by Jane Blythe
“Maybe Lewis saw something last night,” Paige suggested. “The killer had to come back to make sure he would never talk.”
“But if all he wanted was to stop Lewis from telling what he saw, why go to all this trouble?” Ryan knew there was more to it than that. “Let’s say Lewis did happen to see something last night, or maybe he was able to figure out who the killer is, whatever, a simple shot to the head would have eliminated Lewis and kept the killer’s identity hidden. Instead, the killer comes here, makes sure to take Samantha out of the equation quickly and painlessly, then goes out of his way to make sure Lewis suffered in his final moments. It makes no sense. If this were simply about Brooke and making sure that no one knew he was the killer, then he wouldn’t have done this.”
Nodding slowly in agreement. “Then we were totally off base with who killed Brooke and why,” Paige murmured. “Her murder probably had nothing to do with the father of her baby wanting to keep her quiet but also protect his child. So why do it? Why kill Samantha and Lewis?”
“Maybe Lewis was sleeping with Brooke, too,” he suggested. “If both his father and big brother were doing her, why not him? Perhaps Logan or Logan found out and didn’t like Lewis encroaching on their territory so they take out Brooke, and then come to punish Lewis. That would also explain why they were merciful with Samantha. They needed to get her out of the way to get to Lewis, but she wasn’t involved so she didn’t need to suffer.”
“I think it’s time to bring in Logan and Logan.” Paige ran a hand over her already immaculately coiffed chestnut brown hair. She hated her unruly curls and always had them wrestled under control. “Whoever did this got in and out of this house without breaking in.”
“That doesn’t necessarily exclude the gardener,” Ryan reminded her. “He works on the estate so he could have a key to this place. Plus, there are a number of other employees: security, housekeepers, chefs, chauffeurs, et cetera. All of them probably have keys, and it’s plausible any one of them could have motive and an ax to grind against the Everettes. Hey,” a thought suddenly occurred to him, something he had meant to mention earlier but gotten distracted, “doesn’t it seem odd that no one in the house heard anything? We know Lewis was conscious for a while after he was stabbed. He was trying to reach the phone; wouldn’t he have yelled out?”
“He’d been stabbed. He was bleeding to death so he was weak, and he probably tried calling out but wasn’t strong enough to yell loud enough to be heard.”
“But Logan Senior and his wife, Logan Junior and his wife, and Lincoln and Isabella all live here—surely someone would have heard his cries for help,” Ryan protested, imagining Lewis dragging his dying body across the floor desperately seeking help that never came.
“It’s a big house,” Paige reminded him, “with five stories. They probably spread themselves out, each wanting their own privacy.”
“I guess,” he admitted reluctantly. “It’s just two nights, three murders, and none of the people living here saw or heard a thing. The killer has been smart so far—no prints, no DNA, no fibers …nothing. How are we going to stop this guy if we can’t get anything to work with?”
“He’ll slip up eventually. He’ll get comfortable, think he’s smarter than us, and he’ll make a mistake. Hopefully that’s sooner rather than later,” Paige gazed at the bloody track that snaked its way toward the door.
“Yeah, sooner than later,” he echoed. Sofia’s face floated through his mind. If someone had a grudge against the Everette family, then that meant Sofia was in danger, and with her mystery illness she was certainly in no condition to be able to keep herself safe. He reminded himself that it was not his place to be there to personally protect Sofia, but it was his job to find this killer before anyone else lost their life.
Absently following the smudgy red line through the door and into the hallway, he almost walked headlong into someone hovering just on the other side. Taking in the bright red hair and large gray eyes, there was only one person this could be. “Isabella?”
Studying him with the most serious eyes Ryan had ever seen, she nodded solemnly.
He wondered just how long the girl had been eavesdropping. “I’m Detective Xander and this is my partner Detective Hood,” he made the introductions and held out his hand for Isabella to shake.
She hesitated for a moment then took his hand and firmly shook it.
Studying her just as she had studied him, Isabella was tall, easily five ten or eleven, and solid, perhaps bordering on overweight. The sixteen-year-old had a sober air about her, making her seem much older than her years. Ryan remembered how the girl had also been hovering unnoticed outside the dining room yesterday when he and Paige had been questioning the Everette family about Brooke’s murder. Apparently, despite her size Isabella had quite a knack for moving softly, she had somehow managed to slip past the officers who were supposed to be keeping watch on the stairs to this floor. Ryan hoped she hadn’t heard too much of his and Paige’s pondering. He had already upset Sofia by revealing more than he should have and hoped he hadn’t repeated that with her younger sister.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” he told her.
Once again Isabella responded with a solemn nod.
He decided not to mention Brooke. The way in which Sofia had told him that Brooke was Isabella’s mother left him wondering just how many people were privy to this information, and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to break the news to the girl if she didn’t already know.
“Let’s move down here.” Taking Isabella’s elbow, he walked her down the hall, away from the bloody crime scene.
“I understand you found the bodies this morning?” Paige asked once they reached the far end of the corridor.
Another nod.
“That must have been horrible.”
A smaller nod this time.
“Did you hear anything last night, Isabella?”
“No,” Isabella answered in a surprisingly childlike voice.
“Is that unusual?” he asked. “I know it’s a big house, but there are also so many of you living here.”
“No,” Isabella said again. “My parents’ room is on the ground floor. My mother has arthritis and she can’t go up the stairs anymore. I sleep on the top floor. When they’re here, Logan and Simone have the third floor, Lincoln has the forth, and Lewis and Samantha the second. With all of us on different floors I never hear anyone, it feels like I’m here all alone. Is that my brother’s blood?” she asked, trying to peer past them to catch another glimpse of the bloody trail that weaved its way down half of the hall.
Evading the question, “Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your family?” he asked instead.
“That horrible gardener,” her gray eyes went dark. “He was having an affair with that other woman who died here. Maybe she was having an affair with my brother, too, and he got jealous and came and killed him.”
“Do you know Brooke Mariano?” he pushed, hoping Isabella would let them know if she was aware the woman who’d died on her family property just over twenty-four hours ago was her biological mother.
“Not really,” the girl shrugged. “I've seen her hanging around the estate a ton of times, but I've never really spoken to her.”
“Has there been anyone paying particular attention to your family the last few months? Anyone hanging around? Any unusual phone calls? Anything at all that seemed strange or out of the ordinary?” Paige queried.
“Nothing I can think of.” Isabella lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. “I must be going; I begin my classes at nine o’clock.”
“Isabella, if you think of anything that might be helpful, please give me a call,” Ryan said, holding out his card.
“I will, detectives.” She took the card then soundlessly made her way to the staircase, disappearing quickly down it.
“You think she knows anything?” Paige asked.
“I think she knows a lot more than anyone thinks; she seems quite good at lis
tening at doors.”
* * * * *
10:33 A.M.
“Ryan.”
He turned, blue eyes growing wide with surprise when he saw her. “Sofia, what are you doing here?”
“Is it true?” she asked when he reached her.
His eyes told her the answer before he spoke a word. “I’m so sorry.”
Her head was spinning—two nights, two murders, both occurred on her family’s estate. This was pure craziness. Things like this didn’t happen in real life; they happened in horror movies or crime novels. They didn’t happen to normal people, and they certainly didn’t happen to her.
“You should sit down.”
Sofia heard Ryan’s words but they didn’t register. Her brother was dead. Brooke was dead. Recalling what Ryan told her the day before about the killer cutting open Brooke’s body to steal her child, she wondered what the killer had done to her brother? Had Lewis suffered or died quickly?
She was vaguely aware of hands firmly gripping her shoulders and pressing her down into a chair.
“Sofia?”
Again, she heard the voice but couldn’t focus on it. Her mind was conjuring up a string of images of all the gruesome things the killer could have done to her brother.
“Sofia.”
The voice was firmer this time, and a light slap to her cheek accompanied it. The two together were enough to snap her mind back into the moment. Ryan’s concerned face was hovering in front of her. He’d sat her down in a chair and was crouching before her, his hands resting lightly on her knees. His touch was comforting.
“I think I should take you to the hospital,” Ryan announced, his tanned face creased with worry.
She shook her head, “I’ll be all right in a minute,” she assured him.
“You passed out,” he remained doubtful.
“How did Lewis die?”
“He was stabbed,” Ryan replied hesitantly, his blue eyes probing. “Why did you come here?”
“I don’t know,” Sofia answered honestly. When Isabella had called her to say their brother and his wife had been killed, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d climbed into her car, despite the fact she was no longer supposed to drive since she’d been ill, intending to go to the estate, but instead she had ended up here, at the police station. Something had drawn her to Ryan, but she couldn’t think about that now. She had to know who had killed her brother. “Who? Who did this?” she questioned, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.
“I don’t know.”
“You said this was about Brooke and her baby.”
“We thought it was.”
“But why would someone kill Brooke to get to her child and then kill my brother?” None of this was making any sense at all and that scared her.
“Why don’t we go talk in another room. Can you make it to the door there?” Ryan pointed to the closest room.
“I think so,” she replied, but as he helped her stand, her knees gave out and she leaned in against him, grateful for his supporting arm wrapped around her waist. Tightening his grip, Ryan led her to the door of a small interview room and helped her to the nearest chair.
“I’m going to go get you something to drink,” he announced once he had her settled.
Alone, Sofia tried to pull herself together. Taking several calming breaths, she forced her mind to focus and form the questions she needed answers to.
“Here you are,” Ryan set a bottle of water down in front of her. He set a box of tissues beside it, “I thought you might need these too.”
Brushing a hand along her cheeks, Sofia was surprised to find them wet with tears; she hadn’t even realized she was crying. Once she’d dried her eyes, she focused her gaze on Ryan, who had pulled up a chair beside her. “This isn’t about Brooke and her baby, is it?”
“Looking a little less likely now,” he acknowledged.
“Maybe Lewis saw something the other night, and whoever killed Brooke had to come back to kill him before he had a chance to speak.” Even as she spoke the words, Sofia knew that wasn’t the case. The look in Ryan’s eyes when he had told her Lewis had been stabbed had told her there was more to it than that. The details, however, Sofia was sure she didn’t want to know.
“Maybe,” he agreed vaguely.
“But you don’t think so.”
“What do you know about your family’s connections to Brooke?” he asked instead.
“She was sleeping with the gardener,” she replied cautiously, not sure how much he already knew.
“And her relationship with your father and oldest brother?”
“You know,” she said flatly.
“You do too?” he asked.
“I came home to find her and Logan going at it in my lounge room one night a few months ago.” Sofia shuddered at the memory.
“In your place?” Ryan repeated with a hint of incredulity.
Rolling her eyes, “Logan isn’t too smart.”
“And your dad?”
“My father has lots of mistresses,” she shrugged.
“Who would know about the affairs?”
“Not many people. My father was always discreet; he didn’t want anything to ruin his career. Logan isn’t very smart, but he was smart enough to keep his affairs quiet. Why?”
“What about Lewis?” Ryan ignored her question.
“You mean, do I think he was sleeping with Brooke too? No, I don’t. Lewis didn’t love Samantha, but he wasn’t a cheater. So you think the father of Brooke’s baby killed her, took their child, and then killed my brother because he thought Lewis was also sleeping with Brooke?”
“It’s a possibility,” Ryan was once again being vague.
“Stop doing that,” Sofia was quickly getting frustrated. To Ryan this might be just another case, but this was her family, her flesh and blood they were talking about.
“Stop what?” Ryan looked genuinely confused.
“Stop being so vague. Tell me what you’re thinking, you owe me that much,” she raised a challenging brow.
“Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against your family?”
“I guess any husband who found out about their wives’ affairs with my father or Logan, or maybe someone the judge crushed on his way to the top,” she trailed off, the full realization of what Ryan was implying sinking in. “You think someone is out for revenge against my family?” she asked in a small voice.
“I think that’s something we can’t ignore.”
“Then that means . . . that means all of us could be in danger. That means I could be in danger,” she couldn’t quite keep a small sob escaping her lips.
“I’m going to find this killer, Sofia. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, but right now I need you to stay calm. Whatever you tell me could help me find this man.” The determination in his voice not only surprised her but also convinced her that everything would be okay. “I need you to tell me anything you can think of about your family that may be helpful.”
“Like what? I can’t think of anything that would be helpful in finding a killer.”
“You hesitated,” Ryan observed, his gaze narrowing. “Why?”
Sofia sighed. “I told you I had vivid dreams, ever since I was a child; sometimes I’m not sure if I dreamt something or if it really happened.”
“Like what?” He couldn’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice.
“I sleepwalk. Sometimes I’ve woken up in other rooms of the house, and sometimes I see and hear things, at least I think I do . . .” she trailed off, unsure how much to reveal. She didn’t want to implicate anyone in her family in any wrong doing, but she also didn’t want anyone else in her family to die.
“What did you see, Sofia?” Ryan asked gently.
“Women—lots of them—arguing with my father.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure whether she had ever heard what they were arguing about or whether she had buried it away because it was some
thing she couldn’t deal with.
“What else did you see?”
“One night when I’d been sleepwalking, I woke up in the basement. Brooke was there, and she was in labor. My father was there too. I was only twelve, Ryan, and she was just a little older than me.” She was starting to cry now. “Do you think my father had something to do with this? Maybe Brooke was going to come clean about Isabella; maybe Lewis knew about it. Brooke was going to write a book. I found the manuscript at my women’s shelter, but she took it before I had a chance to read it all. She was going to reveal my family’s secrets. What if my father found out? What if he did this? What if he comes after me next? Maybe he knows I know Brooke is Isabella’s mother…” She was beginning to hyperventilate.
“Sofia, you need to calm down,” Ryan gripped her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “I will find whoever killed Brooke and your brother, okay? Okay?” he prodded when she didn’t reply.
“Okay,” it came out a whimper.
“Does Isabella know Brooke is her mother?”
“No.” The gravity of the situation was slowly settling on her, leaving her feeling drained and empty and terrified.
“You need to go home and get some rest,” Ryan announced. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“I have my car here,” she reminded him, pulling a tissue from the box and brushing at her wet cheeks.
“You shouldn’t be driving in this condition; I’m calling a cab. I’d take you home myself, but I have a suspect to interview.”
Too tired to argue, Sofia folded her arms on the table and rested her head against them. Brooke was dead. Now Lewis and Samantha were dead. Which member of her family was going to be next?
“It’s going to be okay, Sofia,” Ryan said softly, kneeling beside her.
His kind tone pushed her over the edge and her tears began to flow with a vengeance. Before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown herself into Ryan’s strong arms and was sobbing on his shoulder.
* * * * *
11:58 A.M.
“How is she?” Paige asked.