Chasing Shadows (First Wives Book 3)

by Catherine Bybee

  Someone bumped into her while walking by, snapping her out of her thoughts.

  “Sorry,” the guy said, walking away.

  “No problem . . .” Her words trailed off when her eyes landed on the parking garage she was attacked in.

  Without thought, she followed the rush of people crossing on the not quite green light until she stood where she had been nearly a year before.

  She walked in and down the ramp, ignoring the fact that her heart sped up and her palms started to sweat. There had been no anxiety when she’d walked in before. She had finished her first real day of work, and the mom bag she’d used to carry all of Trina’s late husband’s treasures had been empty. Having several hundred thousand dollars of watches and pens had made her feel like a target. The irony wasn’t lost on her now.

  Fluorescent lights hummed above her head and attempted to stay lit. The flickering sparked a memory. She glanced up. Fire sprinkler lines crisscrossed the concrete ceiling, which served as a floor for what sat above. Black stains from smog-producing engines stained the dingy white walls. Well, they were once white, though now they sported a dirty gray patina that couldn’t be duplicated with a can of paint. You would think a garage on Fifth Avenue would be better maintained. Then again, the garage would always be full, and the people leaving their cars there would pay a premium regardless of how pretty it was or wasn’t.

  The low ceiling started to weigh on her as she walked deeper. Anyone watching would probably think she was staking out a car. Normally she looked like she belonged there. Fancy shoes, nice skirt, sunglasses that cost what those college kids made in a month. Today she wore black leggings, a comfortable flat boot, a T-shirt, and a short-waist jacket. No makeup and not one accessory. She hadn’t even packed a pair of earrings for her trip.

  After a year, Avery wouldn’t have remembered the space where she’d parked. The injury and trauma had caused some memory loss. But now things were starting to come back to her. And the police report she’d read over and over had spelled it out. Space 16B was currently occupied by a compact Toyota. Not the car she’d been driving.

  She’d been digging through her purse when something hit her. She closed her eyes and willed her mind to let the image in. A deep breath through her nose repeated the smell of asphalt. Only it wasn’t asphalt, but oil and grime. She moved to the front of the car. There was a little more space in front of 16B than the others in the garage since a support pillar shared the space with the wall. Enough room to dump a woman left for dead where she would not immediately be seen.

  Avery ran her hand along the wall and knelt closer to the ground. The smell of tires and oil . . . that’s where she’d gotten asphalt.

  Lights flickered above her head.

  She looked up, flinched, and fell back on her butt, which had been only a few inches off the ground.

  “Don’t look at me. Jesus, don’t look at me.”

  He wore a worn-out sweatshirt with a hood. Most of it covering his face. But not all.

  With shaky hands, Avery removed her cell phone from her zippered pocket and opened a voice recording app.

  “White. Not too tall, average. Stubble. Lack of shave. Strong chin. Tired eyes.” She closed hers. “What color?” Nothing came.

  She rewound the tape in her head.

  I’m walking through the garage with my head in my purse. How fucking stupid could I be? She shook away her stupidity. Avery wasn’t that girl any longer.

  He hits me, like a body slam to the ground. I see the boot coming and close my eyes. I open them briefly and see brown pants. Big and loose and too short. Avery lifted her phone to her lips. “His pants don’t fit him. They’re too loose and too short. Like you’d see on a homeless guy. Only he’s fast. And fidgeting. He kicks me a lot. I keep my eyes closed until he starts to drag me.” She looked at the ground in front of the car. “I feel my head hit the concrete car stop. He dropped me and that’s when I see him. He’s cussing and telling me not to look at him. He kicks my face again. His boots are brand-new. There’s a plastic tag on the bottom that hasn’t worn off yet.” Avery went on describing everything she remembered about her assailant until there was nothing left to tell.

  Footsteps broke her blank stare and prompted her to her feet.

  Twenty feet away, a security guard had a hand on his flashlight. “Whatcha doin’ over there?” His accent was pure Jersey.

  Avery brushed at her butt. “I was here last week. I lost an earring. Thought maybe it fell out when I was taking my jacket off.” She pretended to look around the cars.

  “Expensive?”

  She shrugged. “Sentimental.” A few more passes around the car and she lifted her arms in the air. “Guess I’m outta luck.”

  The guard relaxed. “You can give me ya number. I’ll call if I find somethin’.”

  “It’s okay. Chances are if it is here, it’s unusable now.” She turned and walked away. “Thanks anyway.”

  “No problem.”

  He was definitely watching her ass as she left the garage.

  Avery grabbed a taxi and returned to the West Village.

  She walked into the coffee shop and sat down. “I need another drawing.”

  “She’s avoiding me. I pushed things and she’s bowing out. I can feel it.”

  “You don’t know that. She’s working. You zone out for days at a time when you’re knee-deep in a new project.” Michelle huddled over coffee with him first thing Friday morning.

  “Things were going so well. Her friends like me. Getting your friends on the same page with a new relationship is gold, right?”

  Michelle nodded.

  “For all I know she’s back in town and hasn’t bothered to call.”

  “Go to her place.”

  “I’m not going to stalk her.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not ready to walk away. Maybe she has some emotional baggage she’s dealing with. She’s divorced, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she talk about her ex?”

  Liam shrugged. “Not much.” Only to say she married him for his money. Which Liam still had a hard time believing.

  “You’re supposed to see her tonight, right?”

  It was krav night. “Yeah. But she could blow that off.”

  “But she can’t blow off work. Maybe drop by this house she’s working on. If she’s there, you know she’s avoiding you, and you take it from there. I’m a big one for not jumping to conclusions. Talk to her. Ask her point-blank if she’s avoiding you. And face-to-face . . . none of those damn phone conversations or, God forbid, texting.”

  At noon, Liam detoured to Brentwood. He meandered up the established neighborhood, asking himself if just showing up was a good idea. As he turned into the driveway and didn’t see her car, he realized all his worry was for nothing. She wasn’t there. Unless she turned her Aston in for a Volvo, which he highly doubted.

  He stepped out of his truck and looked around.

  The door wasn’t open like it had been every other time he’d been there. Safe to say if she was there, the place would be “airing out,” as she put it.

  “Can I help you?”

  Liam turned to the male voice.

  “I’m looking for Avery.”

  “Aren’t we all? She isn’t here.” Strange response.

  Liam took the guy in and heard Avery’s voice in his head. “You must be Sheldon Lankford.”

  “I am. You are?”

  Liam took a few steps toward the man and reached out a hand. “Liam Holt. Avery’s contractor.”

  “Right.” The man’s handshake wasn’t all that firm. He held on the right amount of time, but he looked above Liam’s head instead of in his eye. “I was hoping you’d call . . . or stop by, as it seems. I appreciate you taking the time to look over the place and give me your feedback.”

  “No problem.”

  Sheldon motioned him inside. “Avery said you’re a busy guy and you weren’t sure you’d be available to do the job.”


  “All true.” Half-true. But blowing off the man’s work right now, with his relationship with Avery tilting off the ledge . . . yeah, he didn’t want to do that quite yet.

  “When did you want to get started?” Liam asked, as if interested in the job.

  “As soon as possible. I realize that might not be reasonable. A good contractor probably isn’t sitting around waiting for jobs to fall in their laps.”

  Liam looked around the space. It didn’t look a whole lot different from the last time he’d been there. “I was going to talk to Avery about when she’d be done with her portion.”

  “Originally she said at the end of next week. But apparently her aunt is sick and she had to fly to Seattle to help her out.”

  Liam’s step faltered. Sick aunt? Did Avery have an aunt?

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about the aunt, but it’s better than her abandoning the job.”

  Liam narrowed his eyes. “Abandoning the job. Why would she do that?” Did the guy in front of him make a pass at her? If so, he’d probably be nursing a bruise.

  “I swung by on Monday and found her coming down from the attic. A baby tarantula was in her hair. She freaked after I got it off her, and she ran out.”

  Liam wanted to shake. He’d be less than okay if a big spider was on his head.

  Sheldon looked at him. “Women.”

  Forging a smile, Liam agreed. “Yeah, women.”

  Twenty minutes later, Liam was back on the road. So either Avery lied to him about work or to Sheldon about an aunt. A white lie to the person paying you he understood. Calling in sick on a day you wanted to hit the beach was a norm. But a full week?

  The rest of the day, Avery slipped into his head anytime his mind was silent.

  Damn, he missed her. Hearing her voice. Teasing her about their not-date dates.

  But it wasn’t until he and Brenda were sitting at the studio, thirty minutes past Avery’s appointment time, that Liam was done sitting back.

  Blowing off work.

  Blowing off Brenda.

  And blowing off him.

  None of it felt right. Phones were in every pocket, and there certainly would be one at the hotel in Seattle.

  Something tasted funny about the whole thing.

  He walked into Avery’s complex and was greeted by James. “Mr. Holt. Nice to see you again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you’re here to see Ms. Grant, she’s not home.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. She told me.” That confirmed that. “I was dropping by to see Lori and Reed Barnum.”

  “Are they expecting you?”

  “No.”

  James walked him over to the desk and picked up the phone.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Barnum. Liam Holt would like to come up.”

  “Of course.”

  James smiled. “You know where the elevators are.”

  Liam took two steps. “Wait, what number are they again?”

  James told him and he disappeared around the corner.

  Lori answered with a smile and a short hug. “This is a surprise. Come on in.”

  “Thanks for seeing me.”

  Reed walked over from their dining room table, dropping his napkin on his plate.

  “I’m interrupting.”

  “No, no. We just finished,” Reed assured him. “Sit.”

  Yeah, Liam didn’t want to sit.

  “Listen. This feels awkward for me.” Liam glanced at Lori. “At the risk of sounding like a stalker, I just have to know she’s okay.”

  Lori moved to Reed’s side. “Who, Avery?”

  Liam nodded. “Yeah. Have you guys heard from her?”

  “No. Not since last Monday.”

  Liam ran a hand through his hair. “She told me she went to Seattle with some kind of urgency for her last job. She’s texted me twice, but all distant stuff. Which, hey, if it’s me she’s avoiding, fine. Not fine, but okay. Then today I learned that she told Sheldon Lankford that she had a sick aunt she was taking care of in Seattle. Blowing me off . . . yeah, I don’t want that to happen. But work and appointments?”

  He realized when he was done talking that he sounded like a lovesick teenage boy. Which was sadly accurate.

  Lori shook her head while she turned to her husband. “I knew there was a problem.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “It’s been a year. She was having nightmares.”

  Liam felt some of his insecurities dissipate, rapidly replaced with concern. “A year since what?” All he could think of was her divorce. But he was pretty sure she said that had been a couple of years past.

  “Since New York,” Lori said as if he should understand.

  “What happened in New York?”

  Both Reed and Lori turned to him.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Lori asked.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Wait, you work out doing krav with her, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And she didn’t tell you why she picked it up?” Lawyer Lori kept asking questions. Each one made his concern grow.

  “No,” he said. “When did she finally decide to tell you she was taking krav?”

  “Last week.”

  “Babe, I’m betting she’s just working through it,” Reed said.

  “I’m betting she needs help with that.”

  Liam lifted both hands in the air. “Can one of you tell me what happened in New York?”

  Lori tilted her head to the side. “If she doesn’t want you to know . . .”

  No way, he wasn’t going to let that happen. “Avery told me she didn’t want you knowing about krav because all of you would worry. If you think I should know about New York because of krav, then that ties it together. And now I’m scared shitless.”

  “She was attacked.”

  “Reed, damn it,” Lori yelled at her husband and smacked the side of his arm with the back of her hand.

  “Sorry, hon. He’s right. If it were you, I’d be ripping things apart to get to the truth.”

  Lori tossed her hands in the air and walked away.

  “Attacked by who?” Liam asked Reed.

  It took ten minutes for Reed to spell out what New York stood for. As Liam heard the story of the brutality that drove Avery to learn to defend herself, a much clearer picture of how strong the woman he was falling for became. The only saving grace to the information was that the man who did it was dead.

  “So my take is, she’s working through the anniversary. Unlike my wife, I think sometimes that’s a solo journey. My guess is she’ll be back when things are straight in her head.”

  “She doesn’t have to do this alone,” Liam told him.

  “Yeah, but Avery doesn’t open herself up. The girls know her better, obviously, but even they don’t really have a handle on what’s going on in her head. Since the injury, that got worse.” Reed smiled at Liam. “Until lately. Until you came along. She seems a lot happier and more settled with you in her life.”

  He didn’t mind hearing that. “But she doesn’t trust me enough to ask for my help.”

  “Don’t take it personally. We didn’t know she was out of town, and we know everything.”

  During their conversation, Lori was standing by the floor to ceiling window, talking on the phone.

  “Of course I’m worried. Even more now. No. Don’t hurry. I’ll find out what’s going on and call you. Love you, too.”

  “Who was that?” Reed asked.

  “Trina.”

  Reed scowled. “Aren’t they still on their honeymoon?”

  “Yes. And before you scold me . . . I had to call her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s the only one who has Avery on Friend Finder. Guess who isn’t in Seattle?”

  “Avery,” Liam said without amusement.

  “Exactly.”

  “So where is she?” Reed asked.

  Lori paused, nose flared. “New York.”

&nbs
p; Chapter Twenty-Five

  Avery walked out of the print shop holding a hundred copies of the man she was searching for. Much as she wanted to put a reward sign on him and wait for his friends to turn, she figured that probably wasn’t the best idea. Instead, she left the stack in her hotel room after sending a copy to Armstrong.

  He called within two minutes of her sending a text.

  “This is him?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re sure?”

  It was only a profile, but it was all she could remember. Maybe it was all she saw. “I’m sure. So go tell all your cop friends that this is the guy.” Not that they would work hard to find him. Still, she had to try.

  “Okay. Thank you. You didn’t have to hire an artist. Your tax dollars do pay for this kind of thing.”

  “Great. I’ll be sure and tell my new friends you’re hiring.”

  Armstrong actually laughed. “We’ll find him, Avery. I’ll do everything I can to get him behind bars.”

  Yeah, well, she wanted a shot at him first. One solid punch to the nose, was that asking for too much? Maybe he would attack her again and she could . . .

  She blocked out the consequences of those actions and would deal when they came. It wasn’t like she had kids at home, or a husband.

  Liam.

  Not a husband. Her friends would understand.

  Maybe Spider was already behind bars?

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Not sorry.

  “Are you back in LA?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Trying to get rid of me, Detective?”

  There was static on the line.

  “Just making sure you don’t have any vigilante tendencies.”

  “Ha.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” he said.

  Avery reached down and unzipped her boots. “Do I look like a fighter to you?”

  “I wouldn’t use that word.”

  “What word would you use?”

  “The first time I saw you, you were a victim. The next time I saw a survivor.”

  “And now?”

  He paused. “A warrior.”