His eyes bored into hers, the same pale, drab shade of gray she remembered. Almost colorless, like she was staring into a hollow abyss.
“Sure you could, you just don’t want to.”
“Might be nothing. Who knows?”
“You were called out for a reason. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Dustin just smiled, relishing the fact that he knew something she didn’t.
“Waterhouse, I need you,” the chief called.
Dustin shot Reagan a wink as he walked away. “You best get comfortable. Looks like it’s going to be a long day.”
The double doors opened again, and this time Reagan rubbernecked to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside. “There are a few cops and several others milling around one of the hotel rooms.”
“Can you see what they’re doing?” Evan replied.
Reagan stretched so far, she almost slid off the seat. This time the view changed, and she felt weak, like there had been a sudden dip in her heart rate.
“What is it, Reagan? What’s wrong? Can you tell whose room it is?”
Her throat constricted, and all she managed to get out was a hoarse, pasty reply. “I can, Evan. It’s yours.”
CHAPTER 11
Footsteps, loud and heavy, approached from all directions. The chief was the first to speak. “Evan Everley, we need you to step outside.”
Evan stood, but he didn’t move. “What’s happening in my room?”
“We’ll explain everything in a minute.”
Evan walked toward the door. Reagan followed. Once Evan was outside, Reagan noticed three firearms had been raised, all pointing in his direction.
“We’re going to ask you to put your hands up now,” one of the officers said.
“Why?” Evan asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Hands up, now,” the officer continued.
Reagan spied her mother watching all the action just a few feet away from her seat in the squad car.
Evan raised his hands.
“Reagan, I need you to step away from him,” Dustin said.
“Not until you tell me why.”
Dustin sighed, shifted his focus back to Evan. “We need you to tell us about Dakota Jaynes.”
“Who?” Evan answered.
“Don’t be stupid,” Dustin said. “How do you know her?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name. I swear.”
“Then can you explain how she ended up in your room?”
“What do you mean ended up in my room?”
“Just answer the question.”
“How can I? I don’t even know who she is. Why don’t you ask her?”
“We would, but we can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“Dakota Jaynes is dead.”
CHAPTER 12
Dakota Jaynes had been strangled to death by a weapon of opportunity. A cord from the missing lamp on Evan Everley’s nightstand had left two obvious ligature marks on the front of her neck. The lacerations crossed each other, like her attacker had loosened his grip on the cord for a short time to secure better positioning before yanking again, at which time, she met her death.
Detective Dustin Waterhouse knelt down, examined the area around the vic’s neck, noticing something else when he did. Fingerprint marks had left abrasions on the skin around the main wounds. They were dainty and minute. Too small to be a man’s, unless the man was petite.
The murder weapon and its accompanying cord, along with the body and a small handbag containing the vic’s identification, had been stuffed inside the closet in the same room. Aside from the marks on the body, there were no other obvious signs a struggle had taken place, even though he was certain there had been one. But the rest of the room was pristine. Perfect. Even Evan Everley’s toothbrush and toothpaste were aligned next to one another on the bathroom counter.
Maybe lack of a sign of a struggle was actually a clue. Maybe everything was too perfect.
The ME arrived and Dustin shifted his attention back to the wedding guests. They were queried, a task which went nowhere at first. Everyone claimed they had no knowledge of a woman named Dakota Jaynes. Dustin tried something else, provided the weary, frustrated group with a physical description. He explained the vic had long, dark hair, was around five foot seven, and weighed about a hundred ten pounds.
Once again, his efforts yielded nothing.
It wasn’t until he revealed one last detail that the real chatter began. “The vic was found wearing a red dress.”
CeeCee perked up. “Can you describe the dress?”
“One-shoulder, dark, more of a wine than a cherry color. The dress went to her knees.”
“Was it made of chiffon?” another woman asked.
How the hell would I know?
“Something like that.”
This time the group talked over themselves to be heard, their stories blending together. Dakota had been at the wedding, and almost everyone remembered seeing her. As to why she was there, standing unaccompanied, away from the crowd, no one knew. And until now, no one had reason to be suspicious either. Isla’s guests thought Dakota had been invited by the groom’s family, and the same was assumed on the other side.
While Dustin listened, taking a mental note of everyone’s comments, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from Reagan. She hovered half inside the room, half out, her eyes focused outside, on Evan. She looked angry, like she might cry, and she never cried.
Who was Evan to her besides the brother to Nathan’s wife?
A friend?
More?
Earlier he’d passed the guy off as an acquaintance she’d met because of the marriage between Reagan’s brother and Evan’s sister. Now he wasn’t so sure. She’d been holding his hand when he approached her, and she wasn’t a “hand-holding” type of girl. At least, she hadn’t been with him.
He thought back to the last night they spent together, thought about the moment he fumbled inside his pocket for the black velvet box. Looking back now, he could admit the timing was off. It had been too soon. Not for him, but for her, only he’d realized it too late. Still, he had no regrets, even now. He loved her. And though their relationship hadn’t been long, and most of it had been long distance, he was certain she was the woman for him.
When the moment arrived on the night of their break-up and he lowered himself on one knee, it was like she’d sensed it was coming, even before he left his chair. He’d never forgotten the look on her face, or the uncomfortable silence that came after he popped the question. He’d never forget the agonizing moments that ticked by while every patron in the restaurant looked on.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hoping she’d say yes.
In the end the only thing that came was a large dose of humiliation.
Not only had she said no, she said it was over. He consoled his bruised ego by convincing himself that she was just afraid. Everything would be fine once she had time to think about it. She would realize they were right together, and somehow everything would be resolved. The hardest part had been admitting to himself that he was wrong.
He was wrong about it all.
CHAPTER 13
Questions swirled through Reagan’s mind.
Who was Dakota Jaynes?
And … what kind of woman attends a wedding without an invitation?
The kind who’s up to no good.
The kind who gets herself killed.
Reagan watched one of the officers escort Evan into the back of a squad car knowing there was little she could do about it. They had probable cause, and she had nothing to prove his innocence. Except one thing. She had been in Evan’s room last night.
Several fingers wound around Reagan’s arm. She jerked back. “Let go of me.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dustin asked. “You know Evan’s room is sealed. You need authorization. You know that too.”
“So give it to me. I won’t to
uch anything. I just want to take a look.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe I can, but I won’t. Not even for you.”
“Why not just be honest about it—you won’t because it’s me.”
“Think whatever you want, Reagan. It won’t change anything.”
“Can I at least ask a few questions?”
“Depends,” he said.
“On what?”
“The questions.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing this to you? Oh, that’s rich, Reagan. You give me the cold shoulder for months, and you expect me to stand here and play nice now because you want something?”
He was right. Her intent was in the right place, but after she’d cut him out of her life without what he considered a “solid reason,” he owed her nothing.
Payback time, and he was relishing every last second of it.
She turned without saying another word. She’d find the answers she wanted, but it would have to be another way.
“Three,” he said.
She stopped, glanced back. “What?”
“Three questions. Best get them asked before I change my mind.”
“Is the victim still here or has she been transported already?”
“She’s here, for a few more minutes. ME’s in there now.”
“Garner?”
Dustin nodded.
Garner was good. Meticulous. Smart. Smarter than she was, and he never, ever made a mistake. Not a single one.
“Has the time of death been established?”
“She’s in full rigor. We know the vic was last seen at the wedding, which started just after six and ended right before seven. Her body was discovered around eleven o’clock this morning.”
“That’s sixteen hours total.” Reagan calculated the numbers in her head. “Since she was in full rigor when she was discovered, time of death had to be between the hours of seven and eleven last night. So you’re looking at a four-hour window.”
“Yep.”
Reagan jogged her memory. Had she seen the lamp on the nightstand when she stopped by Evan’s room the night before? She had. She was sure of it. And that’s not all. The closet door had been open, not closed, the jacket he’d been wearing at the reception dangling on a wooden hanger. Was it possible he had moved things around prior to her arrival?
She considered the timeline. As far as she could recall, Evan remained at the reception the entire night except once when he excused himself for a few minutes. He wasn’t gone long. Ten to fifteen minutes tops.
Enough time to kill somebody.
She pushed the thought out of her mind. She didn’t want to believe it. But she couldn’t deny the possibility either.
When Evan had returned to the reception after his short absence, they danced, and he left again—this time angry with her for the things she’d said. Several minutes later, Nathan came in looking for Isla, and Reagan found herself in Evan’s hotel room.
“I was with Evan last night,” Reagan said. “At the reception, and then again that night, in his room.”
“What were you in his room for?” Dustin asked. “Are the two of you dating?”
Figures that’s all he cares about at a time like this.
“The point is, the lamp was still on the nightstand, the closet door was open, and I could see inside. There was no dead woman in there, I can assure you.”
“Maybe he put the lamp back before you came in, stowed the body in the bathroom.”
“He couldn’t have been more relaxed when I saw him,” she said. “If he’d just killed that girl, he’s the calmest murderer I’ve ever seen.”
“When cops pulled Ted Bundy over, he appeared relaxed too. Some sociopaths have that ability, you know?”
“The murders aren’t similar. Not even a little bit. We aren’t looking for a serial, Dustin.”
“You sure?”
She wasn’t sure of anything. All kinds of scenarios presented themselves, including one in which Isla killed Dakota, and then in a moment of regret, flung herself off the cliff. In Reagan’s mind, everyone was now a suspect. “When do you expect the autopsy results for Isla?”
“That’s four questions. I said three.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Are you sticking up for the guy because he’s your new boyfriend? You think you can provide an alibi, convince me he’s innocent, and I’ll let him off the hook?”
“I’d never lie for another person, no matter what the circumstances.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“About whether he’s my boyfriend? That isn’t your concern, Dustin. If you’re still bent about what happened between us, I’m sorry. I never returned your calls because there was nothing I could have said to make things better. I’m as sure about my decision now as I was then. I’d like to say it would be nice to be friends, but you’ll always want more, and I can’t ever give you that.”
CHAPTER 14
“How long have you been sitting there?”
Reagan glanced up from her phone. Nathan was awake. He struggled to open his eyes, which wasn’t an easy task considering he looked like whatever drug was coursing through every orifice of his body (courtesy of the IV drip attached to his arm) was probably powerful enough to calm a drug addict on speed. He blinked a few times, willing himself awake.
“I got here a few hours ago,” Reagan replied.
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
“At night?”
“In the morning.”
Nathan glanced around the room. “Where’s mom?”
“Cafeteria. She wanted to be here when you woke up, but … you know Mom.”
“I’m surprised she’d eat hospital food.”
“A lot of wailing and gnashing went on before she succumbed to whatever they serve here. It was hospital food or starvation. I wasn’t willing to trek across town just to get her one cheese bagel from Foley’s, and heaven forbid she drive over there and get it herself.”
Nathan pressed a hand into the firm, uncomfortable cushion of what the hospital was passing off as a bed. He tried to angle his body into a sitting position. It didn’t comply. Reagan partially stood. Nathan grunted in discomfort but waved her off with his hand.
“Try the buttons,” she said.
“The what?”
She pointed to the light blue symbols on the inside of his bed. “Press the up arrow on that one if you want to sit up.”
He did as she suggested. “Thanks.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Some. I guess you heard?”
“Doctor talked to me this morning. Said you have a broken leg and a few broken ribs. Guess you’ll be keeping that cast on for a while.”
“Guess so. Looks like I’ll live.”
He said it as though death was a more preferable option. “When I dream, she’s still here. Still with me. And then I wake up to this … this life I don’t want to live anymore. Not without her. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, you know? We were meant to go through life together.”
Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. He let them flow.
Reagan had rehearsed what she was going to say when she saw him. Now she wasn’t sure. Her thoughts seemed prosaic, lacking the sentimentality and support she desired to express. “I know it’s hard, but with time I’m sure it will get easier.”
He pressed a hand to his throat like he was struggling for breath.
Great job.
Sallie shuffled all two hundred seventy-five pounds of herself into the room. She looked at Nathan then Reagan, and the finger-wagging began. “I’ve only been gone for ten minutes, Reagan. What have you done to him?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Reagan replied.
“You must have for him to be like this.” Sallie clapped her hands together a couple times in rapid succession as if conjuring up some kind of
magical form of relief. “Come on, son. It’s going to be all right. Get ahold of yourself now. Those nasty police officers will be here in a minute, and you don’t want them seeing you like this.”
That did the trick.
“The police are coming here?” he asked. “Why?”
“They’ve interviewed everyone else several times. Suppose now it’s your turn. Doc said they couldn’t see you until you woke up and he had the chance to check on you first.” Sallie patted the blanket, the firmness of her hand pressing down onto his cast.
“Mom!” Reagan said.
Sallie smoothed a couple fingers over her lips. “Oh, right. I forgot about your cast.”
“What do they want?” Nathan asked.
“It’s just a formality. I’m sure they’ll ask you the same thing they asked us, and then they’ll be on their way.” Sallie looked at Reagan. “Shame about Evan. I fussed all night thinking about how barbaric it was, him murdering that girl.”
“Isla wasn’t just a girl, Mom,” Nathan said. “She was my wife.” He paused, processed his mother’s entire statement. “Wait—what do you mean Evan murdered her?”
“Oh, no dear. I’m not talking about Isla. I’m talking about the other one.” Sallie looked at Reagan. “You know … Whatshername.”
In the heightened moment of frustration, Reagan allowed a single impure thought. The wrong woman was strangled. Sometimes she could scarcely believe her mother had made it this long without suffering a similar fate.
Nathan looked past his mother. “Reagan, what’s going on?”
There was no sparing him now. Not that she could have.
“After you were taken to the hospital yesterday, Evan was arrested. He’s being detained while the police decide whether or not they’re going to file formal charges.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A girl was found in his closet. She’d been strangled to death.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “What girl?”
“Her name was Dakota Jaynes.”
“Who is she—a relative of his or something?”
“Neither side claims to know anything about her. All we know is, for whatever reason, she showed up uninvited to the wedding, and at some point either during the reception or shortly after, she was killed.”
Echoes of Murder (Till Death do us Part Book 2) Page 4