Her Alibi

by Carol Ericson

  The reports mentioned no signs of a break-in that night, so Niles must’ve let his killer in—or he was already here.

  As he walked toward the balcony, Connor skimmed his fingertips along the bed, stripped of its covers. No blood stained the mattress, and he’d noticed before, on his first trip, that the walls were free of blood splatter.

  The stabbing had been controlled. That could’ve happened if Niles had been killed in his sleep...or in a drugged state. The killer could’ve rolled him out of bed or carried him upstairs, placed him on the floor and proceeded to rip up his flesh with the blade of a knife.

  Connor had been a cop, not a crime scene investigator or even a detective. If he could figure this out, Homicide must’ve already come to that conclusion. The number of stab wounds Niles had should’ve resulted in blood droplets all over this room.

  If Niles had been drugged, why not Savannah, too? Someone could’ve spiked the scotch; they both conked out downstairs and were carried up here and undressed. The killer placed Savannah in the bed, slicing her hand—the wrong one—and dumped Niles on the floor and stabbed him to death, leaving Savannah to wake up with a dead body. Probably figured she’d panic, thinking she’d never get away with this, not remembering what happened, and that she’d call the police.

  The killer obviously didn’t know Savannah. Tiffany? That woman never could’ve pulled this off herself. Maybe Denny, with or without Tiffany’s help.

  Why set up Savannah? Connor twitched back the drapes and stepped onto the balcony, inhaling the salty sea breeze. The knife, the button, the incriminating picture with Letty—that could all be for blackmail purposes, especially once they realized Savannah had no intention of caving and copping to a murder she didn’t commit—or at least one she couldn’t remember committing.

  She didn’t remember killing Manny, either.

  Bracing his hands on the stucco wall that separated him from the waves crashing on the rocks below, he leaned forward, feeling the breeze lift the ends of his hair from the back of his neck.

  Why had his father continued to lie to him about that night? And to Mom? Hadn’t he realized it had wrecked Connor’s faith in him? Knocked him off that pedestal his son had been constructing since the time he was a small boy and dreamed of being just like his dad?

  Georgie had done that to his family. Georgie had sacrificed her own daughter, as well. Sacrificed her to a low-life drug dealer in exchange for a fancy car, diamonds and trips to Vegas to fuel her gambling habit. She’d forced Savannah into the position she’d found herself in that night—facing a rapist in her own home.

  Connor shook his head and pulled back from the drop-off. He turned to face the room and inspected every corner of it.

  No more buttons. No more blood. No more evidence linking Savannah to the murder. The cleanup crew had done a bang-up job.

  Connor closed his eyes, trying to imagine Savannah waking up in this room with her ex-husband dead on the floor. Most women would’ve panicked and run, without a thought to any evidence left behind, or maybe most women would’ve called 911. Savannah wasn’t most women.

  His eyelids flew open as a frisson of fear tickled the back of his neck. Murder changed a room—a house. All the bleach in the world couldn’t erase the bad vibes that hung over this space like a dark curtain.

  As Connor walked out of the room, he said aloud to no one, “Poor sap.”

  Had Niles’s fate been sealed the day he fell in love with Savannah? Had his?

  Connor jogged down the stairs and crossed the great room to the office. He searched through Niles’s desk again, rapping his knuckles against the space on the desk where a computer should be. Too bad they couldn’t get their hands on that computer.

  The cyberforensics team at the sheriff’s department would give it the once-over, but Savannah would be the one to know if the computer held any clues to Niles’s murder.

  Crouching, Connor pulled open the desk drawer with the false bottom. Maybe that missing file held the key to everything.

  A slight whisper behind him made the hair on the back of his neck quiver. But before he could turn around something landed on the back of his head with a thump that echoed through his brain, and he slumped forward.

  As his eyes drifted closed, he thought about Savannah blacked out in this house...and then everything went dark.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Savannah ordered a car from the ride app and then cupped her phone in her hand to track the driver’s progress.

  She planned to replace her phone as soon as possible now that she had proved to the police that the thing was on the fritz. They’d had plenty of questions about why she didn’t have her phone the night of Niles’s murder. The device had performed like a champ in the interview room with the detectives, losing 50 percent of its charge in the hour she’d been in there.

  They hadn’t asked her anything about Letty. She hunched her shoulders against the chill wending its way up her spine, which even the warm San Diego sun couldn’t melt away. She hated the thought of Letty’s body in that warehouse. Had her family reported her missing yet? Had anyone made the connection between Letty and Niles? Maybe the cops knew and were waiting for some kind of slipup on her part. Paulson was a sneaky bastard.

  She tapped the toe of her sandal. Where had Connor gone? She’d texted him twice and called him. If he’d gone to the beach at the foot of the house, he may have lost service, but why would he be down there?

  Maybe he’d had enough of her and had taken off to go home. Telling him about Manny had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life—but necessary. Maybe the truth never could repair what was broken between them, but the lies never gave them a chance.

  And she wanted a chance with Connor. Being with him the past few days had made it clear to her that she belonged with that man and no other.

  If she stuck out this therapy with Thomas, maybe she and Connor could start fresh. Of course, she’d have to get past her current dilemma.

  Damn Niles for getting himself killed. Nobody deserved murder, but Niles had been playing with fire for too long, juggling women and their exes.

  Her ride pulled up to the curb in front of the sheriff’s department and she hopped in. Even though she’d indicated the La Jolla address when she ordered the car, she still gave the driver directions, impatient to get to the house and find out where Connor went.

  When the driver dropped her off, she blew out a sigh, seeing Connor’s white truck parked out front.

  She went up to the door and, rattling the handle, discovered it was locked. She banged on the solid wood. “Connor, are you in there?”

  Stepping back, she tipped her head to scan the windows of the second story. He had her keys.

  She went around to the side of the house and tried the sliding door to the kitchen. No luck. She pressed her nose against the glass and peered inside. The gleaming kitchen stretched before her—empty. Not that she expected Connor to be in there eating a sandwich.

  Her steps a little quicker, her knees a little shakier, she went back to the front of the house and clambered through the flower bed outside Niles’s office. Cupping her hands around her face, she looked through the window.

  She let out a scream when she saw Connor crumpled on the floor behind Niles’s desk. Dear God, not again.

  She beat her fists against the glass. “Connor! Connor!”

  Spinning around in the dirt, she scanned the ground and picked up a sizable rock. It was her house now and she didn’t give a damn.

  She smashed the rock against the windowpane closest to the handle. It took her three tries to break the glass.

  When the window sported a jagged hole, she reached through and flipped up the lock, swung it open and stepped through, into the room.

  Connor’s body lay less than two feet away, and Savannah dropped to her knees beside him.

 
She placed two fingers against his neck and let out a sob when his pulse beat strong against her fingertips. She ran her hands over his face and chest. No blood.

  Then she readjusted his head, and her hand came away wet and sticky. She gasped at the red stain on her palm.

  “Connor, Connor.”

  She staggered to her feet and rushed to the wet bar. She grabbed a towel from beneath the sink and soaked it with water.

  When she returned to Connor, she swiped the wet cloth across his face. “Connor, wake up. You’re not dead.”

  She cradled his head in her lap and pressed the damp towel against the wound on the back of his skull to staunch the flow of blood. Head wounds always looked worse than they were; Connor had taught her that.

  “Connor, don’t you dare leave me in this house with another dead body. Wake up, damn it.” She patted his face—maybe a little harder than she intended.

  His lips parted and he emitted some sound—not quite a word, but she’d take it.

  “Connor!” She brushed her hand across his brow and tucked his hair behind his ear. “C’mon, baby. Come back to me. I need you.”

  His thick, stubby lashes fluttered and he muttered another incompressible word.

  She slid his head from her lap and wedged the towel beneath his cut. She rose to her feet and returned to the wet bar, this time filling a glass with water. Her hand hovered over a decanter of whiskey. Maybe he needed something stronger. She poured the amber liquid into a second glass and returned to the patient carrying both drinks.

  She sat cross-legged on the floor beside him and carefully lifted his head again. She put the glass of booze to his slightly parted lips and tipped a small amount of the liquid into his mouth.

  Most of it ran down his jaw and neck, but he sputtered and blinked.

  “Keep it going, baby. You can have the rest when you come to.”

  Connor groaned and her heart sang. He wasn’t going to die on her.

  He reached for his head and she swatted his hand away.

  “You have a big gash on the back of your skull. I have that covered—literally.” She curled an arm around his shoulders. “Does anything else hurt? I didn’t see any other injuries. What happened, Connor?”

  He struggled to sit upright, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you should be moving around?”

  He cleared his throat and winced. “I’m fine.”

  “Obviously not.” She helped him sit up and lean against the desk. “You were out cold when I got here, and must’ve been in that condition for quite some time because I’ve been trying to reach you to pick me up from the sheriff’s department and you didn’t answer.”

  His limbs jerked and his eyelids flew open. “How do you know it’s safe? Someone hit me.”

  “Whoever attacked you is gone now. The house was locked up when I got here.” She stirred the broken glass on the floor with her toe. “I had to break a window to bust my way in here.”

  His lip twitched. “Bust your way in?”

  “Oh, you think that’s an exaggeration?” She raised one eyebrow. “I peered in and saw you on the floor. I thought I had my third dead body on my hands in the space of a week.”

  He coughed. “Not dead.”

  “Here.” She thrust the whiskey at him. “Down some of this. You still look a little white around the lips.”

  “Damn. He took me by surprise.” He wrapped his long fingers around the glass and took a gulp.

  “You didn’t see him, I suppose.”

  “No.”

  “What were you doing? What does he want?” Savannah peeled the towel from Connor’s head and parted his hair to inspect the small wound, which was still producing a steady stream of blood. She clamped the towel back on.

  “This.” Connor hit the desk drawer with his fist. “I was checking out Niles’s secret hiding place again. That’s when he hit me.”

  “How did he even get in? The house was locked up when I arrived.” She tipped her head toward the gaping hole in the window. “You saw what I had to resort to.”

  “I have no clue, but I’m guessing he was here before I was. Hiding, maybe just like the night of Niles’s murder. I didn’t hear any noises in the house when I was upstairs, but I’ve been pretty clueless in general, allowing him to get the jump on me.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes. “Would you stop focusing on that? Why would he want any more of Niles’s files? He stole the one he wanted from me, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know, but somebody wants these files and it seems as if it’s someone who has access to the house.” Connor switched the whiskey for the water and drained the glass. “Do you think Tiffany has keys to this house?”

  “I’m sure of it. You think Tiffany whacked you on the back of the head hard enough to knock you out?”

  “No, but her biker boyfriend could’ve done it.”

  “What do you think they want with information about the company?”

  “Who says it’s info about the company? It could be anything.”

  “You’re right.” She took his free hand and held it against the towel. “Hold this in place while I get another. I think it’s finally stopped bleeding. Does it hurt?”

  “Throbs.”

  She jumped up and got another towel, a dry one this time. “I have some ibuprofen in my purse.”

  When she returned to him, he struggled to his feet and she grabbed his arm. “You gave me a scare, Connor.”

  “Thanks for rescuing me. Who knows how long I would’ve been bleeding out on the floor?” He took the dry towel from her and folded it up against his head. “How’d it go with the detectives?”

  “I think it went okay. They did have questions about my phone, but I was able to show them that it was broken. They didn’t mention Letty at all, which is strange. Hasn’t her family reported her missing?”

  “Maybe they have and the sheriff’s department hasn’t made the connection yet.” Connor sucked in a breath as he twisted his head from side to side. “Did you get your digs in about Tiffany and Denny? Tell them about Brian Donahue?”

  “I told them I thought Denny was staying with Tiffany, and they already knew about Brian. People at the office told them...and he’s missing.”

  “Donahue is missing?”

  Savannah dug into her purse and took out a little bottle of ibuprofen, shaking it in the air. “Maybe missing is too strong a word, but they haven’t spoken to him yet because his mother said he went on a trip.”

  “He lives with his mother?”

  “He does.” She tapped out two gel caps and handed them to Connor.

  “Did he take the trip before or after the murder?”

  “They didn’t tell me those details.”

  “Maybe Donahue’s busy skulking around setting you up—two birds with one stone.” Connor popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a shot of whiskey.

  “That’s what it feels like to me. Someone killed Niles, getting their revenge on him, and someone’s setting me up and torturing me, getting their revenge on me. Two birds.”

  “You’d better make a call and get that window fixed while we’re still here. You don’t want anyone else breaking in. Might not be a bad idea to repair the security system when you get a chance.” He crumpled up both towels, wrapping the wet one in the dry one. “Do you want these?”

  “I think you should keep one in case your head starts bleeding again on the ride back to your place.” She took out her almost-dead phone to find a glass repair place.

  “Good idea.” He shook out the towels and glanced at the wet one. “Do you want it?”

  “Toss it in the trash.” She held up her cell. “I just found a place with twenty-four-hour emergency repair.”

  “What are you going to do with this house, Savannah?”

  “Sell it—a
t a reduced price.”

  “You’ll always have to disclose the murder.”

  “Just like we did when we sold Mom’s place.”

  Savannah placed a call to the glass repair company and explained the break. When she hung up, she said, “Can you stand to be here another hour or so? They can get here in twenty minutes.”

  “Sure, but when we get back, I want you to start looking at the files you do have. It’s a good thing you locked them up.” Connor took the two glasses to the bar and washed them out. “You can ask Dee Dee about the other one tomorrow.”

  “I plan to. I’m getting together with her before the general meeting and Nick after.”

  “When are you seeing Thomas? Didn’t you say the two of you had another session tomorrow?”

  “First thing in the morning.” She pointed to the office door. “Let’s wait somewhere else—outside preferably. I’ve had enough of this place.”

  * * *

  THEY ROLLED INTO San Juan Beach around dinnertime. Even though Connor’s new security system was programmed to notify his cell phone of any activity, he went straight to his laptop and looked at the footage.

  He glanced up from clicking. “Just the mail carrier so far.”

  “That’s good. Doesn’t mean someone’s not watching us.” Savannah broke off a piece of banana and stuffed it in her mouth. “I feel like someone is tracking my every move—and yours. How did someone know you’d be at the house?”

  “That was the pen. That’s how he knew about Letty—or he set up Letty himself and that’s how he knew you were heading to the interview with the detectives.” He snapped his laptop closed. “It’s also how he knew about the desk drawer. We were talking about it right before I discovered the pen wasn’t a pen. And this time? Maybe he’s just watching the house. Speaking of the desk drawers, are you going to pull out those files now?”