this new lead. Adam was fairly new at detective work, so Emmet wasn’t sure he trusted his judgment on whether or not this guy was being straight.

“Nice work.”

Adam smiled. “Thanks.”

“We’ll need to corroborate his story.”

“Yeah, I know. I wasn’t planning to just take him at his word.”

The chief leaned his head into the conference room. “Good, you’re here.”

“What’s up?” Emmet asked, and he could tell from Brady’s expression something was wrong.

“Just got a call from the crime lab.”

Emmet’s attention perked up. “The DNA came back?”

“This is on the other thing,” Brady said. “The Danielle Ward case.”

Adam looked blank. “Danielle who?”

“The traffic fatality from Tuesday,” Emmet said. “The woman who hit the utility pole downtown.” He glanced at the chief, and Brady’s grim look put Emmet on alert. “What’s the problem?”

“Sounds like it wasn’t an accident,” Brady said. “The crime lab says someone tampered with her brakes.”

I need food.”

Nicole glanced at Owen and sighed.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. “We skipped lunch.”

“I’m good.” She was still full from homemade pancakes. “But if you’re hungry, we can stop.”

Owen was already pulling into the vacant lot beside a construction site on Seaside Boulevard. They were putting up another condominium complex, and several food trucks had set up shop.

Owen shoved the car into park. “Want anything? My treat.”

“I’m good.”

“Be right back.”

He slid out and got in line with a handful of construction workers in yellow hard hats.

Nicole checked her phone, anxious for reasons she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She had messages from Siena and her brother, along with several from her mom, who wanted to know if she was getting any rest this afternoon. Clearly, her mother assumed she was off today, and Nicole didn’t tell her otherwise.

Nothing from Emmet since 10:20 a.m. when he’d responded to her Thanks for your help last night message with a thumbs-up emoji.

An emoji.

No words. No acknowledgment that he’d spent the night in her bed or that he’d woken her up to give her her pill in the middle of the night. If it hadn’t been for the empty beer bottle in her recycling bin this morning, Nicole might have thought she imagined the whole thing, including their earth-tilting kiss.

Another wave of guilt hit her at the thought of David. She tried to shake it off. He hadn’t even seemed all that upset by their conversation. Instead, he’d been... mildly annoyed—which just reinforced her ongoing impression that his heart hadn’t been in it. And if she was honest, hers hadn’t been either.

Owen slid back in the car with a pair of foil-wrapped tacos, and their unmarked police unit instantly smelled like grilled onions.

“Sure you don’t want one?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

He unwrapped a taco and tore open a salsa packet.

“Brady just pinged me,” Owen said. “He wants me to lead up the new homicide case.”

Irritation needled her.

“Why not Emmet?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t he think they’re linked?”

Owen chomped into his taco. “I don’t know what he thinks. All I got was a text message.” He chewed his food, watching her. “You think the cases are connected?”

“Uh, yeah. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” He took another bite of taco and watched her as he chewed.

“Owen, come on. We get, like, three to four homicide cases a year. And now we’ve got two in one week, and both were staged to look like accidents?”

He grabbed his water bottle from the cup holder and took a long sip.

“What’s that look?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Sure, the timing’s weird, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re connected.”

“It’s not just the timing.”

“What else?”

She sighed.

“Why are you all ticked off?” he asked.

“I’m not.” Did she really have to spell out the obvious? Well, it was obvious to her anyway.

But maybe she was just cranky because of everything else going on. Her ankle was killing her, for one. And she didn’t want to take any more pain meds because they made her feel spacey. Not to mention, they led her to make stupid decisions.

“Lay it out for me,” Owen said, finishing off his first taco. “Why do you think the cases are connected?”

“Couple things,” she said. At least he wanted her take, which she appreciated. “First off, Danielle co-owns the Banyan Tree downtown.”

“And?”

“And that’s where Aubrey Lambert took yoga.”

“Okay. True. But they have a lot of classes there. Macey’s been there, too. They probably have hundreds of students. More if you count the martial arts place next door.”

“Okay, well, don’t forget Cassandra Miller.”

Owen unwrapped his second taco. “What about her?”

“The woman who found the first victim just happens to teach yoga at that same location.” She stared at him, but he didn’t react. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“Maybe.” He took a big bite.

“Owen, come on.”

“Could be a coincidence,” he said around a mouthful of food.

“Two murder victims and a person who discovered one of the bodies, all randomly connected to the same yoga studio? That’s not a coincidence, that’s a pattern.”

“Okay, well, assuming you’re right, then what does it mean?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll admit it’s odd,” he said. “But what are you saying? Someone’s got it in for this yoga place?”

“I don’t know.”

“Or are you saying they’re connected through this Cassandra woman, who happens to work there?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” Owen sounded frustrated, and she didn’t blame him. She was frustrated, too. With every clue they unearthed, it seemed things got more complicated instead of less.

She looked out the window, wishing she could put into words this feeling that something was off about Cassandra Miller. Nicole knew it in her bones, but she couldn’t articulate what it was, exactly. Weirdly, Cassandra even looked like one of the victims, Danielle Ward. Nicole had mistaken Danielle for Cassandra the morning after the murder when she and Emmet had gone by the studio to interview her about finding Aubrey’s body. Did the resemblance mean anything, or was it just another oddity about the two cases? Nicole felt sure there had to be a link between these deaths. She’d gone over to Cassandra’s place yesterday afternoon for a follow-up, but Cassandra hadn’t been home and then everything got derailed when Nicole ended up in the emergency room.

“Look, maybe you’re right,” Owen said. “I don’t know.” He finished off the second taco and balled up the foil. “I’m just telling you, if you plan to go to Brady with this, you better have at least a theory about what it means.”

“Honestly,” she said, “I have no idea what it means. But I’m certain it means something.”

Emmet mounted the steps and looked out over the beach. The sun had broken through the clouds and people were out jogging again, despite the near-frigid temperature. He turned away from the view and rang the doorbell. When he heard footsteps on the other side, he held his badge up to the peephole.

The door swung open.

Scott Kinney had lost weight since his driver’s license photo four years ago. His skin was tan, and he had the sinewy look of a long-distance runner.

He nodded. “Detective.”

“Mr.Kinney. Thanks for making the time.”

“No problem. Come on in.”

Emmet wiped his feet on the monogrammed welcome mat before stepping into a house that looked like something from Architectural Digest. Bleached wood floors, soaring ceilings, huge picture windows looking out over the beach.

“I just got off a conference call,” Kinney said, leading him through the room. He wore faded jeans and an untucked white dress shirt. No shoes.

He glanced at Emmet as he passed a huge round table consisting of a piece of glass atop a driftwood pedestal. On it was an open laptop computer. “Want coffee or anything?” he asked.

“No, thanks.”

The kitchen looked like one of those showrooms where all the appliances cost as much as a car. Kinney opened a Sub-Zero refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He leaned back against the immaculate white countertop and twisted off the cap.

“How is the investigation coming?” Kinney asked, like they were talking about the weather.

“Fine.”

He shook his head. “It’s terrible about Aubrey. I don’t think it’s really hit yet.”

Emmet glanced around, looking for any sign of anyone else living here. He saw no purse, or car keys, or stray pairs of shoes kicking around. No kids’ toys or evidence of a pet.

He looked at Aubrey’s boyfriend, who was twelve years her senior.

“How did you hear about Aubrey’s death?” Emmet asked.

“Everyone was talking about it at the meeting yesterday.” He set the water down without taking a sip. “I didn’t believe it at first.” He shook his head. “Still seems unreal.”

“The AA meeting?”

“That’s right.”

“How often do you go?”

He made a face. “Less than I probably should. I try to make it when I’m in town. But I’m in Dallas a lot for work, and it’s harder to get to one.”

“What do you do?” Emmet asked.

“I’m in software sales.”

“And your job’s based in Dallas?”

“All over.” He gave a shrug. “But I’ve been living here ever since my wife and I split.”

“And how long has that been?”

He sighed heavily. “A year and a half. At first I was staying here at the beach house until I could get my own place set up. But so much of my work is remote, I just decided to base here. I like it better than Dallas.”

Emmet glanced at the wall of windows overlooking the water. “I can see why.”

Kinney watched him, his expression guarded. “So, have you guys determined what happened? I heard a rumor she was strangled?”

“We can’t get into details at this time,” Emmet said. Strangled? Had he just thrown that detail out as a distraction or had he really heard that? Emmet studied the guy’s face until he crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to get uncomfortable.

“So, like I told the officer yesterday,” Kinney said, “I flew to Dallas Saturday afternoon. My flight was at two fifteen. I can pull up my ticket if you want to verify it with the airline.”

“We already did.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

“I’d like to know more about Aubrey’s state of mind on Friday. You spent the night with her, correct?”

“Right. We went to a meeting and then decided to grab dinner.”

“Where’d you go?” Emmet asked.

“The Shrimp Hut. They were pretty busy, so we got our food to go and came here.”

“And when did Aubrey leave?”

He looked at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Probably around ten thirty? I took her back by the church to pick up her car. She said she had a bunch of errands to do that day.”

Emmet watched him closely. So far, everything he was saying fit with what he’d told Adam. And it also fit with the facts they had already gathered.

“What about her demeanor?” Emmet asked.

“Demeanor?”

“Yeah, did she seem upset to you? Distracted? Stressed out about anything?”

“Well, no. I mean, we’d just come from an AA meeting, so there was the usual baggage.”

“Such as?”

“Ah, God. How much do you want to know? I mean, she had shit with her parents, like everyone. Also, she lost her brother to drugs a few years back, so she’d been through some depression.”

“What about problems with an ex-boyfriend?” Emmet asked. “She mention anything to you or maybe in the meeting?”

“No.”

“Anything at all?”

He shook his head.

“What about financial problems?” Given the timing of her asking for a raise at work, Emmet was wondering if Aubrey owed someone money.

“She never said anything. I mean, I paid for everything whenever we were together, and she seemed cool with that. She had a crap job, so...” He shrugged.

“So... no money issues, that you know of? No guy problems?”

“Well, no boyfriend problems. She might have had some guy stuff.”

Emmet’s attention perked up. “How do you mean?”

“Well, she sometimes complained about men hassling her at the bar. You know, the customers grabbing her ass and all that. It was one thing she hated about her job. The ‘creepers at work’ she called them. Sometimes they would wait around after her shift.” He frowned. “One guy even followed her home a couple nights ago. She told me she wanted me to drive to dinner, just in case he’d followed her to the meeting.”

“This was on Friday?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about this until just now. She mentioned it when we were headed to dinner, so we took my car.”

“What about hers?”

“She left it there at the church where the meeting was. Then I dropped her off the next morning to pick it up.”

Emmet’s pulse was thrumming now. “So, you’re saying on Friday night she was worried some guy might be following her?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, looking guilty as if he was just now absorbing the potential importance of what he was saying.

“Did Aubrey know this guy’s name?” Emmet asked.

“No. Just that he drove a black SUV.”

“A black SUV?”

“Yeah, she said it was a black Tahoe.”

Nicole hooked her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her crutches.

“Sure you don’t mind?” she asked Adam.

“Not at all. It’s on my way.”

He looked worried as he watched her get to her feet. She crutched across the bullpen, navigating her way through the cubicles. As she neared the door, Brady stepped out of his office and frowned at her.

“You have a minute?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” She glanced back at Adam.

“I’ll wait outside,” Adam said.

“Thanks.”

She followed Brady into his office and was startled when he closed the door.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked.

“All right,” she said, deciding to stand since he was standing, too.

“I’m putting Owen in charge of the Danielle Ward case.”

She nodded. “He mentioned that. I have to say, I was a little surprised.”

“You’ve got enough to deal with with your injury.”

“Yeah, no. It’s not that I wanted to lead the case,” she said. “I just assumed Emmet would lead it. Since it’s most likely connected to the Aubrey Lambert thing.”

Brady folded his arms over his chest. “How?”

“Well... the yoga studio. Both victims were affiliated with the Banyan Tree. One was a teacher, one was a student.”

Brady sank into his desk chair and looked up at her. “Danielle taught at the martial arts academy, I thought.”

“She taught at both, actually. And it’s all one place. Danielle and her partner own it together. And then there’s Cassandra Miller, who works at the Banyan Tree and also happened to find the first victim dead in her car.”

Brady watched her, and she couldn’t tell whether he’d connected these dots previously or not.

“What’s your theory?” he asked.

“My theory?”

“You think these murders are linked. How? Are you saying the killer knows all these women?”

Nerves filled Nicole’s stomach as she watched the chief’s expression. He looked skeptical. Brady always looked skeptical, but right now even more so than usual.

She cleared her throat. “That’s a possibility, yes. That the killer knows all of them. Or maybe he has some connection to the studio. Or maybe he’s targeting women from there, for some reason.”

“So, a serial killer, then.”

“Well, no.” It sounded far-fetched when he said it out loud. “Technically, a serial killer is a minimum of three deaths. And I’m not saying that’s what we’re dealing with. For one thing, these aren’t sex crimes, in the traditional sense.”

“No rape,” he said.

“Right.”

His frown deepened. “You know what I always say about motive.”

“Sex, money, exposure.”

The three most likely motives for crimes—a mantra that Brady came back to again and again. And although he had decades longer than she did on the job, Nicole had also found his mantra to be true.

“So, which do you think it is here?” he asked.

Her nerves started up again. “I don’t know yet. I’m still working that out. But you can’t deny the connection.”

“Could be a coincidence.”

She wanted to argue with him, but she clamped her mouth shut.

He shook his head. “You know, my first ten years on this job we had one homicide. Guy who got drunk and went after his wife’s boyfriend with a shotgun. One murder in the first ten years.” He sighed. “Now, our population’s tripled. We’ve got a steady stream of drug traffic, shootings, sexual assaults.” He shook his head. “We’re on our second murder this year, and we’re not even out of February.”

Nicole just looked at him. He sounded... sad, almost. And nostalgic for a better time. And she didn’t know Brady did nostalgia. He’d always been so straightforward, so no-nonsense. Get out there and get shit done, no excuses.

He stood up. “Go home, Nicole. Take care of that ankle.”

“I will.”

“I want you to take some time off.”

“Sir?”

He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Take a few days. Come back Monday.”

“But... what about the Aubrey Lambert case? And Danielle Ward?”

“We’ll cover them. You need to take care of your health. You can’t take it for granted.”

Her stomach clenched. “Sir, I’m fine. Seriously. My ankle’s healing, and I’ve got work to do. Emmet needs my help with the investigation and—”

“This is Emmet’s call.”

She drew back. “Excuse me?”

“Emmet’s the lead and this is his call. He thinks you need to take some time to rest, and I agree with him.”

“But... I can’t just—”

“You can, Nicole, and you will.” He stepped around her and opened the door. “Take the weekend off. We’ll handle things here.”

Emmet’s phone buzzed as he was getting in the shower. It couldn’t be his food delivery—he’d just placed the order. He dunked his head under the hot spray and let the water sluice down his back. He’d hit the gym after work in an effort to blow off some steam, but it hadn’t helped, and the ball of tension that had been sitting in the pit of his stomach for days now was still there.

Six days in.

And he still didn’t have a suspect. With every hour that ticked by, everything got more complicated. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t get rid of the ice-cold certainty that he was missing something critical, and until he figured out what it was, nothing he did was going to bring this case into focus.

Another call came in, and he leaned out of the shower. His phone was on the edge of the sink, and he saw the number lighting up the screen.

He yanked a towel off the rack and stepped out to grab it.

“Hello?”

“Why aren’t you answering?” Nicole demanded.

“I was in the damn shower. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is Brady just sent me home and told me to take the weekend off.”

Emmet ran the towel over his head. “Yeah?”

“He also told me you want me off the case.”

“I do.”

“What the hell, Emmet?”

“Hang on.” He set the phone down and wrapped the towel around his waist. “There have been some new developments. I talked to Scott Kinney. Do you know who that is?”

“Yeah, Aubrey’s boyfriend. Adam told me about him.”

“He’s the man Aubrey spent Friday night with.” Emmet leaned back against the sink. “I went over to his house to interview him, and he said Aubrey mentioned that some guy had been tailing her around, following her home from work, stuff like that, and that he drove a black Chevy Tahoe.”

Silence on the other end.

“Nicole?”

“Okay. So Aubrey was being followed?”

“Possibly.”

“What does that have to do with you kicking me off the case?”

“Nicole.”

“What?”

“The person who almost hit you last night was in a black Tahoe.”

“Emmet, are you serious right now? That’s the problem?”

“Yes. It’s a major problem.”

“Why?”

He laughed. Was she serious right now? How was it that he was hyperaware of the potential danger she was in and she was ready just to shrug it off?

“Because there could be a connection between Aubrey Lambert’s murder and you nearly getting run down last night,” he said. “We don’t fully know what’s going on, and until we get to the bottom of it, you need to take a step back from the case.”

More silence on the other end.

He could practically feel her hostility coming through the phone.

“Anyway, you’re injured,” he said. “You need a chance to recoup, so the timing works out.”

She muttered something he couldn’t hear, but he caught her tone.

“I understand you’re annoyed,” he said.

“Annoyed? Try furious!”

“Nicole—”

“Are you out of your freaking mind, Emmet? We have two homicide cases in our laps now. And every one of us is stretched paper thin. You’re slammed, me and Owen are up to our eyeballs, and Adam isn’t even officially a detective yet. This is no time for any one of us to be taking a vacation!”

Emmet gritted his teeth. He’d known she wouldn’t be happy, but she was just going to have to deal with it. He wasn’t going to budge on this.

“Listen, it’s not that big a—”

“No, you listen,” she said. “I don’t appreciate you going around me and talking to Brady about my work behind my back. Just because you’re the lead on this case doesn’t make you my boss. And anyway, this is a boneheaded plan! We’re almost a week in and we don’t even have a suspect yet, which means we need more help, not less.”

Frustration filled his chest, and he stalked into his bedroom. “Yeah, well, it’s been decided, so deal.”

“?‘Deal’? That’s it? That’s all you can say?”

“Yeah. It’s my case, so it’s my call.”

Silence again, but this one sounded different from the rest. Had she really just hung up on him? He looked at his phone. She had.

“Fuck.”