Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller

by Melinda Woodhall

  “Iris estimated Portia Hart’s time of death to be between midnight and two, and we know Portia left the reception sometime after eleven.”

  Two files appeared on Vanzinger’s screen. He clicked on the top file and waited as the video player loaded.

  “I asked to get the video feed from the camera by the fourteenth floor elevator landing, and the exterior camera by the stairwell exit.”

  Riley felt a rush of anticipation as the hotel corridor appeared on the screen, but she let out a disappointed puff of air as she saw the poor quality of the video. The picture was fuzzy, and the dim lighting made it hard to make out any details. From what she could see, the corridor was empty.

  Straining to see any sign of movement in the dark hall, Riley tried to ignore the musky scent of Vanzinger’s cologne as he sat only a foot away. She’d been alone so long she’d almost forgotten how intoxicating it could be to feel the heat of a man’s body next to hers.

  “Look, someone’s coming out of the elevator.” Vanzinger pointed to a figure on the screen. “It’s Portia going back to her room.”

  A curtain of pale blonde hair topped the willowy figure of a woman teetering down the hall. She soon blended into the dark shadows outside Room 1408.

  “Now we wait to see if anyone else goes in,” Riley said in a low voice, as if someone in the corridor might hear her.

  “Or if anyone comes out,” Vanzinger added, checking his watch.

  Riley caught herself staring at his muscled arm, wondering what he’d done with the watch she’d given him all those years ago.

  It’s probably in some pawn shop over in Tampa by now.

  Shooting Vanzinger an exasperated sideways glance, Riley almost missed the flash of movement at the end of the hall. She looked up just in time to see a figure in dark pants and a hoodie slip through the shadows toward the door to the stairs.

  Vanzinger’s gasp confirmed he’d seen the figure as well.

  “Gotcha!”

  His voice vibrated with anger as the figure disappeared through the big metal door. Tapping on an icon to skip backward in the video, Jankowski watched the clip again.

  “There was definitely someone in her room around that time,” Vanzinger said. “And it looks like he was waiting for her when she came in.”

  Clicking on the second file, both Riley and Vanzinger watched the screen with anxious eyes. They weren’t expecting to see the girl with pink hair slam out of the exterior door and disappear through an opening along the walkway.

  “Who the hell is she, and-”

  Before Vanzinger could finish his sentence, the door opened again, and a dark figure in a hoodie raced through with his head down. The man headed toward the parking garage without noticing the gap in the wall the young woman had slipped through.

  “There was a man in Portia’s room.” Riley sounded stunned to have found solid proof that Portia hadn’t died alone. “And that girl may be the only witness out there who can identify him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun rose early, lighting the water of the Willow River with a dazzling brightness that made Lexi’s eyes water. Sunday mornings on the Riverwalk were free from the loud, bustling crowds that frequented the restaurants, bars, and retail boutiques each evening. She sat alone on a wide wrought iron bench facing the water’s edge.

  Lifting her head, Lexi heard the bells pealing at the Methodist church a few blocks away on Waterside Drive. She felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for the days when she’d go to Sunday service with her parents. That was before her father had walked out. Before her mother had run away to Jacksonville to start a new life.

  The first line of a song she used to sing at Sunday school played again and again in her head as the sun sparkled off the calm water.

  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…this little light of mine…

  A mosquito buzzed next to Lexi’s ear, and she swatted at it with a lazy hand. She’d been up most of the night, pacing her tiny apartment and jumping at any noise. Too suffocated and trapped to sit still, she’d eventually crept out into the predawn darkness, hoping to find a sense of peace by the lake.

  Something rustling in the bushes caused her to jump, and she turned to see two squirrels dart out and scramble up a nearby tree. She smiled as their bushy tails disappeared into the branches.

  Her smile faded as she heard her phone trilling. She didn’t need to look at the display to know who was calling. She’d purposely chosen the gentle, pleasing ringtone for Molly Blair, hoping to make the unpleasant woman’s calls more bearable.

  After waiting all night for Molly to call her back, Lexi was tempted to ignore the call. She took her phone out and looked at it with resentful eyes.

  Maybe I should just run away. I could get some help…I could get better.

  The phone stopped ringing, and for one, blissful moment, Lexi felt a surge of relief. She’d done it. That was the first step. Ignore the calls. Leave town. Pretend nothing that had happened during the last twelve months was real. It was all just a terrible dream.

  Shoving the phone back in her pocket, Lexi felt the edge of the plastic bag that Molly had given her. It held only two more pills. Panic rose in her chest at the thought of what she would do after the two remaining pills were gone.

  I’ll go to the rehab that guy Frankie told me about. I’ll go to Hope House.

  But doubt and fear joined the swirl of panic as she wondered how she would cope with the withdrawal. She’d tried it on her own already several times. Each time had seemed harder than the last, with the nausea, sweating, and anxiety reaching unbearable levels.

  Grabbing her phone, Lexi jabbed the screen and held it to her ear.

  “Molly? Is that you, Molly?”

  “Lexi, I need you to come over here.”

  The request surprised Lexi.

  “Come to your house? Like…now?”

  “Yes, I need to…to talk to you. And I have more pills.”

  Lexi raised her eyebrows and held the phone out to stare at it. Molly was usually paranoid about mentioning anything to do with pills, drugs, or illicit activities over the phone. Perhaps Molly was mellowing. Or maybe she’d been up all night and was just too tired to care.

  Picturing the bottle of pills that awaited, Lexi closed her eyes and sighed. Who was she kidding anyway? There was no way she would be able to leave Willow Bay without a supply of pills to hold her over. She had tried going cold turkey before, and it was a painful, dangerous method.

  I’ll go to Molly’s and get a supply. I’ll use them to wean myself slowly.

  “I’m not at home now,” she told Molly, “so it’ll take a while.”

  “Just get over here…now.”

  Before Lexi could reply, Molly disconnected the call.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Lexi’s silver Mustang sped away from the Riverwalk, almost side swiping a neon blue Prius as she made a wide turn onto Bay street. Molly’s back gate was ajar when Lexi steered the Mustang into the alley behind Kingston Road only a few minutes later.

  She parked along the curb, then looked over her shoulder, reassuring herself that her suitcase and backpack were in the backseat. All she had to do was get the pills, and she could be on her way to Jacksonville. She’d call her mother and break the news once she’d gotten on the highway.

  Stepping into the stifling heat, Lexi felt her temples begin to throb. She shaded her eyes from the harsh morning sunshine with one hand and stuck her other hand in her pocket to pat the deflated plastic bag, comforted by the two hard tablets within.

  Pausing at the gate, she wondered if Molly had gone out. Why else would she leave it open? She looked toward the detached garage and saw with relief that Molly’s sleek black Jaguar was parked inside.

  The sound of water bubbling stopped Lexi halfway to the backdoor. Could Molly really be using the hot tub in the excruciating heat? She walked forward and peered over the side and into the swirling water. Leaning closer, Lexi saw something floating just u
nder the foamy, frothing water.

  Molly Blair’s pale, slack face bobbed under the surface, and her unseeing brown eyes stared up through the undulating water. Lexi watched in horror as the water churned around Molly’s lifeless body.

  “Molly?”

  Her voice croaked out the name, and she reached down to pull the woman out of the water, even though she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Molly was already gone.

  The sound of soft footsteps behind her made Lexi spin around. She froze in shock as she recognized the man from the stairwell. Before she could open her mouth to scream, the man grabbed her around the waist and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “You took your time,” he muttered in her ear. “I was just going to come looking for you. I really have to-”

  Bringing her heel down hard on his foot, Lexi threw her head back and cracked her scull against the man’s forehead. He bellowed and released his grip as Lexi ran toward the gate, her heart thumping and her legs shaking. She’d almost made it to the gate when a big hand closed around her arm and jerked her backward.

  Her scream pierced the air, then abruptly stopped as the man once again held a strong hand over her mouth. Dragging her toward the hot tub, he pushed her head down into the gurgling water.

  Lexi clawed up at him, scratching at the leather gloves he wore in growing desperation. Grasping at anything she could hold on to, she wrenched her hand back and pulled off one of his gloves. He pushed her head under the water with angry hands, and she gulped in a burning mouthful before managing to get her face above the surface.

  “Stop fighting, you stupid-”

  The sound of the gate banging against the wooden fence caused the man to stop and look up. Lexi used the distraction to bring her knee up between his legs, and the man screamed in pain. His hands dropped away, and she lost her balance, tumbling into the water on top of Molly’s lolling body.

  Flailing against the water, Lexi grabbed onto the side of the tub and tried to pull herself out, but a wave of dizziness caused her legs to give way. She sank back in despair, sure that the man would be on her again any minute and certain her body would never be able to withstand another assault. She fought to keep her head up as she wavered in and out of consciousness.

  It can’t end like this…can it? No, I can’t give up. I can’t let him win.

  “Molly?”

  She heard the voice above her and looked up to see worried eyes in a thin, unshaven face. Skinny arms reached down, straining to pull her up and out of the water, and gentle hands laid her on the wooden deck.

  “Are you okay, Molly?”

  Squinting up, Lexi recognized the man who’d given her the stick of gum the night before. What was his name?

  “Frankie?”

  Her voice was a raw whisper.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was strained. “You almost crashed into me and my partner back on Bay Street. I thought we’d better make sure you were okay. You didn’t look very good last night.”

  Eyes widening, Lexi tried to sit up, but the spinning in her head caused her to sink back down.

  “That man…he…he killed Molly.”

  “Who is that guy? He ran into the house. Barker went after him.”

  Frankie pointed toward the sliding glass doors, then frowned.

  “And what do you mean he killed Molly? Aren’t you Molly?”

  Shaking her head, Lexi tried to explain.

  “No, I’m Lexi Marsh. Molly’s…in…in there.” Choking out the words, Lexi struggled to remain conscious. “That man killed her.”

  Frankie pushed himself to his feet and leaned over the edge of the hot tub. After a long pause, he sat down next to Lexi, his face stricken. Pulling out his cell phone, he tapped three times on the display and then held the phone to his ear.

  Lexi could hear the faint voice of the 911 operator on the other end of the call. When Frankie spoke, his voice was shaky.

  “I need to report a homicide and an assault. The house is on Kingston Road…hold on.”

  Frankie looked at the house, then down at Lexi.

  “You know the house number?”

  She nodded, starting to feel a little less dizzy.

  “It’s 5025 Kingston.”

  The fact that she was asking the police to come out to Molly’s house seemed surreal. She’d been keeping her work for Molly a closely-guarded secret for so long it still seemed wrong to reveal the address.

  “Okay, they’re gonna send a car over,” Frankie told her, looking down at her with a curious expression. “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  Sitting up, Lexi ran a hand through her wet hair. Tiny drops of water dripped onto her shoulders as she considered her options. If she told the police the truth, she may get in trouble.

  She’d taken drugs without a prescription, and she’d taken part in an illegal escort operation. Both offenses could result in jail time and a permanent record. And the man who had tried to kill her was still out there. If she told the police what she’d seen, he’d be back.

  “I was at the Riverview Hotel Friday night,” she heard herself say. “And I saw that man…the one who attacked me. He was coming down the stairs and he looked angry that I’d seen him.”

  “Friday night at the Riverview?” Frankie cocked his head and frowned. “You mean when Portia Hart was killed?”

  Lexi nodded, and took a deep breath.

  “I think he was trying to get to me through Molly,” Lexi said, her voice cracking. “He wanted to shut me up. He killed her and…and he was gonna kill me next.”

  Lifting a thin hand, Frankie gave her shoulder an awkward pat as sirens began to wail in the distance. A big man stepped out of the back door and waved at Frankie.

  “I couldn’t catch up to him. He must have had a car nearby.”

  Frankie nodded and looked down at Lexi.

  “You gotta tell the cops what happened,” he said, sensing her reluctance. “You’re the only one that saw the guy who killed your friend. The same guy that was in the hotel the night Portia Hart died. You’re gonna be a star witness.”

  Lexi recoiled at the idea, wishing she was strong enough to get up and run away before it was too late.

  “Cheer up,” Frankie said, trying to smile. “You’ll probably end up on the news and everything. You’ll be famous when the press hears your story.”

  Fear settled in Lexi’s chest as she imagined just what the police and the press would uncover if they dug into her past. She shivered as the first police car roared up outside the gate.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hunter Hadley dropped the phone on his desk with growing unease. He’d gone into the station early, even though Sunday was usually the one day of the week he allowed himself to take the full day off. He’d been working on the developing Portia Hart story for several hours when he’d received a call from his contact at the Willow Bay Police Department. A woman had been attacked and killed in her home on Kingston Road.

  All that Hunter knew so far was that the police had responded to a 911 call and found a woman’s body floating in the backyard hot tub. According to his contact, there was at least one witness at the scene.

  Typing the address into his computer’s search engine, Hunter saw that the house on Kingston was owned by a woman named Molly Blair. He didn’t recognize the name, but he figured the homeowner was likely to be the victim.

  According to his search, Molly Blair was thirty-eight years old and had purchased the house on Kingston three years earlier. He could find no arrest or criminal record. She seemed like an ordinary Willow Bay citizen.

  Hunter wondered who would want to kill her, and why?

  Viewing the house on Google Earth, he noticed it was located in a downtown neighborhood only blocks away from the Riverwalk. Which meant it was only blocks away from the hotel where Portia Hart had drowned on Friday night.

  Can it be a coincidence that two women drowned to death under mysterious circumstances less than ten blocks and forty
-eight hours apart?

  He looked out through the glass wall of his office, anxious to get Veronica and Finn out to the scene, but Veronica’s desk was empty. Picking up his phone, he tapped on her number and waited. After the sixth ring, her voicemail picked up. He waited for the beep.

  “A woman’s body was found this morning at a house on Kingston Road. Looks like a homicide.”

  He didn’t try to hide his impatience.

  “That’s only blocks from the Riverview Hotel. We need to jump on this; meet me at the station when you get this message.”

  Disconnecting the call, he thought again about Veronica’s question yesterday. She had a right to know the station was up for sale, and she was bound to find out sooner or later. The whole crew would know eventually, so he might as well come clean.

  “Hunter, come see this!”

  Finn Jordan stood by the door looking at him with the same wiseass grin Jordie used to wear. Hunter hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that grin. A sharp pang of grief pierced him at the realization he’d never see Saul Jordan’s grin again.

  Refusing to give in to the melancholy, he followed Finn’s broad back out to the newsroom. Gracie sat at attention next to a desk that held dual monitors and Finn’s old rucksack.

  The white Lab’s tail thumped back and forth as Hunter approached. He scratched the dog’s head and looked at the monitors; both were lit up with footage of Veronica outside the Riverview Hotel the previous evening.

  “This is the segment on Portia Hart’s death that I was putting together when you left last night. I finished it this morning.”

  The pride in Finn’s voice was unmistakable, and as Hunter watched the screen he began to smile. The young man was a chip off the old block. He had talent, just as his father had.

  Hunter nodded his approval when the segment had finished.

  “Okay, I’m impressed. You really do take after your dad, and that’s saying something. He was one of the best in the business.”

  Finn’s grin faltered as the words sunk in, and for a minute Hunter feared he had made a blunder by mentioning Jordie. Maybe the wounds were still too fresh. Perhaps he should avoid bringing up Jordie for the time being. Even good memories could be painful.