In the military Izzy had easily blended into the system and become an integral part of the machine. In the civilian world she intimidated people, especially men. Or she wasn’t attracted to the ones who were brave enough to ask her out. Hank, for example. And she wasn’t the type to be worn down by repeated asking. She was built stubborn, and that was a good thing.
She was fine on her own.
She frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d actually gone on a date. While she was in the Army, that was for sure. Well over a year ago. And as for sex…she snorted as she wiped under the toaster. If it were up to her, homo sapiens would be well on their way to extinction. She’d been in a few relationships over the years, and sex was a good way to relieve stress, which was important when the world was going to hell and wanted to take you with it. But the military’s way of moving people around and strict rules on fraternization had killed most of her relationships.
Didn’t mean she didn’t get lonely sometimes.
She pushed away the image of the FBI agent who was currently next-door in her home. He looked arrogant and aloof, but there was no denying the guy was hot. She smiled to herself, trying to imagine him in her home with the feminine sofas and laid-back beachy atmosphere. She couldn’t do it. He didn’t fit. She could imagine him naked in the shower, and her detailed knowledge of anatomy pushed her brain into overdrive. Wet hair slicked back, eyelashes spiked, hard muscles defined beneath warm skin beaded with water droplets. A fine sprinkling of golden hair arrowing down to… Hah! She eyed her yellow gloves and shook her head. Who was she kidding? Even if she were interested in someone like that, he wouldn’t look twice at a woman like her. He was made for black silk and satin lingerie. She was rubber gloves and white cotton. He was expensive brandy, she was Lysol. He was law enforcement—a lump formed in her throat—she wasn’t.
She thrust the image of him away. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard, not even in her daydreams.
Ted started whistling in the other room and she jolted. She’d almost forgotten she wasn’t alone. Ted and Kit were all the family she had left. Kit might be running a bit wild, but it was nothing Izzy hadn’t done when she was seventeen. She’d deal with it. Talk to Kit. Steer her back on track to finish high school and get into a good college.
She tried not to think about Jesse Tyson lying unconscious in the hospital. She definitely didn’t want to think about poor Helena or her heartbroken family. She put the cleaning cloths in the kitchen sink and pulled out the mop. Murder left an indelible stain on people that couldn’t be washed away. The sooner these Feds caught this bastard the better, even if it meant she ended up in jail.
* * *
FRAZER STOOD IN the middle of a shuttered room with Kit Campbell, a younger, less uptight version of her sister, who sat hunched up on the couch. She shared the strawberry-blonde hair and effortless beauty of the doc. He’d bet she had the boys at school jumping through hoops to get her attention and probably didn’t even notice.
The wariness in her gaze was from youth, not experience. Her hands formed fists. Her jaw was clenched. She looked scared and defensive, which didn’t work well when trying to gain information from interviewees. If her sister hadn’t been so overprotective he would have suggested hypnosis, but he’d save that for another day.
Maybe he could work the charm he was famous for in some circles. “How about you put on a coat and we go walk the dog on the beach?”
Kit frowned in sudden confusion and sniffed loudly. “I thought you wanted to talk about Helena.”
“I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs and, yes, I’d like to know more about your friend, Helena. It’s an important part of catching the person who did this to her.”
Huge, grief-stricken blue eyes latched on to his—as if she’d finally realized this wasn’t about her. She nodded and stood, then disappeared down the hall, presumably to put on some extra layers of clothes.
The dog nudged his hand insistently. Frazer had always been a sucker for animals. His ex had taken their dog, saying he spent too much time at work to take proper care of him. To forget the rest of what she’d done he gave the hound a good rub. He didn’t have time for a pet in his life because his hours were insane, but he missed the uncomplicated affection.
He looked up, wondering where the teen was. The gloom of the room was depressing. He walked across to the French doors, went outside and pushed back the storm shutters, latching them on the outside. He came back inside and closed the door to keep out the freezing wind. Even though the sun was going down, the natural sunlight helped relieve the shadows. Barney wagged his tail in approval.
He used the alone time to snoop. The floors were hardwood with brightly colored area rugs strewn throughout. A medium-sized fake Christmas tree stood in the corner, but the lights weren’t turned on. There was a pale blue sofa dotted with lacy white and flowery cushions, a pure white armchair which seemed risky considering Barney who was following him around like his new best friend, waiting for him to do something interesting. A pink poinsettia sat on the dining room table, pots painted in pastel colors lined the windowsills. And plants everywhere. Lots of healthy looking plants.
His ex had once said not even a houseplant could survive his neglect. Now he had an office full. Not that he was bitter.
He’d always known exactly what he was going to do with his life, something his ex had failed to understand even though he’d told her from the very beginning. Law enforcement sounded a lot more glamorous than it was. The majority of marriages didn’t survive the pressure—another shitty statistic from a job that took as much as it gave. But he wouldn’t swap it for the world. He’d been offered far better paying positions and turned them down without a single regret. He was meant to hunt killers.
The house was soft, warm, soothing even. A very feminine setting at odds with Dr. Campbell’s aloof persona—not that he didn’t see her as female, she was definitely female, but… He stared harder, trying to put a finger on what was bothering him about the juxtaposition. Had he expected military sparseness? Possibly.
The woman was an attractive enigma and he was a sucker for puzzles. But now he was thinking about a woman when he should have been thinking about a murdered teen.
He checked out the photographs on the mantel. Lots of pictures of Kit in various stages of development. A few with an older woman with almost identical features to the other two women—their mother? Probably. A photo of Isadora Campbell in her military uniform caught his attention. Hair smoothed tight against her skull. That damned beauty spot drawing his attention to her lips. She looked spick and span and bright as a new penny, but her eyes were shadowed. She was hiding something, he just didn’t know what it was or if he should care.
People who dedicated themselves to the service of their country always earned his respect, but it didn’t mean he trusted them implicitly. He needed to check her alibi and look at her service record. See what Parker could dig up. He glanced at his watch—five PM—and decided to call Parker later. He and Rooney had bigger things on their minds right now and Frazer wasn’t even sure why he was interested in Dr. Campbell. She wasn’t a likely suspect for the murder and, on a personal level, he’d be gone in a couple of days. Dr. Isadora Campbell would probably never cross his mind again.
He quietly laughed at himself. So much for not being his type. Attractive and temporary were exactly his type. But he had work to do. No need to complicate things here.
He scanned the photographs, looking for more clues about the two sisters. Tucked in almost as an afterthought at the back of the mantel was a photograph of the mother and a dark-haired man in wedding garb.
“That’s my dad.” Kit had come silently back into the room and watched him cautiously. She’d pulled on another pair of gray sweats and a fleece lined hoodie. “He died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “I never knew him so it’s not a big deal.” Which probably wasn’t true. “Mom died last May
. Izzy left the Army to look after me.”
“It’s tough losing both parents when you’re so young.” He knew from experience. “You’re lucky to have your sister looking out for you.”
The girl shrugged as if it was no big deal. Her sister had given up what was presumably a successful career to take care of her, but the teen took it as her right. She had no idea how fortunate she was.
“I’m ready if you still want to go for that walk.” Impatience leaked into her tone.
He raised his brows, but she didn’t seem to notice. He bet the good doctor would have preferred another tour of duty to raising a seventeen-year-old. Respect for the woman went up another notch.
Kit headed for the French doors without bothering with a leash or a key. She let the dog out and then went outside onto the deck, leaving the place wide open.
“You might want to start locking up around here,” he suggested, trying to keep his own tone mild.
Her eyes popped wide as they swung to his. “You don’t think the killer is still around, do you?”
No one ever wanted to believe a killer was a member of their community, or someone they knew. Stranger danger was a lot easier to live with and in reality accounted for a very small proportion of murder cases. “Until the cops have him in custody I’d err on the side of caution.”
She still didn’t bother to lock the door. At his pointed look she pulled a face. “Izzy’s just next door.” Then she headed down the wooden steps.
He frowned. “So the killer gets to attack her first?”
The girl gave a rude laugh. “The guy would be an idiot to go after Izzy. She’d kick his ass.”
Was she really that dumb, or this callous? “I’m sure Jesse Tyson felt the same way.”
Her lower jaw dropped at his words and then her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Frazer waved her ahead, trying to mask his impatience. The dog ran on, sniffing the grass. The tide was way out and birds poked and prodded the sand for worms with their sharp thin beaks as dusk began to settle.
“What can you tell me about last night?” he asked.
Kit’s gaze went beyond him to the beach house.
Frazer glanced over his shoulder, but no one was visible. He frowned. “I’m only interested in finding the person who killed Helena. I’m not going to tell your sister anything you confide.” He remembered his time at high school. All he’d cared about was getting the best grades and not getting kicked out so he could get a scholarship to go to college. Nothing else had mattered.
Somehow he didn’t think that was Kit’s version of high school.
“What do you want to know?” The girl huffed and strode away from the cottage. With the tide out they could walk around to the next beach without getting their feet wet.
“You told your sister you were staying at Helena’s house last night?” he pressed. He’d had an easier time interviewing psychopaths.
The girl nodded and finally started talking. “Helena wanted to go to Franky Cirencester’s party. Jesse had asked her out—which was huge for Helena because she’s been crushing on him for months.” She covered her face with her hands and started crying. “I can’t believe what happened. I keep expecting her to call me and tell me about her date. It’s like something out of a horror movie.”
Except Helena wouldn’t stand up at the end of the scene. She’d never take another breath. She was dead. No acting. No retakes.
“This was their first date?”
She nodded.
“Jesse is popular in high school?”
Kit nodded again.
“Helena wasn’t?” His use of the past tense brought more tears.
“Please, God, let this be an awful mistake.” She gulped and started to hyperventilate.
Her pain made his stomach twist. A small part of him knew he should comfort her, but that wasn’t the way he operated. Distance was his thing. For good reason. It helped him see the whole picture. “Put your cupped hands over your mouth and try to breathe slowly,” he instructed. If her sister collapsed, Isadora Campbell would probably string him up by his balls.
Kit got herself back under control with a few slow deep breaths. “Helena wasn’t one of the popular kids. She was smart and pretty and too damn nice to be one of the bitchfest crowd.”
His eyes narrowed. Was that self-reproach in her tone? “What about you? You part of the popular crew?”
Her eyes flashed and she snorted out a bitter laugh. “Am I a bitch, do you mean?” She nodded. “Yep, I can be. Helena was the nicest thing about me.” Shadows haunted the depths of her eyes. “I think that’s why Jesse asked her out. She’s the sweetest person I know. Is Jesse going to be okay?” Her voice hitched with concern. Kit seemed less of a bitch and more of a thoughtless teen.
“He’s alive, probably due to your sister’s expertise.” The young man hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but it was early days. He’d suffered severe head trauma. Brain damage was a possibility. They wouldn’t know anything until the kid woke up and opened his mouth. “You went to the party. What happened there?”
She crossed her arms and looked away from him. “The place was packed. We all hung out for a while. Danced. Ate—everyone was supposed to bring something.” She glowered at her feet. “Then they started playing some dumb games.” She looked angry. “I got pissed off and went to the hotel pool.”
“What time?”
“Just after midnight.”
While Frazer and her sister had been at work, trying to save the world. He didn’t want to see mirrors in his and Isadora’s personalities, but they were impossible to miss.
“You went swimming alone?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. Tears refilled her eyes.
Impatience lit through him. “Who were you with?”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “A guy.”
He waited.
“He’s new to the school. Name is Damien Ridgeway. I, um, went swimming with him.”
Frazer didn’t ask if clothing was optional. She wasn’t his sister. “Did you see Helena leave with Jesse?”
Kit nodded. “She came and asked if I wanted to come with them to the beach. I laughed at her.” Her eyes were blotchy and swollen as she dabbed them with a wet tissue. “That was the last time I saw her. I laughed at her and gave her a look like she was stupid. No way would Jesse want me tagging along with the two of them.” She caught the sleeve of his jacket. “If I’d gone with her she’d still be alive, wouldn’t she? No one would’ve attacked three people.”
“It’s unlikely someone would have confronted three individuals unless they were carrying a weapon. But murder isn’t an exact science so it’s possible he’d have killed you, too.”
A shudder wracked her body. “She was such a good person.” She stood in front of him, looking up from under her bangs with fierce blue eyes. “Was she raped?”
He held her gaze. “We don’t know for sure and anything I say now is spoken in confidence. This isn’t schoolroom gossip.” It was a risk to speculate but he’d worked enough cases to know he was probably right. He needed Kit Campbell to trust him because he needed to know what was going on in every level of Helena’s life, and that included high school. “She was probably raped.” Frazer had to catch Kit as her knees buckled. Her pain and anguish rang out on the thin breeze. Barney rushed over to see what was wrong, but Kit quieted and her screams turned to sobs and she clung to him, tears soaking into his shirt.
“It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair! Helena was saving herself for someone special, and he stole that from her!” She slammed the bottom of her fist against his chest. “He stole it like he had the right.”
He held onto her elbows, trying to steady her and wishing he’d given Randall this assignment. Teen drama was not his thing, although maybe he was being a little unsympathetic. She’d just lost her best friend. “She was a virgin?”
“I don’t even know if she’d kissed anyone properly.” Her eyes were so red
they looked like they were bleeding. “She was the nicest person I ever knew. How can I live knowing what happened to her?”
She threw herself into his embrace, and Frazer found himself wrapping an arm around the girl to keep upright. He swallowed tightly. There’d been a time when he’d wondered how he could go on living when his parents had died, but he’d found his vocation. It was up to Kit to find hers. He looked toward the cottage and there was Isadora Campbell watching them from the deck of the cottage with an unreadable expression on her face.
He had no personal experience with siblings but understood the dynamics from a psychological perspective. Older siblings tended to be more responsible than younger ones. They were caretakers, not risk-takers.
Kit finally pushed away from him, and he happily let her go.
“Did anyone else leave the party around the same time as Helena and Jesse?” he asked.
“I don’t remember.” Her voice was bleak now. “I stayed in the pool. I drank more beer and made out with Damien. That’s what I did while my best friend was being raped and murdered at Parson’s Point.” She wiped the cuffs of her hoodie over her blotchy face.
“Where did you go afterwards?”
Her pupils widened. “What do you mean?”
“You told your sister you were staying at Helena’s home. She told her parents she was staying here. Where did you go? What did you do?”
“I came home.” She folded her arms and refused to meet his gaze. “I’m cold. I want to go back now.”
Frazer stared at her for a long moment. She was hiding something. Over the years, after thousands of investigations coming across his desk, sometimes it was the weirdest fact or fluke that solved a case. Good police work involved asking the questions no one wanted to answer. Frazer understood the need for secrecy and discretion—and that’s why he always looked in the shadows. Deciding not to shine a light there yet, he nodded and they started walking back to the cottage. Barney followed.
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Helena or Jesse?”
Cold Fear Page 6