“You’re absolutely right.”
* * * *
Emily turned at the knock on the door. The open house was over, and the real estate agent had already left. Emily hadn’t wanted to have it on a Sunday, especially with the less-than-perfect weather, but the agent insisted weekends were the best time and that they’d have less competition with other houses on that weekend. At least she’d still been able to go to church while the agent ran things in her absence.
Despite the weather, Emily had been pleasantly surprised by the relatively good turnout. But now she was exhausted from having to keep a smile plastered to her face and act friendly to everyone when all she wanted to do was make someone buy the house. The last thing she wanted to do was show the house again.
She just wanted out. She wanted away from all the memories, and from the betrayal. How could her entire family turn against her? The only people who’d stood beside her and seen her point of view were her church family.
The visitor knocked again. With a sigh, Emily went to the door and opened it.
She wasn’t prepared for the sight of the rather scruffy-looking man standing there. “Yes? May I help you?” He didn’t look anything like a prospective buyer.
“Saw your open house signs.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to look around.”
She hesitated, then stepped aside. “Sure. Please, come in. The agent’s already left, though.”
“You Emily Kinsey?”
“Yes.” She closed the door behind him and began to lead the way toward the kitchen to give him the tour. “How’d you know my name?”
“Your brother is Thomas, right? Lives in Florida?”
She stiffened, but didn’t turn to look at him. It didn’t matter to her if this man knew Tom. If he was a prospective buyer, she’d take his money. “Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.”
When he stepped toward her, reaching for her, she tried to run. She clawed at his hands, struggling to break free. He was bigger than her, and stronger. Thrashing, she jammed her fingers at his face, trying to get him in the eye and only succeeding in raking her nails down his cheek.
“Fuckin’ bitch!”
A sharp pain exploded in the back of her brain. The last thing she remembered was the floor rushing up at her.
* * * *
Tom fought the urge to pace. Despite their repeated attempts, they couldn’t get another call out to Nevvie. The house phone was still dead, and all their attempts with the cell phones got them an “all circuits busy” message.
Tyler wasn’t helping matters any. Normally, Tom would love his partner’s attentive attempts to get him out of his funk. But being cooped up together in close quarters for so long with no way of escaping had worn thin on him. Knowing the worst of the weather was behind them, he opted to go to bed after dinner.
“Do you want me to come, too, love?” Tyler asked.
Tom waved him away. “No, it’s okay. You can stay out here. I’m going to read for a while and catch up on my sleep.”
That was exactly what he had planned on doing, except Tyler slipped into their bedroom an hour later.
“What are you doing?” Tom asked.
“Coming to bed.”
Dammit. “I figured you’d want to try to write or something.”
“I can’t. I’m too blasted worried about Nevvie. I really wish we could have talked to her again tonight.”
“They’re fine, I’m sure.” He tried to return to his book, but Tyler stripped and crawled up the bed to lie next to him.
“What?” Tom grumbled.
Tyler dove under the sheet. Before Tom could stop him, Tyler had his cock in his mouth and had started sucking.
Tom started to protest, to push him away, but then Tyler slipped a hand between his legs and started playing with his ass, too.
All resistance melted from Tom’s body. He dropped his book off the bed and closed his eyes as his hands found Tyler’s head under the sheet. “That’s so good.”
Tyler, his mouth full, didn’t answer. Instead, he took that as encouragement to do more. He played with Tom’s sac with his other hand, running his tongue up and down Tom’s cock, over his balls, down his taint, to his ass, and back again.
Tom flexed his hips, urging Tyler to take him deeper, not to stop. He didn’t even try to hold back, and within a couple of minutes, he softly groaned as his balls exploded and filled Tyler’s mouth with his seed.
As he lay there catching his breath, Tyler rose up on his arms. “Better, love?”
Tom smiled. “You’re sneaky, Evil Genius. You know that?”
“I’ve never denied it.” He kissed Tom, deeply. He could taste his own juices on Tyler’s tongue.
He rolled on top of Tyler. “How about I return the favor?” He went down on Tyler, sucking and licking, savoring the feel and taste of his lover’s cock against his tongue. He’d never had a problem going down on Tyler. It was one of his favorite things to do, and he loved how much pleasure he could give to his guy.
Tyler lightly raked his fingers through Tom’s hair. “Yes, love,” he whispered. “Like that. Just like that.”
Tom knew exactly how to bring Tyler’s body up to a heated boil. When he deep-throated him, Tyler groaned. His cock tightened and hardened in Tom’s mouth. That’s when Tom pressed a finger against Tyler’s rim, and his lover fell over the edge. Hot jets of cum rolled down Tom’s throat as he swallowed every drop.
Tyler’s body went limp and he closed his eyes. “I do believe we’ve been randier than we have in a long time these past few days, love.”
Tom chuckled and rejoined Tyler. “Well, we’ve been under a lot of stress.” He pulled Tyler close after turning off the bedside lamp. “Nothing spells stress-reducer like C-L-I-M-A-X.”
“I suppose you’re right. I miss our angel, though. She sounded so sad on the phone.”
“I know. We’ll be up there with her soon.” He kissed Ty. “Just try to go to sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” The plan was to go with John over to their house and try to salvage as much as they could.
“I’ll do what I can to help, but you know I’m not good with my hands.”
Tom snorted. “You’re very good with your hands. Unfortunately, the way you’re good with your hands isn’t helpful outside of bed sometimes.”
Chapter Nine
Nevvie had taken some comfort from Tyler’s phone call, but since then, she’d still been unable to call them, and hadn’t received any other calls or texts from them. She suspected they still weren’t receiving any of her text messages, either.
She shared her frustration over the phone with her friend, Sarah, who lived in Mitchell, South Dakota. They’d met her and her two men, Del and John, when Tyler accidentally left Nevvie and Andrew behind during their RV adventure.
“I’m not trying to play down the hurricane,” Sarah said, “but let’s go back to the Alex situation.”
“Why? I really don’t want to think about him.” When Sarah didn’t speak for a moment, Nevvie did. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember how I told you about my little flashes?”
“Yeah?” Sarah had nearly lost her life to a serial killer, and the ghost of a little boy lived in their house.
Nevvie wouldn’t have believed it except that Adam had seen and perfectly described Robbie.
“Just…just be careful, okay? Please?”
Goose bumps rippled Nevvie’s flesh again. Sarah was also pregnant, due close to Christmas. “He can’t find me here in Savannah,” Nevvie insisted.
“That’s what I thought when I went and hid out in Miami. Bastard had copied my address book when he towed my car. All I’m saying is don’t let your guard down and trust your instincts, okay?”
“You’re creeping me out.”
“Better to be creeped out and on your guard than caught with your pants down, girlfriend. And you’re always welcomed to come out here, you know. Hell, I’ll show you how to shoot
if you want me to.”
“I let my dad talk me into skeet shooting. He’s going to show me when he gets back up here.”
“Good,” Sarah said. “That makes me feel better.”
Nevvie finally got off the phone with her. After trying to call Tom and Tyler again, she managed to get some sleep Sunday night, but awoke Monday morning feeling unrested and with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Must be the weather. While Edgar’s wrath had moved out to sea, they were still getting rain bands from the back side of the storm.
Apparently the weather and late-night weather watches had them all sleeping in. She didn’t hear Peggy up and around until after seven. Nevvie gave up trying to go back to sleep around seven thirty and went to the kitchen, where Peggy had already started her morning breakfast preparations.
That, if nothing else, would make Nevvie feel better. She sat there drinking coffee and talking with Peggy while she worked, having refused Nevvie’s offers to help.
“What on earth?” Nevvie looked up at Peggy’s tone. Peggy stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the yard.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, sugar. But it can’t be good.”
Nevvie stood to join her. A sheriff’s cruiser had pulled into the yard, along with another car that had to be an unmarked unit. A plainclothes officer stepped out of the unmarked car, while a uniformed deputy emerged from the cruiser.
The women rushed to the front door and opened it as the officers stepped onto the porch and shook the rain off their jackets.
The plainclothes officer showed ID and his badge. “I’m Detective Platt,” he said. “Are you Peggy Kinsey?”
Nevvie didn’t like the way Peggy’s face paled. “Yes?”
“Do you know a Clay Brennan?”
“Yes. He’s my son-in-law. Well, ex-son-in-law. Why?”
“Do you know his whereabouts this morning, ma’am?”
Nevvie stepped in. “He’s inside, with his kids. What’s going on?”
“We need to talk to him, ma’am.”
By this time, Clay and Andrew were both standing in the doorway. “Peggy, is everything all right?” Andrew asked.
“These officers are here to see Clay,” Peggy said. Nevvie didn’t like the way Peggy’s voice sounded weak.
Clay stepped out. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Clay Brennan?” the detective asked.
“Yes?”
“Sir, we need to know your whereabouts last night, around eight o’clock.”
“He was here,” Peggy said. “He and the twins spent the night again.”
“Sir?” the detective repeated.
Clay nodded. “Mom wanted us here to stay here. The storm knocked out the electricity at our apartment complex and they haven’t got it back on yet. Look, what’s going on?”
The two officers exchanged a glance. “You’ve been here all night?”
“Yes. Everyone saw me. What’s going on?”
“You didn’t leave? Can you prove you were here all night?”
With a mixture of anger and exasperation, he pointed to his car, which was parked closest to the house and penned in by Danny, Elle, and Nevvie’s cars. “I couldn’t leave here without someone knowing. The twins and Nevvie have me blocked in.”
The detective’s expression softened. “We need to talk to you about your ex-wife, Mr. Brennan.”
“Emily?” Peggy said. “What happened?”
Nevvie noticed the twins now stood in the doorway, holding on to each other.
“I’m sorry to have to inform you of this, but Emily Kinsey was murdered in her home sometime yesterday evening.”
Nevvie and Andrew caught Peggy as she swayed on her feet. They helped her into the porch swing.
Clay looked sucker punched. “What?” he whispered.
The detective’s voice gentled. “Her real estate agent found her early this morning when she arrived there to meet a prospective buyer for a showing.”
“She’s dead?” Danny asked. The twins had stepped out onto the porch, next to Clay.
Clay put his arms around them, still looking at the detective. “What happened? How?”
Nevvie didn’t miss how the detective studied Clay’s hands and lower arms, left bare by his T-shirt. “We have to wait for the official autopsy findings, but the evidence at the scene leads us to believe she was beaten to death.”
Elle let out a soft sob.
“You think I did it?” Clay choked out. “We’ve been divorced going on two years. I left her, not the other way around. I would never hurt her.”
“May I see your hands, Mr. Brennan?”
Trembling, Clay held them out. The detective inspected Clay’s hands and arms. “No, you were just removed from our suspect list, sir. You have an alibi. Also, whoever did this apparently did it with their bare hands. They would also likely have defensive wounds, based on evidence we found.” Clay, who spent every day at a computer terminal, had unblemished hands.
Nevvie, married to a writer who specialized in murder mysteries, suspected what the detective didn’t say was that they’d found skin or blood under Emily’s nails.
“Can we…can we see her?” he asked.
The detective grimly nodded. “We do need a positive ID.” He studied Elle and Danny. Nevvie noticed how he also looked at their hands. “But frankly, she’s—”
“I’ll go,” Nevvie firmly said as she stepped forward. “You stay here with the twins,” she told Clay. She turned to the detective. “I’ll go do it.” A sick feeling had formed in her gut, and she suspected it had nothing to do with morning sickness or the unexpected news about Emily’s murder.
She had to see her.
Had to.
“And you are, ma’am?”
“She was my sister-in-law.”
* * * *
In silence, Nevvie and Andrew followed Detective Platt through another band of driving rain to the county morgue. Despite her discomfort with law enforcement, she would do this. Had to do this.
Had to know.
The detective studied her as they waited for the coroner to meet with them in a waiting room. “What was your relationship to the victim again, Mrs. Paulson?”
“Kinsey-Paulson,” she corrected. “My husband, Tom, is her brother.” She caught herself. “Was,” she softly said.
“And you are, sir?”
Andrew offered a wan smile. “It’s complicated.”
“He’s going to be my father-in-law,” Nevvie said, numbness already creeping in.
The detective let it go at that. “I need to warn you, ma’am. Her injuries are pretty…traumatic. Especially to her face. They haven’t performed the autopsy yet, but the coroner suspects she suffered a fractured skull.”
“My husband’s a writer,” Nevvie said. “I’ve helped him do a lot of crime research. You found DNA under her nails, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. She put up a fight.” He looked at Andrew. “Were you familiar with the victim?” he asked. “Maybe it’d be better if you were the one to—”
“I want to see her,” Nevvie insisted. “I’ll do it.”
The coroner entered the room, went through some forms with her, and then led them back to a viewing room. Inside, on a gurney, lay a body covered by a sheet. Nevvie steeled herself when the coroner pulled the sheet back, down to her neck. Andrew rested his hands on Nevvie’s shoulders.
“Steady, love,” he whispered in her ear. “Lean on me if you must.”
Nevvie closed her eyes and swallowed. She opened them, looked, then closed them again. The brief view was more than enough. “That’s Emily,” she whispered.
“You’re certain, ma’am?” Detective Platt asked.
Nevvie forced her eyes open again for a moment. Barely recognizable, her hair color and a small mole on her right cheek were all Nevvie could focus on. The rest of her features, her nose, her mouth, had all been viciously smashed and distorted. She closed her eyes again, the
sight permanently seared into her brain. Someone with brute strength and a lot of anger had done that.
“Yes, I’m certain it’s Emily,” she whispered, the sick feeling in her gut growing. Sarah’s warning to her to trust her instincts came screaming into her brain. “And I have a feeling I might know who did it.”
* * * *
The more that Detective Platt discounted her theory, the sillier Nevvie felt. “No offense, Mrs. Paulson, but unless we recover physical evidence, such as the DNA tests matching him, tying your ex to the crime, it’s doubtful it was him. Florida might have his DNA on file, but we’re going to have a hard time getting that data anytime soon. They’ll be overwhelmed down there because of the storm. Did he even know your former sister-in-law?”
Nevvie shook her head as she blew her nose. “No.” The tears had surprised her. They were more for the shock of the events and the grief her family would suffer than her own feelings on the matter.
“Did he even know of her?” the detective asked.
“Probably not,” Nevvie reluctantly allowed. “I guess I don’t see how he could have. I just know he nearly beat me to death twice, along with the stabbing. And it certainly seems like an odd coincidence that he’s on the run and now something like this happens to our family.” And my sort-of-psychic friend, Sarah, has a ghost living in her house and told me to trust my instincts.
Not that she could say it, but the certainty sitting rock hard in the bottom of her gut wouldn’t let go of it no matter how rational the detective’s arguments.
The detective kept his voice gentle. “I know this is very upsetting for you and your family. It was a violent crime. I promise we’ll do our best to catch whoever did this and put them away. I’m not trying to discount your opinion, but you’ve given me no reason to suspect it is this Alex LaRogue fellow. However, I promise you, we will contact Florida to see if they have any DNA records on him to eliminate him as a suspect. We will also need to get fingerprints from anyone who’s been in the house recently, to rule them out. Then we’ll go from there. We did lift quite a few prints, and we can run them to include or eliminate your ex as well. Unfortunately, we don’t know how many of the prints we’ll find were left over from the open house. Her attacker could have been any one of the people who toured the house yesterday, for all we know. It wouldn’t be the first time an open house was used to case a future crime scene.”
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