“Thank you for restraining yourself,” he said, rubbing his arm. “But there are guns out here, you know.”
“Which is why I rarely walk from my place to the Spaghetti Warehouse. But tonight, I figured I’d get a ride home . . . or at the least, someone with a gun to accompany me on my walk.”
Andi checked the rearview mirror, and when the street was clear, she pulled into the drive and behind her apartment. Once there, she sat in her car, processing the afternoon. It was almost six. She wasn’t sure where the last couple hours went.
The euphoria from discovering the imprints on the stationery was fading. Andi took a shivering breath. She’d promised the station producer the third video on runaways by morning, and hours of work stretched ahead. For once, she wished she’d let someone else edit their film, and just as quickly discarded the idea.
She reached in her bag for the ibuprofen bottle. The documentary was her and Treece’s baby, and no one else was touching it. But she needed a little boost to get the work done, and it would be better to take the pills now before she went upstairs to Treece’s prying eyes. Something nagged at the back of her mind as she swallowed them, but she couldn’t pin it down.
Andi climbed the back stairs, marveling at the red-gold sunset. Living on the second floor had its perks. And that reminded her of Mrs. Casey. She always missed their landlord when she went to visit her daughter. Brad had called the older woman and talked with her after the break-in, and she’d been stunned someone had broken into Andi’s apartment.
At the top of the steps, she knocked on Treece’s back door instead of going into her apartment. Maybe she’d had a chance to work on the segment that would air tomorrow. When there was no answer, she knocked louder.
“Hold on a minute,” her friend called through the door. “Let me turn off the alarm.”
Alarm? That’s what had pinged Andi’s brain. Had she set hers this morning? While she waited for Treece, she unlocked her door and pushed it open. When the alarm didn’t sound, her stomach tightened. She’d forgotten. Again. The thing wouldn’t do any good if she didn’t arm it.
Andi scanned the room, and everything seemed okay. She returned to Treece’s side just as she opened her door. “Did I wake you?”
Treece stretched and winced. “Not really.”
“How’s your shoulder?”
“Hurts. I’ve been icing it. But I’m getting pretty good at using my left hand.”
Andi wanted to ask if she’d worked on the documentary, but Treece seemed about to burst. “Did you get out today?”
“No, but Reggie came over.”
“I imagine he had plenty to say about me.” Andi twisted her hands. What if Reggie had talked Treece into quitting the team? She did not want to lose Treece, not as her working buddy or her friend. “I probably deserve whatever he said.”
“Yes, you do. But we didn’t spend much time talking about you.”
A smile played at the corner of Treece’s mouth, so it couldn’t be too bad. “Give.”
A full-blown grin lit up her face. “He asked me to marry him.”
“What! Get outta here!” She snatched a quick look at Treece’s left hand. “You didn’t say yes?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“Why did you do that? Reggie is a great guy and he loves you.”
“He smothers me.”
“Oh.” There was that. “But only because he worries about you . . . because of me.” Her heart sank at the truth of her own words. How many times had she put Treece in danger to get a story? Besides last night, at least three other times came to mind.
Treece squeezed her arm. “Who’s to say I couldn’t get in trouble on my own?”
Andi pressed her lips together to hold back the tears that burned her eyes. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better,” she said once she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Enough,” Treece said, waving her good hand. “You will be happy to know I’ve been looking at tomorrow night’s segment. There’s still work that needs to be done. A couple of segues need to be smoothed out, and there’s one scene that needs to be cut—I don’t think we should use the shot of the establishments on Beale. They would not appreciate it, and anyway, prostitutes don’t hang around there because of so much security.”
She was right. “I’ll take care of that tonight.”
“I hate to leave all the work for you as late as it is, but . . .” Treece rubbed her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m good for another six hours.” Actually, the way she felt, she could go all night.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up, and their gazes collided. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. You just have this . . .” She formed a ball with her hand. “Energy. How many of those pills have you taken today?”
Andi shrugged. “Not many. Did I tell you we found the stationery that Lacey wrote the letter to Jimmy on?”
“You’re kidding? So there really was a letter?”
“Yeah.” She filled her in on what had happened at Lacey’s, and then she said, “You won’t believe that house. I wish you could see it. It belongs in that magazine that’s all about minimalist design. She has five Grant Wood lithographs in a grouping on one wall and nothing else. It looks great.”
Interest flickered in Treece’s brown eyes. “Let’s do something like that with your apartment.”
“Works for me. Speaking of my apartment, I better get to work on the film.” She grabbed her bag. “You didn’t change anything, right? I can use the copy I have on my computer?”
“Yes. Want me to keep you company?”
“Let me work on it awhile first, and if it isn’t too late, I’ll call you to see what I’ve done.”
Andi crossed the hall and unlocked her door. She’d forgotten to mention the alarm. Just as well. Treece would only worry and blame it on the Lortabs. She slipped inside and scanned the room again.
Wait a minute. She didn’t remember leaving the shade up on the kitchen window. Maybe she should call Brad, or Will. She took out her phone to dial Will while checking to see if anything had been disturbed. Remote was still where she left it by the recliner. The papers on her table looked the same. And the apartment had that empty feeling, like she was the only one in it. She must have left the shade up too.
She jumped when someone knocked on her back door. Will stood on the deck, and she hurried to let him in. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”
“Sorry. Just wanted to tell you what the electrostatic image report said. Did you turn the alarm off?”
“Ah.” She glanced toward the panel. “You don’t hear it going off, do you?”
“You forgot to arm it, didn’t you?”
She flushed under the steady gaze of his blue eyes. “Okay! I forgot. I was actually about to call you until I figured out no one’s lurking about.” Then she pointed to the decals on the back door and the window. “If the intruder had come back, he would have seen that red sign on the door and windows. He wouldn’t have known it wasn’t armed.”
“Lucky you. Have you checked your bedroom?”
She dropped her gaze. One day maybe he wouldn’t look at her like she was a complete idiot. “Not yet,” she mumbled. “And I guess it wouldn’t make me mad if you checked.”
When he moved past her, pulling his gun, relief spread over her like a comforting quilt. She might actually get used to someone looking out for her.
Treece stuck her head in the open doorway. “I heard voices.”
“It’s just Will, checking out the apartment.”
“Did you forget to set the alarm?”
“What is this? Pick on Andi day? Why does everyone automatically think I forgot to set it?”
“Maybe because you did?”
She made a face just as Will returned to the living room, holstering his gun.
“See, I told you no one was here,” she said.
“Don’t forget again,” he said sternly.
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“Yes, sir. Why did you come over? You could have called and given me the report. And how did you know I was home, anyway?”
“Brad.”
She jerked her phone out. That stupid app he put on her phone. She moved her thumb to delete it but hesitated. Her brother would just put a tracking device on her car if she did.
“I figured you forgot to arm the alarm, and I came to help you check out the apartment.”
She turned and raised her eyebrows at Treece, who held up her cell phone.
“And I wanted to take photos of your apartment. I thought as long as I can’t work, I could pick up a few things to decorate.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Andi wrinkled her nose. “Could one of you maybe send me a text in the morning and remind me to set the alarm?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, then burst into laughter.
“Don’t know what we’re going to do with you, girlfriend,” Treece said, shaking her head. She handed her the cell phone. “Would you do the honors?”
Andi obliged and took shots from every angle, then handed the phone back. “You can change everything except this,” she said, picking up the clay sculpture. Over the years it had turned almost black.
“Could we at least move it to the bedroom?” Treece asked.
“Let me think about it.” She rubbed her thumb over the horse’s head and down the mane. A small piece of clay broke loose from the rump. No. It can’t crumble.
She tried to smooth the dry clay, snagging her thumb on a piece of wire. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, tasting her own blood.
Treece cleared her throat. “Okay, you’re in good hands. I think I’ll retire to my apartment.”
“You don’t have to go,” Andi said.
“Yes, I do. I’m tired.”
After Treece closed the door behind her, Andi turned to Will. “Now will you tell me what was on the stationery?”
“Basically everything Jimmy said was there—that she had evidence that he didn’t kill Stephanie. She planned to explain everything if he allowed her to visit him. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the letter until after she was dead.”
“What do you think this evidence is?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated and wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“What?”
“There were other letters imprinted on the stationery. One was to you and mentioned that she had written Jimmy, but he hadn’t responded. She wanted to tell you before she left the area that he hadn’t killed your sister.”
“Was there anything else?”
“She said that you have diamonds in your possession. Then she scribbled lines through what she’d written.”
“You’re kidding. Why would she say that?” She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I don’t know, but I wonder if that’s why someone broke into your apartment Tuesday night.”
“He was looking for diamonds, all right.” She glanced around the room. “But there’s certainly none here. Do you think Lacey told the person who killed her that I have these diamonds?”
“That or he saw the letter.”
The hair on the back of her neck rose. What if the intruder had known she’d forgotten to set the alarm? What if he’d entered the apartment and had been waiting for her when she returned?
She stared at the figurine in her hands. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. “You don’t have to go just yet, do you? Have you eaten?”
“Picked up a couple of burgers on the way over. They’re in the car. Want one?”
She wasn’t hungry, but if it kept him here for a while longer, she’d eat. She set the horse back on the mantel. “Let me get some plates.”
When she turned around, he had the horse in his hands, studying it. “Stephanie was quite good. Why don’t you have this fired?”
She quelled the impulse to tell him to be careful with it. “It’s so old, I’m afraid it might explode in the kiln. I think I’d die if I lost it.” He set it back on the mantel, and she breathed again.
“I still don’t understand why it’s so special. Don’t you have other things that your sister made?”
“Yeah, but . . .” Most of the time, Andi was able to block that night from her mind. “I’ll tell you about it while we eat.”
She had cleared off her table and pulled up the stool from the bar by the time he returned from his car. She really needed to get more furniture. When Andi took the top off her burger, she said, “You remembered.”
Will smiled. “Mustard, pickle, no onion.”
Andi ducked her head, pleased that he’d gone to the trouble. After they finished the burgers, Andi made a pot of coffee. “Danish or lemon cookies?”
“Cookies.”
When the coffee was done brewing, she poured each of them a cup and arranged the cookies on a plate. “The sofa?”
He nodded and sat down. “You were going to tell me about the statue.”
“Yes, I was.” She hadn’t thought about how close Will would be on the sofa, or maybe she had. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, going back to that night. “For the first time in months, we were celebrating . . .”
Andi could barely wait to tell Stephanie the good news.
“Do you think she’ll be surprised?” she asked. Her sister had been so worried.
Mom grinned. “I think she will.”
Just today, they’d been told the doctor would donate his services, and with Le Bonheur accepting whatever they could pay, the surgery had been scheduled.
“I’m sorry I got sick,” Andi said. She hated being a burden and wished she were grown instead of just thirteen. Then she could take care of the bill herself, ’cause she knew her dad. He’d work and pay every penny of the hospital bill even if it took him forever.
“Honey, you can’t help it. Just like Dad can’t help losing his job.”
And insurance, Andi wanted to add. If she was going to get sick, why didn’t God let it happen two months ago when they had insurance? She cringed. What if lightning struck her for thinking something like that?
Mom parked in the driveway behind Steph’s ’68 Miata, and Andi rushed inside the studio.
“Guess what, Stephanie! The doctor—”
Stephanie lay sprawled on the floor with red paint on her chest.
The screams echoed through Andi’s head, first her mother’s then her own. She fell to her knees beside her sister. “Please, Steph,” she sobbed. “Don’t die.”
Her sister’s eyes fluttered open. “The horse . . . yours . . .”
Andi looked up, and Will’s eyes were shiny, just like she knew hers were. “She gave me the horse. Then she was gone.”
Will wanted to take Andi in his arms and kiss away the pain in those brown eyes. He was pretty sure she would not rebuff him. But if he ever kissed her, he wanted it to be at her invitation and not because he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. Instead he said, “I’m sorry.”
She hugged her arms to her body and continued like she hadn’t heard him. “When I turned around, I saw Jimmy on the sofa with a gun in his hand. He was so drunk I don’t think he even knew we were there.”
Will had never heard the details of how Andi and her mom found Stephanie and then discovered Jimmy with the gun that killed her. “What happened next?”
“Everything else about that night is a blur. By then Mom had called 911 and the police arrived . . .” She brushed her hair back with her fingers. “I think Maggie was there, and Laura.” She looked up and shook her head. “The others probably were too, but I just don’t remember.”
Could he be wrong? Was it possible that Jimmy had killed Stephanie? He chewed his thumbnail. No. He didn’t believe that. He needed to look at the file again, and it was in the car.
But not now, and not here with Andi. She needed rest, and if she got involved with the file, that wouldn’t happen.
He took her hand and wanted to hold so much more when their gazes locked. “I hate to leave you, but you look done in.” She star
ted to protest, and he put his finger on her lips. “For once, listen to me. Lock the door behind me and set the alarm, then go to bed.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “Yes, sir,” she said softly.
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I wish I could believe you’d do that.”
“I have film to edit.”
“Aren’t there people at the station who can do that?”
She looked up at him under raised eyebrows. “You know me better than that. It’s mine and Treece’s project, and nobody works on it but us.”
“At least take a nap before you get started,” he said and stood.
She walked to the door with him. “That I may do.”
At the door, he said, “Do you think you could let me into Stephanie’s studio tomorrow? I hate to bother your parents.”
She froze. “I haven’t been in there since that night. No one has, really. Dad locked it up as soon as the police were finished.”
The pain in her eyes sent a dagger to his heart. “Forget it,” he said softly. “I’ll get Brad to help me.”
She took a shaky breath. “Thanks.”
Once he was in his car, he debated whether to go home or study the file right there in the car so he could keep an eye on Andi’s apartment. From his vantage point, he could see the whole driveway and street.
He’d stay at least until she went to bed. He reached in the backseat for the file and used the light on his phone to sort through it. It was obvious from reading Barnes’s notes that he believed from the outset it was a cut-and-dried case. Jimmy killed Stephanie, and once he had Jimmy’s confession, coerced or not, he wasn’t about to look any further.
Will sorted through the papers, looking for the report on gunshot residue that should have been conducted on Jimmy’s hands and clothes. Frowning, he repeated his search. It wasn’t there. Evidently, Barnes didn’t conduct one. Why hadn’t the public defender picked up on that?
If there ever was a no-good, lazy cop, it was Barnes. Will snapped a photo of the report and emailed it to David with a note of what it was and where it came from, adding that Jimmy had not been tested for gunshot residue.
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