“I know you spoke to Steven’s parents.”
I shrugged. “I may have given them a little kick in the pants.”
“Well, it worked. And they deserved it, but I think they know it. I would hate for them to miss out on Danny’s life when they realized what a mistake they were making, thinking I had anything to do with this.” She looked up at me with tired, sad eyes. “Do people think I’m guilty?”
“No one who matters,” I said.
“That’s a noncommittal answer.”
“It’s a truthful answer,” I said. “People think I’m guilty of something every day. Just ask Miss Shepherd. But the people who matter believe in you.”
“Good ol’ Paula Shepherd. How that woman thought it was a good idea to run for Mayor, I have no idea.”
“Odder ducks have won elections.” I looked at my watch. “We can hide out here for the duration of the visitation, if you want, but it’s my job to let you know that there are thirty minutes remaining before the men running the funeral home will begin encouraging people to fuck off.”
She laughed. “Have you met those men? They’ve never uttered the word ‘fuck’ in their lives. Now that I think about it, have you?”
“I pull it out when absolutely necessary. It’s a very versatile word, you know.”
Her smile didn’t last long, but she had needed a break from the doom and gloom. “I guess I better get out there. Myra says I need to project the image of ‘an innocent woman mourning her husband.’ Her words, not mine.”
“She knows what she’s doing,” I said. “I try never to disappoint her.”
“I can see why. She runs a tight ship.”
Penelope rose. I put my arm around her as we walked from the small kitchen.
When we reached the main rooms again, the crowd had thinned. Mrs. Champagne gave Penelope a weak smile when she saw us, and then she nodded at me.
She opened her mouth to say something, but a loud scream sliced through the air and stopped her.
We all spun toward the commotion coming from the front rooms of the funeral home.
I searched the room for Luke. He was already jogging toward the front of the house. As was Detective Fish and her partner.
“Oh my God!” screamed a voice. “Is she dead?”
“Someone call 9-1-1!” yelled another voice.
I darted around to the left, the same direction I’d just seen Luke run. When I reached the entrance to the front sitting area, people crowded around the front door, trying to get outside. Several others peered through a window that looked out onto the parking lot.
Spotting Luke trying to look out the window, I grabbed him. “Let’s go out the back.”
We backtracked through the rooms and found another exit in the back. Once outside, we sprinted toward the front of the house. That’s when we saw a crowd of people in the parking lot being ordered to stand back by Chief McCracken. As the crowd backed away, I could see two of the EMTs who were here for the visitation were standing over a body—a female body by the looks of the shoes. Another knelt down. By the time I saw the third EMTs face, he lifted his head and shook it at the other two EMTs and at Chief McCracken.
I inched closer. That’s when I spotted the blood and then the face of the person who was now dead and lying below the opened car door of a minivan. I couldn’t be sure, but she appeared to have a sliced neck.
I gasped. “It’s Miss Shepherd,” I whispered to Luke.
Luke, seeing the full scene as well, angled his body to block my view. “Don’t look.”
I met his eyes and realized it was his instinct to protect me. He’d momentarily forgotten that I’d seen my share of dead bodies, even gruesomely murdered bodies.
“Who would do that?” I searched his eyes. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered the last conversation I’d had with Miss Shepherd. The last two, actually.
I’d have to live with that.
Luke reached down, grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the scene. He didn’t rush me, but he led me directly to the passenger side of his truck, opened the door, and helped me climb in, which was made difficult by the fitted dress and high heels.
“Why are we leaving?” I asked when he’d slid into the driver’s seat.
He only had to look at me for me to close my mouth and wait to ask questions.
Fortunately, the parking lot to the funeral home circled around in both directions, allowing us to avoid the area where Miss Shepherd was being tended to. And Steven having been an EMT, there were plenty of EMTs and other first responders present, including the chief of police and state detectives working Steven’s case.
When we were on the road headed away from downtown, Luke reached over and grabbed my hand. He was steadier than I was, that was for certain. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind.
“Want to tell me why we just raced out of there?”
“We didn’t race.”
I pulled my hand away, crossed my arms, and angled my head toward him. He glanced sideways at me again. “Okay… fine. But the police are going to want to question everyone there. You know this.”
“They should,” I said in protest.
“Of course, they should, but you’re not seeing the big picture.”
I looked forward as he drove, considering the evening and what I remembered about Paula Shepherd.
“The police are going to find out that she confronted me—that we traded words. So what? She’s a terrible person, who’s probably ‘had words’ with half the people there tonight at some point in the not-so-distant past.”
“Maybe. But she had words with you tonight. The police will call it an argument. Witnesses will confirm that Miss Shepherd started it, but your name will come up in the second murder investigation in a week.”
I considered his point. “Oh my God, you’re right,” I said. “So what? You’re helping me flee a murder scene?”
“Not flee. But the media is there, including Marla Manfield. She’s already angling to tie you to Steven’s murder.”
“And she’d just love to snap my photograph to display on the evening news when she gets wind that I was tied to a confrontation with Miss Shepherd.”
“Exactly. The way I see it, you and I didn’t see the need to be in the way. It’s going to take hours for the police to talk to everyone there. When they finally decide it’s time to speak to you, they can come to you.”
“But I just left Penelope there. She’s having such a rough time.”
“She’s got the support of her family and lots of friends.” Luke leaned his left elbow against the door and rubbed his forehead. “Something’s not right.”
“Ya think?” I asked. “Two people are dead.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Luke drove straight past my driveway. “Luke, you missed my turn.”
“You’re coming home with me.”
“The way this usually works is you would ask a girl if she wanted to come home with you.”
“If we were on a date, and that was why I was taking you to my place, I would ask.”
I decided to let the subject go for now. If I really wanted to make a big deal of it, I could just walk through the forest and be home in ten minutes.
He parked the truck in front of the barn that housed Coop’s guest apartment. It had been many months since I’d been here—since the day I discovered that my own brother had been responsible for my mother’s and stepfather’s deaths.
“Why are you living here?” I asked him, deciding we had plenty of time to discuss when the police might come question me about Paula Shepherd.
“Why not?” he tossed back. We both exited his truck. “It’s a great apartment. Coop doesn’t charge me much. The farm views in the morning are stunning on all sides.”
I walked around the truck and looked off in the direction of my own land. It really was beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to live here?
But as quickly as I thought about that, I remembered the trouble I�
�ve had since I’ve been back. Part of that trouble was with Miss Shepherd, as minor as it was until tonight.
“Have you eaten?” Luke asked, stepping in front of me.
I gave my head a little shake.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and led me toward the barn. “I’ll order some food. If you’re hungry, you’ll eat. If not, I’ll eat.”
Inside, I glanced around at the small changes he’d made since I was here last. It looked more lived in, for sure. But he hadn’t actually lived here before. He was only staying as a guest. Now, the kitchen had spices and oils grouped beside the stove as if he actually cooked on a regular basis.
I studied him as he talked on the phone, placing an order for chicken parmesan, some other kind of pasta, and bread. Gone were the days when we were limited by only pizza delivery. Now, most restaurants included a delivery service.
When he hung up, I asked, “Do you cook?” I nodded to the evidence on the counter.
He looked to see what I was seeing, then back at me. “I’m not bad. I’m no Barb Kaufman or Leah Nash, but I know my way around the kitchen.” He shrugged, the added, “For a bachelor.”
“I think you’re being modest,” I said.
“Well, how about I show you this Friday?”
My eyes snapped to his.
“Don’t act surprised. You and I may have one of the most unusual histories of dating, but I am capable of wining and dining a woman.”
“Have we ever been on a date?” I asked him.
He seemed to think about that. “Hell, you’re right. Okay, scratch that. Friday night, you and me, we’re going out on a real date. We have to remedy this.”
“Luke, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
His smile faded. He stepped closer and placed a hand on my cheek. “What are you looking for, Faith?”
I leaned into his touch. “Nothing,” I whispered. “I’m not looking for anything.”
“You are. You just don’t know what it is.”
I stepped back. “Look, I know you’re just trying to look after me. I have no idea what happened to Miss Shepherd, but I do know it had nothing to do with me. I just want to go home. I want to get out of these heels and this dress.”
“I have clothes you can change into.”
“I don’t want your clothes. I want my clothes.”
Luke opened his mouth to argue, then just reached down and grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the spiral staircase leading to the loft.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going to change into something more comfortable.”
Once in the loft, I looked around. As with the living area, Luke had put his own personal touches on the bedroom. I was shocked to see Luke was a very neat person. His bed was made. A couple of books were stacked on the nightstand with a pair of glasses on top. A small lamp had been left on.
Luke walked to a dresser on the opposite side of the room and returned with a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
“Those will swallow me.” I glanced around uncomfortably. “Look, I’m just going to go home. I’m tired. Funerals are tough on me. If the chief or other police officers need to speak to me, they’ll find me there.”
He tossed the sweats on the bed, then turned to me. With both hands, he gently brushed his fingers along each side of my face and pushed my hair behind my ears. “I know funerals are hard on you. Don’t you get it? I know you, Faith. You can lean on me.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered.
“You can.” He slid a hand to the back of my neck. “I’m going to show you that I’m here for you. Now, turn around.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “Fine.” I put my back to him. He slowly unzipped my dress. I let it slide from my shoulders and down my body. He reached for the sweatshirt and slowly pulled it over my head. When the sweatshirt was on, I stepped out of my heels and removed the thigh highs, keeping my eyes pinned to his.
“The sweats are too big for you, but you’ll be much more comfortable. If after we eat, you want to go home, I’ll take you.”
Did I want to go home? Looking at him now, I wasn’t sure of anything. He was right to get me away from the funeral home. I didn’t want to wait around for the police to question me there in front of others.
He was also right about something else. He did know me. Could I lean on him any more than I already had?
I hooked an arm around his neck and reached up to kiss him. When our lips met, an explosion of desire erupted. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted. He walked me backwards and set me on his bed.
I scooted back into the pillows and slid partially under the covers, and I watched as he slid out of his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair. Next, he unbuckled his belt and removed his gun and holster.
When he’d undressed to his boxers, he joined me in bed and slid an arm under me, gathering me close and letting our legs intertwine. When his hand slid along my leg to my hip, and then to my waist, a shiver moved through me.
I breathed in his woodsy scent as he buried his face into my neck. As easily as the sweatshirt had come on, he stripped it away. Seconds after that, all barriers were gone.
We moved together in mad, mindless motions, craving each other in ways neither of us had voiced out loud.
I didn’t let myself consider what anything meant anymore. I didn’t pause to think about the consequences. I needed him, so I took, and he gave. And then he took, and I gave.
His hands moved over me, driving me to places I hadn’t been in a while—places I wasn’t aware I desired.
When he drove into me and we moved together as one, I scraped my fingers along his back as he took me over the edge. Just when I was sure I couldn’t possibly feel more, he took me to that cliff again. And as I let go a second time, he surrendered with me.
We lay there, breathing heavily. I was draped across him. He brushed his fingers up and down my bare back. I could go to sleep like that. Simply forget everything going on outside these walls.
He pulled the comforter up and over us, and I settled into his hold. And just as I decided that I might not move until morning, someone knocked on the door below.
I jerked my head up.
Luke kissed me before untangling from me and reaching for a pair of jeans. “It’s just the food. I’ll get it. We can warm it up whenever you’re hungry.”
He pulled on a pair of jeans and a worn, navy t-shirt, then headed for the stairs.
While Luke was handsome in what I considered his federal agent uniform, he was every bit as hot in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
I remained snuggled under the down comforter, listening as Luke answered the door.
But it wasn’t the food.
“Special Agent Justice,” a woman’s voice said when Luke opened the door. “I’m looking for Faith Day.”
“Hi, Detective Fish,” I said when I made my way down Luke’s spiral staircase. I had quickly slipped back into my dress and smoothed my hair out, but I didn’t bother with the thigh highs or shoes, opting to remain barefoot.
“Miss Day, I was wondering if we might talk.” She stood just inside the doorway.
“Come in, Detective,” Luke said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the antique farm table separating the kitchen from the living room.
“Nice place, by the way,” she said, looking around as she took a seat.
“I can’t take credit for it, but thank you.”
She looked to me as I sat across from her. “The two of you left the funeral awfully quickly this evening. I assume you know that Paula Shepherd was murdered tonight?”
“Yes, we saw the body as we left,” I admitted.
“Then why did you leave? You both had to know that police officers would need to talk to everyone there.”
“We didn’t leave the county,” I said. I looked at my watch. “We’ve been here less th
an an hour, and here you are. And here we are. Do you actually have a question?”
Detective Fish stared at me. She wanted to be angry, and maybe she was a little irritated, but she was also frustrated. Whatever was happening in Paynes Creek was frustrating her.
“I’m actually not here to question you about your knowledge of Miss Shepherd. It’s not my case.”
Of course it wasn’t. PCPD would be investigating the death of Miss Shepherd, unless they somehow linked it to Steven’s murder.
“Though I do find it interesting,” Detective Fish continued, “that you darted out of there. Especially since I overheard a woman telling a Paynes Creek police officer that they saw you and Miss Shepherd arguing earlier tonight.”
It was hardly an argument, I thought, but didn’t voice. Detective Fish hadn’t technically asked a question.
It might not be her case, but she had to think it quite the coincidence that a woman was killed at the funeral of her own murder victim. And I didn’t think for one second that she wasn’t paying attention to the circumstances surrounding the murder of Miss Shepherd.
I didn’t dare look away from Detective Fish.
“If you’re not here because of Miss Shepherd, then why are you here?” Luke asked.
“I received a call from the Colorado State Police today.”
I shifted uncomfortably. My mind raced. This had to be about Darren. I still hadn’t heard from him. And if the police were calling…
“Darren’s dead,” I said. It didn’t come out as a question, but as a statement. Because I knew. I knew because of the way she mentioned the police. Because she came all the way here to see how I reacted to the news.
“How did you know?”
I stared at my hands on the table that had begun to shake. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to save the emotions for after Detective Fish left, I couldn’t stop the reaction my body was having to the news.
Three people were dead.
“Not hard to figure out,” I said. “He hadn’t returned my calls. A picture that no one but he and I should have possession of turned up in another murder victim’s house. And… because people I care for tend to end up dead. Take your pick of reasons, detective.”
Secret is in the Bones (Paynes Creek Thriller Book 3) Page 15