by Vella Day
“So where is this eyewitness?” he asked, gazing down at her with dreamy eyes.
Kelly blinked to erase the effect he was having on her. She took a step back and when she glanced at the embankment, a rush of warm, stale air, tinged with the smell of urine made her wrinkle her nose. “I’m waiting for him. Or her.”
Derek took a step toward her, and Kelly backed up again until her butt hit the passenger side door. He ran his hand down her arm, slow and gentle. His lips parted, and her heart melted. This close, his cologne sweetened the air, and every memory of their past rushed in. Lust, love, excitement took her breath away.
“Kelly, look, about last night at the Casino. I’m—”
She held up a palm not needing an apology and steeled her heart. “Don’t worry about it.”
Derek’s image had intruded too often as it was, and now wasn’t the time for her to soften toward him, not when she should be mourning Stefanie.
His shoulders stiffened, his face turned hard. “Fine.”
The shattering of glass made her spin around again. A homeless man stood across the street, directly below the mattress, looking down at the broken bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He shrugged and took a step up the incline to his home.
Here goes nothing. “Come on.” She hoped this interview turned out better than the one with Michael.
Kelly reached into the front passenger seat and grabbed her purse, not wanting to leave anything valuable in the car.
13
The homeless man, puffing away on a cigarette, was halfway up the cement embankment by the time they crossed the street. Two cars whizzed behind them, kicking up dirt from the road, and a pebble nailed her in the calf. “Ouch.”
Derek looked down at her with concern, and when he pressed a palm to the small of her back, his touch sent a shot of intimacy through her, reminding her of what they’d once shared.
Once shared, she repeated to herself—not currently shared. Remember that, Kelly Lynn.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” She took a step up the incline ignoring the sting from the pebble, trying to put some distance between her and Derek’s reach.
“Sir, can we have a word with you?” Derek called out, apparently oblivious to the effect he was having on her.
The man stopped, turned, and hobbled toward them. Kelly couldn’t state his age with much certainty, but if she had to guess, she’d say around fifty. His shoulders were rounded and his beard long was matted. His dirt-stained clothes were stretched taut over his rounded belly, and she had to work hard not to wrinkle her nose at the stench of whiskey.
“You wanna talk to me? About what?” Even though his words weren’t belligerent, they were slurred, and her hope of finding lucid answers slipped away.
Derek flashed a couple of one-dollar bills in front of the man’s face. “We want to ask you about an accident the other night.”
The unkempt man came closer and grabbed at the bills, but Derek held them out of his reach.
“What accident?” the man asked, his lips forming a thin line.
She jumped in. “On Saturday, around ten at night, a black Land Rover flipped over the guardrail above you and landed over there.” She turned and pointed to a spot fifty feet away. Her heart squeezed, forcing Kelly to hold her breath to keep everything down. Derek ran a soft hand down her back, giving her the strength to continue. “I’m sorry. My sister died in the wreck. Do you remember the crash?”
Derek handed the money to the man. He stuffed the bills into his pants pocket. “Yeah, I remember. Couldn’t forget that noise.” He took a drag on the cigarette and blew smoke in her direction.
She moved back to get away from the acrid smell. “What can you tell me?” Her nails bit into her palms.
“Hmmm. Let me think.” He stroked his tangled beard.
Derek waited a minute, and then pulled out a five-dollar bill.
The vagrant shot them a grin and grabbed the cash. “Well I did have a little to drink the other night and was sleepin’ when I heard tires squealin’. Then came this loud crash. I thought the Crosstown was coming down on me.”
“Did you see the car land?” Kelly clasped her hands together and held her breath. She pushed back the image of the anguish and paralyzing fear Stef must have experienced as her car flipped before speeding through the air to the ground.
“It was dark, and as I said, I’d had a little bit too much to drink. I heard the crash, all right, but I fell asleep after I realized I was safe. Besides, what could I do? I don’t got a cell phone, you know.”
She exchanged a sideways glance with Derek. She shoved her hands in her pockets to stop the trembling. “Then what happened?” Tears spilled over her lashes, but she didn’t wipe them away.
He looked to the overpass and started to whistle. Impatient, Kelly dragged her purse from her shoulder and pulled out a twenty. “Here. That’s all I have.”
The man crushed the money in his hand, nodded, and scratched his chest with his other hand. “You know, I do remember hearing a car door slam above me right after that big, black SUV landed on the road. It’s a lot louder below the road here, you see. Reverberation noise, I think it’s called.” He pointed to the roadway above him. “Anyway, I thought it was,” he shifted around on his feet, “you know, kind of odd.”
She took a step toward him, wanting to study his eyes, to see if he was telling the truth. “What was so odd about another car stopping? People rubberneck all the time.”
“There wasn’t no shouting or nothing. I knew the person had stopped and gotten out of the car ‘cause I heard the door slam.”
He’d said that already. “How long did this person stop?”
He stared at the ground, mumbled something to himself, and then faced them again. “Geez. A good minute or two, but time has a way of slowing down when I drink.” The old guy dropped his cigarette butt and stomped it out with his faded sneaker.
She turned to Derek. “Do you think someone stopped, saw the mangled car, and then drove off realizing the person must be dead?” She wiped the salty tears from her cheek. “How could someone at least not call for help?” Maybe if Stefanie had received immediate care, she’d be alive.
Kelly prayed Stef hadn’t been trapped in her car bleeding to death with no means of escape. Don’t even go there.
Derek ran a gentle hand down her arm. “It’s possible,” he said with the gentlest tone. “There are folks who don’t want to get involved.” Derek faced the informant. “Mr., ah –”
“Reynolds. Joseph Phillips Reynolds at your service.” The man gave a little bow at the waist.
“Mr. Reynolds, did any other motorists stop or pass by on this road after the crash?” Derek asked.
“Well, like I said, I fell back to sleep, being out of it some. I woke up when someone started making a big racket. The sirens came a little bit later.”
“Did the police ask you if you saw anything?” Derek asked.
“I, ah, left once the cops came. No need to draw attention to myself.”
A deepening sense of dread filled her. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, for your time.”
He patted his pocket. “Any time.”
Her step unsteady, Kelly followed Derek across the dark street to their cars with more questions than answers.
She opened her mouth to ask Derek what he thought, when he turned and faced her. “Kelly, I have an appointment to meet with someone about my sister’s case.” He tapped his watch. “I’m late. Sorry.” Derek looked genuinely unhappy to leave her.
“Oh, sure, you go ahead.” She couldn’t remove the disappointment from her tone.
A rush of warm air pushed past her. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and couldn’t wait to crank up the car’s A.C. She stood on the curb waiting for a break in the traffic before jumping in her car.
Halfway to his cruiser, Derek stopped and jogged back. “I know you want to talk about this. Can I stop by your house in an hour?”
Her spirits lift
ed at his concern. How was he able to read her mind so easily? Just like old times. “I’d like that.”
She smiled, and then drew her lips down. How was she ever going to keep her heart in check if he acted like the Derek she used to know and love?
Derek didn’t like leaving Kelly in her fragile state, but he’d set up a meeting with Justin at eight, a meeting he couldn’t cancel. Not willing to tip him off as to the reason for the visit, Derek told him there was new evidence in Rayne’s case. What he didn’t say was that this new evidence pointed a finger at him.
True, Rayne’s next-door neighbor’s story seemed to corroborate Justin’s alibi, but there was always the possibility he’d come back later and shot Rayne.
Derek pulled up to Justin’s house, followed the lit sidewalk to his door, and rang the bell. The bugs that had gathered at the front light flew in his face, forcing him to swat them away.
Justin opened the door. “Come in.” He stroked his tie, as if it were a lifeline.
Derek followed Justin into the modern living room and took a seat on the sofa across from him.
Justin continued to fiddle with his tie. “So? What’s up?”
“The lab report came back. Rayne didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.” He watched Justin’s body language.
His sister’s boyfriend blew out a long breath. “Murdered? Oh, my God. Do the police have any leads?”
Disappointed Justin showed no signs of guilt, Derek decided to try a more direct tack. “You don’t look too upset.”
“Well, I have to admit I’m actually a little relieved that I didn’t cause her death. I’m still grieving, but to know I didn’t push her over the edge, makes me...”
Bitterness tinged his mouth. “What? Happy?”
Justin’s jaw clenched. “No. Less guilty.”
Derek leaned back on the sofa and spread his arms along the top, trying not to look threatening. “When you called Rayne Sunday morning, what did you say in your message?”
Justin didn’t blink. “I didn’t leave a message. After the third ring, I hung up. I figured she was picking up Billy or else she wasn’t ready to talk to me.”
His comment had validity. Now for the hard part. “A neighbor heard you and Rayne fighting.”
His gaze shot off to the side. “I’m not surprised. We were a little loud.”
“She said you called Rayne an Indian slut.” Derek’s fists balled.
Justin shot up from the chair. “That’s a goddamn lie. I loved Rayne. I would never call her a filthy name like that.”
Derek forced himself to remain seated, to control his need to hammer the guy. “Had Rayne ever told you our Dad was Seminole?”
Justin slipped behind his chair, a habit that was beginning to annoy Derek. “Honestly, no, but I didn’t care what her nationality was. Hell, I like to gamble at their casino. You know that. And they asked me to invest their funds. If you think I don’t like Indians, you’re full of shit.”
Native American, but now was the time to correct him. His angry sincerity convinced Derek he was barking up the wrong tree, but the warning from his spirit guides still preyed on his mind.
“Did Rayne talk about anyone who might have wanted to harm her?” Derek motioned for Justin to sit down.
Justin took a moment to think. His shoulders relaxed as he dropped back down into his Lazy Boy. “No one specifically, but we didn’t talk much about her work.”
When Justin said nothing more, Derek stood to leave, frustrated at the dead end. “Listen, I didn’t mean to imply anything by my comment. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I just wanted you to know the findings.”
Justin relaxed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Back in his car, Derek headed toward Kelly’s, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He wasn’t done grilling Justin, but he needed to find more evidence to nail the guy. And he would. He had no doubt about it.
By the time Kelly arrived home, her thoughts were so scattered she didn’t know what to make of her eyewitness. On the one hand, the person who’d stopped right after the wreck may have seen the bent guardrail and stopped out of curiosity. If that were the case, why not call for help? Didn’t this person have a cell phone?
If they didn’t, why not flag someone down? Or didn’t they see Stef’s car because they didn’t want to chance stepping near the damaged railing? The possibility shook her.
She dropped onto the comfortable sofa, but right now the cushiness did nothing to lessen the mounting realization the police might have been right—it had been an accident. When Kelly was talking to Stef on the phone had her sister become distracted and sped up? Had the slick roads caused her to swerve and flip? Or had she blown a tire and gone out of control?
Kelly dropped her hands in her head needing some guidance. Deep inside she believed someone meant to harm Stef. Despair claimed her body, and she gave into more tears.
After the fresh wave of doubt passed, she trudged to the kitchen and grabbed her box of cookies. Once her sweet tooth was satisfied, maybe the answers would come.
In any case, Kelly was glad Derek planned to stop over tonight. If the homeless man provided no direction, there was always Michael as a suspect. She bet Derek wouldn’t toss out her theory about the ex-boyfriend as quickly.
She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. A half hour had zipped by. She took a deep breath, put away what was left of the cookies, and rushed to the bedroom. Derek would be here soon.
She jumped in the shower and poured a handful of lemon shampoo in the palm of her hand and scrubbed until her hair was light with foam. She then squeezed her eyes shut and, for a brief moment of escapism, pictured Derek’s hands on her naked skin.
She had to make up her fantasy since all Derek had ever done in the two years they’d dated was kiss her. He’d told her he wanted to wait until marriage before they made love. Ah, high school innocence.
The steam fogged the shower door and her fingers pruned. She had to hurry. Once she toweled dried her body and hair, she pulled on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a pair of sandals that had yellow daisies on them.
A quick dash of make-up to cover her freckles and smooth out her complexion, and she was ready to meet him and his stoic attitude.
No sooner had she finished spritzing on a bit of perfume than the doorbell rang. Excitement warred with trepidation as she raced to answer it.
She opened up and swallowed to steady her voice. “Hi.”
Kelly almost smiled until she remembered he wasn’t here for a date. Still, her heart pounded at the sight of him. Damn him for pitting her heart and body against her mind.
“You ready?” he asked.
Derek fiddled with his top shirt button. Was he nervous? He couldn’t be. Not the smooth, unflappable, Derek Benally.
“For what?” She’d almost forgotten to answer.
“I’m starving. I thought we could do some dinner and discuss the cases.”
She tried to act nonchalant. His willingness to talk about what happened to Stef didn’t mean he believed someone had harmed her, but she couldn’t ask for a better chance to share her suspicions. “Sure. Let me grab my purse.”
After locking up, they walked side-by-side down the front walk, just like old times. She opened her mouth to reminisce about their high school dates but then thought better of it. Detective Benally was only interested in finding a killer, not in rekindling what they’d once shared.
There was that word again. Shared. Kelly needed to exorcise it from her vocabulary.
She’d better start thinking about something other than how handsome he looked or how her pulse fluttered every time he came near, or she’d be in trouble.
Okay. Breathe. The jasmine clinging to the front post sent out a sweet smell that helped put more pep in her step.
“So how long have you been divorced?” he asked, catching her off guard.
She tried to read the level of his interest but couldn’t. Maybe her marital status had been the cause for his s
tandoffish attitude. “Four years.”
She’d already told him that statistic at the Casino. Did he think she’d made up a husband? Surely he wasn’t trying to trick her into some kind of confession about how miserable she’d been since their breakup.
Derek opened the passenger side to his truck without a follow-up comment. Guess not. The stifling heat just walking to the vehicle caused a quick sheen to form on her forehead. A lot of good her shower did.
Derek jumped in and started the engine. Putting aside her adolescent fantasy, she refocused on the subject at hand. “So what did you think of the homeless man’s observations?” She lifted her hair off her neck to cool off.
“That he made an unreliable witness,” he answered. Before she voiced a comeback, he continued. “Okay, listen. I’ll grant you that someone could have stopped to check out the bent guardrail. It was dark by ten, and there was no reason for him to get close enough to look at the street below.”
“I know.” Defeat nearly drowned her in despair. They had zip, zilch, zero.
“You know?”
She twisted in her seat to see him. “At first I thought if someone saw the railing, they’d stop and look over the edge, but I realize that whoever did stop might have been afraid to move to close and took off.”
“So you’re giving up?” She appreciated his incredulity.
“No. You know me better than that. There’s one person who had reason to harm her.”
He whipped his head to look at her for a second. “Who?”
“Michael, her ex-boyfriend.” She told him about the meeting.
His jaw tightened. “What do you know about this man, other than he probably has a right to be bitter?”
“I don’t know much about his background. I liked the guy when he and Stef were dating. He was a risk taker. He raced cars. If he wasn’t dreaming of driving at Daytona, he was playing baseball. He played college ball and had been drafted into the Devil Rays minor league teams until...”
“The accident happened,” he finished. “That’s tough to have your life turned upside down, but it’s not necessarily a motive for murder.”