"I know you will, but I still want you to be safe."
"Me, too." As she said good night to her mother and walked down the hall to her room, she wondered if what she'd told her mother was true—that she didn't know where to start digging into Noelle's life. Noelle had said something about her apartment right before she took her last breath.
Was there a clue there?
If there was, the police would probably find it, wouldn’t they?
* * *
That question ran around and around in Avery's head as she tossed and turned all night, haunted by Noelle's face, her eyes, her last gasping breaths.
If only she'd found her a minute sooner. If only she hadn’t let Noelle go into the funhouse alone. If only she'd made Noelle tell her more about what was going on in her life.
So many if-only's made sleep impossible.
It also didn't help that she was in her childhood bedroom. It was in this room where she and Noelle had had slumber parties, painted their nails, texted boys, gossiped about their friends, and told each other secrets in the dark of the night.
But there was no one talking now.
Noelle's voice had been silenced.
It still seemed impossible to believe that someone had murdered her in the funhouse.
Was it random?
The police had questioned her regarding the relationship between Carter and Noelle, asking her if he was the kind of man who might hurt his girlfriend. She hadn't been able to answer the question.
Noelle had told her with her dying breath that she had trusted the wrong person, but who was that? Was it Carter or someone else? And what was at Noelle's apartment that she wanted Avery to get?
Throwing off the covers, she opened her eyes, relieved to see the dawn light peeking through the blinds.
Thank God it was morning. She'd never been so happy to see the sun come up. She took a quick shower, wishing she didn't have to put on the same clothes, but she no longer kept anything to wear at her mom's house. Then she went into the kitchen to find a pot of coffee ready for her as well as a note from her mom.
Early pre-Hawaii hair appointment. Eggs and bacon are in the oven. Eat something!
She smiled at her mom's thoughtfulness. She might be thirty years old, but when she was in her mom's house, her mother still continued to take care of her.
She poured herself a mug of coffee, retrieved the breakfast plate from the oven, and found herself surprisingly hungry.
Over breakfast, she pulled out her phone and forced herself to check the news. It wasn't easy to read about Noelle's death, especially since it was told in a dispassionate way, mentioning only Noelle's name, her age, her city of residence, and her employer. There was no description of the vibrant, beautiful, outgoing person, who should have had a much longer life.
To think of everything that Noelle would never have—a wedding, a husband, a child, grandchildren—it broke her heart and her eyes swelled with tears.
She put the phone down, sadness being replaced with anger. Whoever had killed Noelle needed to be brought to justice. She'd asked the police to keep her in the loop, but she wasn't sure they would. She wasn't even sure they had taken her off the person-of-interest list.
She couldn't blame them. She'd gone to the pier with Noelle, she'd conveniently stayed outside the funhouse during the murder, but then, somehow, she'd been the one to find her. It had sounded a bit odd even to her ears.
Picking up her phone again, she made the call she was dreading the most. She called Noelle's mom, Kari Price. She'd had Noelle's mom's phone number in her phone since she was sixteen years old. Both their moms had wanted their girls to have their phone numbers, just in case.
The phone rang several times before Kari's voicemail picked up the call. She sounded perky and happy. This had definitely been recorded before she'd received the worst news of her life.
"It's me, Avery," she said, her hand tightening around her phone. "I'm so, so sorry. I think you know how much I loved Noelle. I want to help you with whatever you need. Please call me back when you get a chance." She let out a breath as she ended the message. In some ways, she was relieved she hadn't connected with Noelle's mom. Her feelings were still so raw.
Getting up, she rinsed off her plate and put it in the dishwasher. As she debated her next move, she realized she didn't have her car. She'd gotten a ride to the pier, thinking that with Noelle there would be wine involved at some point. She didn't want to hang around here all day, so after leaving a short note for her mom, she called a rideshare company, then went out front to wait.
A few minutes later, she was on her way home. But halfway there, the restlessness running around inside her made her ask the driver to change her destination.
She needed to go to Noelle's apartment. It was the last thing Noelle had asked her to do. Avery needed to figure out why.
Four
Noelle lived in the Ocean Breeze Courtyard Apartments in Venice Beach. As Avery got out of the car, she couldn't help thinking that the building, while modest, was nicer than some of the places Noelle had lived in. After her father and grandmother had died, money had been scarce, and Noelle's mom had never been one to stay at the same job very long. In fact, Kari Price was probably even flakier than Noelle. But Kari had always been nice to her, and she couldn't imagine what she was going through now. Hopefully, they would have a chance to speak soon.
She walked across the street, feeling more than a little trepidation at entering Noelle's apartment. She told herself there was nothing to fear, but with so many unanswered questions, everything seemed suspicious and worrisome. She walked through the front gate into a courtyard. Twelve apartments, six on each level, surrounded the courtyard in a rectangular shape. At the back was a small pool and barbecue area.
The building and courtyard were empty and quiet at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, and as she walked up to Noelle's second floor apartment in the back corner, she wondered if the other tenants knew what had happened to her. Probably—since there was yellow caution tape across Noelle's front door, a stark reminder of the previous evening's events. The police must have searched the apartment last night for leads into her death.
She stared at the tape for a long moment, knowing she would probably be breaking the law if she went inside. On the other hand, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to see if she could make sense of Noelle's last words.
The door had a coded lock on it, and if the police hadn't changed it, she should be able to get in. She used the four-digit code that Noelle had used for everything—6257. It was the address of her childhood home, the one that Avery had spent so much time in as a young girl.
Sure enough, the lock clicked, and she turned the knob, stepping into the apartment.
Her heart was beating a million miles a minute. She knew Noelle wasn't there, but she didn't know if the danger or trouble she was in was.
She stood just inside the door for a good minute, listening acutely for any unexpected sound. Everything was still. The room had obviously been searched, however. The pillow cushions had been pulled off the couch. The kitchen drawers and cupboards were open. It was a huge cluttered mess.
She made her way into the bedroom, finding more sad chaos. The bed was unmade and covered with clothes, probably tossed out of the upended dresser drawers. If Noelle had left something here, it was gone.
She felt overwhelmed at the idea of digging through everything to find some clue when she didn't even know what she was looking for.
And then she saw Noelle's jewelry box sitting open on the floor just inside the walk-in closet. She knelt down next to it. There wasn't much of value inside, rings, bracelets, necklaces…
Noelle had never had enough money to buy real jewelry, but there was the locket from her grandmother that she'd gotten on her sixteenth birthday and the charm bracelet Avery had given Noelle when they were ten. She'd bought one for herself at the time, too, and they'd collected fun charms over the next year. She couldn't believe Noelle
had kept it all these years.
Impulsively, she grabbed both items and slipped them into her coat pocket, then she rifled through the rest of the jewelry box, finding a man's watch, that she thought might have belonged to Noelle's father, but she wasn't sure.
Standing up, she looked around the rest of the closet, wondering where Noelle would have hidden something—if she'd had something to hide. She probably would have been creative in some way. Put it where no one would expect. But where would that be?
She moved farther into the closet checking the pockets in the coats that were still on their hangers but found only a few quarters. Shoe boxes were strewn about the closet. Obviously, the police had already gone through them.
A couple of books on the floor caught her eye, and she smiled when she realized one of them was hers. She'd published a small book about space travel for kids the past year, and Noelle had bought it in the gift shop at Nova Star and made her autograph it.
She picked it up and read the inscription that Noelle had actually dictated for her: To the smartest, most beautiful, and skinniest best friend. Love, Avery. She closed the book and pressed it against her heart, feeling a wave of pain.
And then she heard a noise…
Her eyes flew open. Her heart sped up. Someone else was in the apartment.
She started toward the door, not sure if she should barricade herself in the closet or try to get by whoever was in the apartment.
Maybe it was just the police.
It wasn't!
A man came out of the bathroom dressed in dark clothes with a ski mask over his head and face, a long, black gun in his hand. She shrieked in alarm and instinctively backed up. He raised his arm, the gun pointed at her face.
"Please, don't," she begged, knowing it probably wouldn't make a difference.
But he hesitated.
She didn't know why; she was just grateful.
"Just go. I don't know who you are or why you're here," she said.
"Shut up." His voice was hard, angry, and the hand holding the gun tightened.
She drew in a quick breath, still trying to figure out an escape.
Then another man came barreling into the room, tackling the gunman to the ground. He wrestled the gun out of the guy's hand and the weapon went flying across the room.
Terrified and paralyzed, she stared in shock as the two men went after each other. It was then she realized that the man fighting her attacker was the same man from the funhouse, the one who also worked in security at Nova Star.
What the hell was he doing here?
What did it matter?
She needed to get out of the apartment while she had the chance, but the men were between her and the door.
As she hesitated, she saw the Nova Star security guy get off three quick brutal punches that sent the masked man flying against the wall.
The man quickly recovered, regaining momentum as he dodged the next blow, grabbed the security guy around the waist and knocking him off his feet.
But the security guy quickly regained his footing, bouncing back with another blow. And then in one swift motion, he ripped off the man's mask.
She saw a dark beard and tattooed Roman numerals on the man's neck, as he picked up a drawer and hurled it at the security guy. The drawer hit her rescuer in the head, and he went down hard. As he struggled to get back up, the formerly masked man took off, and then her rescuer growled out "Stay here," and ran after him.
She let out a breath of relief. But staying in the apartment didn't seem like a good idea. Still clutching the book in her hand, she left the bedroom.
The living room was empty. The front door was open. She saw a woman across the courtyard staring at her, and she was talking on her phone, probably calling the police.
She should stay and wait for them to arrive, tell them what happened, but the yellow tape on the front door made her realize that she'd tampered with a crime scene, and no one was going to be happy about that.
As she stepped into the exterior hallway, her rescuer came jogging back to her, a grim, angry expression on his face. She backed up a step.
"Come on," he said. "You need to get out of here."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Look, I work in security for Nova Star. You can trust me."
"Can I?" she countered. "I saw you at the funhouse last night—right before Noelle was killed."
Dark shadows filled his brown eyes. "I didn't kill Noelle."
"I don't know if I can believe you."
"You were the one kneeling over her. Maybe you killed her. Maybe you came to her apartment to find something you didn't want anyone else to know about."
She gasped at the suggestion. "Noelle was one of my best friends."
"Good. Then you'll want to stay alive long enough to find out what happened to her. Move, Avery. There will be more coming."
"You know my name?" she asked in surprise.
"It's my job to know who you are."
She didn't want to go with him, but she also didn't want to stay here and wait for whoever else might show up, so she followed him out of the building. "I think the neighbor called the police," she said as they hit the sidewalk. "We should wait for them."
"It's too dangerous to stay here. You can talk to the police later. Where's your car?"
"I don't have one."
"Then you'll come with me."
"Why would I trust you?"
"I just saved your life."
"Did you? Why were you there?"
"We're not having this conversation here." He opened the door to a nearby silver SUV. "Get in."
As a car came speeding down the street, all thought of resisting him fled. She didn't know who he was, but he had saved her from a gunman, so she jumped into the vehicle.
He slid behind the wheel as the other car passed by without incident.
Then he started the car and peeled down the street in the opposite direction.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Somewhere that isn't here."
It wasn't much of an answer, but, somehow, she'd made the impulsive decision to trust him.
And then Noelle's last words came back to haunt her…I trusted the wrong person.
She hoped she hadn't done the same.
* * *
Wyatt drove quickly away from Noelle's apartment building, pissed off at what had just gone down. But right now, his only focus was on getting Avery to safety. She was damn lucky he'd gotten there when he did, or she might be in the same condition as Noelle. He knew she didn't trust him, but that didn't matter. She was shaken up, but she was alive.
She was wearing the same clothes she'd been in last night: skinny dark jeans, a cream-colored knit top, and a short black leather coat. Her brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, her face was pale, and her brown eyes appeared shocked and weary, but she was still a very attractive woman. Normally, there was a warm, inviting, exciting air about her. He'd been drawn to her every time he'd seen her on the security monitor.
He'd told himself he needed to get closer to her because she was tight with Hamilton Tremaine, but he'd never had the chance…until now.
This wasn't the opportunity he'd expected, but he'd take it.
Avery and Hamilton shared a love of the stars, and Hamilton spoke of her with great reverence and fondness. Avery had gotten even deeper into the family when her father Brett Caldwell had become romantically involved with Whitney Tremaine, the youngest of Hamilton's three offspring.
She'd been on his radar to check out, but she'd moved higher up the list when he'd seen her at the pier on Friday night. Avery had been the one to get Noelle her job at the company. While he'd never seen them spend much time together at work, clearly, they'd gotten together after business hours.
But Noelle was dead, stabbed with deliberate violence, and Avery had watched her friend bleed out. Now, she was running for her life. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking—probably wondering what kind of hell she'd wal
ked into.
He wished he could tell her it was going to be okay, but he had no idea if that was true. He needed to find out what she knew and then figure out how much danger she was in. It was bad enough she'd been in the funhouse last night, but this morning she'd seen a man's face—the same man who might have killed Noelle. That could be a big problem.
As he glanced at her, he noticed the book clenched in her hand. She'd brought it from Noelle's apartment. Maybe it was a clue. "Why are you holding that book?"
At first, she gave him a blank look and then she glanced down at the book in her hands. "Oh, it's mine." She held it up, so he could see the cover and her name. "I wrote this about space for kids, and we sell it in the Nova Star gift shop. Noelle bought it and had me sign it for her. I saw it on the floor of her room, and I just grabbed it. Then the man came out of the bathroom with a gun." She paused. "I don't know why I didn't leave it there. Noelle bought it as a joke. She dictated what she wanted me to write when I autographed it."
"What did you write?"
She opened the book and read the inscription: "To the smartest, most beautiful, and skinniest best friend. Love Avery." She gave him a sad look. "Noelle was one of a kind. She was the brightest star, the life of the party, the girl who did things no one else dared to do. She could be crazy and funny and generous…"
As her voice trailed away, he wondered what she was leaving out. "And…" he prodded.
"She could be flaky at times. She was almost always late. She sometimes ditched me for a better offer, but I couldn't really blame her, because I was usually nowhere near as much fun as she was." She let out a sigh. "But I shouldn't say any of that, because she's dead."
"Say whatever you want. Dying doesn't turn anyone into a saint."
"She didn't deserve to die. It still feels unreal, like it's a horrific nightmare. I want to wake up, but I can't."
He nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to make her feel better. She was going to have to live through the grief.
As he reached the Pacific Coast Highway, he sped up, not stopping until he saw a small parking lot near a public beach. He pulled off the road and into an open spot.
Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3) Page 4