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And why didn’t this scene make any sense? A robbery? A random act? A revenge killing? What? And what was the victim trying to tell him? He had pictures of the whole scene and he’d study them later. Especially that possible letter K written in blood.
He tried a new tactic. “You know, you and the deceased look a lot alike.”
She whirled at that, long ribbons of dark hair curling around her face and shoulders. “People told us that all through college. Said we looked like sisters. Tessa is...was...a year younger than me. I never imagined she wouldn’t make it past twenty-eight.”
So that made Rikki Allen twenty-nine, obviously.
Just a few years younger than him. Blain cleared his head and got back on track. “Look, I’m the only detective in town and since I was first on the scene, this is my case to solve. The more you tell me, the quicker I can make that happen. We need to find the person who did this.”
She grabbed at her hair and let it spill back around her face. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve been back in Millbrook a couple of days. Tessa drove down today to spend the weekend with me. I was out running errands and checking on some of the homes I’m scheduled to furnish. When I got home, I called out her name and that’s when...when he shot her and then he ran.”
“What kind of errands? What kind of work?”
She gave him a look that should have been intimidating. It only made Blain more aware of her, in too many ways he shouldn’t be aware. “I’m an interior designer. I work all over the Gulf Coast and all through Florida, decorating homes and condos, but lately in Tampa and down in Miami. I have a few clients up here, too.”
“So you were with one of those clients?”
“I can provide a play-by-play of my afternoon, if you need me to, yes.”
She was well-trained in deflecting questions, Blain decided. “And what about your sick mother?”
“I visited her before I went on my errands.”
He wondered about the sick mother part, but Blain would get to the bottom of things, sooner or later. “Okay. So, I’ve got the timeline pretty much figured out. I’ll have to wait to hear from the ME to find out the exact time of death. We’ve checked all of the upstairs rooms and according to my report, you told my officers that nothing important or valuable had been taken. But it looks like you might have surprised the intruder during a possible robbery.”
He read over his notes again.
“But it could be that you returned home before the intruder could take anything valuable, which means we’ll continue to comb the entire area around your home and see if we find any signs of someone getting away. We’re questioning the neighbors and alerting the media, too. If there’s a killer on the loose, everyone needs to be alert.”
“I don’t want the media hanging around,” she blurted. Then she cast her gaze back toward the patio. “I...I need to absorb what just happened. Tessa never hurt anyone, never had an enemy. Everyone loved her.” She whirled back to him. “I don’t want the media to harass her family and friends.”
Interesting. Or maybe she didn’t want the media delving into her personal life?
He stopped and tried again. “We’ve collected as much evidence as we can find for now so we’ll take this up again first thing tomorrow, but there’s still the matter of you finding another place to stay tonight.”
She glared at him, sniffed back tears she seemed to be trying hard to ignore. “I’ll go to a hotel.”
“Okay, then,” Blain said. “Get an overnight bag together and while you’re up there in your bedroom, make sure you double-check everything. Things such as valuable jewelry that might be missing or maybe some cash you left in a purse.”
She nodded. “Did you check the guest room? Tessa’s room?”
Blain could tell she was slipping fast. She was going to crash soon so he needed to get her out of here. “Yes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just your friend’s purse with the contents dumped on the bed and some clothes scattered around. Everything still intact.”
“Tessa is neat,” she said, her gaze slamming into his. “She would have put her clothes away. She’d never leave her purse that way.”
“Okay.” He wrote that down.
“We were going out tonight,” she said on a soft whisper. “Just for fun.”
Blain remembered fun. “I’m sorry you have to go through this,” he said on a low note. “Do you want me to come upstairs with you?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
He watched her up the stairs and then turned to take in the opulent design of the big town house. Did she decorate this one? Probably. A big pot with a healthy palm tree branching out around it sat by the ceiling-to-floor windows. A white leather couch and matching chair graced the spacious den. A modern-looking fireplace decorated in gold-and-white ornaments and shiny green foliage slashed across one wall and a bookshelf heavy with art and design books and a few novels filled the other wall. A vivid tropical-themed painting hung over the fireplace and a tall Christmas tree covered in silver-and-gold ornaments and ribbons stood in the corner by the fireplace.
So she’d been back in town long enough to get this place all gussied up for the holidays. Or maybe she’d hired someone to do it and they’d liked what they saw enough to try and rob the place. Maybe they’d sneaked inside the house, not knowing the other woman was here? Rikki had come home and surprised them? But why shoot the other woman?
Because she’d seen the intruder?
Now he had even more questions.
* * *
Rikki dreaded going into her bedroom. Knowing that a killer had gone through her house made her feel violated and ill at ease. She couldn’t even look at the guest room where Tessa’s things were scattered on the bed so she hurried up the hall to her room. She could see sparkling Christmas lights across the canal on another home’s upper balcony. The lights were pretty but a chill rushed across her shoulders, making Rikki shake.
Tessa. Dead.
What a nightmare? Had she been wrong to come back here? No, she had to see her mother before it was too late. Before she had even more regrets to add to the long list already in her head.
And yes, she’d needed some time away from Chad Presley. Because Chad could never replace the one man she’d loved and lost, and once he’d realized that, he’d turned nasty.
But she wouldn’t blame Chad. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t love him. Or that she’d never get over losing Drake.
Drake. Her sweet, young husband, Drake Allen.
We were so naive. So in love.
She missed him every day of her life but missing and wishing wouldn’t bring him back. Rikki went about grabbing clothes and gathering the essentials, her mind so numb with shock she could barely walk.
She’d lost Drake years ago. And now she’d lost Tessa. And both had died violently. She’d never get beyond the shadow of her family’s questionable legacy.
Staring at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror, Rikki wondered how she’d ever be able to open her heart to anyone again. It was all too much.
Being back in Millbrook was too much.
And once her family heard about this, her nightmare would continue. Unless she left again. She could do that. Just run away and start over in another place all together.
You should tell Detective Kent the truth.
Maybe she should do that, level with him and get it all over with. But she didn’t really know where to start. She didn’t think Chad had it in him to follow her here and kill Tessa. In spite of his veiled threats, he was too busy making more money for himself. He didn’t even know she’d left Tallahassee, anyway. Did he?
And her clients? While they all demanded discretion, none of them struck her as murderers. That left her powerful family. Could someone close to her actually want her dead?
No. Impossible. She’d been careful to stay out of trouble and to stay out of the limelight. None of this made sense. And like the detective, she wanted answers. Maybe they could work together on this if she leveled with him.
But right now, tonight, she didn’t have the energy for a long confession. The handsome detective would find out about her soon enough, anyway. And then, she probably would become a suspect.
* * *
Blain checked his watch again. And again, he walked around the downstairs rooms of the town house.
The kitchen and dining room were open to the den, all white and bright, with more green plants and vivid artwork. A set of open stairs decorated with garland crawled up the wall by the entryway. Swanky, as his mom would say.
An officer came in while Blain moved around the room once again, anything to help him figure out who’d been through here. They’d already dusted for prints and searched for hair and fabric fibers but Blain doubted they’d find either. The place looked as pristine as one of the ads in his mother’s many magazines. A professional job?
His gut burned toward that end but he still needed to pin her down on the ex-boyfriend. “What do you have, Wilson?” he asked the uniformed officer.
“Found some broken branches on the shrubbery near the back gate. The gate has a latch but no lock. Figure they left in a hurry headed that way once Miss Allen ran out screaming.” He pointed toward a thicket of woods that followed the far shore of the river. “Anybody could get lost in there, even this time of year. We don’t have a lot of bare trees in the winter around here.”
“I hear that,” Blain replied. A lot of pines and live oaks grew in that thicket. “Footprints? Shoe prints?”
“Yes, sir. Big ones. But only partials. A distinctive pattern, though.”
“Get pictures and measurements. Maybe a plaster form.”
“Already on it,” Wilson replied. “I think we’ve covered everything for now.”
“Okay. I’m waiting on Miss Allen,” Blain said. “We’re putting her in a hotel room for now. I’ll need a cruiser to give us a ride and a guard on her room tonight.”
The young officer nodded. “Night, Detective Kent.”
Blain nodded and then checked his watch. What was keeping Rikki Allen? He was about to go up and check on her when she came back down with a fancy leather overnight bag on one arm and a smaller shoulder bag on the other shoulder.
“There you are,” he said in what he hoped was a casual voice. Taking her overnight bag, he said, “I thought you might have bolted on me.”
She almost smiled. “I did consider it for about five minutes.” The intense expression on her exotic face showed she’d considered it a lot.
“Why would you want to run away, Miss Allen?”
“Call me Rikki,” she replied, not answering that question. “Now, can we get out of here?”
“Sure. I don’t have my vehicle here so I’ll have a patrol drop us at the hotel and I’ll also assign a patrol outside your hotel.”
“Did they break into Tessa’s car? It should be in the public parking area around the corner.”
“No. But we’ll go over both your vehicles to see if we find any odd prints or maybe some fiber or hair follicles.”
“What about you?” she asked, her head down. “How will you get back to your place?”
“I know my way home,” he said, thinking he’d come right back here and do some more checking on his own.
Blain followed her to the front door where an officer was waiting to place crime-scene tape across the entryway and all around the small porch. Some of the neighbors were standing out on the boardwalk, their expressions full of shock and questions.
An officer walked them to a waiting patrol car.
Blain shot a glance toward the woman and remembered the sporty little convertible parked in her garage. Neither the car nor the woman would ever be his in this lifetime. Out of his league. So he needed to focus on work and not the subject at hand, his gut burning for answers.
She got in and glanced back after Blain put her stuff in the trunk and slid in beside her in the backseat. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why someone would rob me and...kill Tessa.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to call your mother?” Maybe if he kept pushing, she’d keep talking.
“No. It’s late and she’s not well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Who is your mother? I might know her.”
“I doubt it.”
Again, that nonresponse. “Okay.”
Then she sat up on the seat. “What about Pebble?”
“Excuse me?”
“My cat, Pebble. He’s missing.”
“We’ll put out some food for him and alert the neighbors.”
The neighbors who were checking out their windows right about now and texting their friends and standing along the boardwalk in clusters of fear. Yeah, they’d definitely check with those neighbors.
He wouldn’t push on that matter or the matter of her refusal to give him a straight answer, but he’d certainly do his own research later. So much for a slow holiday season.
He pulled out a business card when they approached the hotel she’d mentioned, one of the few low-budget hotels in town. At least this one was new and located near a busy intersection. No fancy condo-type accommodations around Millbrook. “Listen, if you need me for anything or if you remember anything, call me. No matter the time.”
“I will.”
Yeah, right.
He came around to help her out of the car but she already had her door open and herself out, tall boots and jean-clad legs first. He got the bag she’d packed out of the trunk. “I’ll walk you to the front desk and make sure you’re in a secure room.”
“Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, Blain was on his way to the station to file his report, his mind humming with the sure knowledge that Rikki Allen knew things she didn’t want him to know. He’d head back to her town house once he was done with his work and look for her cat.
But he intended to find out the truth.
And while he did that, he’d try to get the image of those chocolate eyes and that matching hair out of his head. Blain’s gut told him there was a lot more to Rikki Allen than she wanted anyone to know.
But he knew enough.
A beautiful, mysterious woman who’d broken up with her boyfriend and who’d obviously lived a life of privilege had interrupted an intruder in her home and had found her best friend dead. A best friend who resembled her. This case shouted hit man.
His job was to find out if someone wanted Rikki Allen dead. But he also wanted to figure out what she was trying so desperately to hide from the world.
THREE (#ulink_cd4321b2-9ad7-543b-ac2e-264fc7b1f607)
Rikki tried to sleep but being alone in a strange room didn’t help her to block out the image of Tessa, beautiful, sweet Tessa, lying there with blood all around her.
