by Vella Day
A chill chased down his spine. “No. Don’t tell me she was murdered too.”
“Car accident. You remember how wet the roads were on Saturday?”
“Boy, do I. Half of my apartment parking lot was flooded.”
“Apparently, her car skidded on an overpass, and she flipped over the guardrail. Landed on the street below.”
Derek closed his eyes for a moment. “What was her name?” He didn’t know too many of his sister’s friends, but he’d met a few.
“Gentry.”
Damn, that was the one name he knew only too well.
5
Derek swallowed hard at the dropped bomb. “Kelly or Stefanie?”
No way the accident victim could have been Kelly Gentry. Last he’d heard she still lived in North Carolina—not that he’d gone out of his way to find out where she’d lived or anything.
“Stefanie, if my memory serves me right. Do you know her?” Vaughn said.
He relaxed his death grip on the chair handles and sucked in a lungful. “Met her once.” He wouldn’t have been able to survive the blow if Kelly had died. “Who’s the primary?”
“Medina is doing the honors.”
“Good.” Dominic Medina was one of the veteran detectives. He’d even shown Derek a few tricks.
A shout from the other side of the room distracted them, and Vaughn turned to check out the disturbance. Wouldn’t you know? Deputy Billadeau was practically dragging some skanky looking guy back to the interrogation room. Two detectives followed on his heels. Bill had a long night in front of him. Sorry sucker.
An earnest young officer, whose name failed to register in Derek’s chaotic mind, stepped next to Vaughn and asked him a question. Derek’s boss nodded, stood, and walked side-by-side with the rookie toward his office. He guessed that was the end of the discussion about the Gentry girl.
Derek leaned back in his chair and tried to make sense of this world. The image of a seventeen-year old Kelly Gentry—curly red hair, long shapely legs, and a heart bigger than all of Florida—popped into his head.
He sat up abruptly, his chair sending out a groan, forcing her image out of his head. He didn’t need any more sad reminders of what could never be.
On his desk sat a pile of folders, all of which needed his immediate attention. In order to be able to attack the paper work, Derek headed to the soda machine. He needed a caffeine hit a lot more than he needed to be thinking about Kelly right now, especially since his head wasn’t on straight. Dealing with his sister’s death and Billy’s angry refusal to accept his mom’s loss, not to mention his dad’s mental state, already had Derek in a spiral.
The phone on Bob Bronson’s desk rang and rang while the man guffawed not ten feet away. He didn’t move a damn muscle to answer the call. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying some off color joke, and the man’s joy did nothing to help the emptiness in Derek’s heart.
Stef was dead? What tough luck. Kelly must be beside herself. Surely, she’d fly into Tampa for the funeral. Should he go for old time’s sake?
No. He wasn’t ready for a tearful reunion—or rather a crying jag. Derek had no problem touching base with her for old times sake though. She’d have moved on with her life by now. Probably married with half a dozen kids. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t even remember him.
He plunked his quarters into the machine and shrugged. It was better to maintain his distance. When he returned with his drink, Dom Medina was at the coffee machine, pouring a cup of what looked like hot sludge.
“I thought you were a soda man?” Derek asked. The two of them had joked about their mutual addiction.
“Change is nice every once in a while. Tessa kind of converted me to java.”
A quick shot of envy filled him. Lucky Dom. He and Tessa were the perfect couple—in love and with a child they both adored. Until he’d seen them together, Derek had never believed a detective’s life could coexist with a happy marriage.
Derek refocused on the case. “The Captain tells me you’re working the Gentry case. Got anything?” Two good friends dying on the same day had raised his brows.
Medina eased off the lever as the hot liquid rose to the top of the cup. “No foul play as far as I could tell.” Dom dumped a load of sugar in his cup, and Derek cringed. “Say, I’m sorry about your sister.” He took a long time stirring his coffee. The steam billowed up, filling the air with a cocoa bean aroma. “The Captain mentioned this Gentry woman was one of your sister’s friends.” The detective looked up from his cup.
“Yes, but I only met her once. Rayne talked about her a lot though.”
Rayne’s smiling face surfaced. Once she and Stefanie took skydiving lessons. Rayne loved the thrill, but Derek nearly died when he’d found out. Man, had he given her hell.
Medina headed toward his desk, carefully holding the steaming drink in front of him. A thought suddenly struck Derek. “Hey, Dom. How did the Captain know Rayne and Stefanie were friends?”
Medina stopped at his desk. “We dialed the last incoming call from Stefanie’s cell phone. It belonged to your sister.” He set his coffee cup on his desk and flipped through his notes. “I interviewed her this afternoon as a matter of fact. She said she spoke to Stefanie moments before the accident. Kelly’s sister had just come back from visiting Rayne and was heading home when she must have lost control of her car.”
“You spoke with Kelly?” Every muscle tensed. “How did she sound?” Broken? Tired? Lonely?
“Sound?”
Why had he asked such a stupid question? He’d just wanted to learn more about the woman who once meant the world to him. “I guess she was all broken up, huh.”
Dom Medina raised a brow, looking as though Derek had lost his mind. “Of course, but she held herself together pretty well. A real class act. Pretty too.”
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “You saw her? How?”
“How? I drove a car to her house.” Medina slapped closed his file. “You know her or something?”
How much should he tell? How much dare he give away? “Used to. We went to Hillsborough High together. How could you drive to her house? I thought she worked at Duke University.”
Old emotions swamped him. The joy she’d brought when they were together taught him to appreciate the little things in life. And then there was the lust. Lots and lots of lust. They never hooked up though. He respected Kelly too much, but he sure stayed horny his senior year. Each delicate kiss she gave him had driven him wild. He attributed his stellar football career in part to pent up energy.
Medina pulled out his chair, eased into his seat, and motioned Derek do the same. Derek shut off his fantasy and focused on the cop.
“Duke, you say? He whistled. “Not now she doesn’t. She does some kind of cancer research for Moffitt Hospital.” He took a sip of his steaming coffee and looked over the lip of the cup. “Is something wrong?”
Confusion swirled around him. She’d done it. Kelly was finally a cancer research doctor. Pride for her accomplishment filled him. “No. I guess I wasn’t up on my sister’s friends’ lives as I’d thought. Do you have her address or number?”
“Sure.” He ran a finger down the length of his notepad.
Derek was uncertain if he even wanted to see Kelly again, especially under such horrible circumstances, but if Kelly knew anything about Rayne’s death, he had to investigate.
Didn’t he?
Medina pulled out a Post-it note pad from his drawer and printed Kelly’s address in neat block letters. “Here ya go. Let me know if she remembers anything.”
“Will do.”
Derek stuffed the information in his back pocket and wandered back to his desk, his mind whirring. If Stefanie had visited Rayne before the murder, she might have overheard the fight with Justin. With Stefanie dead, Kelly was the last link to finding how his sister had died. He refused to admit any of his logic was based on rationalization.
A half an hour later, and only half way through his Vanderwall f
ile, Seinkievitz, the lead detective on Rayne’s case, sauntered up to his desk. “Say man, I’m really sorry to hear about your sister.”
Derek looked up at Ichabod Crane lookalike. “Thanks. You find any leads on her murder yet?” He held his breath.
“I can’t talk to you about the case. You know that.” He leaned a skinny hip on the corner of the desk. He glanced behind his shoulder in the direction of the Captain’s office. “I just spoke with Vaughn,” Seinkievitz said, his voice close to a whisper. “He told me your theory about the boyfriend.”
Derek forced casualness into his tone. “It’s just that. A theory. No one saw him sneak out of the party.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Say, keep me in the loop, will ya? For old times sake.”
Seinkievitz jumped off the desk as if Derek had some infectious disease. “No can do.”
Derek sat back up and casually stacked his files on his desk into a neat pile. “What about the Marcadis case?”
Seinkievitz flinched. “You wouldn’t.”
Derek propped his feet up on his desk. “I will if I have to.” Derek didn’t like using threats, but under the circumstance, he had little choice.
The normally cheerful guy turned sullen. “Fine, but if the Captain finds out—”
Derek sprung his chair forward and dropped his feet to the ground. “He won’t.” Seinkievitz knew he could lose his job if Derek turned him in for sleeping with a witness.
Seinkievitz shouldered a glance again at the Captain’s office. “Come over to my desk,” Seinkievitz whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Derek hopped up and followed him away from view of Vaughn’s office window. He didn’t give a shit about protocol. He needed to be on top of the case even if he couldn’t participate.
Seinkievitz plopped down in front of his desk and flipped through a nasty looking manila folder. “I contacted your sister’s law firm for a list of her previous clients. Since she was a prosecuting attorney, I figured someone might not have been particularly happy with the outcome of his case.”
“I mentioned the same thing to the Captain. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to check with the parole office.”
“He did.” Some satisfaction surfaced that the Captain took his ideas seriously.
Seinkievitz stuffed a chocolate donut in his mouth, then pulled out a piece of paper from the file folder and slid the document across the desk toward Derek.
A smudge of brown smeared the back. “Seinkievitz! Can’t you wash your hands before you read files?”
Brad Seinkievitz swiped a paper napkin over his mouth and acted as though Derek hadn’t said anything.
Derek read the document. “Says here, Jose Piloseno did five years for assault, and that he was released two weeks ago.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Seinkievitz said with a mouthful of chewed donut in his mouth.
Derek finished reading. “Does he have an alibi for Saturday night?”
“Don’t know. His parole officer gave me his address though.”
A quick spurt of excitement shot through him. Finally a clue. “Let’s go.” Derek jumped up.
“No way.”
Derek waved a hand. “I’m just along for the ride. Nothing official. Hey, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“No can do.”
He wished the man would stop repeating the annoying phrase. “Seinkievitz. You want me to tell the boys about the time you dressed up in drag?”
“Shh.” His face turned whiter than bleached bones. His jaw clenched, and his gaze darted around the room, obviously weighing his options. “Fine, but let me leave first. I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Thanks.” Derek grinned for the first time since hearing of Rayne’s death.
Yes, he’d planned on visiting Kelly at some point today, but she probably wouldn’t be home from work until at least five. Besides, he needed time to get his thoughts in order before he approached her.
“Hi, Doc,” Kelly’s young assistant called as he hustled in through the lab door.
“Hey, yourself. What’s the hurry? And what’s with the smile?”
“There’s someone here to see you,” Chip said. His grin widened and his brows wiggled.
Chip, Chip. Normally, his humor about finding the perfect man—for her and for him, gave her a boost. But not today. Kelly was convinced some relative of his must own Match.com or something close since he was constantly trying to urge her to find true love on-line. Please. She had ethics. She also had her share of failures. One lost love and one ruined marriage to the wrong guy was enough for a lifetime.
“He asked to see me?” She spread the culture on the petri dish.
“Yeah, and he’s hot with a capital H.”
She halted. “Is he really tall by any chance?” Her heart skipped a beat.
“Nope. Just your average Joe, but I wouldn’t turn him down.” Chip cocked his head back and lifted a brow. She guessed he was attempting to look sexy. He failed.
“Thanks for the review.”
She covered her petri dish, placed the experiment in the incubator, and then removed her gloves and goggles, a little embarrassed at her disappointment that Derek hadn’t come to console her. But why should he? Just because both of their sisters had died on the same day didn’t mean he had to contact her. She did own a phone, which meant she could have called the police department to find him.
She brushed back the errant strands of hair that had escaped her rubber band and headed out of the lab.
A lone gentleman in his mid thirties, nicely dressed in pinstripes and polished shoes, was standing in the middle of the hall, his hands clutched in front of him. He stepped forward with his hand extended. “Dr. Rutland?”
“Yes.” Next time she’d instruct her assistant to let salesmen know she wasn’t in charge of buying supplies. She didn’t need the interruption, though today, she’d done nothing of any consequence, because her mind hadn’t be able to focus.
“I’m Justin Bladen. You’re Stefanie’s sister, right?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Yes.” Had he come with news of her death?
Justin Bladen. The name sounded familiar.
Two nurses brushed past them, and he looked around. “Do you think we could talk somewhere a little more private?”
“Sure. There’s a lounge down the hall.”
Had Stefanie dated Justin and forgotten to mention him? Was he looking for closure too?
“Here we are,” she said, a fresh wave of sadness hitting her. Could she talk about her sister’s death with this stranger and not lose her composure? As it was, she’d broken down twice already in front of Chip.
The lounge wasn’t empty, but this space was the best she could find. A little girl squealed as she climbed up on her mother’s lap, and a twinge of sadness touched her. If they were here, someone in the family was suffering from cancer. She forced the image of her sick father from her mind.
Justin sat across her and held her gaze. “Well, this is a little awkward.” He loosened his tie. “I’m Rayne Anderson’s boyfriend, or at least I was until she committed suicide, but I bet you knew that—about the suicide, that is.”
Sympathy welled at his loss. “Oh, yes. Now I remember. You’re the stockbroker.” Something didn’t settle well with her, but she figured her own emotions were so out of kilter, she was suspicious of things for no reason. Maybe her sister had mentioned that Rayne and Justin were having troubles. It didn’t matter now. “How did you find me?”
“Rayne and I double dated with your sister a few times. They were good friends. Stefanie bragged all night about how you were coming to work at Moffitt for cancer research. A few calls later, here I am.”
Stef had bragged about her? Kelly blinked a few times to clear her eyes. “I see.”
He leaned forward, his hands twisted in his lap. He wet his lips. “Rayne mentioned your sister planned to stop by the night she, ah, killed herself. Did Stef say what happened?”
The littl
e girl across from them screeched as she fit a long cylinder into a round hole. “They never got together. Rayne wasn’t feeling well, so Stef left.”
A flash of something crossed his face, and then disappeared so fast she couldn’t name his emotion. “Oh. Did your sister tell you why Rayne wanted her to stop by?”
“Not that I recall. Why?” His questions seemed odd for someone who’d lost a loved one.
“I’m trying to get a handle on why she took her life. We’d argued that night, and I can’t help but wonder if the fight might have upset her more than I’d imagined. You see she found out she was pregnant. Being unmarried, she was, well, distraught. I begged her to marry me right away, but she said no. We hadn’t known each other for very long, she’d claimed.” He looked off to the side and shook her head.
“How terrible for her.” He hung his head. “And for you too.”
He looked up and scoured the ceiling. “Maybe, but now I’ll never know the truth.” He reached in his jacket pocket, and when he pulled out a business card and handed it to her, their hands briefly touched. His eyes widened, but she dismissed his response. This close, she could smell his woodsy cologne.
“Say, listen,” Justin said. “I know how much you must be hurting right now too, so if you ever need to talk, give me a call.”
She took his card, even though she knew she’d never contact him. He sounded more like a shrink than another grieving soul. “Thanks.”
Justin nodded and stood. She watched him stride down the corridor with a hint of confidence she hadn’t seen when he’d first arrived.
“How did the meeting go?” the familiar voice said behind her.
She turned to face Chip. “His girlfriend died the same night Stef did. He wanted someone he could talk to. That’s all.”
“He can talk to me. I’d listen to him forever.” Chip’s dreamy gaze followed Justin as he disappeared through the doorway.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth. Did you analyze the culture I gave you?”
“Not yet.” He cast his eyes downward, but she could see laughter behind his chagrin.