by Robin Caroll
Beau watched the video as Geoff advanced frame-by-frame.
“He’s leaving at,” Geoff tapped the time marker on the feed, “5:28 p.m. He’s wearing the shirt he was found in.”
“Also the loafers kicked off by the chair.” Beau scribbled notes.
Geoff fast-forwarded until Muller came back into vision. With a woman leaning against him as he struggled to get his key card into the reader.
“Room opened at 10:14, just like the data recorded,” Geoff said.
Muller shoved the woman’s back against the door and kissed her, pushing open the door. The two stumbled inside. The door closed.
Beau paused in his note taking. “Any idea who that woman is?”
“She looks kind of familiar. Maybe we’ll pick them up on some other security footage.” Geoff reversed the video in slow motion. Then moved forward. Then back again, freezing the frame on the woman’s face just before Muller kissed her. “That’s the clearest image I have of her face.”
“Do you recognize her?”
“I think I’ve seen her in the bar, maybe.” He opened another window on the computer, copied and pasted the woman’s picture into that program. “We’ll see if the system can pick her up anywhere else.”
Beau was more than impressed. “You have facial-recognition software?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Pampalon bought all the bells and whistles when he upgraded the security system here.”
“When was that?”
“Three or four years ago.” The system flashed on the woman’s face. “Hang on, let me stream these together so you can get one long chronological trail. Give me a second.” Geoff’s fingers flew over the keyboard. For such a big guy, he seemed quite adept at the technical side of security.
“Okay, here we go.” Geoff pushed play.
The woman held a drink and smiled at a man. “Where is she?” Beau asked.
“The hotel bar.” Geoff tapped the time on the video. “About 9:30 last night.”
The woman set down her drink and ran her fingers over the man’s hand and up his arm, under the loose sleeve of the shirt he wore.
“That’s Muller. I can tell by the loafers.” Beau jotted down the details.
Muller shifted on the barstool and pulled the woman to him, his thighs on either side of her legs. He tilted the woman’s head back with both hands on her head. He hesitated a moment, then straightened.
Beau had been sure he would kiss the woman. By the look on her face in the video, that’s what she’d been expecting as well.
Another woman barged onto the screen. Her face scrunched as she glared at Muller.
“That’s Sidney Parsons, the group planner.” That familiar tingle tiptoed up Beau’s spine. He had been right in his gut feeling there was more Parsons knew than she was telling.
On the video, Parsons slammed her cocktail glass on the bar right in front of Muller. She said something to him, glanced at the woman over her shoulder, then shoved Muller’s shoulder hard enough for his movement to show up on the video, before she stormed off.
Beau made detailed notes.
Muller stared after her, then the woman on the screen cozied back up to Muller, leaned in, and kissed his neck. The angle of the camera didn’t allow them to see Muller’s facial reaction, but minutes later, he pushed the woman back, stood, and handed the bartender a credit card.
“Do you recognize that bartender?” Beau asked.
“That’s Corey Devereaux. Good guy.”
Beau wrote the name as the video paused.
“We lose them on feed until . . .” Geoff pushed buttons. “Here.”
Muller and the woman stepped off the elevator, the woman’s dress askew, her bare rump showing as she let Muller lead her down the hall to his room. The elevator attendant stepped in the hall to watch them until they disappeared into Muller’s room.
“And do you know that attendant?” Beau asked.
Geoff nodded. “Richard Norris. He’s just a college kid we hired on during break to help with the overflow of guests for the holidays and the upcoming festival.”
Beau made a note as the video replayed them getting off the elevator and making their way down the hall to his room. Their weaving wasn’t due to inebriation as Beau had first suspected. No, this looked more like they were having difficulty containing themselves. The video concluded as the hotel room door shut behind them.
“Doesn’t look like Muller is missing his wife too much.” Beau shook his head. That so numerous men, many of them on the force, didn’t believe in being faithful to their wives, bugged Beau. He believed wedding vows were sacred.
Geoff tapped the screen’s time stamp. “Yet she leaves at 10:58. Only there for forty-four minutes.”
Beau made note, then flipped back a couple of pages. “Coroner puts his time of death between eleven-thirty and midnight thirty.”
“At least thirty minutes after she left.” Geoff pushed play on the video. “Well, lookie here.” He paused the playback.
“That’s Parsons banging on his door.” Beau noted the time: 11:09 p.m. “She had to have passed the other woman in the hallway.”
“Bet that made her mad.” Geoff let the video play.
Sidney Parsons banged on the door again. Muller jerked it open. He glanced around the hallway before grabbing her by the arm and jerking her inside. The door shut on the camera.
Good thing Beau had sent Parsons to the station. She had a lot to tell him. A lot to explain. A lot to answer for.
“And now she’s gone. That was quick. She leaves nine minutes later,” Geoff said.
Beau made notes as Geoff fast-forwarded, then went double, then triple time. “And here it is, 11:19 this morning when housekeeping opened the door, but realized the night latch was on.” He paused the video.
“Keep going. Let’s see if anyone leaves between then and when you entered.” It could be possible that someone could’ve climbed up the fire escape pole, entered the balcony, killed Muller, then left through his room. Unlikely, but he had to rule out every possibility.
Geoff forwarded until the screen showed Geoff, Addy, and Dimitri Pampalon at the door. “This is at 3:18 this afternoon when we entered. See, Ms. Fountaine is using the security card to unlock the door, and I use the tool to unlock the night latch.”
Beau tapped his pen against his notebook. “Can you back it up to when Parsons is banging on the door?”
“Sure.” Geoff did so. “You think she’s a possible suspect?”
Beau shrugged, refusing to divulge his ideas and considerations at this point. “Coroner set the earliest time of death at eleven-thirty, but that was in the field. That could fluctuate once he does the autopsy.”
“It’s only a twenty-minute window or so at most as it is now.” Geoff hit play on the replay. “She sure looked upset in the footage from the bar.”
“And she looks furious now.” The video replayed of her banging on the door. Muller jerked it open. Looked around. Grabbed her arm—
The door to the security room opened. Geoff paused the video and turned.
Beau stood as Addy joined them.
“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you need from us.” Her eyes were locked on Beau’s.
“Yes. Geoff here is quite the security supervisor. You’ve got a good one here, Addy.”
She smiled and moved her gaze. “He is. I think we’re—” She tapped the image of Muller and Parsons on the screen. “Who is that with Sidney Parsons?”
She didn’t recognize him? Beau furrowed his brows and cocked his head, studying her.
All color had drained from her face. She gave a new meaning to the word pale. Was the stress really messing with her? She wobbled.
Beau reached up and steadied her, his concern growing by the minute. “That’s Kevin Muller. That’s the murder victim.”
Adelaide
Victim? That man was anything but a victim. But his name wasn’t Kevin Muller.
“Addy, are you okay
?” Beau’s voice broke through her internal emotional rampage.
“What? Yes.” She tapped the screen with a trembling finger. “You’re sure that’s Kevin Muller?”
“Positive.” Beau gently turned her to face him, away from the monitor. “What’s going on?”
“I just didn’t know.” Boy, was that the truth.
“But you saw the body.”
“She couldn’t see his face,” Geoff offered. “The position of the body.”
“I’m so sorry.” He gave her arm a quick squeeze.
Her muscles tensed. This didn’t make sense. None of it. But she’d find out what was going on. “It’s fine.” She let out a breath, her mind tripping over itself. Past memories bursting against current events. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything else.”
“Not at the moment. I’m going to finish watching the video surveillance with Geoff, then I’ll need to speak to a couple of your employees.”
“Of course, anything you need. You know where my office is.” She opened the door and managed to get out of there before making an even bigger idiot of herself.
Her mind churned as she rushed to her office. There had to be a logical explanation. Something that would demand everything make sense.
Hidden behind her closed office door, she opened her laptop. She’d pushed everything away for so long that she hoped she’d forgotten the details. But she hadn’t. She cracked open the door on her past and the memories blasted past her carefully built-up wall.
She typed in his name in the search bar. The name she knew him as back then: Brayden Colton.
None of the images loaded were him.
Cold sweats shook her body. She typed in Kevin Muller.
Several images loaded, all of the man she remembered. The man who’d shattered her trust in men. The man who’d stolen her innocence.
Adelaide pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, as if that would change how she felt, but the shame and fear and . . . dirtiness remained, just as it had those many years ago.
“Adelaide?”
She slowly opened her eyes to see Dimitri standing in her office doorway. She waved him inside and shut her laptop.
“What’s wrong?” He ignored the chairs in front of her desk, moving around her desk and leaned against it, staring down at her.
“I just . . .” She couldn’t tell him. She’d never told anyone outside of university police and her best friend, Tracey, and look how that’d turned out. “I’m fine.”
“No, mon chaton, you are not fine.” He took her hand. “I see the pain in your eyes. Tell me.”
Maybe it was his thumb rubbing on her hand that felt so reassuring, or maybe it was just time to unburden. “The man who was murdered?”
He nodded. “Yes?”
“I met him years ago when I was in college. He gave me another name, which is why I didn’t immediately know it was him until I saw him on the security video.”
Dimitri’s thumb spread warmth throughout her, building her confidence.
“He used to come to one of the coffeehouses where some of us shared our poetry in an open mic kind of way.”
He smiled. “You write and perform your poetry?”
Heat fanned her face. “I used to.” But she hadn’t been able to recite a single poem in front of a mirror, much less in front of a group since that night. She gave her head a quick shake. “Anyway, he came in a couple of times. Seemed nice. Flirted a little.”
Oh, did he flirt. She could still recall how her heart had quickened when he smiled at her, the traitorous organ living in her chest. Why hadn’t it warned her of the impending danger? Of the coming pain? It was part of her, did it have no sense of self-preservation?
“Flirted with you?” Dimitri’s question brought her back to the present.
“Yes. He flirted, and I bought into it. I was a dumb college sophomore, thinking I was so much smarter than the incoming freshmen. I had survived the first year, so naturally, that had to make me smarter, right?” Her throat felt as if it were closing. Slowly. Slowly.
Dimitri’s grasp tightened. “What happened, Adelaide? What did he do to you?”
She couldn’t stop the tears—wasn’t sure she wanted to even if she could. “One night, he asked me to go for a ride with him. I thought he was nice. I thought he liked me.”
Her lungs tightened, her breath barely escaping through their clenched grip. “We got into the car, he started driving. He took me just off campus, to a place he said we could see the beautiful sky and a clear view of the stars. And I believed him.” The tears streamed down her face.
Dimitri stood, pulling her up and to him. He held her tight in his arms. His lips brushed her forehead as he whispered into her hair, “Oh, no, mon chaton.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten in the car with him. I shouldn’t have left campus, at least, that’s what university police told me when they said there was nothing they could do about it unless I wanted to call in the police.”
She’d kept it inside for so long. Adelaide pushed out of Dimitri’s embrace and met his pity-filled stare. That’s what she’d never wanted to see. That’s why she’d kept her secret. “I couldn’t fight him off. He laughed at me as I was so groggy. I think he put something in my coffee before we left. But it doesn’t matter, I knew better. I knew not to get in a car with anyone I barely knew.” She sniffed and grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk.
“It wasn’t your fault, Adelaide.”
“I’m the daughter of a crime novelist, for pity’s sake. I’ve grown up with learning what can happen to people. My father drilled into my head the most vile of things, and yet, when it came down to it, I totally disregarded everything he’d ever taught me.” She dabbed her eyes before gently blowing her nose.
“He loves you. I bet he wanted to kill this man.”
Oh, that would be putting it mildly. Her father would’ve gone after Brayden/Kevin/whatever his name was in a flash, giving no thought to repercussions or consequences. At least she’d managed to stay ahead of that complication. “He would’ve, but I never told him. I never told anyone besides my best friend.”
At least she’d done something right in the whole situation.
Nine
Dimitri
How had she gone through such horror, such an atrocity, alone?
Dimitri wanted to hold her again, to pull her tight into his embrace and comfort her, but the way she stood—spine straight, shoulders squared, and stance secure, he knew she couldn’t be. He eased back down to sit on her desk. “What did you do?”
“Afterward, he dropped me off at my dorm. I could barely walk. One of my friends helped me into my room.” She shook her head. “I guess my roommate got me into bed because when I woke up, it was ten the next morning and I was alone in my bed.” Adelaide tossed the tissue she’d balled into a tight wad, then grabbed another before sitting down in her chair.
Dimitri laced his fingers together in his lap to stop them from smoothing back that one long dark curl that fell over her face as she spoke.
“I went to the university police that morning and they took my statement before they told me since the assault had actually occurred off campus, I’d need to go to the Natchitoches Police Department. I was prepared to do just that, then the campus police officer told me I’d have to go to the hospital and have a rape kit, then I’d have to give my statement again and again to the police, then there would be a trial. I realized it wasn’t worth it.”
Dimitri’s heart nearly broke. Of course it was worth it. She was worth it. “The campus police discouraged you from reporting it?”
She lifted a single shoulder. “Not directly, but the implication was definitely there. He made quite sure I knew what I’d be up against if I opted to push it further.” She licked her lips. “Later, I thought maybe the university police officer knew who I was talking about. When I’d mentioned how groggy I’d felt, he actually accused me of lacing my coffee and that perhaps my memory of th
e details were a little muddied.”
Dimitri kept his mouth shut as she continued, her words speeding up as she unburdened.
“I can assure you, I’ve never drunk. My mother was an alcoholic and that’s what killed her. I would never take a drink. That’s why I was pretty certain I’d been drugged.”
“Did you tell this officer that?”
She nodded. “I did, but he gave me a look that let me know he didn’t believe me. I explained that this guy had been in our campus coffeehouse many times, but the officer said it was out of his hands because the alleged assault—yes, he actually added in the word alleged when taking my statement—took place off campus.”
“The officer clearly was negligent and misinformed.” Idiot.
Adelaide continued, her words tumbling over one another. “I tried to go back to classes as if nothing had happened, but I just couldn’t. I felt like everyone knew. They all stared at me like I was a leper. At least, I imagined they did.”
Dimitri couldn’t imagine how she had to have felt. “But you overcame.” She was a strong woman. He’d always known that, but now he was more impressed with her than he’d ever been before.
She ripped small pieces off the tissue, letting them fall against the soft fabric of her slacks. “I took off a semester and went into therapy, only because my best friend threatened to tell my father if I didn’t. I told my dad I was just taking a break to prepare for the next semester that would be really intense. He was okay with that, happy I was back home. It worked too. I got past it. Started college the next semester and graduated only a little late.”
Adelaide kept shredding the tissue. “I came back home to spend the summer with Daddy before I started a job search, but then your father posted an ad for a manager trainee, and I’ve always loved the Darkwater. Ever since I was a little girl. Staying here would keep me close to my father and my best friend. My safe zone.” She smiled, taking all the shredded tissue and tossing it in the trash. “So that’s my sad story.”
Now he knew he couldn’t ever let his father fire Adelaide. It would break her, which he could not allow to happen. “It’s a story of strength and determination and grace, Adelaide. As beautiful and exquisite as you are. I’m very sorry for what happened to you, and I don’t know God’s purpose in your going through that horrible time, but I’m grateful He brought you here.”