what she knew (BREAKDOWN Book 4)

by Regan Black

  Her issues had no bearing or relevance here. Clinic setting or not, this visit was more about his issues than the possibility of a break in. “Are you looking for something in particular?” Unless he picked apart her computer or discovered the false bottom in her lower desk drawer, her secrets were safe. For tonight.

  “No.” He glowered at her, his hands on his hips.

  “Are you trying to prove something?”

  His expression eased. “I might drink more than I should, but I know my job.”

  The same line he offered at every physical. “Good.” They might as well be on a stage, they had the routine down so well.

  “I’ve never handled a murder investigation,” he said quietly. “Laney has the lead on this case for a reason. Now there are two dead bodies and one person still missing. Shutter Lake needs better than me.”

  Tell him.

  She ignored that pesky inner voice. This was not the time to be naïve or give in to fear. In his current mood, she thought he’d answer any question she posed, though he shouldn’t discuss the case with anyone outside the department. Beyond the legalities and protocols, she didn’t really want to shoulder the burden of his doubts about the case or his concerns about her neighbors and patients as suspects.

  “None of that is on you,” Ana said with all the confidence she could muster. “No one could have seen this coming.”

  With the possible exception of Sylvia. In recent weeks, after Josie had suddenly returned to Venezuela, her friend had been increasingly worried. Convinced the girl was in some kind of trouble, she’d spoken with Ana on more than one occasion about how best to bring her back to the states.

  “I wonder,” Griff muttered.

  “Come back to the kitchen,” she suggested. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate.” Her machine had all the bells and whistles and sometimes it was fun to indulge in something more than a basic cup of black coffee.

  “I suppose it’s better than coffee at this hour.”

  Or beer. She kept the thought to herself. “Fall is hot chocolate weather.”

  “Especially tonight,” he agreed.

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit more with every step they took away from her office. Settled at the counter again, she could feel him watching her as she prepped the comforting treat.

  “Marshmallows?” she asked as the machine sputtered the last of the foam into his cup.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You have marshmallows?”

  “I’m not a complete ogre about sugar,” she replied.

  He snorted. “I smell a trap.”

  She tilted her head and noticed his gaze following the sway of her ponytail. A distinct awareness rippled between them. It happened occasionally though neither of them ever drifted down that path of mutual attraction. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Yes.”

  Those earnest eyes that smiled too rarely were daring her to prove she kept sweets in the house. She felt him watching as she strolled to her pantry, stepped in and pulled out a squat canister of mini-marshmallows. Without a word, she set the canister between them on the counter and opened it.

  “Wow.” He reached in and grabbed several, setting them afloat in the aromatic chocolate. “This is big news,” he teased. “How much will you pay me to not tell Julia Ford?”

  Smothering a laugh, Ana stirred several marshmallows into her own mug of chocolate. “She already knows.”

  Feigning dismay, Griff groaned. “Of course she does. Girlfriends always know the secrets.”

  Ana wasn’t sure how to respond. It should have been casual banter, easily discarded. Was he about to shift this to an interrogation? “Surely men share their inner thoughts and desires as well,” she said.

  The look he gave her—utterly horrified—made it impossible to retain any of her typical composure. She laughed until she snorted, only to laugh some more.

  “I’ve never seen you laugh that way,” he observed when she finally recovered.

  She sat up straight, pinned him with her most direct, medical-expert gaze. “In the clinic and at the wellness events I am expected to be a professional.”

  “Of course.” He glared into his mug for a long moment before lifting his eyes to meet hers. “You keep business and personal space separate.”

  “I try.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.” He studied her over the rim of his mug. Sipped slowly. “Laughter looks good on you, doctor.”

  She laughed at the clinic. Granted, not to the point of snorting, but she laughed. “Thanks,” she managed, flustered by his scrutiny. “It feels like a long time since I’ve had a big laugh.”

  “You’re not alone,” he said. He looked up and when his gaze met hers she caught the full force of the heat in his eyes. “I am sorry you lost your good friend.”

  Her throat too dry to speak, she bobbed her chin.

  He reached out and covered her hand with his. Warmth and strength spread through her system from that point of contact. It was a touch that held a question as well as the first glimpse of a real promise. She didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off his, though desire throbbed with an achy need pulsing just under her skin.

  In this situation, what she wanted and what she could have were not compatible. If —when—her secrets came out, any personal association with her would wreck his career faster than his Rabbit Hole habit. Self-sabotage was one thing. She would not run the risk of contributing to his downfall.

  “All right.” He pulled back, tucked his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” He carried his mug to the sink. “I’ll cut back on the alcohol.”

  The statement stunned her and he was nearly to her front door before she trusted her quivering knees to hold her upright. “Griff.” He paused, one hand on the doorknob. “If you need help with that, come see me.”

  “Sure thing, doc.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Lock up behind me and reset your alarm.”

  Her heart still racing, she did as he asked, listening to his footsteps fade into the chilly night.

  Chapter Three

  Monday October 15

  Laney stepped out of the police station, grateful for the clear air and sunshine. She was happy for the walk after missing her run last night due to the rain and wine with the girls. Predictably she’d woken antsy and on edge. A dead body had that effect on her. As news spread today that they’d pulled a young woman from the river, that dead body was likely to have an effect on everyone in town.

  She shifted her focus as she walked along. The songbirds were lively today, filling the morning with happy calls and bright chatter that was completely at odds with her pensive mood.

  The world always smelled better to her after a good, hard rain as if the weather was determined to wash away some of the dark stains people left behind. According to the preliminary report from the Nevada County coroner, the river had certainly done it’s best to wash any evidence from the body they’d found yesterday.

  That posed a problem. They were stumped already on the Sylvia Cole case. All they had was what they’d deduced from the crime scene and the coroner’s report. Sylvia’s front door had been unlocked and left ajar, suggesting she’d invited her attacker into her home. The lack of defensive wounds along with the angle, force and damage to the victim’s throat as a result of the strangulation, led them to believe they were looking for a tall, strong man. Despite the signs of a struggle, the odds were high she’d known her killer. Sure her wallet had been emptied, but no one was using the plastic so that seemed like a red herring to Laney.

  They had even less to go on with the newly recovered body that was most likely Josie Rodriguez. Laney had seen cases solved with less to go on, but not many. The last thing this town needed was two unsolved murders blotting the previously perfect record of non-violence.

  She crossed the town square admiring the colorful mums, sheaves of wheat, and pumpkins that had been repurposed after the annual benefit concert for the arts. The temporary stage was gone, along with
the chairs, the catering tent and the vendor displays, but the general uplifting energy remained. Community was one thing Shutter Lake did exceptionally well, consistently.

  Even with an unsolved murder, people were sticking together. Not to cover for a criminal as some seedier neighborhoods did in L.A., but in support of those most affected. She’d seen the outpouring of concern for Sylvia’s parents at the press conferences as well as at events like Saturday’s benefit and it restored a bit of her faith in people.

  When she reached the door to Batter Up, she smoothed back strands of her hair that autumn breeze teased loose. She walked in and joined the line. Heidi Udall, owner of the bakery, was behind the counter chattering away as she served a customer perusing the day’s offering.

  Heidi baked what she wanted each day, in whatever amounts suited her. In the two years Laney had lived here, she’d never seen the baker make an effort to follow a schedule or track her bestselling items. The lack of strategy didn’t seem to be hurting business, considering the cluster of customers.

  “Hi, Laney!” Heidi called brightly. “I’ll be right with you.”

  “No rush,” Laney said. She’d use the delay as an opportunity to observe Heidi’s customers, noting who picked up an individual treat and who was picking up for groups.

  She waited near the Halloween scene decorating the front window, careful not to block anyone’s view from the street. Heidi had a reputation for being testy about things she perceived interrupted her business. A bit lumpy and limp, her hat askew, the witch looked as if she’d put up a good resistance to being on display.

  As she adjusted the witch’s hat, Laney watched Heidi zip around behind the counter with almost too much cheer. Had the woman dumped too much sugar or an extra shot of espresso into the tall cup of coffee by the register? Maybe both?

  Clearly some of the bakery’s customers were regulars and naturally, the size of the town meant they all knew each other well enough to say hello. Laney held the door for Lou Branson. Clearly a Monday person, he happily told her that part of his role as the bank manager was picking up the cake for the monthly birthday party.

  The wait dragged on and she started to feel more like Batter Up’s doorman than a deputy chief as customers came and went. The bakery shared an alley with The Grind coffee shop and Laney was half-tempted to dash over and grab another cup of coffee. If she did that, she’d only get grief from Heidi. The woman was ridiculously competitive with the coffee shop owner, Nolan Ikard, and that would put her in a foul mood when Laney needed her to cooperate.

  Her patience waning, Laney waited for two more people who walked in to be served before she had Heidi alone. “Looks like you might need to hire counter help.”

  Heidi fanned her face. Sweat glistened along her forehead, dampened the gray hair curling at her temples from under the edge of the baker’s hat. “The morning rush starts my day off right.” She raised the tall reusable mug of coffee. “Better than this, actually.”

  Laney smiled as her long-underused instincts fired to life. The baker was nervous, high, or both. In her experience that was a bad combination for a suspect and a potential goldmine for an investigator.

  Heidi snapped a napkin from the dispenser and blotted her face as the bells over the door jingled. “Welcome to Batter Up!” She crumpled the damp napkin and shoved it into her apron pocket as she rattled off the day’s special.

  Laney greeted Renata Fernandez. She’d been Sylvia’s second in command and now kept things running at Sparkle until the business aspects could be sorted out for clients and employees. They spoke for a few minutes about weather and Halloween plans, carefully avoiding any mention of unpleasant topics. Once again Laney hoped the body from the river would give them a lead, but she couldn’t plant false hope.

  “Will there be a press conference tonight?” Renata asked.

  “That’s the plan.” With luck they could announce real progress rather than another vague update on the investigation.

  When Renata walked out, Laney flipped the sign to CLOSED.

  “You can’t do that!” Heidi exclaimed, marching around the counter.

  Laney recognized the signs of drug-induced bravado, underscored by the dilated pupils and nervous intensity. “What are you on, Heidi?”

  The baker sputtered. “I’m not on anything, but I am in business, Deputy Chief Holt. Flip that sign.”

  “In just a minute,” Laney said, her tone cool and even. “When we found Sylvia Cole’s body, the crime scene unit inventoried her home. Par for the course,” she explained. “At that time, a dozen Batter Up cupcakes were boxed in her refrigerator. I came in to ask if she ordered them for an event or something.”

  “Sylvia often bought cupcakes for her employees,” Heidi said.

  “Generous of her. I’m sure the girls appreciated that.”

  “They did.” The baker’s chin came up. “If you ask me everyone at Sparkle could stand to eat a cupcake more often. You too.”

  Laney ignored the envious barb. Sylvia had been cover-model gorgeous and she hired women who matched her in both beauty and work ethic. “Can you show me the receipt for Sylvia’s order, please? She must have picked up the order on the third to take to the office on the fourth.”

  “No.” Heidi folded her arms over her ample bosom.

  “No,” Laney echoed.

  Heidi’s lips curled into a manic smile. “I mean, I’d love to show you the receipt, of course.” She unfolded her arms and drummed her hands restlessly against her thighs, dusting her pants with floured fingerprints. “But my computer system was giving me fits at the end of September. Fiscal year and all that blah, blah, blah.”

  “You don’t have any sales records for this October?” Laney didn’t believe that for a second.

  “Oh, sure I do. Just not here and definitely not off the top of my head.” She tapped her temple, drawing Laney’s eye to a slightly swollen, discolored spot on her forehead. “Ask me anything about a recipe and it’s a steel trap up here, b—”

  “When did you bump your head?”

  “What? Oh, this?” She flapped a hand in front of her face. “Tripped when I got up in the night.”

  “Ran into a door?” Laney queried.

  “Yes,” Heidi replied, the sarcasm sailing right over her head. “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve seen similar injuries before.” The baker’s personal life wasn’t really her business, but she hadn’t heard anything about a recent relationship. In fact the woman was notoriously single. “Did you have Dr. Perez or someone at the clinic check it out?” she asked as Heidi took another slug of her coffee.

  “No. It’s a bump. I’m more embarrassed than injured.”

  “Head injuries can be tricky.” Though in Laney’s experience they didn’t usually cause this sort of mania. “When did it happen?” she asked, adding a thick layer of ‘concerned community servant’ to the query. She was far more interested in getting behind the counter for a good look around. If Heidi was sober, Laney would turn in her badge and resign today.

  “Thursday or Friday, I think.”

  “If you can’t pin it down, I’ll walk with you to the clinic.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” Heidi exclaimed. “It must have been Friday. At least the bruise was enough at that point that I applied cover up before the benefit on Saturday. There, see. I’m fine.”

  “You sure are. Thanks.” The timing matched up with the night the cupcakes walked out of the crime scene. Assuming Heidi was the culprit, why would she steal back her own cupcakes?

  “Is that all? I really shouldn’t ignore my customers much longer.”

  Laney glanced toward the front door. No one was waiting on the sidewalk. All of the locals were familiar with Heidi’s whims about business hours.

  “I’ll need that sales report as soon as possible.” Laney pursed her lips. “Do you ever give refunds?”

  Heidi gasped, the reaction dramatic enough for a Hollywood screen test. “No one has ever had reason to ask
for a refund. I do excellent work.”

  “I agree,” Laney held up her hands in surrender. “Your cupcakes are addictive.” She waited while the baker preened. “Well, I just can’t figure out how or why the cupcakes in Sylvia’s refrigerator disappeared.”

  “I’m sure one of your crime scene people ate them. There was a selection of my most popular flavors in that box.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I made Strawberry, Chocolate Delight, Butter Cream and Caramel too.”

  She could remember what she baked, but not how the sale was made? Laney’s instincts went into high gear. “So you remember Sylvia placing the order. Did she pick it up or did you deliver?” Laney doubted that Heidi made a habit of deliveries.

  “What?” Clearly agitated, Heidi bit her lip and then sipped her coffee. “I don’t deliver. Not exactly. Only to Mr. Duval. Due to a special, standing order.”

  “Hmm. If I’m following correctly, Sylvia picked up the cupcakes the day before she was killed and took them home rather than to the office right here in town.” She jerked her thumb toward the east, in the general direction of the Sparkle office located in a building on the street past the police station.

  Heidi frowned. “Yes. That sounds right. She normally picked up an assortment of whatever was available for her girls.”

  “Oh.” Laney mirrored Heidi’s confusion. “So she didn’t place a special order on the third for your most popular flavors.”

  “Umm, no.” Heidi replied through gritted teeth. “I’ll look for the receipt this afternoon. Sylvia would usually ask for an extra Chocolate Delight after she hired Josie.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  Heidi puffed up her chest and planted her hands on her hips. “It didn’t matter a bit to me. The girl would come in here nearly every day for her chocolate fix regardless.”