One (Count to Ten Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  “Annabelle gets along with everybody. I told you, she’s a really sweet girl. So before you ask, yes, she also got along with her brothers and Katherine, and everyone else on the street.” Ricky’s face clouded over with sternness. “Look, I don’t know what you want to get out of me, but Annabelle is a great person and there is absolutely no way that she would hurt—much less kill—anyone. So if you're waiting for me to say something incriminating about her, then you're wasting your time. Annabelle Englewood is not a murderer,” he finished off with a challenging stare.

  “We no longer believe that Annabelle committed the murders,” Kate informed him calmly.

  He uttered a deep sigh of relief, “Good, because being accused of murder is the last thing that girl needs at the moment.”

  Xavier was frustrated with himself when a wave of guilt washed over him for adding to Annabelle’s trauma over finding out her family had been brutally murdered by accusing her of being the killer. “Forensics have indicated that Annabelle was not responsible for what happened, which means someone else is.”

  “What did Annabelle say?” Ricky asked. “Did she see who attacked her?”

  “We haven’t spoken with her yet,” Kate answered vaguely.

  “You mean you haven’t spoken with her since you decided she’s not a killer,” Ricky corrected.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might have some sort of grudge against the Englewood family?” Kate asked.

  “No, I already told you they were a nice family.”

  “We’ll count Katherine out since she’s only seven, but there’s no one you can think of who might want one or all of the Englewoods dead?” Xavier pushed; they needed something, no matter how small.

  “No arguments with any of the neighbors or friends, no jilted girlfriends or boyfriends of the kids, no jealous exes of anyone Julian or Paul were currently dating?” Kate suggested.

  “No, nothing. I've met Julian’s girlfriend once or twice. She’s nice, and as far as I know, Paul was focusing on his studies right now.”

  “Okay, then what about any suspicious people hanging around the street?” Xavier tried.

  “Maybe,” Ricky bobbed his head thoughtfully. “A couple of days ago, or maybe a week, I thought there was a car that seemed to be always hanging around, parked right outside my house.”

  Xavier perked up, “Did you get a license plate number?” he asked eagerly.

  “No, I’m sorry; I only looked at it through the window,” Ricky answered sorrowfully.

  “What about a make and model?” he tried.

  “No, sorry.”

  “Color?” he asked halfheartedly.

  “Red,” Ricky offered a little smile. “I’m sorry, I noticed it a couple of times during the day, but by the time I realized it had been hanging around for too long and decided to go and get a license plate number, the car had gone.”

  “You didn’t get a look at whoever was inside?” Xavier clung to the hope that a breakthrough could be right around the corner.

  “Some guy—I didn’t really look.”

  “And there’s really nothing else you can give us that might be helpful?” he demanded, frustrated that they were getting nowhere and antsy about their next stop—Annabelle’s hospital room.

  “No, once again, I’m sorry. Perhaps you’ll have better luck with Annabelle,” Ricky proposed.

  “All right, call us if you do think of something,” Kate passed Ricky a card.

  They were just stepping through the door when Ricky stopped them. “Don’t stress about Annabelle. She may be understandably mad that you accused her of murder, but she’ll get over it eventually and she’ll do whatever she can to help you find the person that took her family from her.”

  As they walked to the car, Xavier wondered whether Ricky Preston had just read his mind or whether he was really that transparent.

  * * * * *

  10:36 A.M.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty, Xavier,” Kate announced as they walked through the hospital corridors. After working together for seven years, she could read her partner like a book.

  “About what?” Xavier scowled back at her.

  “About Annabelle,” she replied, even though she knew he knew what she’d been talking about. “We didn’t do anything wrong. At the time, it looked like Annabelle was the killer. Now we have all the facts and we know that she didn’t do it, there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.”

  “I don’t feel guilty,” Xavier snapped. “We were just doing our job.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she agreed.

  Since Julia, Xavier had changed a lot from the guy she had first met seven years ago. She’d been twenty-nine and lonely; he’d been twenty-five and gorgeous, and for a while the two of them had kind of danced around the mutual attraction. Then one night after a particularly horrific murder scene they had fallen into bed together. In the morning they had both regretted it, decided they were better as friends and partners than lovers and moved on.

  Back then, Xavier had been fun and energetic—a golf and hiking fanatic. He’d been a night owl, preferring to work through the night rather than waste time in sleep. Now, however, Xavier had lost his spark—lost it when he lost Julia—and although Kate had done everything she could think of to help him get it back, including attempting to set him up with an endless parade of fantastic women, so far nothing had worked.

  Not that Kate thought a woman was the answer to all of Xavier’s problems, but she also knew that until he gave himself permission to move on, he was never going to go back to the man he had been before.

  “Am I really that transparent?” Xavier asked, losing the annoyed look and replacing it with a worried one.

  “I think it’s just that I know you too well.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Xavier, you're not developing a crush on her, are you?” As much as she wanted her partner to move on, she didn’t want him to do it like this, in a way that was doomed to end in disaster before it even began.

  “It’s her eyes,” Xavier said distractedly, “the way they looked at me when she regained consciousness—their color, I can’t stop thinking about them.”

  “Thinking is fine, it’s the acting on it that I'm worried about,” she mused. “Aside from the fact that Annabelle is a victim in a case we’re working, I don’t think you’re in any place to be helping someone deal with trauma.”

  “Kate,” Xavier whined, “it’s been three years. I am not still dealing with trauma.”

  “Okay,” she singsonged, knowing full well that wasn’t true, but experience had taught her that arguing with Xavier only pushed him into being more obstinate. However, when they reached Annabelle’s door, she couldn’t help but inquire, “You sure you’re up to this?”

  “Kate…” Xavier’s whine was still in place.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she surrendered, deciding she’d press him again later; now was not the time. “Let’s go in.” Kate wasn’t much further behind Xavier in dreading facing the young woman who had just lost her family in such a horrendous way, almost lost her own life, and then been accused by the police of being a coldhearted killer.

  When they went inside, they found Annabelle lying on her bed, her eyes were open but staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She didn’t indicate that she was aware that they were there, but Kate guessed the girl was pretty used to doctors and nurses coming and going. “Miss Englewood?” Kate placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

  Slowly, the girl’s blank face came to life. As recognition flickered in her eyes, she grew stony. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk to you about what happened,” Kate told her. She had to agree with Xavier, Annabelle’s eyes were extremely unusual; she’d never met anyone with eyes so pale a blue they appeared white.

  “Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” Annabelle closed her eyes to shut them out.

  “We don’t think that you killed your family,” Xavier explained.

 
; “Congratulations,” Annabelle snapped. “I already told you that, but it’s so nice for you to finally believe it.”

  “That means,” Xavier continued, “that whoever did kill your mom and dad and brothers and sister is still out there. The person who hurt you is still out there, and we need your help to find them.”

  Annabelle remained steadfastly silent, alone in her pain and anger.

  “Annabelle, please,” Xavier half begged. “Please open your eyes and talk to us. We’re sorry that we thought that you had hurt your family, but you have to understand that we were just doing our jobs…”

  “I don’t have to understand anything,” Annabelle fired, her eyes popping open to shoot arrows at them. “You called me a murderer. You had me handcuffed to a hospital bed. You let me lie here on my own not knowing what had happened to me, not knowing where my family was, and then you came in here and you just announced that my family was dead and that I had done it. My family was murdered and you accused me of doing it,” she broke off as she choked on a sob.

  “Then help us make it right,” Xavier spoke softly. “Help us make it up to you by finding the person who did this.”

  With eyes that brimmed with tears, Annabelle studied Xavier, then sunk back against the pillows. “I already told you: I don’t remember anything,” she said sullenly.

  “That’s okay,” Kate assured her, “we can start with something else. Why don’t you just tell us a bit about your family. Your neighbor, Mr. Preston, didn’t really want to disclose much about your personal life.”

  “Yeah, he’s a sweet guy,” a ghost of a smile lighting her pale lips.

  “Are you involved with him?” Xavier asked calmly, but Kate could see the tremble in his eyebrow, a sure sign he was annoyed but trying to cover it.

  She huffed out a snort. “No, but we are friends, we just talk.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Annabelle shifted uncomfortably, “About stuff.”

  “Can you be more specific?” Xavier pushed.

  “Just stuff.” Annabelle shut down once more.

  “You’re a kindergarten teacher, right?” Kate decided a change in topic was needed.

  “Right,” Annabelle nodded unenthusiastically.

  “That must be fun,” she smiled encouragingly.

  “I guess.”

  “Mr. Preston said that you usually look after Katherine when you get home. Any reason why you do that instead of your parents?”

  “They both usually work late and I don’t mind.”

  “Do you get along with your parents?”

  “I guess,” Annabelle shrugged but Kate detected a slight hesitation.

  “What about your brothers?”

  “They’re my little brothers,” Annabelle said as though that explained everything.

  Kate didn’t have any little brothers but she was a younger sister, and she knew how much she had loved annoying her big sister when they were kids, so she could quite easily surmise how frustrating Annabelle’s two little brothers had been. “Annabelle, is there anyone you can think of who might want to hurt you or your family?”

  “No, why would there be? There’s nothing special about us.”

  “Well, someone thinks differently,” Xavier reminded her gently. “There’re no ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, or no jealous exes of one of your brother’s girlfriends, no work colleagues or old friends with a grudge, no problems with anyone in your neighborhood?”

  “No.” Annabelle was becoming frustrated and was again close to tears. “We don’t have any problems with anyone.”

  “Have you noticed anyone hanging around you at work or at your home?” Kate asked, thinking of the car Ricky Preston had mentioned.

  “I can’t think of anything. I’m not sure; I don’t remember.” Annabelle was crying now. “I don’t pay attention. Do you think that whoever did this just picked us at random? Why would they do that? Why would someone do this?”

  “Annabelle,” both she and Xavier said simultaneously, each reaching out a hand to comfort the girl.

  “Don’t. Don’t touch me,” Annabelle shrunk away from them.

  “We’ll find the person who did this,” Xavier assured her, his hands hovering helplessly between himself and Annabelle.

  “I don’t care.” Annabelle was sobbing now. “I don’t care who did it. It’s not going to change anything; my family is still dead. Oh my gosh…they’re really dead.” Her eyes grew wide and panicked, as if truly registering this for the first time. Her sobs took on a more hysterical tone and she struggled to suck in air.

  “Try to calm down.” Xavier took hold of Annabelle’s shoulders; this time she didn’t fight him.

  “I think I should get the doctor,” Kate announced.

  Before she could make it even a step toward the door, it swung open and one of the doctors came running in, quickly surveying the situation.

  “I think that’s enough for today.” Dr. Daniels produced a syringe full of sedatives. “Annabelle,” he approached the sobbing girl slowly, “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?” Annabelle didn’t respond, nor did she seem to notice as the doctor lifted her arm and injected the sedative.

  It began to take effect almost immediately. Annabelle’s sobs began to fade and her eyes started to flutter closed. Before she drifted away, Xavier took her hand. “I promise you, I am going to find who did this.”

  As Annabelle drifted off, Kate wondered exactly how they were going to keep Xavier’s promise since they had no leads, no suspects, and no idea where to go next.

  * * * * *

  11:06 P.M.

  Restlessly, he paced the rooms of his house. Heading out to the backyard, he began to jog in a circuit around the perimeter, dodging the fruit trees that Julia had planted when they’d first moved in here. He needed to rest, but he didn’t want to sleep.

  Xavier hated dreaming.

  It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. If his dreams were good, it only served to remind him when he awakened that things were not good anymore. And if his dreams were bad, then it was just another reminder of what a failure he was.

  The dream that had just roused him from sleep, with his heart beating so hard it had felt like it could have hammered its way out of his chest, and sweating so profusely he could have filled a swimming pool, had been a good one.

  At least it had started out that way.

  He and Julia had been out at the lake where they had spent their summers together. They'd been laughing and fooling around and having fun when suddenly Annabelle had appeared, dressed in the pajamas she’d been wearing when he found her and dripping blood. Immediately he had rushed to her aid, but when he’d turned back to Julia he saw her curled up in a little ball sobbing and screaming how could he not notice something was wrong with her.

  That was really what had been eating him alive these last three years. He hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong with his wife until it had been too late. He’d been so wrapped up in his work and hanging out with his friends that he hadn’t noticed that Julia was changing.

  Exhausted, he flopped down on the grass, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Xavier wasn’t pleased that Annabelle Englewood was now creeping into his dreams. Apparently it wasn’t sufficient that she was quickly becoming a permanent fixture in his brain; now, she was also infiltrating his subconscious.

  Recalling his conversation with Kate at the hospital earlier, he wondered if he really was developing a crush on Annabelle. As much as he felt guilty about accusing her of being a killer and as stuck as he was on her unusual white eyes, Xavier didn’t believe in love at first sight.

  When he had first met Julia, he had been entranced, sure, but not in love. He’d thought she was sweet and funny and pretty and he’d known that he wanted to get to know her better, a lot better, but he had not been in love. Over the course of the month or so that he and Julia had dated before eloping to Las Vegas, he had quickly fallen hea
d over heels in love with the beautiful Julia, and he had been sure that they were destined to be together forever.

  Maybe they would have been if things hadn’t fallen apart the way they had. He had truly loved her, but he had let himself get so consumed with work that, in the end, he had never even noticed that something was wrong with her.

  Kate thought that he had changed since Julia had left his life in such a dramatic fashion, but it was more that he now focused his energies in another direction. He hadn’t been hiking or golfing since Julia had gone. He didn’t hang out till the wee hours of the morning partying with his friends. He wasn’t as loud and energetic as he used to be. But he was still the same person. Now he just took all the energy he used to spend on fun and focused it onto work and just a few close friends.

  Like Kate and her husband, David. He had almost ruined things with Kate. His partner was pretty with long blonde hair, which she usually wore down, dark blue eyes framed by long dark lashes. She was around five foot eight, slim and delicate looking, but deceptively strong, and Xavier had been enamored with her from the first time they’d met.

  Despite the fact that he knew they were partners and nothing should ever happen between them, he had flirted with her relentlessly. In the end, after visiting a particularly horrific crime scene involving a seventeen-year-old boy who had slit the throat of his thirteen-year-old sister and her six friends before beating them until the girls were unrecognizable, he and Kate had fallen into bed together.

  In the morning he had realized what a mistake it had been. He hadn’t wanted to lose Kate as a partner or as a friend and they had both vowed it would never happen again. And it hadn’t. Within a few weeks of his tryst with Kate, he had met Julia and she had met David.

  Rousing himself, he headed back inside. Xavier knew he needed at least a couple of hours sleep if he was going to be able to function tomorrow.

  His thoughts drifted to Annabelle, all alone in her hospital room, scared and grieving. And he thought of the promise he had stupidly made to her just before the sedative had taken affect. He had promised her that he would find who had done this to her.