Desperate Play

by Barbara Freethy

  A police officer said something about needing to talk to her, but she could barely hear him.

  Noelle was dead.

  Someone had killed her.

  * * *

  Wyatt was stopped at the exit by a uniformed police officer who wasn't letting anyone out of the funhouse until they'd been questioned.

  Having just seen Noelle Price's bloody body and Avery Caldwell's horrified face, he felt a wave of anger and frustration. But he couldn't show his emotions, not now.

  He was herded into a back room with a dozen other guests. He answered the expected questions, expressed great concern, and offered himself up for whatever else they might need. He acted like someone who had nothing to hide and since there were a lot of people being detained at the same time, the officers were not that interested in him. They jotted down the name he gave them, as well as a phone number and address, none of which were accurate.

  Then he was allowed to leave.

  Outside the funhouse, the police had set up a perimeter with yellow tape, and there were probably fifty or so people who had been drawn to that part of the pier to see what was happening.

  He moved outside the tape and under the shadows of the nearby snack shack.

  Several minutes later, he watched Noelle's body get placed in the ambulance. He saw the police bring out Avery and escort her to a waiting police car.

  She flung a look over her shoulder, and he instinctively ducked. But there was no way she could see him now. He was behind the crowd, out of the lights.

  What he wasn't so sure about was whether she'd seen him in the funhouse. He'd been shocked to see her standing in front of one of the warped mirrors and he'd dodged out of sight as quickly as possible.

  Not that she would necessarily recognize him.

  While he had seen her every single day of the past four weeks on the security cameras at Nova Star, he'd never actually met her.

  He'd told himself that was a good thing, because he'd found his gaze settling on her far too often.

  There was something about her always hopeful expression that tugged on him. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt hopeful, when he'd last put his gaze on the stars and dreamed about something impossible…but Avery did that every day in the shows she had created.

  She made people look up and wonder what might be… She was a dreamer and a scientist, and—he really needed to stop thinking about her in any terms besides the immediate situation.

  Pulling out his phone, he punched in a number. "Noelle Price is dead. Avery Caldwell found her body. We need to talk."

  Three

  After almost an hour of questioning at the police station, Avery was told to wait in the lobby, that someone would take her home.

  As she sat down in a hard chair, she glanced down at her still blood-stained hands. She'd tried to wash away Noelle's blood, but she could still see traces of it on her hands. She had a feeling no matter how many times she tried to wash it away, it would still feel like it was there.

  She twisted her fingers together, forcing her gaze upward, wishing this was just a terrible nightmare and that she would soon wake up.

  But that wasn't happening.

  And other people who loved Noelle were now experiencing the same horror, shock and sadness.

  Noelle's mom had been notified and so had Noelle's boyfriend, Carter Hayes. The detective she'd spoken to had informed her of those facts as he asked her to tell him about the people who were on Noelle's contact list. She'd actually been surprised to see less than a dozen numbers. She would have expected Noelle to have hundreds of friends in her contacts; she was a very friendly person. But the few people's names she recognized were Noelle's coworkers.

  The detective had also showed her that the only texts on the phone in the past week were between her and Noelle, talking about getting together and going to the amusement park.

  Where were the other texts? Why wasn't there communication between Carter and Noelle on the phone?

  She'd expressed surprise when the detective had asked her if she found it unusual for Noelle not to have texted her mom or her boyfriend in the last several weeks. He'd suggested that perhaps Noelle had changed phones or had a second one.

  She hadn't been able to come up with a good answer to either of those questions. She didn't know why Noelle would have had more than one phone, but it was definitely possible, and it seemed like the only explanation for why there were no other texts on the phone, because Noelle had always been an avid texter.

  Tapping her foot on the ground, she was about to get up and tell the officer at the desk that she would grab her own ride home, when the station door opened, and her father walked in.

  Brett Caldwell was fifty-five years old, but he looked at least ten years younger. She'd gotten her dark hair from him, but she'd missed out on the charming, quirky smile and long, lean limbs that took him up over six foot two. She was barely five four, and as usual, her father's towering presence made her instinctively wary—not because he would ever physically hurt her. No, her father had only hurt her with absence and disinterest, which made her wonder why on earth he'd shown up.

  But despite all the hurt and anger between them, when he opened his arms and gave her a sympathetic, worried smile, she went willingly into his embrace. For the first time in her life, her dad had actually come when she needed him.

  "I can't believe you're here," she said, as they broke apart. "How did you know?"

  "It's all over the news."

  "I was on the news?" she asked in dismay.

  "Not you—Noelle. But when the reporter said Noelle was with a female friend, and you weren't answering your phone, I had a feeling it was you. I called around, and here I am. I'm sorry about Noelle. I know how close you were."

  "I can't believe she's dead. One minute we were eating cotton candy, and the next minute she was bleeding. There was so much blood, Dad. I've never seen anything like that."

  He frowned. "Let's get you out of here."

  "That would be good. I just want to go home."

  "I think you should come to my place. Whitney said you're welcome to spend the night."

  "I really just want to go to my apartment." She could not top off this day having to make small talk with Whitney Tremaine, a woman who was her boss's daughter, her father's girlfriend, and was only five years her senior. It was too much.

  The door behind her dad opened, bringing in cold air, and one frantic mother.

  "Avery," Vicky Caldwell said with relief.

  Unlike her dad, her mom looked every day of her fifty-five years, her brown hair laced with gray, especially at the roots, and there were heavy lines around her mouth and eyes. But then, life had not been as kind to her mom as it had been to her father.

  "Are you all right?" her mother asked.

  "I'm okay," she said, accepting another tight hug, this one feeling far more normal and familiar.

  After her parents had divorced, she and her mom had become a very tight unit.

  "Noelle?" her mom asked, searching her gaze. "Is she really dead?"

  She gave a tight nod. "Someone stabbed her."

  "I don't understand how this happened."

  "I don't, either."

  "Did you see who killed Noelle?" her father asked.

  "No. It happened in the funhouse on the Santa Monica Pier. It was dark and creepy inside. I wasn't going to go in at all. But Noelle was taking forever to come out, and I just got a weird feeling. She'd been acting a little strange, so I got worried."

  "How was she acting?" her dad asked.

  "I don't know if I can even say," she replied with a helpless shrug. "She was checking her watch, like she was waiting for something or someone. But when I called her on it, she brushed me off. She told me I could trust her. She said she'd turned over a new leaf and was trying to be a better person." She paused. "I don't remember exactly what she said. Maybe I'm misremembering." As the adrenaline surge began to wear off, she felt overwhelmingly tired. "I want to go home
."

  "You're coming home with me," her mom said firmly.

  "Or with me," her father put in. "The offer still stands, Avery. I know I haven't always been there for you, but I'd like to make up for that now."

  "Make up for it?" her mom cut in, a scornful look on her face. "You're going to make up for splitting our family apart, for depriving Avery of a father, for choosing fame and fortune over us? You think a guest room is going to do that, Brett?"

  "This is between me and Avery, Vicky. You've always tried to poison her against me."

  "I didn't have to do a thing. She made her own decisions based on what she experienced.

  She put up a hand as she could see the old anger simmering between them. "I can't handle this right now. Please, stop, both of you." When they fell silent, she made her decision, which was, of course, the only one she could make. "Mom, I would love to stay with you tonight."

  Her mother looked mollified by her answer.

  She turned to her father. "I appreciate you coming down here. Thank you. But I'll be more comfortable at Mom's. I can sleep in my old room."

  "Whatever you want, Avery," he said with disappointment. "I'm only a phone call away."

  "I appreciate that."

  "Come on, let's get you home." Her mom put an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the police station.

  She knew her mother was brimming with questions, but thankfully she didn't ask any on the way to her house, which was about fifteen minutes away.

  While she'd moved out of her childhood home when she went to college and had never ever really been back for more than the occasional night at a time, when she walked into the house, she felt safe for the first time in hours.

  She flopped onto the living room couch, too exhausted to even try to make it upstairs to her room.

  "Can I get you something to eat or drink?" Her mother perched on the edge of the armchair across from her.

  "The thought of food…" She shuddered.

  "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

  "Not really."

  She didn't think that would satisfy her always curious mother, and she was right.

  "I didn't know you and Noelle had reconnected," her mom said. "I thought you lost touch awhile ago."

  "She looked me up a few months ago. She needed a job, and I gave her a referral for a position at Nova Star."

  "What?" her mother asked in surprise. "You never told me this."

  "I didn't think you'd like it. You haven't been a fan of Noelle's for a long time."

  "Because she was always getting you into trouble. But you could have told me. I hate to think you are keeping things from me, Avery."

  "It really wasn't deliberate. You've been busy, and so have I. Where's Don tonight?"

  "He's in San Diego, taking care of some family business with his sister. He'll be back tomorrow. We're leaving for Hawaii on Sunday."

  "That's right."

  "I don't know if I should go now."

  "Of course you should go. You've been looking forward to the trip for weeks, and so has Don." Her mom had been seeing a very nice man for the last four months, and Avery had high hopes for their relationship. It was long past time for her mother to be happy.

  "I know, but after what happened tonight…"

  "That should not change your plans."

  "I want to support you, Avery."

  "You always have, Mom," she said with heartfelt sincerity. "But you can't do anything." She gave a helpless shrug. "I can't do anything. Noelle is dead, and nothing is going to change that."

  "What did the police say?"

  "They were more interested in asking me questions than giving me answers. They're going to do a thorough investigation, dig into every aspect of Noelle's life."

  "Her mother will be heartbroken."

  "I know," she said heavily. "And Noelle has been dating someone, too. I'm sure he'll be shocked and saddened. I just don't know why this happened."

  "Was it random?"

  "The police don't know if she just ran into some crazy person in the funhouse, or if there was more to it."

  "Surely someone saw this person."

  "I think there must have been cameras somewhere, but it was one dark maze inside the attraction. There were lots of people moving around in the shadows. And there were screams every other minute, coming over the speakers. I think I heard Noelle scream, but I'm not even sure. If I hadn't found her on the ground, I might have just kept going and tried to find my way out."

  Her mother's lips drew into a tight line. "I kind of wish you had done that."

  There was a part of her that wished that, too. But would the heartbreak be any less if she'd been outside when the cops were called, when the paramedics rolled up in the ambulance, when Noelle's body was taken away? She doubted it. And at least Noelle hadn't been alone when she died. Maybe that meant something.

  "I'm surprised you called your father," her mother continued.

  "I didn't. He saw the news and had this feeling I was the friend with Noelle, and I guess he must have called the police and they told him I was there."

  "When I think of all the times I wanted him to be there for you, and he wasn't…"

  "I know. I suspect he was only there tonight because he's been trying to get closer to me in recent months, ever since I inadvertently introduced him to the new love of his life."

  Her mother blew out a breath of disillusionment. "I almost feel sorry for her. And I have to admit that I sometimes wonder if your father didn't look you up just to get closer to the Tremaines. Brett could always sniff out money and opportunity better than anyone else."

  "He is successful now in his own right. It's not like he doesn't have money and he's just a gold-digger."

  "Oh, sure. He's a celebrity author and a motivational speaker. But there's your father's money and then there's Tremaine money. We both know there's a huge difference."

  "Believe me, the last thing I wanted was for Dad to get involved with the Tremaines, but you know how he is. He came to take me to lunch one day and suddenly he was up in the executive suite. He can be charming."

  "Don't I know it." Her mother paused, giving her a concerned look. "You're very pale. Let me get you some juice or some tea."

  "Tea would be nice. Something soothing."

  "I have chamomile."

  "That sounds good." As she said the words, she could almost hear Noelle's voice in her head, saying, Chamomile tea? What are you—an old lady? "Noelle would be laughing at me right now."

  Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

  "Because she thought tea was an old lady's drink. She always wanted coffee, as strong and as caffeinated as she could get it. Not that she needed more energy. She woke up bouncing off the walls." Her lips suddenly trembled as emotion welled up in her. "I can't believe she's dead, Mom."

  Her mother immediately came to sit next to her, putting her arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Avery. I know how much you loved her."

  "Even when we weren't talking, I always knew she was out there somewhere, that we'd one day be friends again."

  "It's good you got back together before all this happened."

  "But it wasn't enough. We were just getting to know each other again."

  "It's never enough time, honey."

  She drew in a shaky breath. "Noelle's mom lives in Florida now. I wonder if she'll want to bury Noelle there. But Noelle didn't like Florida. She said the mosquitos were bad. On the other hand, she'd probably want to be by her mom. Although, she does have a boyfriend. Maybe she would want to be with him. I need to talk to both of them. I need to help."

  "Stop," her mom said firmly. "Breathe. You can talk to everyone tomorrow. I doubt anyone will be making decisions before then."

  "I shouldn't have let her go into the funhouse alone."

  "This isn't your fault, Avery."

  "It feels like it." She paused, not wanting to talk anymore. "Thanks for being here, Mom, but I'm going to lie down."

  "Are
you sure you want to be alone?"

  "Yes." She pulled out of her mother's embrace and slowly got to her feet, which seemed to take a lot more effort than it normally did.

  "We'll talk about everything tomorrow, Avery. If you need help planning some kind of memorial for Noelle, you know you can count on me."

  "You're leaving for Hawaii on Sunday."

  "I'll change my plans."

  "I don't want you to do that."

  "I'm not going to leave you like this."

  "There's nothing you can do to make this easier; I'm just going to have to breathe through it. A wise woman told me that once after my father left."

  Her mother gave her an emotional smile. "Sometimes that is all you can do."

  "But I might need to do more than breathe."

  Her mom's gaze narrowed. "Like what?"

  "Like try to find out who killed Noelle."

  "The police will do that. You need to stay out of this, Avery. Because whoever did kill Noelle is still out there somewhere, and you don't want to be the person who knows too much. In fact, I wonder if the police shouldn't have someone watching you."

  "I'm not in danger. I don't think whoever killed Noelle even saw me in the funhouse."

  "But you don't know for sure."

  She thought about that—the terrifying chills suddenly coming back, but she didn't want to alarm her mother. "I don't think I'm in danger. And I'm not sure Noelle's death was random. She was acting cagey. Something was off."

  "Something you don't need to know anything more about. Why don't you come to Hawaii with me and Don?"

  "Don would love that," she said dryly.

  "He'd understand. We can get you your own room."

  "I'm going to be fine. Just keep your plans."

  "Only if you promise to stay out of Noelle's business."

  "I wouldn't know where to start digging even if I wanted to," she said, offering her very concerned mother an answer that would pacify her. "I really don't want you to worry."

  "That's my job, Avery."

  "Not anymore. I'm an adult. I'll get through this."

  "I know you will, but I still want you to be safe."

  "Me, too." As she said good night to her mother and walked down the hall to her room, she wondered if what she'd told her mother was true—that she didn't know where to start digging into Noelle's life. Noelle had said something about her apartment right before she took her last breath.