Chapter Four

Nicole walked out of the station house.

“Hey, thanks for the heads-up.”

She glanced back at Emmet as he winced at the sunlight and pulled a pair of aviators from the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Would have been nice to get a call, you know, so I could have been here when the meeting started.”

“It’s not my job to get you to work on time,” she said. “Anyway, Brady called me into his office the second I showed up.”

She ignored Emmet’s simmering look as she strode toward the parking lot. She refused to feel guilty even though, yes, she could have called him. But the encounter with David had rattled her, for numerous reasons, and she’d been distracted.

“We’ll take my car,” she said, popping the locks. She’d been the first one here this morning, so she’d had her pick of vehicles and had selected their newest unmarked police unit, which had a better radio and didn’t smell like vomit yet.

Nicole slid behind the wheel and nestled her insulated mug in the cup holder.

Emmet got in the passenger side and immediately racked the seat back to make room for his long legs. He reached for her mug.

“This coffee?” He took a sip.

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

She exited the parking lot and took the shortcut through town.

“You’re thinking the Banyan Tree?” he asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

He checked his watch. “Makes sense.”

He picked up her coffee again, and she cast him a sidelong look. She couldn’t see his hazel eyes behind the sunglasses, but she’d seen them in the meeting, and they looked bloodshot and tired. Yes, he’d managed to shave this morning—probably as a courtesy to the grieving family he’d had to interview—but she could tell he was dragging today.

She neared a stoplight and hit the brakes.

“Shit,” he said, sloshing coffee.

“Sorry,” she muttered, even though she wasn’t really. Served him right for being out late drinking.

He grabbed a napkin from the floor and glared at her. “Let’s just have this out now,” he said, blotting the coffee.

“What?”

“You’re pissed off Brady made me the lead.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Bullshit. I’m in charge, and you’re mad because you think it should have gone to you.”

“How would you know what I think?”

“You’re competitive, Nicole. And you think I don’t deserve to lead this one because I showed up late and hungover.”

Frustration welled up inside her, mainly because he was dead-on. She glanced at him.

“I was the one who got up at the crack of dawn and went to the autopsy and found out this is a homicide,” she said. “And I’m the one who’s established a rapport with our only witness. So, yes, I think Brady should have made me the lead here.”

“Good. We agree.” He tossed the napkin on the floor. “But he put me in charge, not you, and you should be relieved. This thing is shaping up to be a shitshow and we’re not even one day in.”

She shook her head.

“What, you think I’m wrong?”

“No.” She glanced at him. “Let’s just move on. You’re the lead. I’m over it.”

“Fine.” He sighed and looked out the window. “Okay, give me the rundown. Why homicide?” He looked at her. “It couldn’t only be the needle mark. What else?”

Well, at least he was giving David some credit.

“We discussed this before you arrived,” she told him. “There was something else he discovered at autopsy. Something with the livor pattern.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He found discoloration on her skin that made him think she was on her back for a while and then moved into the driver’s seat where she was found.”

“How long? An hour? A day?”

“A few hours, he estimated.”

Emmet looked straight ahead as they made their way through downtown. It was a typical off-season weekend. Not too many tourists, mostly locals. But the lunch places were starting to fill in.

“That’s an important detail,” Emmet said.

“Yeah, no kidding. It wasn’t just about the needle mark.” Her frustration was back again. “I don’t know why everyone decided to shoot the messenger.”

“It’s not you. They’re just mad.” He shook his head. “We fucked up. No question about it. We never should have released the crime scene. And the car—it’s sitting at the impound lot instead of the forensics lab.”

She sighed. “What a mess.”

“Tell me about it. Now if we manage to recover any good evidence from it, and if we make an arrest, and if the case goes to trial, some defense attorney someday is going to have a field day. Not to mention the prosecutor, who’s obviously going to hate us.”

Nicole’s stomach clenched, and she set her hand on it. She’d felt queasy since her meeting with David, and not just because of her close encounter with a corpse. Emmet was right. They’d screwed up, and some mistakes were irreparable. If they never got justice for Aubrey Lambert’s family, it was completely on them.

Emmet sighed and ran his hand through his sun-streaked brown hair. It was getting long again, and she hoped he wouldn’t get around to cutting it. He looked over and caught her watching him. “What?”

“You know the other problem, right? Besides the car?”

“If she wasn’t killed there, then we’ve got another crime scene,” he said.

“Right.”

“It’s possible she was abducted from someplace or killed at another location and brought to the beach,” he said. “Either way, the perp had to have been in or near the vehicle, so maybe we’ll get lucky, and someone spotted him.”

Luck. Sure. They’d had so much already.

“Where did she live again?” Nicole asked.

“That apartment complex near the wharf. Angler’s Landing.”

“Nice.”

He looked at her. “Not really. You ever been over there?”

“No. But at least it’s gated. And new.” Unlike Nicole’s place, which had been built in the seventies and looked it. “And where did she work?”

“Her parents said she waited tables at O’Toole’s sports bar. But I don’t remember seeing her in there. Do you?”

“No. But I’ve never been in there at lunch. Maybe she worked day shifts?”

“Maybe.”

Emmet shook his head, and she knew what he was thinking. They needed to find out about the victim’s work hours—and a million other details of her daily routine—so they could piece together her movements leading up to the discovery of her body at Lighthouse Point. It was a process that should have started yesterday. The first days of a case were critical, and they’d lost valuable time.

Emmet was right. This was shaping up to be a shitshow.

“Guess I was optimistic to think we might have a slow off-season,” Nicole said. “First, we had the task force op, now this. Everyone’s tapped.”

“That’s no excuse,” Emmet said. “We need to rise to the occasion.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s nail this interview.”

She had gotten this witness talking before, and now she just needed to coax more information out of her. Surely the woman had seen something useful while she was jogging on that beach.

Nicole swung into the parking lot of the Banyan Tree and had to drive all the way to the far end to find an empty space. The yoga studio shared the strip center with a martial arts academy, a dog groomer, and a doughnut shop that had a line out the door. The shop was known for its chocolate cake doughnuts, and Nicole’s stomach rumbled just thinking about them.

She and Emmet got out and looked around.

“You used to take classes here, didn’t you?”

She glanced at Emmet, surprised. “That was, like, four years ago. How do you remember that?”

“I remember things.” He checked his phone and slid it into the pocket of his jacket.

“Yeah, I got a membership once.” She sighed. “I was on a fitness kick. I went to just enough classes to realize I’m not cut out for yoga.”

They crossed the parking lot, and as they neared the door, Nicole spied a slender woman in workout gear with a dark braid all the way to her waist.

“There she is.” Nicole hurried after her, hoping to catch her outside. “Cassandra?”

The woman opened a glass door, and Nicole walked faster. “Cassandra?”

The door swung shut, and Nicole grabbed it. “Cassandra Miller?”

She turned around, and Nicole halted. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

She smiled. “Cassie Miller?”

“Yes.”

“She’s in my studio next door.”

Herstudio next door.

“Oh. Thank you.” Nicole walked out, and Emmet stood on the sidewalk. He pointed to the sign painted on the door.

“That’s the martial arts academy.”

Nicole glanced around. “Yeah. They’ve changed everything since I was here last.”

“Damn, they’re busy,” Emmet said, pulling open the neighboring door.

Busywas an understatement. The lobby area was crowded with spandex-clad people, mostly young and mostly female. The scent of sandalwood incense hung in the air, masking the smell of sweat. Nicole darted a look at Emmet, who seemed remarkably unfazed by all the dewy young bodies. All the women turned to look at him—which was what always happened when Emmet entered a room. Nicole used to get annoyed, but she was used to it now.

Squeezing through the crowd, she made her way to the reception counter, where a thin, thirtyish man was ringing up a T-shirt sale. They’d opened a gift shop, apparently, and seemed to be doing a brisk business in yoga gear and aromatherapy.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for—”

“Nicole.”

She turned around, and Emmet jerked his head toward the hallway.

Nicole spied Cassandra Miller in the corridor. She wore a formfitting lilac-colored outfit and had her hair in a long braid again. She hooked a white towel around her neck and reached for a glass door.

“Cassandra?”

She turned. A look of panic came over her face as Nicole approached her.

“Hi. Detective Lawson, remember?”

Cassandra’s mouth dropped open but she didn’t say anything. Then her gaze shifted to Emmet.

“And this is my colleague, Detective Davis. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean here?”

Emmet smiled, turning on the charm. “We just have a few questions.”

She swallowed. “I can’t. Not right now. I’ve got a class starting and—”

“This shouldn’t take long,” Nicole said, although that wasn’t true at all.

Cassandra started to say something, then seemed to change her mind. She glanced past Nicole.

“Reese? Hey, I need a favor.”

A tall blond woman stopped in the hallway. She looked straight out of a Lululemon catalogue, right down to the stylish belt bag clipped around her waist.

“Could you get my twelve fifteen started? I have to handle something.”

The woman cast a curious look at Emmet, no doubt noticing the holster peeking out from beneath his leather jacket. “Sure.”

“This way,” Cassandra said, and then led them down the hallway. She stepped into a side nook that was crowded with laundry carts heaped with white towels, and Nicole got the distinct impression the witness didn’t want to be seen talking to police at her workplace.

“What did you need to talk about?” Cassandra looked from Nicole to Emmet and a worry line appeared between her brows.

Nicole smiled, trying to ease the tension. “The woman next door—I thought she was you.”

“You mean Danielle? She teaches tae kwon do.” Cassandra looked puzzled. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

“No, I was just wondering.” Nicole took out her spiral. “Is this her studio or—”

“She and her partner, Paula,” Cassandra said. “They run the Banyan Tree and the martial arts academy next door. They expanded last year and bumped out the space.”

Nicole opened her notepad, and Cassandra darted a look over her shoulder. “Listen, my class is starting. Is there any way—”

“We just have a couple questions,” Nicole said. “About Aubrey Lambert.”

Cassandra flinched at the name.

“We’re investigating her death,” Nicole added.

“Well... okay. I mean, I haven’t remembered anything new since yesterday but—”

“Do you recall anyone else on the beach at the time?” Nicole asked. “Specifically, anyone near her car?”

She shook her head. “It was just parked there all by itself.”

“Who else was around?” Nicole persisted. “The beach is never totally empty. Were there any wade fishermen? Beachcombers? Other joggers?”

“No. Well, just some guy with his kid.”

“A guy?” Nicole eased closer. “Where was he?”

“He was farther down the beach.” She cast a nervous look at Emmet. “Not near Aubrey’s car or anything.”

“And he was with a kid?” Emmet asked.

“Yeah. A little boy and a dog. I mean, I assumed it was his kid, but I guess it could have been his nephew or something like that. They were flying a remote-control plane together.” She looked from Emmet to Nicole. “I’m sorry, why is any of this relevant?”

Nicole ignored the question as she scribbled notes. “What did they look like?”

Cassandra took a deep breath and stared down at her bare feet. “I don’t know. The dad was like, dark hair, medium build. The boy had red hair.”

“Were they in a vehicle?” Nicole asked.

She waited a beat and seemed to think about it. “A teal green pickup truck. They were leaving as I turned around to jog back.”

“Was there anyone else at Lighthouse Point yesterday?” Emmet asked. “Maybe anyone who struck you as out of place?”

“No. There was no one. It was cold and windy.” She looked at Nicole. “Again, what does this have to do with Aubrey’s suicide?”

“As of now, we’re investigating this as a homicide,” Emmet said.

Cassandra’s face drained of color. “You’re—but I don’t understand.” She looked at Nicole. “I thought she ODed. What happened?”

“We’re not in a position to share details right now,” Emmet said.

Cassandra’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked down at her feet.

“Are you all right?” Nicole asked.

Emmet stepped away, and Cassandra swayed slightly. Nicole reached for her arm.

“Do you need to sit down or—”

“I just need to center.” She pressed her hand to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Here,” Emmet said, offering her a paper cone filled with water.

“Thank you.” She sipped the water and closed her eyes.

Nicole watched the woman’s face as the word homicide seemed to penetrate.

“Sorry.” Cassandra shook her head. “I just—I don’t understand this. What about all the pills in the car? I thought she—”

“Ma’am, can you think back to the teal green pickup truck?” Emmet asked. “Did you happen to notice the license plate?”

“No.”

“Or anything distinctive about it? Maybe a bumper sticker? Or a toolbox in back?”

“No.”

“Was it a regular or extended cab?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I didn’t notice. Listen, I need to get back to my class so—”

“What about the dog?” Nicole asked.

“The dog?”

“What kind was it?”

“I don’t know. It was black, I think.” She darted another glance over Nicole’s shoulder. “I really have to go now.”

“Just a few more questions,” Nicole said. “Do you remember if you touched the vehicle?”

“What?”

“Aubrey’s Subaru. Do you recall if you touched it when you jogged up and saw her in the front seat there?” Nicole asked. “Maybe touched the window or tried the door handle?”

“No. I told them this last night, I didn’t touch anything. Look, I really need to get back to my students, so—”

“Here.” Emmet handed her a business card. “We’ll let you go.”

A look of relief came over her face.

“Call us if you think of anything else.”

She nodded.

“We’ll be in contact,” he added, and she walked off.

Nicole watched her rush down the hallway and duck into the restroom.

She shot a look at Emmet. “What was that? I wasn’t finished yet.”

“We can circle back.”

“But I have more questions.”

“Give her some time to absorb. Come on.”

Nicole followed him as they retraced their steps through the hallway, which was less crowded now that the next class had started. They passed a glass door and Nicole saw Cassandra’s co-worker leading everyone through a series of standing poses.

Nicole and Emmett stepped outside, and she darted a look at him.

“That was bizarre,” she said.

“What was?”

“Her reaction.”

He shrugged.

“She definitely didn’t want to talk to us,” Nicole said as they reached the car, and she popped the locks open. “It was strange, don’t you think?”

“Not really. The woman wears a crystal around her neck and teaches yoga.”

“So?”

He slid inside, and Nicole got behind the wheel.

“So, she’s a little out there,” Emmet said. “Plus, we hit her with a shock. We just told her that her friend was murdered. How’d you expect her to react?”

Nicole shook her head. “My radar is up. She’s hiding something.”

Emmet gazed down at the young woman seated on the curb.

“And what time was it that you left here for work?”

She looked up at him with puffy pink eyes. Her makeup was smeared, and she’d obviously been crying. “Around one forty I think.” She rubbed her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “My shift started at two. I didn’t get back home until after ten.”

Aubrey Lambert’s roommate waited tables at a seafood place on the bay, and Emmet remembered seeing her there when he’d been in for po’ boys. She had told him just now that she was twenty-two, but he’d always thought she looked more like eighteen.

“And she was at the apartment when you left?” Emmet asked.

“She’d come home around one. I didn’t see her yesterday morning. I don’t know where she spent the night.”

“Where do you think she spent the night?”

She shook her head.

“If you had to guess?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her sneakers. They were on the sidewalk outside the victim’s apartment while Miranda and a CSI they’d borrowed from the county crime lab scoured the place for clues.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t seeing anyone lately, so maybe her ex.”

“Ex?”

“Sam Somebody.”

Emmet wrote it down on his notepad. “You don’t know his last name?”

She pulled her sleeves over her hands and crossed her arms. “I never met him. They weren’t together very long.”

“Okay. And did Sam ever come here to the apartment?”

“Not that I know of. I think they went to his place.”

“Hey, Emmet.”

He glanced up, and Adam was motioning to him from the door to the leasing office. Emmet held up a hand for him to wait.

“Did you ever see Sam?” Emmet asked. “Maybe out at a bar or something? Could you describe him?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know where he lived?”

“No.”

“Well, do you know where they met?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe online?” She looked up at him. “Do you think—” She put her hand over her mouth. “Do you think he had something to do with this?”

“We’re just gathering information right now. We’re trying to learn more about what Aubrey was doing in the days before she died. Do you know what she planned to do yesterday?”

“I’m not sure. She came home with groceries. And I think she mentioned something about a yoga class later? Other than that, I don’t know.”

“Emmet.”

He glanced at Adam again.

“Listen, Lauren, it would really help us out if you could write down the names of Aubrey’s close friends.” He tore a page from his notebook and handed it to her with a pen. “Could you do that? And phone numbers, if you have them. I’d like to talk to more people who knew Aubrey.”

She nodded and took the paper.

“I’ll be back, okay? Write down as many as you can.”

He left her to her task and crossed the parking lot to the Angler’s Landing leasing office, where Adam and Nicole had been interviewing the property manager. The office had been closed today, and they’d had to call this guy in from his fishing boat.

“Anything from the roommate?” Adam asked, holding the door open.

“Aubrey spent the night out, maybe with an ex.”

“Oh yeah?”

The lobby was furnished with white leather chairs and beach-themed art. Emmet spied a water cooler near the reception desk and went over to grab a cup.

“How’s Miranda doing in there?” Adam asked.

“No evidence of forced entry.” Emmet downed the cup and refilled it. “But the roommate tells me they’re pretty lax about keeping the place locked.”

“Seriously?”

“Sounds like he could have just walked in.”

Emmet heard Nicole’s voice in the back room, along with someone else’s—presumably the property manager.

“And the roommate was out all afternoon?” Adam asked.

“She was gone at work from one forty until ten. She said Aubrey was here at the apartment when she left for her shift.” Emmet pitched his cup in the trash and nodded at the back office. “What’s she got back there?”

“Come look.”

Emmet followed Adam into a dingy office that looked nothing like the outer lobby. A suntanned guy with a shaved head sat at a gray metal desk in front of a computer. Nicole leaned over his shoulder and looked at the screen.

“That’s it. That’s the date,” she said. “Can you fast-forward to one p.m.?”

Emmet eased around the desk. “This is the surveillance vid?”

“From the parking lot.” She glanced back at him. “What’s Miranda finding in the apartment?”

“Not much.”

“They’ve only got one security cam,” Nicole said, “and it’s trained on the main gate—which, unfortunately, has been out of order for more than a month.”

“The gate or the camera?” Emmet asked.

“The gate,” she said. “Anyone could come in or out.”

“Okay, here’s one o’clock.” The property manager turned around and frowned at the crowd now gathered behind him. His mirrored shades were perched on top of his head, and he didn’t look happy to be called in on his day off to deal with a bunch of cops.

“The roommate says she left the apartment around one forty,” Emmet said, “so Aubrey had to have left sometime after that.”

All four of them stared at the grainy black-and-white surveillance footage. The manager fast-forwarded the video until a white car moved through the gate.

“Wait, pause.” Nicole grabbed her notepad off the desk.

“That’s one of ours,” the manager said.

“How do you know?” Adam asked.

He backed up the video and paused it. “All our residents have that black decal on the back.” He pointed at the screen. “See?”

Emmet leaned forward to examine the sticker. He’d noticed one like it on the back of Aubrey’s Subaru.

“Okay, white Kia sedan.” Nicole jotted notes as the video continued.

A dark pickup came into view, and the manager hit pause again.

“And... a black F-150,” Nicole said. “No decal here.”

“Looks like a visitor,” the man said, hitting play again.

Nicole’s jaw tensed, and Emmet knew what she was thinking. The secure, “gated community” touted on the banner outside wasn’t secure at all, and Aubrey’s killer would have had easy access to both her home and her car.

“There. Pause it.” Nicole leaned forward as another car passed through the gate. “That’s Aubrey. And she’s alone.”

Emmet glanced at the time stamp in the upper corner. “That’s one twelve, about a half hour before her roommate left for work.”

“Maybe someone followed her home,” Nicole murmured, leaning closer.

The manager hit fast-forward again and they watched the footage. A black Honda exited the property.

“That’s Lauren, the roommate,” Emmet said. “She drives a black Accord.”

They continued watching as the manager fast-forwarded through the next hour and several more cars entered the complex, all with parking decals.

“There.” Adam leaned closer. “Isn’t that her?”

A dark-colored Subaru neared the exit gate, and the manager hit pause. “This?”

“Yeah.”

Emmet’s pulse picked up as he studied the image. The time stamp was 3:22 p.m. “That’s not Aubrey.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me zero in.” Nicole leaned closer and took over the mouse to zoom in on the car. The person driving wore a black hoodie and sunglasses.

“That’s a dude behind the wheel,” Adam said. “Where’s Aubrey?”

Nicole’s face looked grim. “I think he’s got her in the back.”