Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller

by Melinda Woodhall

  She'll just tell me to stop whining and keep my mouth shut.

  Perhaps that was the answer; she would just lay low and stay out of trouble. It was best not to get involved.

  Besides, I don’t know if the man on the stairs did anything wrong. And he doesn’t know who I am. I’ll just have to make sure he never finds out.

  Assuring herself that the deadbolt on the front door was still firmly in place, Lexi returned to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She sank onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her shoulders, starting to shiver even though the temperature outside was inching toward a hundred degrees.

  Chapter Six

  Rage flooded through Xavier Greyson as he drove east on Waterside Drive, heading toward the interstate. He needed time to figure out his next move, and he had to do it fast. His grand scheme wasn’t going to plan and, although he’d made only a few minor mistakes, the missteps could end up costing him a fortune.

  Checking the speedometer, he eased up on the gas. No need to attract the attention of some nosy cop. The thought raised another nasty possibility in his mind.

  If the cops find out I was there, if they piece it all together, those mistakes will cost me my freedom …. maybe even my life.

  The cops were already suspicious of Portia’s death, he knew that for a fact. Why else would they call Riley Odell to the scene?

  A state prosecutor wouldn’t visit a scene unless the cops thought a crime had been committed. A suspected suicide, or even an accidental overdose, wouldn’t require a prosecutor’s help.

  And Riley wasn’t just any prosecutor. She happened to be the one person from his past who had seen through his act. Xavier’s anger returned at the memory of the steely-eyed prosecutor and her immunity to his charm.

  He’d been running his con for almost ten years, and after all that time she was still the only one that had even come close to catching him.

  That cold bitch made me realize how important it is to eliminate all witnesses; I really should find a way to thank her for that one.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Xavier forced himself to count to ten, before slowly exhaling. He couldn’t let Riley Odell get in his way now. Not when he was so close to escaping with all that money.

  No matter who was working against him, he had to finish the plan. And he needed to make sure that no one would find out who he really was, or what he’d done. Only then would he be free to disappear into the life of luxury he’d always dreamed of.

  He smiled, thinking of the lovely villa on the coast waiting for him. Slowly the smile faded.

  But first I need to clean up a few loose ends.

  Careening past the exit for the interstate, Xavier continued on for another few miles, then turned the car sharply onto a dirt road. He bumped along the uneven surface until it ended at the muddy shore of a wide lake.

  The still water simmered under the afternoon sun, turning the water’s surface to glass. Xavier climbed out of the car, strolled to the water’s edge, and gazed out over the lake with a grim smile.

  It was the perfect spot to bring a certain young woman who’d seen too much. The opaque water would drown any meddlesome stories she might tell.

  Putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s harsh glare, Xavier dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a lightweight phone. He wondered briefly if he should wipe his prints off of it, or maybe crush the cheap device under his heel.

  Instead he turned and threw it as far as he could into the lake beyond. A faint splash confirmed that it had landed a respectable distance from the shore.

  Once back in the car, he opened the glove box and fished out a sleek black iPhone. He checked the phone, pleased to see that he’d missed a call. There was one new message waiting for him. Dropping the phone into his shirt pocket, he started the car and bumped back down the path toward the main road.

  As much as he wanted to drive in the opposite direction until Willow Bay’s unimpressive skyline had disappeared in his rearview mirror, he knew he had to go back into town and finish the job he’d started.

  If there were doubts about the cause of Portia’s death, his whole scheme would be thrown into jeopardy.

  And this wasn’t just any con. This was his biggest con yet, and the one he'd been planning to retire on. His days as a handsome, young con man were numbered, and he knew it.

  He'd relied on his youth and charm to scam lonely women out of their money for years, but his looks and his luck couldn’t hold out forever. One of them was bound to run out eventually.

  Running a hand through his thick hair, he leaned forward and checked for any sign of gray in the rearview mirror. The he sat back, satisfied that he still had a few good years left.

  But I’ve got to get out while I’m still on top…and before I get caught.

  As the car raced down the highway, Xavier’s mind drifted back over his career. Back to his first big con in Miami almost a decade earlier.

  Miriam Feldman had been a rich widow looking for romance, and his good looks and carefree attitude had quickly won her over. He’d managed to pilfer almost twenty thousand dollars before she’d learned the truth and filed a complaint.

  After the police had questioned him, Xavier knew it was only a matter of time before they’d have enough evidence to charge him.

  The only way to ensure he wouldn’t be arrested, the only way to ensure his freedom, was to eliminate the only witness.

  It was an easy call. What his father had called a necessary evil. If Miriam Feldman was gone, the police would have no case against him, or so he’d told himself.

  He hadn’t counted on Riley Odell refusing to give up on the case; within days he’d been forced to skip town, arriving in Aruba with a new look and a new backstory. Within weeks he’d found another target. By the end of the summer he’d moved on again.

  Every summer after that there had been a new trip to an exotic location. A new target to work, and more sophisticated techniques to try out.

  Some summers he’d managed to slip away with his takings before his target had figured out she was being played. Other times he’d had to protect himself through more deadly means. It was all just part of the game.

  The phone in Xavier’s pocket vibrated against his chest, and he was tempted to answer it. But he had to be careful. He couldn’t afford any more slip-ups. He had to make sure his story was straight, and that he had his act down pat.

  The acting was key; it could make or break the success of the con. And this con called for a whole new persona.

  It was for the best anyway. He was no longer young enough to pass for a college boy on summer break. He was ready to retire the old act and start anew.

  The thought was exciting and a little scary. If he screwed up he could end up on America’s Most Wanted.

  I’ve literally killed for this opportunity. I can’t fuck up now.

  He’d also conned too many people and burned too many bridges as Xavier Greyson to back down. Portia Hart had given him a final chance to avoid living out his life as a fugitive of justice in some third world country. He now had the chance to live a life of luxury and ease.

  And isn’t that what everyone really wants, despite the crap Portia had written in her ridiculous book?

  Driving past the Riverview Hotel, Xavier observed the crowd and began to recalculate his plans. The girl on the stairs was a witness. If he wanted to rest easy in the future, he'd need to find out who she was and make sure she couldn't tell anyone what she'd seen.

  After that, he’d have to deal with Riley Odell.

  Chapter Seven

  Veronica was powdering a thin sheen of perspiration off her forehead when the Willow Bay CSI van rolled up to the hotel. A four-person crew dressed in protective gear jumped out and hustled toward the hotel’s staff-only entrance. Hunter trained the camera on the investigators as Veronica spoke into the microphone.

  “I’m here outside the Riverview Hotel as the tragic death of Portia Hart is beginning to sink in. Crime
scene investigators have arrived on scene, hoping to uncover what happened last night in room 1408. There’s still no official word from the medical examiner’s office or the WBPD as to the cause or manner of death.”

  After they’d finished the live report, Veronica saw that Willow Bay’s new media relations officer, Tenley Frost, had appeared on the scene. Dressed in a pristine white blouse and a pencil skirt, Tenley’s glossy auburn hair skimmed her shoulders in a long bob.

  The polished woman had been Channel Ten’s star reporter before her recent maternity leave, and Veronica had been surprised, and more than a little relieved, when Tenley had accepted the media relations job instead of returning to her previous role at the station.

  “Hello, everyone,” Tenley called out to the gathered press in a confident voice. “I know you’re all anxious for an update on the situation. I’ve been in your shoes before, so I do understand.”

  Voices rose in agreement as the reporters, camera crews, and gawkers jostled for position.

  “Unfortunately,” Tenley continued, sounding a bit smug, “I won’t have an official statement prepared until after the WBPD have completed their initial investigation. I just wanted to let you all know so that you can go get some lunch or…whatever.”

  Dismissing the crowd with a vague smile, Tenley spun around and made her way toward Hunter. Her smile widened as she greeted her ex-boss, and Veronica forced herself to look away from the obvious display of affection.

  Hunter certainly seems to be taking Tenley's departure gracefully.

  She felt an uncomfortable pang of…what? Jealousy? Shaking off the disturbing idea, she turned to see Nick Sargent suddenly standing beside her.

  “You missed Tenley giving her statement,” Veronica said, noting that his eyes were trained on Hunter and Tenley. “Although, come to think of it, you didn’t miss much.”

  "They make an attractive couple, don't you think?" Nick lowered his voice. “I bet Tenley was glad she was able to jump ship before the station goes under."

  Veronica frowned up at Nick in confusion.

  "You do know that Channel Ten is facing financial difficulties, don't you?" Nick sounded incredulous. “Don’t tell me Hadley’s kept the situation a secret from you and the rest of his crew?”

  “He hasn’t said anything to me,” Veronica murmured, looking over at Hunter, who was laughing at something Tenley had said. “He doesn’t seem to be worried…”

  “Well, he should be worried. Most of his team are thinking of finding something more…stable. I’d recommend you do the same.”

  “Me?” Veronica was starting to get annoyed by the reporter’s patronizing tone. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow.

  “You really don’t want to leverage all that attention you got after your special report on the Willow Bay Stalker? It could be a springboard into something much bigger than local news.”

  The disdain apparent in his voice surprised Veronica. What was wrong with being a local reporter? She’d been thrilled to finally get a chance to stand in front of the camera, and the possibility of breaking a story that impacted her own community filled her with a sense of purpose.

  Opening her mouth to protest, Veronica saw Nick staring over her head with the intensity of a lion who had just spotted a gazelle.

  She spun around to see that Riley Odell had slipped out of the big hotel and was heading for the parking garage, causing the gathered reporters to rush forward shouting questions.

  “Ms. Odell, can you tell us why you’ve been called to the scene?”

  “Is this officially a crime scene, prosecutor?”

  “Was Portia Hart murdered?”

  “Do you have a suspect in custody?”

  Riley ignored all the questions as Officer Ford stepped forward and herded the reporters back to the designated press area.

  A flood of questions filled Veronica’s mind as she watched Riley vanish into the garage. They were the same questions the other reporters had asked.

  Why was the city's new prosecutor involved with the investigation into Portia Hart’s death? Had the ME already determined Portia Hart's death was in fact suspicious? Did they suspect it was a homicide?

  Veronica looked back to gauge Nick Sargent’s reaction to Riley’s unexpected appearance, but the handsome reporter had already disappeared into the crowd. She recalled the scorn in his voice when he’d spoken about reporting local news. She knew Nick had been in the business for a while, and that he often travelled on assignment.

  Sounds like Nick is the one fed up with local news, so maybe he’s the one who should be thinking about getting a new job.

  “You didn’t want to ask Riley Odell any questions?”

  Hunter had finished his conversation with Tenley and was standing beside her. He held the big camera with one hand and shielded his eyes from the sun with the other.

  “I thought I’d go to her office and try to get an exclusive interview instead,” Veronica responded, before she’d had a chance to think through the idea. “She kind of owes me one.”

  Flashing his white teeth in an amused smile, Hunter studied Veronica’s face expectantly, as if waiting for the punchline.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head.

  “I’m not making this up. After I testified at Boyd Faraday’s trial, she told me to call her if I ever needed anything.”

  The smile widened, then turned into a loud laugh.

  “I doubt she meant you should call her to get inside information on a death investigation,” he teased. “She probably meant you could reach out to her if you had any concerns about the case. Or if you needed support after your, uh…traumatic experience.”

  A flush of embarrassment heated Veronica’s cheeks, and she suddenly wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

  “You may be the expert on traumatic experiences,” she replied in a tight voice, “but I’m not the one that has panic attacks, am I?”

  The look of surprise and hurt on Hunter’s face made Veronica immediately regret her words. He had only confided in a few people about his PTSD. She still didn’t know the whole story behind it, and now, based on her foolish comment, she probably never would.

  “You’re not really that naïve, are you? You think Riley Odell will give you an exclusive just because you testified in one of her cases?”

  His smile was gone, and his words stung, just like he knew they would. Hunter knew better than anyone else how insecure Veronica was about her lack of reporting experience.

  Hearing a persistent buzzing inside her bag, Veronica used the incoming call as an excuse to drop her eyes and search for her phone. She didn’t want Hunter to see how much his criticism hurt.

  “Ronnie? Why didn’t you say good-bye to me this morning?” Ling Lee’s voice vibrated with worry. “I’ve been watching the news. It’s terrible. Nick Sargent says Portia Hart may have died of an overdose.”

  “Ma, why are you watching Channel Six instead of Channel Ten?”

  Ling Lee ignored the question.

  “What if there’s another killer on the loose, Ronnie? What if-”

  “Ma, I’m at work now.” Veronica raised her eyes; Hunter was already walking back to the van. “I need to go, and I won’t be home until late, so please be sure to feed Winston.”

  Hurrying toward the van, Veronica disconnected the call and dropped her phone back in her purse. She managed to jump into the van’s passenger seat just before Hunter started up the engine and steered the vehicle down the hotel’s big drive.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice sounded small. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Are we going back to the station?”

  “I’m going back to the station,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road, “and you’re going to get that exclusive interview with Riley Odell. We need to find out what really happened last night in Portia Hart’s hotel room.”

  Chapter Eight

  The high-pitc
hed ding of the elevator announced the arrival of Alma Garcia and three other crime scene technicians. As they stepped into the hall, Nessa could see they were all wearing white protective coveralls and booties and carrying a variety of cases and equipment. She lifted a hand in greeting, then motioned for them to join her in front of Room 1408.

  “This is crazy, right?” Alma said, watching the crew cordon off the entrance to the room with security tape. “I mean, the one time we get a celebrity to come to Willow Bay, she ends up dead.”

  Unpacking a bulky black camera from its case, Alma attached a 50mm lens and began snapping photos of the hall and doorway. Nessa knew that by the time Willow Bay’s senior crime scene technician left the hotel, she would have a photographic record of every inch of the scene as she’d found it.

  “I guess Vanzinger filled you in on the situation when he called?”

  Alma nodded and stepped over the threshold into the room.

  “He said the body had signs of a possible struggle, and that you guys suspect someone else may have been in the room with Portia Hart prior to her death.”

  A pale streak on the gray marble floor caught Alma’s eye. She aimed the camera toward the ground and snapped several shots, then looked back through the door. Using her camera to zoom in closer, Alma focused on a patch of carpet in the hall.

  “What is it?” Nessa followed Alma’s gaze. “You see something?”

  “We need to cordon off this whole corridor, including the stairwell,” Alma called to her team. “We have traces of dried fluid on the floor inside and outside the room.”

  Nessa stared at the floor, trying to see what Alma was seeing.

  “Let’s not get too excited,” Alma warned. “It could be nothing, but we need know what it is and where it came from.”