Chapter Five

Cassandra ducked her head against the cold wind and used her elbow to jab the crosswalk button. Shivering on the corner, she watched the cars whisk by as she waited for the light. When it turned green, she rushed across the intersection and past the sign for Grandview Villas, which—despite its name—didn’t have much of a view. But its location within walking distance of the Banyan Tree had been a major selling point.

She clutched her grocery bags in one hand and her pepper spray in the other as she scanned the shadowy parking lot. The lighting on the property needed improvement, but Cassandra wasn’t holding her breath. The landlord was cheap. He could hardly be bothered to fix a leaky faucet, much less make security upgrades for the safety of the tenants.

We’re investigating this as a homicide.

Aubrey had been murdered, and Cassandra still couldn’t get her head around it. Lost Beach was all about quiet. Solace. Serenity. People came here specifically to escape the sort of crime that plagued big cities. And now someone had been murdered just footsteps away from the island’s iconic lighthouse. Cassandra felt sick just thinking about it.

She stepped onto the sidewalk, then jumped aside just in time to avoid colliding with a kid on a skateboard. He glanced back at her without slowing, and she muttered a curse at his back—not that he could hear her with his AirPods stuffed in his ears.

Scanning the sidewalk for any more surprises, she walked to her apartment and dropped her groceries on the doorstep as she fumbled with her keys. Her gaze fell on a white FedEx envelope tucked behind the flowerpot. She snatched it up, and her stomach knotted as she read the Colorado return address. Could this day get any worse?

She grabbed her groceries and entered her apartment, then locked the door and went straight into the kitchen to dump everything on the counter.

Her head pounded as she stripped off her fleece jacket. She desperately needed a shower and an aspirin. But first she had to get something into her stomach. They’d been crowded all day again thanks to Danielle’s “Bring-a-Buddy” New Year’s promotion, and Cassandra hadn’t even had time for a lunch break.

She switched on the oven, then toed off her running shoes and went into the bedroom to get out of her sweaty clothes. After pulling on her comfiest pj’s, she put the groceries away and slid a veggie pizza into the oven.

As she poured a glass of wine, she eyed the FedEx package on the counter. Did they deliver on Sundays? It had probably come yesterday, but she’d somehow missed it, probably because everything after that 911 call had been a blur. The whole night had been awful, and she’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning.

She sipped some wine to brace herself and then tore open the cardboard mailer. Inside was a plain white envelope with her name typed across the front. Opening the envelope, she found a folded invoice. It looked just like the last one she’d received, only the Due Date column was highlighted in pink and the words 60 days past due appeared in red along the bottom.

Tears burned her eyes. What about the services that were sixty days past due? Where was the explanation for that?

A loud knock sounded at the door, and her pulse jumped. Who would that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe someone’s food delivery had the wrong door? As the knock came again, she crept across the room and peered through the peephole.

Detective Lawson stood on her doorstep. She was alone this time, no sign of her hot partner.

Cassandra pulled her fleece jacket on over her pj’s and slid the overdue invoice under a stack of mail. Then she returned to the door and took a deep breath before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

“Hi there,” the detective said with a smile.

“Hello.”

“Sorry to interrupt your evening. I just had a few more questions I wanted to run by you.”

Cassandra stared at her. Answering questions was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but apparently she didn’t have a choice.

“Questions about Aubrey?”

“That’s right.” Another reassuring smiled. “I called but you didn’t pick up, so I thought I’d swing by. This shouldn’t take long.”

Cassandra stepped back and ushered the detective inside. With the exception of the police windbreaker, the woman looked completely different than she had on the beach last night. No high-heeled sandals, no minidress. Tonight she wore jeans and thick-soled hiking boots, and her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Nice apartment,” the woman said, glancing around. “I had a friend who used to live over here.”

“Oh?”

“Second-floor unit, one of the ones on the end.”

Cassandra’s living room furniture consisted of a single purple futon, so she led the detective into the kitchen.

“So.” Cassandra leaned back against the counter. “How can I help?”

“Well, we’ve been interviewing people who knew Aubrey, trying to get a sense of her life. Do you know if she was having any problems with anyone? She ever mention anything like that to you?”

“No. But I really didn’t know her very well. You should talk to her close friends.”

Nodding, the detective took out a spiral notebook. “Also, we’ve been circling back with the witnesses.”

“Witnesses?”

“People who saw Aubrey’s car at Lighthouse Point yesterday. I just want to go over a few details with you.” The detective flipped open the notepad. “At the beach last night you said you typically jog there on your evenings off. When is that, exactly?”

“My evenings off?”

She nodded.

“Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday,” Cassandra replied. “I get home about five thirty and have time for a run. All the other days—like today—we have seven o’clock class and I don’t get home till now.”

The detective jotted something on her pad. “And do you run the same route every time?”

“From here to the point and back.”

“That’s what? Three miles?”

“Two miles round-trip.” Cassandra watched as she wrote it down.

“And do you see some of the same people each time?” The detective looked up. “Fishermen? Surfers? Other joggers?”

Hadn’t she been over this already? Irritation surged inside her, but she tamped it down.

“I didn’t see anyone else on the beach yesterday,” Cassandra said. “Well, except the man with the airplane.”

“Yeah, but what about other evenings? Are there any regulars you typically encounter?”

Cassandra glanced down at her feet and thought about it. “There’s a tall guy. Always wears black. I pass him some nights.”

“What about last night?”

“No.”

“Could you describe him a bit more?” Lawson asked. “Is he heavy? Thin? White? Black?

“Pretty thin,” Cassandra said. “He’s got a runner’s build, and always wear a black T-shirt and visor.”

“He ever have a dog with him?”

“No.”

She flipped a page in her notebook. “Okay, and the guy with the airplane and the kid. Anything else you can tell me about him?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Really, I just saw them from a distance. They’re not regulars or anything.”

“Okay.” She flipped another page. “And the timeline. You said you saw the car about ten after six. How sure are you about that?”

Cassandra’s guard went up. “Fairly sure. Why?”

“Any chance it was later?”

“Well, maybe. I mean, I wasn’t looking at a watch or anything.”

“And after you saw the blue Subaru—for the second time—and approached it and saw that there was a person inside it who appeared to be unconscious, what did you do after that?”

“I called 911.”

“Right away?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t open the door or try to render aid or—”

“I’ve been over this already,” Cassandra said. “I saw her in there and I called 911.”

The detective glanced at Cassandra’s hands, and she realized she was gripping the counter. Cassandra let go and folded her arms over her chest.

“I saw her in there. I realized she was dead. I called for help,” Cassandra said. “I don’t understand what the issue is.”

“No issue, really. Just a discrepancy.”

“A what?”

“Well, the call came in at six twenty-eight. So there seems to be a discrepancy.” The detective’s gaze met hers. “I’m just trying to pin down what time you saw the victim exactly.”

“Oh.” Cassandra thought back, but everything blurred together now. Mostly she recalled feeling like she couldn’t breathe, like she was trying to suck air through a straw. “Well, I suppose it could have been a bit later. Like I said, I wasn’t looking at a watch or anything.”

A buzzer sounded, and Cassandra jumped. She stepped over to the oven and stopped the timer. “Sorry. One sec.” She grabbed a dish towel off the counter and took out the pan.

“That should just about do it,” Lawson said. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Thanks for your time.”

“No problem.”

“Would you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“My bathroom?”

“I have another stop after this.”

“Sure.” Cassandra glanced down the hallway. “It’s just there on the left.”

“Thanks.”

The detective tucked her notebook into her pocket and headed down the hallway as Cassandra stood there holding her pizza.

When the bathroom door closed, she set the pan down and dug her phone from her purse. Sure enough, she’d missed a call twenty minutes ago while she’d been at the store.

Cassandra eyed the stack of mail on the counter. Then she took a plate down from the cabinet and washed her hands with the lavender soap that was supposed to be calming. Right. As if soap could cure her frayed nerves and the anxiety of having a police detective in her house.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and held it in for ten seconds. Then she blew it out and repeated the process. Her nerves began to settle.

But then she pictured Aubrey slumped across that seat, and her stress kicked in again.

“Nice dream catcher.”

She turned around, and Lawson was back again, standing on the other side of the counter now.

“What?”

“Your dream catcher.” She nodded at the window above the sink. “It looks like the one in Aubrey’s car.”

“Oh.” Cassandra dried her hands on a dish towel. “Yes. We sell them in the gift shop.”

“We?”

“Well, Danielle sells them. The gift shop has become a big revenue center.”

Cassandra walked around the counter, ready to wrap up the interview.

“Thanks for your help tonight,” Lawson said, moving to leave finally.

“No problem.”

“I’ve got your number if I have any more questions.”

Cassandra opened the door. “If there’s anything else, just, you know, give me a call.”