by Rachel James
“Tell me neither of you touched the body or the knife.”
“We just got here,” Logan answered. “Sonny had a meeting with her father. When her passcode wouldn’t trip the door, she got worried. We pulled the emergency switch.”
Dick turned to the woman hovering behind them. “Any discrepancy with that story, Sonny?”
“No, and it’s not a story. Daddy asked to see me after my aura class. But as you know, I got waylaid on the mesa.”
She shivered, and Dick realized she was recalling the incident. Shifting focus, he snatched a two-way radio from his security belt and barked for immediate assistance. Hearing the request being relayed, he pocketed the radio. Once again, his eagle eye took in the scene. There was no sign of tampering by the pair, but then he didn’t know Logan Reed well enough to know whether he would fudge the truth to save his ass. Dick snatched some gloves from his inside coat pocket and donned them quickly.
Bending, he studied the knife. Damn effective, he thought. He observed the red stain fanning out from the knife and shifted his focus back to Logan.
“What do you think, Reed? I could use some Meta Corps insight.”
What the man thought was lost, as arguing voices suddenly erupted at the front door. A second later, a scuffle took place, and before he could call for everybody to stay put, three figures attempted to gain entry to the room.
“Don’t you dare keep us out of here, Peter Hammond!” Charlotte Blake railed at the uniformed officer blocking the door with outstretched arms. Manicured fingers poked him in the chest for emphasis, but he stood his ground.
“Get out of the way, Peter! We’re going in!” Brad Fletcher’s voice demanded.
“Stand aside, Hammond! That’s an order!” The third demand was blistering, and this time the young man had no choice. A gargantuan hand lifted him off the floor and tossed him aside.
“What the hell is going on?” Ned Chambers snarled, catching sight of them standing by the console. His gaze swept over the slumped body behind them, and he frowned. “What the hell is going on?” He started forward, halting when the lieutenant waved him back.
“Stay put, Ned. You’re of no use here. You’re too late.”
A tortured cry sounded behind Ned. “My God! David!”
Ned whirled, catching the woman behind him as her knees buckled and she headed for the floor. In the next instant, her husband scooped her up and shuffled her to the sofa. Propping her there, he hovered, fanning her face while he took her pulse.
Ignoring the gesture, Dick lifted his radio and barked a new order to the dispatcher. When finished, he turned and fed orders to the uniformed officers hanging about the bungalow door.
“Get your asses out of here,” he ordered. “Set up a perimeter north and south. I want anything that breathes stopped and interrogated. We might have a chance to get the murderous bastard.”
A flurry of blue uniforms fled from the door, and Dick could hear distant shouts as his orders were relayed down the line. He went back to examining the body, signaling the remaining two officers at the door to join him. They inspected David briefly, taking cell phone photos, and then Dick radioed for a sheet to cover the body. As soon as he did, muffled sobs came from the couch.
“I need you clearheaded,” Dick stated, approaching the sofa. “You know how this works. I’ve got to get sensible answers, and fast.”
“I can’t,” Charlotte muttered. “Seeing him like that … so still … ” She broke off, covering her mouth. “Don’t ask me to be strong—not now.” She tugged on the silk ties of the filmy caftan she wore and attempted to pull herself together.
Snatching a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket, Dick addressed the trio. “You first, Ned. Where were you in the last hour?”
The large figure stiffened, obviously offended; however, Brad was determined to ask questions.
“Who the hell set off the alarm?” Brad asked. He stepped forward, and Dick raised his hand in irritation.
“Hold on, Brad. I’m asking the questions here. I’ll get to that later.”
Brad’s mouth twisted in annoyance. He spotted Logan’s figure. “Who the hell is this?” he asked. “And what’s he doing with his arm around Sonny?”
“He’s a Meta Corps agent out of New York City, and he’s obviously comforting Sonny,” Dick replied calmly. “Now back off, Brad, and let me do my job.”
Brad retreated to a high, wing-backed chair and flung himself into it. “I don’t need to lecture you on retreat security, Dick,” he chided. “Not when David is ... ” He broke off mid-sentence, stealing a quick glance at the covered body and then looking back at Dick. “Well, I don’t need to lecture you about opening our doors to strangers,” he finished abruptly.
Seeing his strained expression, Dick made note of it in the back of his mind. Was Brad’s annoyance real or fake?
“Brad’s right,” Ned muttered. “Our company protocol is straightforward; we don’t invite other agencies into our business without a formal request and approval.”
Sonny stepped forward. “I approved Mr. Reed being here. I’m currently working a case with him.”
“And without the board’s approval, I might add,” Ned stated.
“I don’t need company approval. This isn’t Sanctuary business. And what I do on my own time is none of your business, Ned.”
The room’s atmosphere charged up as three sets of eyes targeted Sonny’s face. Dick hid a smile. Trying to intimidate Sonny by staring her down wouldn’t work. Not with her ability to sense what everyone in the room was feeling—and thinking. The silence became pronounced, and wanting to defuse the situation, Dick shifted the topic back to his questioning.
“I’ll ask again, Ned. Where were you in the last hour?”
“Where were you in the last hour?” Ned asked sarcastically.
The lieutenant fired up. “Answer the question, or I’ll assume you had something to do with David’s murder. Where were you?”
“Driving over from Serenity,” Ned responded quickly.
Brad seconded the info, his expression mellowing. “We drove over together; we each had therapy sessions in the lab this morning.”
“Did you leave the facility between sessions?”
Charlotte’s head lifted. “How could he? I had the car.”
“And none of you talked to David in the last hour?”
“We haven’t seen or talked to him since breakfast,” Charlotte stated.
Dick nodded and then wheeled around, returning his attention to Brad. “Anything troubling David lately? Any change in routine? Arguments?”
“We run a tight ship here, Dick,” Brad responded. “Just ask your staff. We try to keep any arguments for the Monday Morning Coffee Klatch.”
“And you, Charlotte? Have you noticed David acting differently?”
Charlotte twisted her wedding ring. “He’s been edgy, but then he always is when meeting with our lawyers. Arguments? He always had them. With Ned, with Brad, it was normal.”
Dick shifted his stance. “Ned?”
“This is ridiculous,” Ned scoffed. He tugged his black vest down with a jerk. His smile did not indicate compliance. “I own part of the retreat. There’s bound to be friction now and then. David and I didn’t always see eye to eye on company policy.”
“You had words recently?”
“A few.”
“What about?”
“He received a complaint that I had treated several clients badly during their session. He felt they deserved a personal apology. We exchanged words.”
“There have been more than a few complaints,” Brad mocked him.
“Your history with clients is not so squeaky clean, either,” Ned shot back. “There was that lawsuit last year, claiming you touched a client inappropriately.”
Brad stiffened at the slur, but it was Sonny who lashed out.
“Don’t you dare accuse Uncle Brad of touching young girls! You know the girl lied. It was proven in a court of law.”
“Surely you don’t suspect one of us killed David,” Ned said. “His death will ruin our personal and professional reputations.”
“How much of The Sanctuary do you own?” Logan asked.
“Enough,” Ned replied evasively.
“The same as Brad?”
“Hardly,” Ned scoffed. “David rewarded hard work. He abhorred slackers. Brad hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the hard work part yet.”
“Fuck you, Ned!” Brad yelled. “I do own shares in the retreat.”
Ned hid a smirk, his eyes openly amused. “We all know how you obtained your shares,” he said
Charlotte, still slumped on the couch, came to life, bristling at the slur. “That kind of slander is uncalled for. Brad has never asked anything from David—not shares or favors.” Her gaze bounced to Dick. “You know quite well that David hired Brad to oversee the investment portfolios long before we married.” Her gaze jumped back to Ned. “Brad deserves your respect, not your contempt.”
Ned managed an apologetic stare. “Sorry.”
Tossing her head, Charlotte refocused on Logan Reed. “I’m sure Meta Corps knows our history well. David and I founded The Sanctuary together; however, over the years, I found it necessary to sell my shares back to him. Brad holds only ten percent of the company.”
Brad rose from his chair suddenly, cutting into his wife’s explanation. His stare impaled Dick. “Once the press hounds get wind of David’s death, they’ll camp outside the front gates. Can you guarantee additional protection? We’re not equipped for a worldwide paparazzi descent, you know.”
“Our security team is more than equipped to handle overzealous paparazzi,” Dick responded.
Ned tugged his vest down again. “We all want the same thing here—a very discreet handling of the matter.”
Dick grimaced. He would have loved to use the press hounds to his advantage, though. The Sanctuary was bigger than life, and keeping David’s murder on the down-low wouldn’t produce glaring headlines unless he unleashed the details of David’s demise to the World Wide Web.
“A feeding frenzy is not the answer,” Sonny said firmly. “If there’s any hint of scandal, The Sanctuary will crash and burn.”
“Besides,” Logan offered, “David Blake was killed for personal reasons. By someone he knew very well.”
The group winced at the bald statement.
“What makes you say that, Mr. Reed?” Charlotte asked.
“Don’t listen to him,” Brad fumed. “He’s been here for … what? A couple of hours? He can’t possibly know whether one of us is capable of murder.”
“He’s right, though. It is a possibility,” Dick stated.
Every face showed outrage. Only Brad had the audacity to complain out loud.
“I suggest you investigate a little more before labeling one of us a killer. Your job is to remain impartial.”
“And thorough,” Ned added.
“You do work for us, after all,” Charlotte threw in. “Our safety is your number-one priority—and the guests’, of course.” She rose from the couch. “We must prepare a statement for the press as soon as possible—one that’s carefully worded.” She signaled to Ned. “Help me devise a statement that doesn’t backfire on us, Ned. You always know the right way to word things.” He took her arm, and Dick listened to their voices as they exited the bungalow. To his surprise, his elbow was grasped tightly.
“Send Reed packing, Dick,” Brad said quietly. “He has no right to imply David was murdered by one of us.”
“If you have something to say to me,” Logan interrupted, “say it to me, not the lieutenant.”
“I’m merely pointing out that, for only knowing us for an hour, you’re overly fixated on us—and Sonny.”
“If I don’t mind his attention, Uncle Brad, why should you?” Sonny asked.
“Sonny’s right,” Dick said. “She’s certainly capable of sensing who is dangerous and who isn’t.”
“Stow the lecture, Dick,” Brad chided. “I get enough lectures from Ned.” He left the bungalow quickly, slipping out the door without a backward glance.
Silence descended in the room for a moment, and then Logan broke the quiet. “Who wins if The Sanctuary goes bust?”
“Aunt Charlotte would,” Sonny replied, and then, to the men’s horror, she burst into tears.
Logan was the first to move, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and listening to her distraught sobs. “You’re not going to fling yourself into one of your visions, are you?” he asked. “Remember, I can’t go where you go unless you take me.”
Her tears intensified, which made Dick panic. “Take her out of here, Reed.”
“Where the hell to?”
“She likes Saddleback Ridge.”
“Where the hell is that?”
“It’s my favorite place,” Sonny said between sobs. “It’s peaceful and quiet, and doesn’t have dead bodies.” Her sobs intensified again, and this time, Dick saw Logan panic. Dick reached into his pocket and threw Logan the keys to his truck.
“My truck’s out back. Use the GPS to find the ridge.”
Logan moved quickly, propelling Sonny out the door ahead of him. Watching them disappear, Dick grimaced. Who the hell had murdered David?
His thoughts fell on the men who had just left. Brad Fletcher was shrewd, but would he murder his brother-in-law to take control of the Blake empire? On the other hand, Ned was prone to hot outbursts that ended as quickly as they started. Both spent day and night working at Serenity, and they seldom, if ever, drew attention to themselves. In Dick’s mind, it was more likely that Brad’s low-key demeanor hid the desire to take out an enemy.
He turned and studied David’s body. Thank God Sonny hadn’t had time to use her empathic skills to reprise the moment of David’s death. If she had, the news would’ve spread like wildfire—right to her unknown stalker.
Hearing his name called sharply, Dick spotted Charlotte Fletcher re-entering the bungalow. He saw her tear-stained cheeks at once and realized she, like Sonny, was attempting to push David’s death to an “I’ll deal with it later” file. Stopping in the center of the room, she glanced around, avoiding the covered sheet.
“Has Sonny left?” she asked.
“Just did. She had a meltdown. Logan took her for a ride to calm her nerves.”
Charlotte gave a strained laugh. “I suppose it’s her turn now, to be thought of as a murder suspect.”
“Guilty till proven innocent, right?” He quickly changed the subject. “What’s between Ned and Brad? Some petty work grievance, or does it go deeper than that?”
Charlotte’s head shot up. “It’s a continuance of a childhood rivalry, if you must know,” she stated. “They grew up together, and they have always tried to outdo each other in everything. As men, they’re still fixated on besting each other, except now Ned uses Sonny as a weapon to needle Brad.”
Dick’s head whipped around. “Are you implying Ned has made romantic overtures towards Sonny?”
“Hardly that.” Charlotte laughed. “It’s her talent he secretly wants. He’s said several times over the years that he wishes he could fling himself in and out of worlds like she does; however, I suspect that what he really means is that he wants to create a perfect world where he’s master and the rest of us are his adoring slaves.”
“God help us if he ever finds a way to accomplish that task,” Dick said.
“We all lived different lives before coming to The Sanctuary,” Charlotte added. “Some of us may have a black skeleton or two in our closet.”
“I’ve already probed your life histories before c
oming to New Mexico.” Dick laughed. “But, with your permission, I’ll take a closer look. My gut agrees with Logan Reed. David’s murder was personal, not professional.”
Charlotte said no more and left Dick’s side, making him wonder why she’d made a point to return and throw Ned under the bus. And why had she stressed Ned’s relationship with Sonny? Her hints were casual, but he suspected something more lay behind them. He’d take another peek into Ned’s background when he got back to the office. A second look might uncover some massive secret that got David killed.
“We’re ready, Lieutenant.”
Dick turned, nodding to the EMS techs rolling a gurney into the room. He stepped aside as they collected David’s body, wondering why Ned hadn’t stayed to toss Brad or Charlotte under the bus. Was he deflecting suspicion from himself by flying under the radar? For what reason? Dick didn’t know yet, but he’d bet his next month’s paycheck that it was to keep from being grilled about where he spent his time when he wasn’t conducting therapy sessions. Dick frowned at the thought. Was it possible to skip out on a therapy session, kill David Blake, and then be back in time for your next therapy session?
Dick shuddered at the thought. No, he’d not start suspecting Brad or Ned of murder just yet. Right now, he had to concentrate on their loyalty. Besides, if they really wanted to hurt David Blake, wouldn’t bankrupting him be a much better ploy? After all, David prized money above all else. No, Dick’s gut instinct was right. David had pissed someone off—the wrong someone. And it was Dick’s job in the next few hours to find out who that someone was.
His thoughts took a sudden nosedive. Perhaps he should involve Sonny in the investigation. Her uncanny insight into people and things might just be the thing he needed to jump-start his investigation. But could he rely on her focusing her talent while grieving for her father? He didn’t think he could ask that of her. For once, he wished he had the talent to touch an object and know the truth of its essence. And for once, he wished he had another cop’s mind to brainstorm with.
“Don’t forget to collect the surveillance footage here and along the walkway,” he said, seeing a new set of blue uniforms taking up residence inside the door. “Send them all to my office stat.” The officers nodded, heading for the cameras.