“Do you have everything you need for the survival course?”
“Kinda. I haven’t found a sitter for Gila.”
Oh, hell. “Really? Imagine that.”
“Aw, c’mon. It’s only two weeks. And he already loves Damien and fits in nicely here.”
“What about Larado? Can’t he take the monster for a couple weeks?”
“No, and it’s La-ray-do. He’s not old enough to be responsible.”
The age related dig cut a thousand little slices of his soul, and he deserved each one. If that’s what it took to see a little fire in her eyes, he’d accept his due and be thankful. “What if he gets out of the house and disappears in the woods? I don’t know if he’d come to me. You’re so attached to the little beast, I’m afraid you’d shoot me when you returned.”
“He’ll be fine. Just let him out of the cage for at least four hours a day. I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to take him to work?”
Matt snorted coffee and grabbed a napkin off the counter. “Since Megan’s a vet, she and Billy would be a better fit. I’ll talk with my brother this afternoon. If they can’t, I will.” Disconcerting thoughts regarding his biggest distraction sidetracked each attempt to ground himself in the moment.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Let’s go over what you’re taking with you to your wilderness training.” The diversion kept both of their thought processes on track. Still, the pain he sensed enfolding her heart and mind multiplied and magnified to fill his spirit. He would find a way to fix the situation without exposing the reason for Carina’s visit.
Chapter Six
“Nice that you know your way around the area.” Katt tucked the ferret inside her jacket while he batted the stray lock of hair covering her expression. Like their prior interaction, obvious unexpressed conflict subverted her attention, pulling like a riptide intent on claiming its victim.
Her pain appeared too close to the surface to endure the conversation they needed to have. In counterpoint, the more time that passed, the deeper her wounds traveled, which would make healing their friendship more difficult. He didn’t want to lose her.
Matt cut the engine and surveyed the small bungalow. “I’ve lived in or near Portland all my life, worked on the force since I was twenty-one. I should know it.” If he asked Katt to leave her mongrel in the truck, he might end up with torn seats. “Is he gonna stay put in your... pocket?”
“Absolutely. He loves snuggling against my chest.”
Unwanted images forming a flipbook animation he couldn’t afford to contemplate captured his focus until the ultimate conclusion made him choke.
Katt slapped him on the back. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just went down the wrong way.”
“You know, as you get older, you need to be more careful. Yes?”
With no defense and no reasonable explanation, he closed his eyes and inhaled slow, deep breaths. Fresh air might purge the forbidden, scandalous scenarios attacking his imagination along with the soundless scream of frustration roaring through his mind. “Let’s do this, see if she’ll talk to us. She ought to be home since her car is in the drive.”
Retreating shadows danced across Katt’s face in time with the wind brushing through the branches arching over the street. The extra layer of caution stiffening her shoulders and causing her to scan the perimeter was new, disproportionate and seemingly unconnected to the insecurity roused by Carina’s visit. “What aren’t you telling me, Katt? What else is going on?”
“Hmm, nothing... A house on the cul-de-sac. I like this setting.”
He let her avoidance go for the moment. “Yeah, I could see you buying a place like this and decorating the hell out of it for Halloween.”
“Absolutely. A few open shallow graves with animated skeletons crawling out and into the front yard, maybe a lifelike head in a jar of formaldehyde, and a horde of cockroaches leading to the front door.”
“Intrusion.”
“You’d intrude on my holiday fun?”
“No, a collection of cockroaches is called an intrusion.”
“Only you would know that. Let me guess, Lucas had an insect farm as a kid.”
“No, Caden did. My mother hated having them in the house, even though they were contained. That is, until Ethan wanted to get him in trouble and turned them loose.” Matt winced at the memory of his mother’s tirade.
“I’ll bet that was fun. Sheesh.”
“I can see you turning your pet monster loose on trick or treaters.” His nod to Gila coincided with a grimace.
Black eyes and nose lent a demonic appearance to the furry friend snuggled against her chest. Had she chosen a true albino with pink eyes, Matt wouldn’t have endured. He hated rats.
“Yeah. He’s starting to mind me pretty well.”
Matt groaned, but refrained from commenting.
All remained quiet, isolated by a smattering of trees and the remote location. Shadow arms beat against the darkened windows, shifting with the breeze sorting through nearby branches.
The home’s small footprint made the best use of cleared space. Formless apparitions gathered under the covered front porch that sported tapered columns in muted earth tones, while multi-pane windows in the single dormer allowed available light to brighten the upstairs. It was quaint, comfortable.
Calla lilies had long faded, most decaying, their stems doubled over and banded together. A punch of color from emerging unknown blossoms defied the lilies’ wilt with their trumpet-shaped bracts. Each spathe surrounded a yellow spadix to provide its color to an otherwise desolate but well-trimmed landscape.
“I’ll bet she’s neat as a pin with everything in order.”
“It’s not wise or safe to make assumptions based on the cover of a book. It most often leads to... misunderstandings.” Like your inaccurate assumption concerning Carina. Inside, he cringed at the skim of pain languishing beneath the surface of her gaze.
“It’d be a nicer place if she trimmed the trees back and added a fresh coat of paint to the door. I love the arched covering. When my current lease is up, I’m thinking about looking for a place in the country.” Katt stumbled on a brick paver lining the pathway.
“Maybe you should focus on where you’re going.” Though he meant both long and short term, he couldn’t resist needling her to spark a reaction.
Instead of punching his shoulder, she ducked her head as crimson spread up her neckline. He couldn’t explain Carina’s presence and keep a safe emotional distance at the same time, yet with a will of its own, his hand reached out and smoothed down her spine, a method she used to calm Damien. She’s not a dog! “Wouldn’t you miss being closer to the city with all the nightlife?”
“Huh. Work usually occupies my nights. The times I am off, I conk out on the sofa and wake up to Gila pulling my hair.” Katt studied the unique doorbell. “Someone’s got a sense of humor, her own special stamp on the house.”
As soon as she pressed the button below the animated eyeball, its side-to-side movements surveyed the guests. The sound of pigs squealing preceded a mock explosion and furthered the uniqueness of the greeting system.
“Cool. You could put a camera in that and have a sweet setup.” Gila’s hiss mingled with Katt’s squeak. “Easy, Gila, it’s just a custom doorbell. You’re a flighty thing.”
“Pot and kettle. You’re a bit jumpy today.” It was clear the ferret didn’t appreciate the homeowner’s unique announcement. “Let me have the rat before you’re scarred for life.” Matt eased the ferret into the crook of his elbow and played with him. “Ouch. Damn vermin has sharp teeth.”
Katt’s jaw hung slack before recovering. “Um, thanks.”
“You said she lives alone?”
“That’s what Denny said, and my search didn’t show anything different.” She opened the screen door. Four digit-sized streaks of crimson marred the interior doorframe with a lateral opposing mark two inches away.
“Clear thumb print.” Matt d
eposited the ferret back in Katt’s arms and swept her behind him before testing the doorknob. “It’s unlocked.” A slight nudge offered visual access to the darkened interior.
“Lights are off. You stay. I’ll go in.” With one hand on the gun at his hip, he nudged the door open a few inches with the other. Again, he contemplated Katt’s skittishness but had delegated it to the riff between them. She would’ve spoken up if she’d suspected trouble.
Had she approached the house alone, she wouldn’t have hesitated to barge in, nor would she delay in calling the police to the scene, yet instinct warned him that something else kept her fight or flight response close to the surface. Something about the case was sticking in her craw. She didn’t appear to have slept, her responses clipped, and grins never reached her eyes, as if her thoughts were on autopilot.
The smooth glide of gunmetal against leather didn’t register a sound. “Molly Brenner? Anyone home?” What he could see of the interior appeared clean and neat. “I’m Detective McAllister. I’m coming in.”
Meager pools of filtered sunlight flowed into the open floor plan to expose a loveseat, matching recliner, and glass-etched coffee table anchoring a floral rug in the living room. Ahead, dark cabinets topped with spotless countertops separated the kitchen area containing a small round table with witchy salt and pepper shakers.
Tile flooring yielded to hardwood at the corner of the extended bar. Everything was immaculate—minus the bloody streaks on the white tile beside the cabinet’s extension. The faint tang of copper sifted on the AC’s meager air currents. “Damn, it’s chilly in here.”
A half-bath to his immediate right held no surprises after flipping its light switch. Carpeted, narrow steps led upstairs to his left. No telltale ruffle of fabric, movement, or gut instinct pulled him toward the banister.
The scent of blood and something much worse assaulted his senses. Death. Universal, unmistakable. Behind the loveseat which faced the front window, he found the source.
Molly.
Shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair covered one sightless eye peering into the afterlife. Her slack jaw canted to the side, broken and bloody from a brutal attack. Dried blood pooled in a circle underneath the torso of the woman curled in fetal position. Small cuts marred the lengths of her arms and legs, the spatters dotting her yellow sundress. Someone had tortured her, either for fun or information.
Considering the moderate temperatures of the past few days, had she been dead long, the odor would’ve flagged the problem to anyone approaching the house.
“Oh, shit.” Katt put one hand on his back as she sidled closer.
“Dammit. I told you to stay out. Do you ever listen?” He didn’t expect an answer to his hissed reprimand. “I’m going to clear the upstairs. Go back to the front stoop.”
“I just wanted to—”
“Go.”
Matt waited for her soundless steps to reach the front door before approaching the stairs. Light from the back bedroom spilled forth and brightened the floral runner near the top. Staying closer to the wall offered less squeaks in climbing the steps.
At the top, one bedroom and one bathroom dominated the space. The simple bathroom presented a claw-foot tub, single vanity, and toilet. A checkered tile floor remained free of clutter and discarded clothing while butterfly curtains took flight with the breeze shifting the gauzy material. Probably not the type to leave a window open and the AC running.
Space in the bedroom was tight due to the large oak dresser dominating the south wall. A small closet door stood open to reveal hospital scrubs on the left and colorful dresses, jackets, and blouses on the right.
Period-dressed models fronted the historical romance novel on the nightstand next to the bed, a blank slip of paper marking her spot.
Bright, patterned material covered a number of pillows on the floral bedspread. Again, hardwood floors remained clean and dust-free. No clothes dotted the bed or floor. Even the hamper lid was closed. “Clear upstairs.”
“Figured so. The blood on the doorframe is old.” Katt’s voice drifted up from downstairs, signaling her inability to follow instructions.
Hustling back, he observed her squatting near the body. With Gila secure in her arms, she studied the scene.
“Hey. Don’t contaminate—”
“I know what I’m doing. I haven’t touched anything. I’m just looking.”
“You can look from the front doorway.” Jesus. She should’ve been filing paperwork, typing something, or studying for an exam, not scrutinizing a dead body.
“She’s been gone awhile. I see a few maggots.”
“Out, Katt. This is a crime scene.” Seeing her study the body like a seasoned detective gave him pause and necessitated the reminder she wasn’t a kid.
“The kitchen’s clean, no dirty plates or glassware left in the sink. Maybe she didn’t know the killer... But why is there blood on the doorframe and none by the door? Do you think he cut her as soon as she answered then quickly shoved her inside? Maybe she tried to push him back or grabbed the frame for balance.”
“I’m going to check the backyard while you wait in the truck.” His lowered brow and no-nonsense demeanor scored a proper yet sluggish response as she stood and retreated.
“I know how to avoid contaminating a crime scene, Matt.”
“Truck. Now.”
Worry etched his heart as he watched her go, wondering what kind of hell she’d stepped into with her current case.
Bright colors comprising a wooden picture frame’s edge drew his attention to the untold story on the end table. Two women stood arm-in-arm, the same eyes, same slant of their mouths, and near-identical high cheekbones. Carina Frendal shared unique characteristics with her sister Molly.
Fuck.
The sun had risen to canopy height by the time Matt stepped outside again. The forensic team had arrived to document and collect evidence, each tech wearing gloves, booties, and Tyvek jumpsuits. Both he and Katt had submitted to fingerprinting, shoe print photos, and DNA collection for elimination purposes under the tent set up in the front yard as a staging area. Ethan waited beside one of the tables.
“Did you know Carina and Molly were sisters?” Ethan’s hard gaze pinned Matt in place.
“We, uh, didn’t get that far in conversation on our prior meeting or before Katt arrived.”
“We’ll talk about Molly in a bit. Speaking of Katt, I don’t know why you made her wait in your truck when there’ve been half a dozen offers to see her home.” The smile tugging up one side of his brother’s mouth requisitioned a bruise at a later date.
“She doesn’t mind waiting. I’m not done with her.”
“We’ve all known that for months.” Ethan glared at his oldest sibling. “She told me about your company last night. What the hell are you trying to prove? She deserves better.”
“I didn’t invite Carina over. She just showed up on my doorstep.”
“And you couldn’t be bothered to explain that to Katt? I’ve never seen this mean streak before. What gives?”
“Fuck it, Ethan.” Matt clenched his eyes tight for a brief second to invite a semblance of calm. “She deserves to find a young man who’ll treat her right.”
“I agree. Both Monahan and Barrett would love to give her a ride.” Ethan’s sly grin drifted toward the officers approaching from the crime scene van. He’d know the innuendo would light Matt’s fuse.
“Neither is good enough. Now, knock it off. You’re giving me a headache.”
“You can’t keep her close enough to protect her and at arm’s length to shield your heart at the same time. You have to make a choice. You’re a rational man—on a good day. Figure it out. The rest of us aren’t gonna stand by while she’s hurting, one way or another.”
“She trusts me, listens to me.” Sometimes. “I need to keep her safe. Something else is going on and she won’t spill.” Matt’s knuckles cracked, his fingers clenching, needing to feel the impact and crunch of bone in a fair fight.
>
“If she trusts you, something else is keeping her quiet. Wonder what that would be?” Ethan turned on his heel and stalked off.
As the homicide detective assigned to the case, his brother had long finished Katt’s interview, who’d then laid her seat back to take a nap. Matt had learned the hard way to not let her out of his sight. Her affinity with trouble rivaled a fish to water. Facts didn’t add up and he wouldn’t risk her safety.
Carina’s impromptu visit had begun another mystery until the association with Molly became clear. The victim hadn’t gone back to her maiden name after an earlier divorce. Carina either had knowledge of her sister’s trouble or had taken part in the crime.
Regardless, Ethan had sent his partner to pick up Molly’s sister. In thinking back, when Carina had left his house, she’d almost taken the jacket on the coat hook by his front door. The bloodstained coat that belonged to Denny.
He didn’t like coincidences. A threesome gone wrong? The possibility of family turning on each other in deadly fashion didn’t come as a surprise. He’d worked the streets long enough to know.
Chapter Seven
“Wake up, kiddo. We’re home.” Soft snores from his passenger softened Matt’s resolve to maintain a respectable distance. Gila lay curled high on Katt’s chest, nestled under her neck. Matt nudged her shoulder, accidently brushing the little horror’s tail in the process.
The devilish protector swiped at his hand, scratching his fingers. In follow-up, it scrambled off to jump onto the center console, hissing and gnawing on the camouflage cover.
“What? Oh, Gila. No. We do not chew on Matt’s truck.”
A weak smile accompanied the, “Sorry about that. I can replace the cover.”
“Don’t worry about it. Damien chewed the seatbelt in the back seat when I wouldn’t let him out at the park.” The quiet drive home had secured him time to find the logic supporting the coming conversation. “C’mon.”
McAllister Justice Series Box Set Page 6