Veils and Vengeance

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Veils and Vengeance Page 18

by Rachelle J. Christensen


  But Luke didn’t look angry or hurt. “It’s okay.” He moved back to attending to my scalp. I let go of his hand, cursing my own stupidity. Of course he was a great nurse—he’d cared for his dying wife. How long had she suffered?

  “I took some courses that the hospital offered and did some private study.” He dabbed my head and answered the question I hadn’t voiced. “Dana was sick off and on for about three years.”

  My bottom lip trembled, and I formed my words in my mind before speaking. “I can tell that you’re experienced. That was probably a great comfort to Dana.”

  “I’ll let you rest now. Your pupils are dilating normally. As long as you’re not feeling disoriented or confused, it’s safe for you to sleep. If you can stand it, hold this ice on your head for a while.” Luke handed me the bag of ice, and then pulled the comforter over me. “Can I check on you later?”

  “I’d like that,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling drained of any energy or will to stay awake. The door clicked shut somewhere, and I allowed myself to fall asleep with the faint impression of Luke’s hands on my head.

  I slept until two o’clock and woke up ravenous. Room service remedied that with a chilled pasta salad and breadsticks. I ate slowly, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head. When I was finished, I decided to clean myself up. It took a lot of nerve to step into the water and bathe my scratches, but after the initial stinging sensation, the warm water was therapeutic.

  When I rinsed my hair, I was startled for a moment as the water draining in the shower turned pink. My head must have bled more than I thought. I lowered the shower setting again to something that didn’t feel like needles on my scalp. I carefully towel-dried my hair and applied more salve to my cuts and scrapes. The ice Luke brought had melted so instead I used a chilled washcloth on my head. I heard a text message come through a few minutes later.

  Luke: How are you feeling? Do you need anything?

  Me: I had a nap and a shower, doing better. Thanks for your help.

  Luke: Good. Please let me know if I can help.

  Me: I will.

  It was sweet of Luke to worry over me, and it was nice to see that softer side of him, but part of me worried that he would retreat back into his angry shell the next time we interacted. To keep my mind off Luke, I made some phone calls for Malia’s wedding events.

  I toggled through the news channels to see if there was any news of a missing person, but that was fruitless. Officer Kinau had said he’d let me know as soon as they could release the identity of the woman. Thinking about her reminded me of the bracelet I’d found at Jon’s house. I slid off the bed and knelt beside my suitcase, retrieving the mysterious metal band and studying it.

  It was gold toned with beads next to the opening that allowed it to easily bend onto the wrist. Similar to a golfing bracelet I’d seen, this one had a mother of pearl inset in the center with the Tri-C logo printed in gold and black. There wasn’t anything remarkable about it, and even though it reminded me of what I’d seen underwater, I had to ask myself if it was really the same bracelet. I frowned and tucked it back into the zippered compartment of my suitcase.

  There were so many questions and my suspicions were mounting toward Jon. One part of me argued that there was no way he could be involved, but the experienced side of me urged caution. When I considered my interactions with Jon, I didn’t feel in any danger, but it would be wise to take some precautions just in case. He was coming to pick me up soon, and I’d be riding in a car alone with him. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I laughed out loud. It would be pretty hard to ignore a missing wedding planner during all the upcoming celebrations.

  Although I was almost certain that Jon didn’t have sinister motives, it was best to play on the safe side. I sent Malia a text, letting her know that I’d be riding with Jon and pushed my suspicions aside.

  Jon picked me up at six-thirty and I felt better, although a few of my bruises were a bit swollen. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s tender, but I’ll be okay.” He held his arm stiffly to one side. “Is your head okay?”

  “Should be fine if I don’t bump it on anything else.”

  When we arrived at the restaurant, we were greeted by the rest of the Connelly family, who expressed concern about my injuries.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Neil asked. “I don’t want you getting hurt worse because we’re pushing you too hard.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said. “I’m planning on getting some extra sleep tonight.”

  Neil shook his head and rubbed a hand over his mustache. “That’s twice now that the ocean hasn’t been agreeable to you. I hope it won’t taint your opinion of her.”

  “I’ll give her another chance, I think. There’s too much beauty underneath to miss.”

  “That’s true,” Heather said. “Hawaii is the land of beautiful secrets well-kept.”

  “Well said, Jaycee dear.” Neil put his arm around Heather and kissed her cheek. I looked behind me, curious as to who he was talking to, but he and his wife were already moving forward.

  Jon rolled his eyes. “When they’re getting along, it reminds me of when we were kids and we thought it was gross that our parents kissed.”

  I laughed, remembering my own parents smooching in the kitchen. I was about to ask Jon who Jaycee was, but then I figured Neil must’ve been referring to Heather with some sort of pet name. We followed Neil and Heather to our table. They fit into the Hawaiian aura. She had on a lemon-yellow sundress and Neil wore a tan polo shirt with dark blue hibiscus flowers printed on it—the epitome of Hawaiian fashion. He motioned to me with one hand when he reached the dining area. “Come here, Adri.” Neil hefted a large box. “I have a surprise for you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Okay?”

  He set the box down and opened the flaps. “These were delivered today.”

  My mouth fell open when I saw that the box was full of gold-toned bracelets. Neil grabbed a handful and lifted them out with a flourish. “My assistant must have ordered these before she skipped town.”

  I scrambled for something to say, but the words died on my lips as Neil handed me one of the bracelets.

  “There’s enough that every guest will get one, and we probably have a few extras. Try it on, let’s see how it looks.”

  The bracelet slipped easily onto my wrist, but it felt as if my skin burned. I knew in that moment that, earlier, I had only been second-guessing myself. It was identical to the one I had seen on the dead woman’s arm. The same one I had taken from Jon’s shorts pocket and stuffed in a secret compartment of my suitcase. The logo winked at me amidst the rainbow swirls of mother of pearl encased by the gold. It was the same bracelet. The doubts I’d indulged in shattered. If these were delivered today, how did Jon have one in his pocket?

  It didn’t make any sense. How could that woman have a company bracelet if she wasn’t part of the company? The back of my throat ached and the tips of my fingers turned cold. Neil still waited for me to speak.

  I plastered on a smile. “This is perfect timing. Does that mean you have access to the logos for the other things we needed?”

  “That’s the other good news. My tech guy was finally able to break through Charly’s password and retrieve the completed files.”

  I still thought it was strange that the assistant had the only copies of the files and said so. “It’s odd that they weren’t on your server.”

  Neil flinched. “You’re right. We’re finding a lot of things that were odd about Charly’s files.” He looked like he was going to say more, but pursed his lips together.

  “Well, I’m just glad these came through in time.” I removed the bracelet, dropping it back into the box, and tucked the flaps of the box closed. “This saved me a huge headache.”

  Neil’s smile returned. “Glad to be of some help.”

  Heather walked up beside him. “Remember, we wanted to arrange the bracelets on the sa
tin tablecloths. I hope the humidity won’t make the satin wrinkle.”

  “I know a few tricks. I’ll check with those setting up to be sure everything looks perfect.”

  “Malia was right. You really do have an answer for everything.” Heather patted my hand as she walked after her husband.

  I nodded and tucked the flaps of the box tighter so I couldn’t see the golden gleam inside. I kept wishing that I had remembered wrong. There had been a bracelet on the woman’s arm, like the one I had slipped onto my wrist a moment ago. I avoided eye contact while I sorted through my thoughts. There was only one way to find out for certain. I worried that asking the police might cast suspicion on me, especially if the woman was sporting the bracelet when they found her. But if my worries were correct, the police wouldn’t have any information about a bracelet because someone removed it before they recovered the body.

  Jon.

  It was one explanation that made sense even if I didn’t like it. He must have taken the bracelet from the body, but I still couldn’t believe he had anything to do with her death. With a shake of my head, I made myself go down that mental pathway—the one where Jon could be a murderer. It was stupid to trust anyone, and just because Jon was kind and good-looking didn’t mean anything. But what reason would he have to kill a young woman?

  I needed to find out her identity. If the police would release her name, I could at least do some Googling to find out if Jon knew her. I stared at the box and thought about the trouble caused by Neil’s missing assistant. What if she was the woman who had died? I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. Neil would recognize his own assistant, even if she was wearing scuba gear. It bothered me, not knowing who the woman was, not knowing if the police had found the murderer. It was time to call Officer Kinau again.

  Dinner was nice, but I begged Jon to take me back early, citing my headache and other injuries. Jon actually agreed that he needed more rest, and so it wasn’t odd that we didn’t speak much on the way back. He was tired. So was I, but I was also extremely preoccupied with reassuring myself that he wasn’t a murderer.

  As soon as I was settled in my room, I checked the card Officer Kinau had given me and dialed his number. When he answered, I got straight to business.

  “I’m sorry to call so late, but I think I might have more information about the woman who died, but I can’t be sure without knowing her identity. Is there any way that you can tell me if I promise to be discreet?”

  There were three clicks of silence. “What kind of information?”

  “Well, I don’t want to send up flags if it’s nothing. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”

  “All right. I’ll tell you, but only because we found someone who could be her next of kin and the media already leaked her name.”

  The TV in my hotel room seemed to be blinking at me—I hadn’t checked the news before calling him. I held my breath, waiting for him to reveal the secret I’d been mulling over.

  “Her name is Stacia Fletcher and it looks like she worked for a GMO out of Kansas.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated. I had half-expected him to say her name was Charly. When he didn’t, I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’ll do some checking, and then I’ll call you back.”

  “Miss Pyper, even if you think the information is irrelevant, I’m still interested to hear what’s bothering you.”

  I hesitated, glancing at my suitcase and then back at my clenched fist. Relaxing my fingers, I tried to calm the tremor in my voice. “Well, there is one thing. I thought I remembered something but it’s hard to trust my memory when I was so freaked out. Was there any jewelry found on the woman?”

  Officer Kinau cleared his throat. “No. I can double-check, but I’m pretty sure there was no jewelry. What kind of jewelry do you remember?”

  “I keep thinking about a gold bracelet, but I don’t know why.”

  “I’ll check the records of her effects and let you know. I appreciate you confiding in me, Ms. Pyper. I know this is a difficult situation.”

  My chest tightened. I hadn’t confided all of my suspicions to him, but now everything sounded like a coincidence so it seemed better to wait. “It has been scary. I just feel so bad about her.”

  “If you think of anything else, be sure to give me a call.”

  “Thank you, Officer. I’ll do that.”

  He paused, and I wondered if he wanted to ask me something else, but then he ended the call. I set the phone down and put a hand over my heart to calm the rush of adrenaline speeding up the nervous beat. The news that the woman—Stacia Fletcher—worked for a GMO had red flags rising all over in the detective zone of my brain. It also made my suspicions of Jon seem weak and unfounded. Maybe the bracelet was from a previous order. But that still didn’t explain why it would be in his swim shorts.

  I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels looking for news, but I didn’t see anything. After a few minutes, I turned it off and opened my laptop. I checked the Internet news sites and found a mention of the murder at Tunnels and the body being identified as Stacia Fletcher. There were no pictures, and I had a desire to see what the woman looked like when she was alive and healthy before her life was tragically cut short.

  With a few clicks of my mouse, I began searching the Internet for Stacia Fletcher linked to GMOs. Ten minutes later I found something that made my fingers tremble. It was a smaller company named Fontana Inc. and Stacia’s name was highlighted on their site. I paused, thinking about the loss of a precious life. Sometimes the world felt like a very sad place. Maybe seeing her picture would give me some closure, I reasoned. Continuing the search, I linked Stacia’s name with Fontana Inc. to delve deeper.

  I continued to research Fontana and found that they had sites all over the United States, including a beautiful little island called Kauai. After several minutes of Googling and clicking on dead-end links, I pulled up a newspaper article. It cited the philanthropist efforts of Fontana Inc. in bringing together scientists in a united effort. There were a couple photographs with the article.

  They were low-quality pictures of people in lab coats and business suits. One included a woman with red hair. I clicked on it to bring up any accompanying information and found the name of Stacia Fletcher in an article. The report didn’t list the names of the people in the photo, so I couldn’t be sure, but my throat went dry when I thought of the woman underwater with red hair. I studied the woman who I thought might be Stacia carefully. How did the striking woman with green eyes end up dead?

  A throbbing ache started up behind my eyes. I closed my laptop and got ready for bed. I spent a few minutes on my balcony, taking in deep, cleansing breaths from the ocean and commanding my heart and mind to be still. I needed to sleep, not worry over a murder case. My body still ached, and my head was tired from the impact of lava rocks and the pull between Jon and Luke’s affections.

  Everything would appear clearer in the morning. I forced myself to shelve the spinning questions about the bracelet I’d found and its possible connection to Jon. Once in bed, exhaustion won out, and I was able to drift off to sleep.

  I slept until just past seven and ordered in breakfast while I prepared for the day. It didn’t take long for my mind to start whirring with questions and ideas. With a groan, I put away my notebook of questions and scrawling theories on the murder. As soon as I finished breakfast, I decided to distract my inquisitive brain by concentrating on the wedding gift I needed to finish for Malia and Kyle.

  Lorea had resized some photos and fixed a few holes in the collage. I just needed to add a few more pictures. I opened the folder of pictures labeled with a question mark and another labeled “Extra collage pics” and began scanning to find just the right one to finish off the display. There weren’t very many of Neil and Kyle, so I looked at some of the Tri-C photos to find one suitable. I clicked past some of father and son bent over plants in the test plots and moved to the photos of a group in front of the Tri-C buildings. I jerked back in my chair whe
n the next photo popped up. It was one of the photos I’d originally left out because I didn’t know everyone in the picture. One of the subjects was a young woman with red hair.

  My heart rate doubled. I enlarged the picture and studied the woman. Part of her face was in shadow, but her eyes appeared to be light, possibly green. A sense of dread seeped from the picture. Had I just stumbled upon something related to the murder?

  I scrolled through the history of my search from last night until I found the article with a picture of Stacia Fletcher. My hands shook and the back of my neck moistened with perspiration fueled by the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I rubbed my eyes and leaned closer to the screen of my laptop. Then I clicked back to the other window with the grainy picture of some Fontana related employees. Stacia Fletcher was featured in the picture.

  I copied and pasted the two pictures to view them side-by-side. The hunch I’d developed had turned into something solid. The red-haired beauty standing next to Kyle and Neil had a striking similarity to the deceased Stacia Fletcher.

  Could the dead woman be Charly Wilks, new assistant at Tri-C Enterprises? And at the same time, Stacia Fletcher, highly sought after biological engineer from Fontana Inc.? There were no other identifying pictures of Stacia on the Internet. The only proof I had was a photo with no caption and pixelated faces. But it had to be the same woman. There was no mistaking those green eyes and her cute pixie nose.

  Jon had mentioned that Charly had been a new hire and that Neil thought it was a mistake—that he’d given her too much work too soon and that was why she had quit.

  The information burned in the back of my throat. I needed to do something, but what? I checked the time; it was already past ten. I thought about calling Luke, but he would immediately jump to conclusions about Jon’s guilt. It just didn’t seem right to me. Jon was so gentle and kind. There had to be a rational explanation for all the strange coincidences that were tying neatly together into an arrow pointing at Jonathan Connelly.

 

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