by Debra Webb
8:15 a.m.
AMBER STARED AT the broth Sean had prepared for her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do this.” She had no appetite. She felt like hell. Her stomach still felt queasy and crampy.
“Just following the instructions on the discharge papers.” Sean sipped his coffee.
Amber groaned. He was right. She needed to follow the doctor’s orders. Slowly, she lifted the spoon to her lips and tasted. Her stomach clenched, but she kept going. One spoonful after the other, until she emptied the bowl. She washed it down with plenty of water. When she was finished, she pushed the bowl away and summoned a smile. “I feel better already.”
Sean gave that one-sided grin that somehow made him even more handsome. “Liar.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I feel...” She groaned. “Quite blah and very grateful for your quick thinking.”
He gave a nod. “It’s nice to be the hero from time to time.”
Amber studied him a long moment. He really was a nice guy and completely committed to the job. She didn’t see him as the type to fail a client. There had to be more to the story. “You know pretty much everything about me. I’d like to know more about you.”
His relaxed expression hardened the slightest bit. “You know all the important stuff.”
“Wives? Kids? Significant others?”
“Nope, nope and nope.”
“You’ve never been married or engaged?”
He shook his head.
“Long-term relationships?” She reminded herself to sip her water.
“A couple. Nothing particularly memorable.” He stared into his coffee.
“What really happened in LA?” She snapped her lips together. She actually hadn’t been planning to blurt out the question.
He studied her for a long moment before he answered. “I made a mistake.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said before, but I think there’s a lot more to it than just a mistake.” She smoothed a hand over her ponytail. She’d been too exhausted to dry her hair after her shower. Her only option when she’d gotten up was to restrain the wild mass of curls. “I just feel like I deserve full disclosure from the man who’s seen me at my absolute worst.”
His lips quirked with the need to smile in spite of that stony profile. “I guess you have a point there.”
Anticipation zinged through her. “So, let’s hear it.”
“Lacy James was smart and talented. And beautiful,” he said, awe in his voice. “No matter that I worked extra hard to stay focused on the job, I was mesmerized by her. She had this ethereal beauty and incredible depth of soul that no one ever saw onstage.”
“She was incredibly talented and beautiful,” Amber agreed, feeling strangely jealous of the way he described her. For the first time in ages she longed to know a man saw her that way.
“I’d been in LA for six long years. I was lonely. I’d dated plenty between assignments but nothing serious. I was almost twenty-nine and maybe I was feeling the need for something real.”
Amber’s stomach took a little dive, and she was reasonably sure it wasn’t about the poison. She’d been feeling exactly that way—as if something was missing in her life. No matter that her career had taken off; something was still lacking. She needed more than work. More than coming home to an empty house and an equally empty bed. But how did she trust anyone with her heart? The world was so full of people who cared only for themselves. In her profession she saw so much fake—it felt impossible to sort the real from the make-believe. Oddly, this moment—this man—felt real.
“The next thing I knew we were...together.” He fell silent for a moment. “She had a short break before the next leg of her tour started, and we never left the house. It felt exactly like what was missing in my life. It felt real and good, and I wanted it to last forever.”
Amber watched the pain clutter his handsome face. The memories still hurt even though a year had passed. Was he still in love with her memory?
“When I was briefed on the assignment, her agent warned me not to trust her. She was never allowed to overindulge in alcohol, and if I spotted drugs, I was to get her out ASAP.” His gaze met Amber’s, and the agony there tugged at her heart. “Lacy was an addict. Had been since she was thirteen. When we met she’d been straight for two years.”
“No one is responsible for what an addict chooses to do,” Amber reminded him softly.
He nodded. “I know. But that doesn’t change the responsibility I feel. I was with her 24/7 for weeks. I took my eyes off her for one minute at a party while she went to the bathroom and she scored. That night after I went to sleep, she overdosed on cocaine. She was sitting right there in the room watching me. I didn’t even know she’d gotten out of bed.” He stood and gathered her bowl and spoon. “That’s what happens when you get too comfortable. Your sense of caution becomes dulled. You miss things. Lacy’s dead because I didn’t see how getting personally involved with me made her feel out of control. Made her wish for things she couldn’t have if she wanted to keep her career on track.”
“Are we all doomed to that choice?” Amber bit her lips together. She hadn’t meant to say those words out loud. What was it about this man that made her feel the need to be so forthcoming? “I mean, can’t a woman or a man have an astonishingly successful career and a personal life? Why do we have to choose only one?”
“There’s a career,” Sean said, his tone somber, “and there’s a career. When you choose the latter, there’s nothing else. It’s all-encompassing. After the funeral, the one trusted friend she had told me I reminded Lacy how much she regretted the choices she’d made. She’d given up everything—her first love, the child they’d had together—to follow her dream. Falling in love again sent her hurtling back into the pain and loss.”
Amber stood and pushed in her chair. “It isn’t fair that she had to give up one or the other. Why couldn’t she have had both?” Her heart was pounding. What she was really asking was why couldn’t she have both? What made women like her—like her sister and Gina and even Jess Burnett—believe they had to give up a real life for their careers? Though the dilemma rarely affected men the same way, Sean seemed to be stuck in that same place.
“It took me nearly a year of soul-searching and no small amount of counseling to come to terms with the answer to that question, Amber. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
She blinked, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Lacy couldn’t have both because she was an addict. Staying completely focused on her career helped her keep it together—helped her stay clean. I disrupted the rhythm she’d come to depend on. I should have recognized the issue, but I was too infatuated, too caught up in my own needs. I failed to do my job, and for that I’m in part responsible for her death.”
“Are you suggesting I’m addicted to my work? That I don’t care about anything else?”
Sean exhaled a big breath. “I’m suggesting if you can’t see yourself living a personal life in addition to your career, then you won’t be able to have both. You’ll have to choose one or the other, and there will always be regrets with whichever choice you make. Isn’t that the true definition of addiction? Being willing to sacrifice everything else for the one thing you want most?”
The doorbell rang, and Amber jerked at the sound. “Barbara said she’d bring me some of her clothes.”
“I’ll get the door.”
Amber took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why in the world had they been discussing her love life and career decisions? It was her own fault. She’d started it. The conversation was meant to learn more about him and what happened in LA. It was never intended to dissect her life.
Could he possibly be right about her? Was she incapable of balance? She couldn’t deny being singularly focused. She’d recognized her type A personality at the ripe old age of twelve. She�
��d decided then that she wanted to be the next Barbara Walters.
Barb’s voice in the other room drew her from her thoughts. This wasn’t the time to worry about her love life. Two women were dead—possibly murdered by the same man who had poisoned her. Finding Adler’s partner and presumably his murderer had to be top priority right now. Just because Sean Douglas made her heart pound and her pulse skip was no excuse to revert to being controlled by adolescent hormones.
Amber squared her shoulders and joined her sister and Sean in the living room. Barb took one look at her and rushed to where she stood. She grabbed Amber in a bear hug. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Amber tried to breathe. Sean stood on the other side of the room, his arms loaded with clothes, shoes and a small bag hanging from his long fingers.
“Really, I’m okay,” Amber assured her.
Barb drew back and surveyed her from head to toe and back. “You look like hell. You definitely need all that makeup Gina shoved into the bag the cutie-pie over there is holding.”
Sean looked at the floor in an attempt to hide his grin.
“Thanks.” Amber knew she was okay when her big sister told her she needed makeup. Barbara Roberts hated makeup. How she ever fell in love with a television journalist like Gina was a mystery to Amber. “The cutie-pie,” she said, using Barb’s term, “is Sean Douglas.”
“A pleasure.” Barb gave him an approving nod and grabbed the bag he held. “Come on, little sister.” She reached for one of the outfits he held, as well. “We have work to do. You’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Douglas.”
“Take your time,” he suggested. “I’ll follow up with Lieutenant Harper.”
Amber flashed him a smile as her sister ushered her from the room. What was it about a near-death experience that made a woman suddenly bemoan all she’d given up for a career?
How did she capture that elusive thing called balance?
As soon as the person trying to kill her was caught, she intended to find her balance.
She glanced over her shoulder one last time. Maybe she would start with Sean.
Chapter Ten
Frontier Drive, Vestavia Hills, 11:00 a.m.
Rhiana Pettie’s mother had agreed to a meeting.
Amber looked considerably better even if she still felt weak and weary. Barb had helped her pull herself together. Her head was still just a little foggy, but an extrasweet café mocha had helped immensely.
Sean parked at the curb and checked his cell. “Harper sent me a text. So far your place is coming up clean for toxins, but he’d feel better if you gave them another day just to be sure.”
“I can live with that.” She searched his eyes. “Can you?” After all, he was the one sharing his place.
“My job is to keep you safe, Amber. I can do that just about anywhere.”
“I guess it’s settled then. I’ll be at your place again tonight.”
His blue eyes darkened. “Technically it’ll be your first night at my place. It was already morning when I took you there today.”
“I used your shower and spent time sleeping in your guest bed.”
He nodded. “You did.”
“I rest my case.” Amber reached for the door. As usual, he somehow managed to appear at her side of the car before she emerged.
Forty-eight hours ago she’d found his persistent presence frustrating, annoying even. Now she was very grateful he was here. The reality that someone had come into her house and touched her things was bad enough. To recognize that he’d meant her physical harm made it all the worse. It was one thing to have an obsessive fan, even a stalker; it was entirely another to be targeted for death.
Amber turned her attention to the brick home nestled on the corner of Frontier and Kingswood. According to her research, the Petties had lived here for thirty-five years. Rachel and Tom, Rhiana’s parents, had three grown children, but she had been their only daughter. People always pointed out statistics like those. If they’d had another daughter, would Rhiana’s death have been easier? Of course not.
The door opened, and Mrs. Pettie stared at them as if she’d forgotten they were coming.
“Mrs. Pettie, I’m Amber Roberts. We spoke about an hour ago. You said my associate Sean Douglas and I could come by to speak with you about Rhiana.”
She nodded and opened the door wider. “You look different than you do on television.”
Amber relaxed a little as she crossed the threshold. “Most people say I look much taller on TV.”
Pettie managed a faint smile. “I think they’re right. You do look taller on-screen.”
Rhiana’s mother went through the usual steps, offering refreshments, which they both declined, and steering them toward the sofa. Pettie was tall like Rhiana. Her blond hair was more gray now than blond, but the resemblance to her daughter was unmistakable. Amber had inherited her red hair and green eyes from her mother. Barb, on the other hand, had inherited their father’s rich brown hair and dark eyes. People who didn’t know them rarely believed they were sisters.
“The police told me they may have found the man who took her from us.”
Amber nodded. “Yes. I hope the BPD can confirm those suspicions soon. I’m certain they’ll contact you again as soon as they do.”
Pettie’s brow furrowed into a frown. “Are you reporting on the investigation?”
Amber glanced at Sean. This was where things got a little muddled and a whole lot sticky.
“Mrs. Pettie,” Sean answered for her, “the police have reason to believe Amber was the next victim on the killer’s list. As you can imagine, she’s anxious to help solve the case.”
“Is that why they thought you killed him?”
Amber hoped that debacle wasn’t going to follow her forever. “I was and still am a person of interest in the case, but the police have cleared me of any suspicion related to his murder.” It felt really good to be able to say those words.
“Can you tell us about the last few days before your daughter went missing?” Sean asked. “Had she met anyone new? Was she working on a new case at the firm?”
Amber flinched. He’d gone straight to the point rather than easing into the hard questions.
“The police already asked questions about those days,” Pettie said, her gaze drifting to the floor. “After she first went missing and then again yesterday.”
“Sometimes it helps to have new eyes and ears on a case. That’s why we’re here,” he explained gently.
Pettie cleared her throat. “Rhiana was a hard worker,” she said softly. “She put in a lot of long hours. I cleaned her apartment for her every couple of weeks.” She smiled. “I didn’t mind. Anytime she was home in the evenings she had dinner with her father and me. I think that’s what I miss most...doing things for her. I loved hearing about her day. She would share the details she could, and it was always so exciting.”
The loss she felt thickened in the room. It was moments like this when Amber wondered how on earth anyone could bear to have a child. How did a parent survive losing a child? Keep your attention on the goal—finding this bastard.
Amber braced for a no. “Can we see her apartment?”
Pettie hesitated, but then she stood. “I’ve left it just as it was. ’Course, the police went through her room twice, but otherwise it’s exactly the way she left it.”
“We’ll be very careful,” Sean promised.
“Follow me,” Pettie offered.
There was something immensely comforting about Sean’s hand at the small of her back as Amber followed Pettie up the exterior stairs that led to the apartment over the garage. She unlocked the door and stood back for them to enter first.
Rhiana had a large space that included a small bathroom and kitchenette. It was roomier than Amber’s first apartment out of c
ollege. She’d refused the offer to move back in with her parents. The tiny apartment had been her only option.
The pajamas Rhiana had slept in the night before she disappeared were on the unmade bed. The bowl and coffee mug she’d used that morning were in the sink. A large bouquet of dead flowers sat on the coffee table in front of the small sofa. Amber leaned down for a closer inspection. Roses...red ones, she suspected, though they had turned black, many of the petals falling to the table.
“She was excited about the flowers,” Pettie said. “She thought the junior partner she’d been smitten with for a year had finally noticed her.” Her face fell. “When he was questioned, he told the police he didn’t send them.”
“Were they delivered here or at her office?” Sean asked.
“Her office. She brought them home with her the same day she received them. She was so excited,” Pettie repeated.
Amber’s heart ached for her. “Was there a card?” She searched the area around the bouquet.
The older lady wrung her hands in front of her. “There was, but as far as I know the police never found it.”
Rhiana had gone missing Valentine’s Day, eight months ago. The chances of finding the card now were slim to none. Amber straightened. “Did someone from the firm send home the personal items from Rhiana’s office?”
Amber felt certain they would have cleared out the office reasonably soon after the body was found. The law firm where Rhiana had worked was a busy one; up-and-coming attorneys and paralegals were essential to the fast-paced operation of the firm. Office space was no doubt a premium.
“One of her colleagues packed everything in boxes, and Rhiana’s father brought them home.” She sighed. “At the time I wasn’t up to facing people. I think he put the boxes in the garage. That’s usually where he puts everything.” She glanced around the room. “I meant to bring them up here, but I...I never got around to it. We can go down and look for them if you’d like.”
Amber and Sean followed Pettie down to the garage. Sean pulled the two boxes from the top shelf where Mr. Pettie had stored them.