Her mother’s voice dripped ice. “I have a meeting in a few minutes, so I’ll have to call you back, Allie. I think we should talk about this in greater detail.”
“It won’t make any difference.”
“I’ll call you soon,” Vivian said before hanging up.
“And you can talk to my answering machine,” Allie said to the dead phone. “Maybe you can persuade it to sell.” She hung up the phone and slumped against the wall, knowing that this was one fight that was far from over.
As she mentally replayed the conversation, she heard a knock on her door. She rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t in the mood for company. It couldn’t be Joe because she would have recognized his knock, and Sheryl never bothered to knock. As she rounded the corner into the living room, she could see the outline of a man through the frosted jalousies of the front door, and she felt her breath catch. Marc. She brushed her hair back from her face and swung it open to find Rupert Cornelius standing there.
Chapter 13
Allie hoped the disappointment she felt didn’t show on her face. If he noticed, he gave no sign. “Mr. Cornelius.”
“Allison.” He smiled, reaching out and taking her hand. He released it and looked down at her bandaged foot. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping by. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Oh.” She took a step back. “I’m doing much better.” She stood there for a minute before she remembered her manners. “Please, come in.” She swung the door open. “Can I get you some coffee or something?”
He scanned the room, then brought his eyes back to Allie and smiled, as if he were embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Did you ask me something?”
“Coffee. Would you like some coffee?” she repeated.
“If you’re sure it’s no trouble. That would be wonderful.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
He followed her into the kitchen but stayed at the door, staring, as she got the mugs out of the cabinet and poured the coffee. He seemed to be drinking in every detail of the room. Memories? Maybe he and her aunt truly were—close at one time. Allie couldn’t bring herself to think the word “lovers.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Uh—no black,” he said absently.
Allie handed him a mug. He followed her back into the living room, where she sat on the sofa. Cornelius sat in the chair opposite and made another visual survey of the room. “I see you’re settling in.”
Allie had stacked some of her own books in the bookcase and put the picture of her parents out. “There wasn’t much to settle. I left all my furniture in Brussels.”
“With your ex,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
He’d had her investigated. The damn man had someone investigate her. “Is that a problem?” she asked, her voice cool.
He smiled. “Not at all. I hope you don’t mind, but I always do background checks when an application is submitted. It pays to be careful.”
“I don’t remember submitting an application.”
His smile faltered for a second before he caught himself. “Not formally, no, but you did express an interest in working for the Sun.”
True, but it still rankled. She decided to turn the tables on him. “What about you? Are you divorced?”
He looked surprised, and Allie imagined that not many people questioned Rupert Cornelius about his marital status. “No, I never married.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I’m afraid I saw enough of the institution with my father and stepmother to put me off the idea for life.”
“Are they divorced?” Allie didn’t know what made her ask the question. Orneriness, probably. He didn’t seem offended, damn it.
“No, they’re deceased now. My mother died quite young. My father remarried when I was ten. I must say that I’ve never known two people less suited for each other. They never should have married in the first place.” He put his coffee cup down, deftly changing the subject. “So, your foot is on the mend?”
“Yes. I get the stitches out this week.”
“That’s excellent. Excellent.” His gaze rested on the framed photo of her mother and father. “Your parents?”
“Yes.”
“Where do they live?”
“In Atlanta.”
“Of course. That’s how you ended up at the AJC.” He took a sip of coffee. “And before that, you were at the University of Georgia?”
Hadn’t they already been down this road? “Yes.”
He nodded. “A fine school. A number of our employees are UGA alumni.”
Allie got the feeling this was a second job interview, or at the very least, déjà vu.
“I spoke to Jason. He said only good things about you. You remember I mentioned that we have an opening at the Sun.” She nodded, and he continued. “As I said, there’s no real rush to fill it, but you might want to think about it. We’re a small newspaper. Family run. My father started it almost sixty years ago. After his death, my stepmother ran it until she died. Then, it passed on to me. The job I have open is for a reporter. Do you think that would interest you?”
She struggled to keep her mouth from falling open. Would it interest her? An instant promotion from research drone to reporter? Was there journalism major alive who wouldn’t be interested? Seconds before, she questioned whether this man was someone she would want to work for. Now, she had to struggle to seem unimpressed. “I think it would.”
He smiled. “Excellent.”
His smile irritated her, and she couldn’t imagine why. She didn’t like him, even if he was her future boss and had the whitest teeth she’d ever seen. He seemed—slick, almost smarmy or something. It was something she would have to ponder outside a job interview.
“ … perhaps have lunch next week and discuss things like salary and benefits. Would that be all right with you?”
His voice brought her back. “Oh, yes, that would be fine.”
That seemed to end the interview. He got to his feet. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I hope we can get you on board before the fifteenth for salary purposes, but please don’t feel like I’m rushing you. I want you to take as long as you need to get well. We’ll talk about it at lunch next week. Will Wednesday work for you?”
His offer still staggered her. “Sure.”
“That’s marvelous. Let’s meet at Bernard’s Surf. Do you know the place?”
Everyone within two hundred miles knew Bernard’s Surf, located smack in the middle of Cocoa Beach and the place to go. They served the freshest seafood and charged the highest prices in Brevard County, and she got to go there on only the most special of occasions. Had she known how wealthy her aunt was, she might have asked to go more often. “I know where it is.”
“Will twelve o’clock work for you?”
Allie stood, and he took that as a yes. She followed him to the door. He reached out and captured her hand; Allie barely resisted yanking it back. “I can’t tell you how much pleasure it gives me that you’ll be joining our newspaper family,” he said.
When he left, Allie took the mugs back into the kitchen. What was it about the man that put her off? Realistically, she knew that many employers investigated their prospective employees’ backgrounds, but that didn’t mean she liked what he’d done.
Spook followed her into the kitchen and kept looking from Allie to the front door. Maybe Spook didn’t like him, either. Could he have been her aunt’s mystery boyfriend?
“Sheryl tells me you had an admirer.”
“Well, I would hope so. I was an admirable woman. Didn’t you think so?”
“Very funny. I think she was talking about a boyfriend.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Well? Did you?”
“You don’t have to know everything about your old aunt.”
“But you weren’t old! You never had the chance to get old.”
“Oh, honey.”
*
Allie was in the shower an hour later when she heard a loud knock on the door. “Geesh,” she
muttered, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her dripping hair. She tiptoed into the bedroom, leaving a trail of water on the carpet, and grabbed her robe, pulling it on and tying it around her before she went to the door. Didn’t anyone in this town call before they dropped by?
She recognized Joe’s outline. One look at his face, and she knew this wasn’t a social call.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure,” she said, stepping back so he could enter.
He wore his uniform, and a peek out the front window confirmed that he drove a marked car. She stifled a moan. “Give me a minute,” she said, turning around and heading to the bedroom. She pulled on jeans and a shirt before returning to the living room.
“What’s up?”
Joe still stood where she left him, still wearing his mirrored sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she couldn’t miss the deep creases around his mouth. “Sit down. You look beat.”
He dropped down on the couch. “Sorry, it’s been a long week. I just got back from Lauderdale.” He studied her, a deep crease between his brows. “A few things might be falling into place.”
“What kind of things?” she asked, although she didn’t want to know.
Joe’s mouth was grim. He sat forward and began counting on his fingers. “Ft. Lauderdale. Seven months ago. A woman was found in the water, strangled. Mid-fifties. Blonde hair.” Next finger. “Vero Beach, two months ago, a woman was found in the water. Light hair. I told you about Frederick’s wife. Two and a half years ago. Then, this woman at the jetty.”
Allie’s stomach cramped. “That doesn’t mean—”
“I can place Frederick in each city around the time each woman died.”
“Joe—”
“I talked to someone in Miami about his wife’s murder. Theirs was not a match made in heaven. I told you she ran around on him, and there was the money to make it sweeter. Men have killed for a lot less.”
“He had an alibi.”
“And you know he could have hired it out. He might have gotten someone to do her and then decided to have a go at a few others on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”
It made a hideous kind of sense. “Have you arrested him?”
“I don’t have enough. Not yet. But I want you to stay away from him.”
“Joe—”
“That’s all I’m asking, Allie. Not ordering. Asking. Please stay away from him. At least until I find out for sure.”
Allie stared at the floor. Marc, a cold-blooded murderer? A serial killer? That brought her head up. “Is the FBI involved?”
He shook his head. “There are some discrepancies. That’s why they didn’t all hit on VICAP. We can’t prove all the women were strangled. One had water in her lungs. They ruled her death a drowning, but she was in the water for a long time. Might have been some bruising on her neck. The ages varied. Sheriff doesn’t want to get the FBI involved unless we have to. Once they step in, it’ll be a total cluster.” He shook his head. “If they take over, we’ll be pretty much out of it, and the sheriff isn’t ready to let go. We’re digging deeper into Frederick’s background. Maybe there were money problems with his business that we can’t see. Maybe there are others we haven’t found out about.”
Allie said nothing.
“Has he been hanging around?”
“Don’t you know? You seem to know everything else.”
Joe sagged in his chair. “Allie.” The word held a wealth of feeling. He shook his head. “Don’t shoot the messenger here. I’m not trying to run your life. I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see anything happen to you because you didn’t know what was going on.”
She averted her eyes. “What about the rest of the women in the county? Shouldn’t they know too?”
“I’m keeping a close eye on Frederick. At least as close as possible.”
“He’s still in Cocoa Beach?”
Joe nodded. “Still at the Hilton, and I can’t see any reason for it. He’s had a few business meetings, but it’s a long time to hang around. I want to know why he hasn’t headed home.” Allie tried to rub away the headache that formed behind her eyes.
“You’ll stay away from him?”
It sounded like a reasonable request from an old friend who also happened to be a cop. How could she refuse? “Yes. He hasn’t tried to contact me, and I’ll probably be going back to work soon, so that’ll keep me busy.”
His body relaxed visibly. When he spoke again, he was her old friend again. “That’s great about the job. I know your aunt never could stand to sit around. What are you thinking of doing?”
Allie gave him as much of a smile as she could muster. “The same thing I used to do. Rupert Cornelius offered me a job.”
Joe went rigid. “When?” he demanded.
She didn’t like his tone, but she hoped they could go sixty seconds without another fight. “Today. He left a little while ago.”
“Cornelius was here? In your house?” Joe demanded, rising.
She watched him through narrowed eyes. “Yes.”
He stomped to the door and stomped back, raking his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe it.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stopped pacing and turned back to her. “Cornelius is an asshole. He’s a nasty asshole. I want you to stay away from him.”
Allie stood and went toe to toe with him. “Oh, yeah? Who did he kill?”
Joe took a step back. He drew in a ragged breath and seemed to regroup. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, as if trying to reason with a small child. “He’s a lecher. A bastard. He preys on weak people. He—”
She exploded. “He’s a man, and you warn me against every man I come into contact with. I’m beginning to think you’re the one with the problem, Joe.” She was on a roll and couldn’t seem to stop. “From the day I got back, you’ve been acting like some overbearing jealous lover who’s afraid I’ll stray. Well, I’ll tell you something. You’re not my lover, and you’re not my father, and you can keep your nose out of my business.”
She walked to the door and flung it open. “Go, and don’t come back until you get your head on straight.”
Joe stood like a statue. Now, she was glad he still wore his sunglasses. There had to be murder in his eyes. After a terrifying minute, he brushed past her and out the door. She closed and locked it behind him. Only then did she realize she was shaking like a palsy victim.
*
Allie tapped the hotel key against her palm. How could she even think of doing this? In the two days since Joe’s visit, she’d thought of little except what he’d told her about the murdered women. The damning facts obsessed her. She hadn’t eaten to speak of or slept, except in fitful naps. She felt like she was going crazy, and considering what she held in her hand, she feared she already had. She considered telling Sheryl what she planned, but she knew Sheryl would try to stop her or want to do it herself. But this wasn’t Sheryl’s business. That didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified. If Marc was a killer and found her snooping around in his hotel room, she would be the next victim, no matter what she looked like.
Again, she asked herself what she expected to find. What could be in his room that would either incriminate him further or prove him not guilty? And wouldn’t the Sheriffs Office have searched his room? The questions plagued her night and day.
She dressed like a tourist on a beach vacation. That’s what the people at the Hilton would expect to see—shorts, a tank top, and a pair of flip-flops. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and slathered suntan lotion on her skin for the smell. Sunglasses on top of her head. Details were important, or maybe she was just stalling. As she stuffed the keycard in her pocket and grabbed her keys, she heard a knock on her door. She considered ignoring it, but she knew that knock, and ignoring it wasn’t an option.
Sheryl gave her a full onceover. “Going tourist?”
Allie forced a smile as she let her in. “Kind of. I thought I’d g
o down to Sebastian Inlet and check it out.” The little lie seemed safe enough. Sebastian Inlet was at the southern tip of Brevard County, too far for a cop on duty to tail without a reason.
She was congratulating herself on her quick thinking when Sheryl said, “Maybe I’ll tag along. Haven’t been there in ages.” She headed into the kitchen.
Allie followed her. “Sheryl,” she said to her back.
Sheryl poured a mug of lukewarm coffee from that morning and brought it to her lips, but something in Allie’s voice stopped her. Allie didn’t know exactly how to say what she wanted to say without hurting Sheryl’s feelings, and she desperately did not want to hurt her feelings.
“Sheryl,” she began again, “I need you to stop this. You and Joe. I care for you both, and I know you care for me. I know you’re worried about me, too, and that touches me more than I can tell you, but you both have to stop trying to protect me night and day.”
Sheryl didn’t say anything, but Allie could see the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes remained steadily on Allie.
“I know you’ve always been protective. Now that you’re a cop, you can do some serious protecting, but this shadowing me all the time isn’t like you.” Allie pressed her lips together, but the question came out, anyway. “Did Joe put you up to this?”
Sheryl looked down into her coffee cup for the response. Not finding it, she drank the coffee. Allie feared she wouldn’t answer, but finally she spoke. “He might have said something.”
Allie shook her head, smiling. “And you’re going to let his paranoia dictate your behavior? That’s not the Sheryl Levine I know.”
Sheryl shifted uneasily. “He said he’d hold me responsible if anything happened to you.”
“That’s bullshit,” Allie exploded.
“Hey.” Sheryl held up a hand. “Don’t go off the deep end. I feel the same way. I’d hold myself responsible if something happened to you because I wasn’t keeping my eyes open.”
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