“Yep, just a generic data card. Similar to a SIM card you’d have in your phone.”
Her mind went back to Jackson’s theory that Chloe was murdered, but they still hadn’t gotten to why he thought that or how she’d died. “I realize this must be hard to talk about, but how did she die? Do you know?”
Jackson’s face went blank. “I found her in her bed. She just looked like she was sleeping. Her eyes were closed, and…” Jackson sniffled. “I shook her and shook her, but she didn’t respond. She was already gone.”
No blood and no obvious signs of an altercation? So what made him think she was murdered?
“You said she was just dead in her bed?” Sean asked.
“That’s right.” Jackson met Sean’s eyes.
Sean nodded. “Did the police mention how she died when they questioned you?”
Jackson shook his head. “They wouldn’t tell me.”
“What makes you think she was murdered?” Sean asked. “She could have died from natural causes or suicide.”
Jackson empathically gestured a hand toward them. “You saw her. Did she seem at all unhealthy to you? And suicide? There’s no way she’d have done that.”
Her fashionable outfit, her trim figure, and her professionalism showed that she had taken pride in herself. Her skin had a glow to it, and her hair looked silky—two things that indicated a person in good health.
“Sometimes things happen. People hide things.” Sean spoke a harsh truth but managed to season it with care.
“I know that, but it’s just something I feel here.” Jackson balled up a fist and held it over his heart.
Sara let silence ride out for a few beats. Her thoughts were on how Chloe was found. From the sound of it, she’d died in her sleep. “Was Chloe a napper?” she asked.
Jackson shook his head. “She was full of energy. It was hard to tie her down long enough to even kiss her.” His tone had started off light and become enraptured in memory. But by the end, he’d returned to a somber state.
“So you found her around four,” Sara reiterated. “Is that the normal time you come back for her notes and the video?”
“That’s right.”
So even if Jackson was wrong about her being a napper, why would Chloe be in bed when she expected Jackson to be coming over?
“Do you give her the data card before you go your separate ways, or do you drop it off for her later in the day?” Sean asked.
“You know, you two have a lot of questions if you’re not investigating her death.” Jackson narrowed his eyes, and concentration was etched in his brow. “You never answered my earlier question about whether you are investigating or not, by the way.”
Sara glanced at Sean, but his face was stoic.
Jackson was looking at Sara when she returned her gaze to him. “Guess neither of you are going to comment on that…yet.” He paused. “Okay, I’ll play along. Chloe gets the data card from me when we go our separate ways from the station. That was about one yesterday.”
A time-of-death window set from one to four wasn’t so fortunate for Jackson. Still, he’d been released. Maybe the police weren’t convinced that her death was a homicide. Then again, maybe they just didn’t have enough to place charges.
“And she would have gone straight home?” Sara asked.
Jackson hitched his shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”
It was possible that Chloe had made other stops and never even made it home with the card, but if that was the case, where had she gone and why? What had happened to the card, and what had happened while she was out that led to her death when she returned home?
Maybe it was time to switch focus and get more information about Chloe specifically.
“Chloe typically covered community news and events, correct? Is that all?” Sara didn’t mean to discredit the reporter’s work, but she was curious about her career aspirations and who might be out to get her in relation to that. With a missing data card, it seemed likely that whoever killed her had a work-related motive.
“Chloe wanted to move on to bigger, better things. She felt stagnant in her career here and said many times that she was too good at her job for them to advance her.”
Sara was familiar with that pitfall when working for someone else. If an employee proved valuable at their job, managers sometimes used that to justify keeping them in one place. Praise them. Don’t promote them.
“Was she bitter about any of this? Make any enemies with the station’s management?” Sara was starting to pry more, hoping that a suspect or motive for murder would shake loose.
“She and Kurt had words sometimes, but nothing serious. He can be a difficult man to get along with.”
“The station manager?” Sean confirmed, and Jackson nodded.
“So they would argue? About what?” Sara asked.
“Yeah, from time to time. He has a very particular way he likes things and can be very closed-minded.” Jackson’s gaze intensified. “Like I said, you two have a lot of questions. Are you investigating her death?”
Sara looked at Sean, but his eyes were on Jackson. The set of her husband’s face and the shape of his brows told her he was intrigued by the story behind Chloe’s death, but there was still a mark of hesitation in taking it on as an official investigation.
Neither she nor Sean replied, and Jackson continued. “Well, the police are looking into her death, and they’ll get to the bottom of what happened, I’m sure.” He didn’t sound convinced, a lick of disappointment touching his tone.
She was about to say something when Sean got up and held out a hand to Jackson. “We’re sorry for your loss. Please pass on our condolences to her family and friends. Once the funeral arrangements have been made, please let us know.”
Jackson took Sean’s hand. “Thank you.”
“If you need to reach us for whatever reason”—Sara handed Jackson a business card—“our number is on there.”
“Thanks,” Jackson said. He took the card and nodded before leading them to the front door.
Sara didn’t say anything to Sean as they left Jackson’s apartment or walked down the stairs, but once he’d gotten into the car with her, she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. And just coming out with it had its advantages. At least there wouldn’t be any confusion on where she stood.
“I’d like to look into her murder,” she declared.
Sean turned on the car and looked over at her. “The police are still investigating.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t work the case, too.”
“It does from my viewpoint.” His rigid tone contrasted his softening facial expression. It was something he did to lessen the blow of disagreeing with her. “We wouldn’t want to be accused of interfering with an investigation. And a death that hasn’t even been proven to be a homicide yet? She could have died for any number of reasons.”
Leave it to him to bring that point up again, but most of their cases fell into the category of questionable deaths. “We run a business investigating suspicious deaths, Sean. That’s what we do.”
“We have a lot of files on our desks already. And if we work them, that’s a lot of money for charity.”
The business model for their company, Pay It Forward Investigations, had them charging standard investigator rates, but then they divvied up the money among basic expenses, employee wages, and charity, with the bulk of the funds going toward the latter. Sean and Sara never profited from the cases they took on.
“We can just make another large donation.” She paused. “Please. Can we just look into this a little more? Find out how she died, at least. There’s a lot of room for suspects if we look at her death as a murder.”
Sean shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“This is, again, what we do.” Frustration seeped into her voice. “We assume murder and work backward.”
He ran a hand over her head. A twinkle flashed in his eyes, and he smiled. “Fine. We can look into this a little m
ore.”
“Oh, thank you.” She leaned across the console and put her arms around him, pecked a kiss on his cheek, and sat back. “I was curious before, but after talking to Jackson, I can’t imagine turning my back on this.”
Sean was shaking his head again, but this time with a smile on his face. “I knew it was a bad idea to come here.”
She smiled at him. “You knew I’d want to investigate?”
“You’re not that hard to read, Mrs. McKinley, and I know you well.”
“Better than anyone else.” Her mind quickly turned to the case, raring to get started. “We need to know how she died.”
“Yep, and reconstruct her day from the time she left the station.” He pulled out his cell phone and turned on the Bluetooth. “I’ll have Jimmy stop by the medical examiner’s office. Maybe Needham knows something.”
Poor Jimmy. Albert Needham, the ME, got along much better with the dead than the living.
“After that, we should call Adam and have him dig into Chloe’s online presence,” she suggested.
“Before we get everyone on this, let’s find out the cause of death first.”
That was Sean… Always the voice of reason.
“Very well,” she acquiesced, “but what are we going to do in the meantime?”
Sean bobbed his brows playfully and laughed.
She rolled her eyes. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”
“No,” he said, pretending to be appalled. “Only most of the time.”
-
Chapter 6
AN ATTEMPT TO SWEETEN THE CAULDRON
SWISS ON RYE WITH ALFALFA SPROUTS. Jimmy looked down at the deli sandwich bag in his hands. At least he was going in armed with the medical examiner’s favorite lunch. Now it would just be a matter of getting past the front desk and in to see him. Thankfully, Jimmy was good friends with the clerk who worked there. That was, if she was still around. The last time he’d spoken with her, she had been talking about retirement, and even though it had been in a joking manner, Jimmy wasn’t very confident that’s all it was.
And he would be going in from the outside, from the private sector, and that presented some obstacles. No longer a sergeant with access to any case he’d like within Albany PD jurisdiction, Jimmy was now backed up by nothing more than his sense of humor, inquiring mind, and bribery. Sure, he had a PI license, but that wouldn’t mean anything to Needham. To him, PIs would have no place investigating serious crimes such as murder and were better off sticking to cheating spouses and false insurance claims. And Jimmy got it, he really did. Maybe that was partially responsible for tearing down his confidence level.
He opened the front door of the building and took a deep breath as he stepped inside. He smiled when he saw Vicki’s familiar face at the desk.
“Well, hello there, stranger!” She plastered every syllable with charm.
If Jimmy were wearing a hat he’d tip it for her, much like actors did in the classic films they both shared a fondness for. “Good day, doll.” He winked and smiled.
She returned the expression. “I guess you’re here to see Needham.” She pointed to the sandwich bag in his hands.
“I am.”
Her face fell serious, and she briefly looked away from him. “What’s it regarding, Jimmy? I take it you don’t have an appointment.”
He shook his head. “I was hoping you could get me in. Maybe look the other way?”
“No, no, no. It’s not worth it to me, even for you, my friend.” Her voice deadened.
Jimmy supposed he couldn’t blame her. Needham was moody on a good day, never mind if he was actually provoked and the feathers of his ego were ruffled. “I’d take the hit for this.”
“I’m sure you’d try, but I can’t let you in unless you have an appointment.”
Jimmy tapped the counter with his hand and the floor with a foot. There had to be some way to get the information he was after. “Maybe you could help me, then?”
Vicki squinted. “I don’t see how.”
“You have access to his reports, don’t you?”
“No, but even if I did, I couldn’t pass information on to a—” She stopped talking, and her eyes looked pained.
“Why not just come out and say it?” he asked. “A civilian.”
She frowned. “I’m not sure what you want me to say here, Jimmy.”
“I’m technically a licensed PI.” He fished in a pocket for his documentation.
Vicki held up a hand. “You have nothing to prove to me, Jimmy.” Her gaze seemed conflicted somehow, and he couldn’t quite read her body language. “I do know something that might help you,” she added, leaning toward him.
His pulse sped up. If the way Vicki was looking at him was any indication, this was going to be good.
“He takes his lunch every day at noon sharp,” she whispered.
All right, maybe not earth-shattering, but he could use it to his advantage. Jimmy extended his arm to pop his wristwatch out from beneath the sleeve. It was 10:45 now. What was he supposed to do for the next hour and fifteen minutes?
“He usually walks to wherever he goes and uses the front door,” Vicki noted. “You couldn’t wait in here, though. I’d suggest faking a run-in with him.”
Jimmy wasn’t sure he was ready to latch on to the idea of stalking the medical examiner just yet. “Or I could make an appointment with him.”
“You could, but that doesn’t mean he’ll agree to the meeting, and—”
“We weren’t exactly best friends even when I was a sergeant,” Jimmy guessed at the direction she was headed. He’d guessed right because Vicki nodded.
“Probably just easier for you to tackle him on his lunch break.” Vicki snickered at her statement, and had Jimmy conjuring an image of them scrapping on the sidewalk.
Short of having Adam hack into the system and slip an appointment onto Needham’s calendar, the only other option was to hijack the medical examiner’s lunch hour. With the former, it might not even work, and it could get Vicki in trouble, seeing as she was the one in charge of Needham’s scheduling. With the latter, he wasn’t exactly eager to encounter the man when he was hungry for food and a break. Still, it seemed like it was the way he’d have to go.
He kept tapping his fingers on the counter, hoping for some grand epiphany to come to him and present a third option. But it was crickets up there. And he wasn’t going to disappoint Sean and Sara by not following through with what they’d asked of him.
“What are you going to do?” Vicki asked.
“I’m going to ‘run into’ him.”
“I wish I had a better alternative for you,” she said, apologetic.
“Me too, doll. Me too.” Jimmy stepped away from the desk and then turned back. “Thanks. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Jimmy.”
Now all he had was time and a sandwich on his hands, and there was that saying about idle hands being the Devil’s workshop…
Well, he hadn’t eaten breakfast…
-
Chapter 7
IT’S ALL STILL A LITTLE FOGGY
SEAN AND SARA WALKED INTO the PI office to find Helen staring at them and pointing animatedly to the headset on her ear.
“I understand. Can you hold on?” Helen asked the person on the other end of the line. “Just one minute, okay?”
Sean had a sinking feeling in his gut, and his feet didn’t want to move. Sara was the first to reach the counter.
Sara looked back at him and angled her head as if to say, Are you going to join me up here?
He sidled up next to her as Helen took off her headset.
“I have Marie Parsons on the line. She’s Chloe’s sister,” Helen told them. “She wants to meet with you.”
Yep, the sinking feeling had been warranted. It seemed the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. Sean had told Sara they could look into Chloe’s death a little more, but he still wasn’t wholeheartedly embracing it. He’d rather leave this cas
e with local law enforcement.
“Jackson must have given her our number,” Sara said. “Sean?”
And the dread set in. He hated saying no to his wife, and there was no way he could turn away Chloe’s relative. “Set up a time today if you can,” he directed Helen.
“She said she could be here in ten minutes.” Helen bit her lower lip.
Sean glanced at Sara, then back to Helen and nodded. “Sure.”
Helen put her headset back on, returned to the line, and arranged the meeting.
Sara took a step toward the meeting room. “I wonder what the sister has to say.”
“Me too.” That’s what he said, at least, but he had a good feeling he knew exactly what Marie wanted.
And eight minutes later, Helen announced Marie Parsons’s arrival and told them she was on her way back to the meeting room. They hadn’t even had a chance to read the background Helen had pulled on Marie. Now the folder that enclosed the report sat in front of him, taunting him just to open the flap and start reading. He was familiar with the layout of the reports, so maybe he could just find out some basics before Marie got to the room, like what she did for a living, where she lived, and her marital status.
He opened the folder and scanned the report. “Oh, she lives in a nice neighborhood.” Sean rattled off the location of Marie’s house.
“That is a posh area,” Sara agreed. “Is she married?”
“Not according to this.” His response contained a basic disclaimer because backgrounds were aids but weren’t always up-to-date. Speaking of, he glanced to the employment section and—
There was a knock on the door before it opened.
Sean closed the folder.
Helen stepped inside, followed by a young woman who looked an awful lot like Chloe.
Unlike Chloe, however, Marie had locks of brown hair, not blond. The eyes, the set of the mouth, and brow lines, though, were nearly identical, as were the body shape and gait.
“Marie Parsons,” Helen began, “please meet Sean and Sara McKinley.”
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