Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller

by Melinda Woodhall

  Her Last Summer

  A Veronica Lee Thriller: Book One

  Melinda Woodhall

  Her Last Summer Copyright © 2020 by Melinda Woodhall. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Melinda Woodhall

  Visit my website at www.melindawoodhall.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: March 2020

  Creative Magnolia

  Chapter One

  Portia Hart’s four-inch heels clicked against polished marble as she entered the hotel suite’s foyer, dropped her bag on the floor, and pressed a switch on the wall. Recessed lighting illuminated the luxurious suite’s elegantly appointed sitting room. She didn’t notice the man standing in the shadows as she crossed to the big window and looked down at the dark river below.

  Catching sight of her reflection in the glass, she pushed back a strand of silky blond hair and inhaled deeply, then smiled and turned her head.

  “I know you’re here,” Portia called out in a playful voice. “I can smell your cologne. It’s the one I picked out for you in St. Barts, so you can stop playing around. I’ve been on my feet for hours and…”

  Her voice faltered as Xavier Greyson appeared in the bedroom doorway. Folding leanly muscled arms over his smooth, bare chest, he rested against the doorjamb and let his lips curl into a wicked smile.

  “I thought I’d surprise you and come early,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “but, if you’d rather I leave and come back tomorrow-”

  “Oh no, you’re here now and I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Portia stepped forward, lifting her face to his. “I thought I’d have to spend the whole night up here all alone.”

  Allowing her to pull his head down for a lingering kiss, Xavier raised a hand and entwined it in her long, blonde hair. He tugged her head back and gazed down into her adoring eyes.

  She really is a beautiful woman. And so very trusting.

  He bestowed a gentle kiss on her forehead and released his grip. Ignoring her cry of protest, he moved back into the bedroom.

  “First things first, my dear.” His voice was soft but firm. “As you were saying, you’ve been on your feet for hours. You need a warm bath and a stiff drink.”

  Portia followed him through the bedroom into the suite’s opulent bathroom where a crystal chandelier hung over a massive, freestanding tub. She gasped in pleasure; the tub was already full of hot water. Puffs of steam drifted up, turning the room into a warm, dreamy haze.

  “That water looks divine.” She turned to him and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “And the tub’s deep enough for two.”

  Her whispered words sent a ripple of regret down his spine. For a split second he was tempted to delay his plan and join her in the tub.

  What harm will another hour do?

  He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. He couldn’t afford a further delay. The book signing had lasted longer than he’d anticipated, and the hardest part was yet to come.

  No, the plan is in motion. There’s no turning back now.

  “I think you just might be right.” Xavier reached out and untied the silk sash of her dress with a practiced hand. “So, why don’t I go ahead and pour us some wine while you slip out of those clothes.”

  Leaving Portia to undress, Xavier padded back into the living room and crossed to the bar. An open bottle of the hotel’s most expensive Merlot sat beside two crystal wine glasses. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, extracted a tiny plastic bag, and considered the fine white powder within.

  This will make it all a bit easier. For both of us.

  He shook the powder into the bottom of one glass then stuffed the bag back into his pocket.

  “I was getting lonely in there.”

  Portia’s voice startled him, and he jumped as her arms circled his waist. Her bare feet had made no sound on the marble floor.

  Pouring a long splash of wine on top of the powder, Xavier exhaled and turned to peer down into Portia’s eager face. He noticed that she’d changed into one of the hotel’s bulky cotton robes.

  “I ordered the best Merlot they had,” he murmured, trying to gauge the look in her eyes as he handed her the wine, “to celebrate your book hitting the bestseller list again.”

  Portia shrugged her shoulders as if to say the achievement was no big deal, but a blush of happiness stained her cheeks. Xavier filled the other glass and lifted it to clink against hers. He wondered if she had noticed the slight tremor in his hand.

  His heart faltered as he saw the smattering of white powder on the rim of her glass, but Portia seemed oblivious; she brought the glass to her lips and drank deeply.

  “Now, let’s see about that bath,” she said, carrying her drink out of the room. “The water’s getting cold.”

  Looking around the living room one last time, Xavier reviewed his plan. He didn’t feel good about the delay, but he had no choice. He’d just have to get the next step over quickly and move on.

  Relieved to see the robe discarded on the floor, a genuine smile played around his mouth as he took in Portia’s long, slender figure reclining in the luxurious tub.

  She is an exquisite woman. One of my better finds, I have to admit.

  He shook his head to clear it.

  “I’m feeling a little dizzy.” Portia’s words were slurred as she squinted up at him. “I think the water’s too…hot.”

  Xavier took a deep breath and moved forward, steeling himself for what had to come next. The uneasy sensation was back. Something didn’t feel right, but what could it be? Had he forgotten something? Or was he just getting weak and soft?

  “You’re just tired,” he said, circling the tub and placing his well-manicured hands on Portia’s shoulders. “I’ll scrub your back.”

  “No, I really…don’t feel well. I want to get out. I don’t-”

  A gush of hot water stopped her words as he forced her shoulders down, triggering a sudden flash of panic. She flailed her arms and kicked her feet, sending a wave of water over the side of the tub.

  Anger flooded through Xavier as he struggled to hold Portia down, feeling the scalding water soak through his jeans.

  The bitch got my jeans wet. How am I supposed to get out of here now?

  He gripped her shoulders with mounting frustration. A black t-shirt and hoodie were hanging safely in the closet, but all his other clothes were packed and waiting for him in the car.

  He hadn't planned on leaving the hotel looking like a drowned rat. His appearance would definitely raise questions. Especially since the after-dinner crowd had likely dispersed by now. A lone man walking out in soaking wet jeans would be noticed.

  A stinging pain brought his attention back to the woman struggling under the water. Portia had stuck up one desperate hand to claw at his wrist, while her other hand now gripped the edge of the tub. Xavier grimaced as her long fingernails dug into his skin.

  Stifling the curse that hovered on his lips, he tightened his aching hands in frustration and pushed Portia lower in the water.

  I should’ve waited for her to pass out. I should’ve followed the plan.

  Her eyes bulged and widened in fea
r in the water below him, and he looked away with distaste, knowing from experience that her face would soon darken into a revolting shade of blue. Xavier kept his cold eyes averted as Portia convulsed beneath him, refusing to give in to his rising panic.

  Everything is going to be all right. I’ll find another way out and no one will ever know I was here. I’ll be long gone before she’s even discovered.

  Finally, after what seemed to Xavier like hours, her body went limp and sank heavily to the bottom. One last feeble gush of water spilled over the side as the struggle ended.

  Xavier’s heavy breathing was the only sound in the room as he gazed down at Portia’s lifeless body with grim satisfaction. The job was almost done.

  A high-pitched ring filled the silence of the room, and Xavier jumped in alarm as Portia's cell phone vibrated against the marble countertop. He looked over at the phone with narrowed eyes.

  Crossing to silence the call, he recognized the face that flashed on the screen. It was Jane Bishop, Portia's literary agent. He pushed the button to send the call to voicemail, and the display went dark again. But Jane Bishop’s meddlesome face had heightened his anxiety.

  It'll only be a matter of time before the old bat sends out the calvary.

  Xavier knew he'd better hurry. He'd gotten through the hardest part of the plan already. It was time to move on to the next stage. He turned to survey the room. Puddles of water surrounded the tub, and the cotton robe lay in a sodden heap several feet away. Splotches of blood made a trail from the tub to where he stood by the sink.

  He looked down to see two bloody scratches on his forearm.

  “Shit!”

  Grabbing a plush hand towel, he wrapped it around his arm and tried to think. He’d screwed up, but he still had a chance. He’d always managed to find a way out before. This time would be no different. He just needed to keep his head straight and act fast. Pulling more towels off the rack, he fell to his knees and began wiping up the water.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Xavier gave one last look around the room and sighed. He’d done what he could to correct his mistakes. The floor was relatively clean, his wine glass had been rinsed and dried, the empty pill bottle was on the counter, and Portia’s body lay motionless in the cooling water.

  Now he needed to focus on his escape. The whole ordeal had taken much longer than he’d planned, and the hotel was bound to be quiet and deserted by now. Small towns like Willow Bay never had much of a nightlife, even if it was a Friday. His plan of mingling in with the crowd that was leaving the event would no longer be feasible.

  By now the only one hanging around will be a bored security guard.

  No, he’d have to move on to plan B, and he’d need to do it fast. The longer he hung around, the more likely he’d encounter a witness. Or make another mistake.

  Zipping his jacket, Xavier felt the right pocket to reassure himself that the thick roll of cash and Cartier watch were still safely inside. He pulled his hood up to cover his head and opened the door.

  The suite was located at the end of the hall just as he’d recommended to Portia, telling her it would protect her privacy and shield their relationship from the prying eyes of the public and press.

  If she’d suspected he had wanted to avoid the cameras positioned on each floor by the elevator, she had never mentioned it. She’d trusted him after all.

  Head down, Xavier stepped into the corridor and hurried toward the stairs at the end. A red EXIT sign glowed overhead as he slowly pushed the metal door open.

  Half expecting to hear the wailing of an alarm, he relaxed his shoulders and stepped into the hot, dimly lit stairwell. A faint click, click, click made him look down.

  Drops of water fell from his still-soggy jeans and splashed onto the concrete floor. But was that what he’d heard? Shaking away a feeling of unease, he began to hurry down the stairs. Fourteen flights of stairs and he’d be outside and home free.

  But the clicking started again, and this time Xavier recognized the sound of high heels descending the stairs a few flights below him. Startled, he leaned over the rail and looked down into the upturned face of an equally startled young woman with long, bright pink hair. Her eyes, rimmed with heavy black liner, widened at the rage etched on his face, then dropped to take in the hoody and wet jeans.

  Knowing he had only seconds to act, Xavier hurled himself forward, banging down the stairs toward the only person that had seen his face. The only person that would be able to place him at the hotel. He had to stop her before she got away. He had to make sure she didn’t have a chance to tell anyone what he’d done.

  Chapter Two

  Veronica Lee emptied the remains of her breakfast into the trash and rinsed her plate in the sink. She wasn’t expected at the Channel Ten news station for another hour. That left just enough time for a quick run. Opening the front door, she stepped out into the blazing hot Florida morning, narrowly missing Winston’s fluffy orange tail.

  “What are you doing out here, boy?” She bent and stroked the big tabby’s thick fur. “You must be baking out here with that coat on.”

  Winston blinked up at her with blatant disinterest, then plopped his head back onto his paws, as if the ongoing heatwave had drained all his energy. Veronica continued down the porch steps, but the buzzing of her phone stopped her halfway down the walk.

  As soon as she saw Hunter Hadley’s number she turned and trudged back up the stairs. The station manager wouldn’t call unless something big was going on. Her run would have to wait.

  Her boss didn’t waste any words on a greeting.

  “Portia Hart was found dead in her suite at the Riverview Hotel this morning. I'm heading to the van now. I’ll meet you there."

  “You’re going to the scene? What about Gustavo?”

  "Gustavo texted in his notice last night.” Hunter’s voice dripped with disdain. “He's going to Channel Six. Actually, he’s already gone, so I’ll run the camera. Now go.”

  Veronica closed the door behind her and headed upstairs to change into camera-ready clothes. Pulling out a navy blue dress and matching heels, she considered adding a tailored jacket.

  No, definitely too hot for that. I’d just end up sweating on camera.

  Brushing her long dark hair into a high ponytail, she surveyed the effect in the full-length mirror behind her door.

  “I look like I’m about twelve,” she complained to her reflection as she applied two coats of black mascara, swiped on a classic red lipstick, and added a rosy blush to her cheeks.

  “There…that’s a little better.”

  She turned away from the mirror with a sigh and headed down the hall, trying to tread as quietly as possible past her mother’s closed door. It was a Saturday, and Ling Lee would want to sleep in. Her job as Willow Bay High School’s principal meant she had a six o’clock wake-up each weekday, even during the summer school schedule, and she would get irritable if she didn’t have a few extra hours of sleep on the weekends.

  And, of course, it would make it much easier for Veronica to leave the house if her mother wasn’t aware she’d been called to report on an active scene.

  Ling Lee had always been an overprotective mother, but she’d grown increasingly paranoid after Veronica had been taken hostage by the Willow Bay Stalker only months before. Although Veronica had escaped without serious injury, both mother and daughter had been traumatized by the ordeal.

  And while Veronica had thrown herself into her work to try to forget that she’d almost been the victim of a serial killer, her mother hadn’t been able to move on quite so easily. Ling’s constant worrying had grown worse, and Veronica could rarely leave the house without listening to a litany of dire predictions. She had heard them so often that they played over and over in her mind even when Ling wasn’t around.

  “I warned you to take care, Veronica. You can’t trust anyone. Especially strange men like that Boyd Faraday. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

  Shaking her head to clear out her mo
ther’s warnings, Veronica opened the front door and scooped up Winston. The hefty cat had been a welcome source of comfort during the last difficult months, and she hugged him to her as she carried him to the kitchen.

  “It’s way too hot out there for you to be running around, Winston,” she said, pouring fresh water and kibble into his bowls. “You better stay inside…where it’s safe.”

  She smiled as the tabby lowered his head to the bowl, dismissing her concerns with a swish of his tail. She was beginning to sound just like her mother.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Veronica parked her big red Jeep in the Riverview Hotel garage and stepped out into the blinding glare of the July sun. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the crowd of reporters, gawkers, and officials gathered outside the hotel’s main lobby. She marveled that they seemed oblivious to the intense heat radiating off the pavement.

  Or maybe after a month record-breaking temperatures and record-low rainfall, we’re all just getting used to it.

  The police had cordoned off a press area. Veronica noted with dismay that the Channel Six news crew had already claimed the prime spot between the hotel’s drop-off lane and the busy boardwalk that led down to the river. It looked like they were preparing to shoot a live feed.

  Nick Sargent acknowledged Veronica with a brisk wave. The poplar Channel Six reporter’s even features, close cropped hair, and smoothly shaven jaw had earned him a clean cut image that worked well with his viewers. Veronica was tempted to wave back before she caught sight of Gustavo Perez standing behind Nick’s tall frame.

  The cameraman caught her eye and shrugged his skinny shoulders, then offered Veronica a toothy smile. She glared and turned away as he lifted his camera toward Nick.

  Her gaze fell on a uniformed officer that stood guard in front of the hotel’s employees-only side entrance. He looked familiar.

  “Officer Eddings?” Veronica held up her press credentials as she approached. “Remember me? I’m Veronica Lee…with Channel Ten.”