Silent Night Suspect

by Sharee Stover

  Slade shrugged, and skepticism oozed from him. “Scent is the closest link to memory, so I’d say it’s worth a try. I’ll look for the figurine and call you if I find it.”

  He didn’t get it. Asia steeled her voice. “I’m not asking permission. I am going there to see for myself.”

  Resignation flickered in his eyes. “Fine, but only after you’ve eaten. I don’t need you passing out on me.”

  Asia withdrew from his touch and forked a piece of the soft dough. Whatever got them moving faster. The spicy sweetness touched her lips, and she closed her eyes, savoring the blissful flavors. “That’s amazing. I believe you’ve earned a whole new level of trust.”

  “With a cinnamon roll?” he joked.

  “Something like that.” Why had she said that? She’d never trust Slade completely again. Would she?

  “Let me talk with Trey first. And I’ve got to change out of this shirt.”

  Even with blood smearing his light blue thermal, he maintained that cool exterior and meticulous appearance.

  “How did you manage a car accident, an attempted kidnapping, a beatdown and a dislocated shoulder back in place without messing up your hair?”

  Slade stood and tugged the stained garment over his head, revealing a short-sleeved black compression undershirt. “Great products.” He tapped the top of his head.

  What was she doing? She didn’t have time to notice Slade’s hair or anything else.

  “Be right back.” He disappeared into the bedroom.

  A renewed motivation sent adrenaline flowing through her veins. Munching more of the dessert, Asia jumped up and paced. What was taking him so long? They needed to leave.

  She scrolled her brain from the night Zander visited to everything leading up to Thursday. Nothing unusual stood out.

  Finally, Slade and Trey emerged. “All right, let’s find this whale.”

  He headed to the kitchen and waved Asia over while Trey and Magnum moved to the front door. She stuffed the rest of her roll into her mouth. “Aren’t we riding with them?”

  “No, Trey will go ahead of us.” Slade tugged open the door and flipped on a light in the attached garage. “We’re driving Aunt Velma’s car.” He gestured toward the vintage vehicle the size of a barge, which filled the space.

  “I haven’t seen one of these in ages.”

  “Yeah, it’s a classic.” He hit the button, activating the garage door.

  Five minutes later, they sailed out of Meadow Hills and onto the highway.

  “Let’s focus on Thursday night. I’ve played out possible scenarios. What if the kidnapper broke in and drugged you while you were sleeping?” Slade asked.

  Asia considered his words. “I suppose it’s a possibility.”

  “Are you a heavy sleeper?”

  “Zander used to say I’d doze through a tornado siren.”

  Slade palmed the steering wheel. “That gives us the how. Now we need the who and why.”

  Her chest tightened at images of a home invasion. “Do you think the person stalked me?”

  “Are you still routine-driven?”

  Had he forgotten everything about her? “You really have to ask that?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t want to assume.”

  “Why would anyone do that? Who hates me that much?” Asia rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms.

  “My guess is you have a shared enemy.”

  She combed her mind. “Who?”

  Slade worked his jaw as conflicted emotions warred in his expression.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  After several seconds, he responded. “Zander backed himself into the middle of a war. Maybe he promised something he couldn’t deliver and tried bargaining his way out.”

  Zander had had a gift for getting himself in too deep with everything he touched. Her thoughts returned to their last evening together and his words. You think you’ve got it all under control, and before you know what hit you, a rope is around your neck dragging you under. And you realize you’re no island. That your actions affect other people.

  She’d chalked the comment up to him being in over his head with debt. “What kind of war?”

  Slade’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Between drug cartels.”

  Asia gasped, hand over her mouth. Poor Zander. He must’ve been terrified. Unexpected compassion flowed through her.

  “There’s a detail I’ve never told you about the day we found him.”

  “Okay...” Asia studied him, tempted to demand he speak faster.

  He worked the steering wheel and cleared his throat. “Zander...the thing is...the killers had...”

  “Just say it.”

  He exhaled the words. “He’d been tortured, most likely to extract information.”

  Asia pressed her fingers against her quivering lips. Images raced in her mind, and she shoved them away, not wanting to visualize anything so horrid. “They murdered Zander because he didn’t give them whatever they wanted? Or because he confessed?”

  Neither answer would make her feel better, but not knowing the truth wasn’t helping her situation. She needed all the evidence, no matter how upsetting.

  “We believe a combination.”

  Asia squeezed her eyes shut.

  “That tells you the caliber of people we’re up against. We can’t linger at your apartment. I want you secure in Meadow Hills. We need at least one evening without someone trying to kill us.”

  “I’ll be quick.” Asia prayed the memories would return and explain how she’d ended up sitting with Nevil Quenten. A shiver raced up her spine at the unwanted visual of his cold, dead stare.

  When they reached her apartment complex forty minutes later, Asia spotted Trey’s King Cab dually amid the cars from every decade imaginable filling the parking lot. Competing music from several of the units blared at ridiculous decibels. The familiarity brought a measure of respite, easing the tension in her shoulders.

  Slade shut off the engine and faced her. “Stay here until I’ve talked with Trey.”

  He stepped out, and his hand landed on the Glock holstered on his hip. With his back to Asia, he circled the vehicle, probably checking for anything suspicious. Truth be told, everything in this low-rent neighborhood was potentially suspicious.

  He moved to Trey’s truck and conversed with his brother.

  Asia surveyed the area. Four buildings, each with three stories hosting ten apartments per level, were situated in a U shape around the pothole-infested parking lot. Dirty snow covered the ground between the units. An old abandoned sofa and several bicycles sagged against one building.

  Less than desirable living conditions, but it was home.

  * * *

  Slade leaned on Trey’s door, Asia in his line of sight. He focused past her in distracted attention, continuously surveying their surroundings. “You’ve cleared the area?”

  “Yep, her apartment too. She’s in for quite a shock when she sees the condition.”

  “Somehow I had a feeling that would happen.”

  “My guess is they started here before coming after you.”

  Slade thumped the door. “Still can’t believe those goons destroyed Big Sally.”

  “We’ll rebuild her this summer.” Trey was always the optimist.

  “Right. Anyway, give us about ten minutes, then call for the evidence guys. Maybe seeing her place will trigger her memories.”

  Trey nodded. “I’ll get Magnum working once you leave.”

  “Who’s keeping watch at the house?”

  “Bro, check this out. I installed cameras.” Trey lifted his laptop and showed Slade the live feed of his aunt’s front step, where a cat traipsed around the porch then hopped down.

  “Wow, we really do underestimate you.” Slade caught a glimpse of Trey’s boyish smile. Proof th
at even as an adult, his little brother still longed for affirmation.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but I also analyzed the hospital security footage.” Trey’s computer skills rivaled his canine handling. If anyone found something to help Asia, he would.

  “And...”

  Trey tapped a few keys then displayed a video showing a masked man running from Asia’s room and into the stairwell. He flipped to the camera, where the man bolted down the steps and through the garage door, Slade trailing. Trey again tapped the keyboard, shifting to the view of the empty garage. “The man escaped from the south wing of the hospital and entered a black SUV with no plates?”

  “Yeah,” Slade mumbled. “Except there’s no footage of the SUV? It’s like the guy disappeared.”

  “No one just disappears,” Trey countered, spinning the device to face him. He tapped a few keys, bringing up the video again. “There.” He pointed to the corner of the screen where a fly had perched.

  “It’s thirty degrees on a good day. There are no flies this time of year.”

  “Watch—the bug doesn’t move,” Trey said.

  Slade studied the screen as the fly repeated the same circular pattern.

  “Someone pulled old footage and looped the film,” Trey explained.

  “Who else had access to the security cameras?” Slade asked, annoyance building.

  “Only those with a hospital security clearance badge, but that’s irrelevant.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The cameras are controlled via computers. They can be remotely accessed.”

  “So breaking into the security office wasn’t necessary,” Slade concluded.

  “Exactly.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “I’ll keep digging.”

  “Thanks.” Slade ran a hand over his head.

  “We’ll catch him. Criminals are notoriously stupid. He’ll mess up somewhere and we’ll take him down then.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Because the clock was ticking, and he had no clue where to go from here.

  He turned and headed back to Asia. She seemed to be staring off into space and visibly startled when he lifted the door handle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She gripped his outstretched hand as he assisted her from the vehicle. “I was lost in thought.”

  “Looked like it. Trey cleared your apartment.”

  “So we’re safe?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. We’ve got a few minutes before the evidence techs arrive.” He winced. Why had he said it that way?

  Asia tilted her head, a quizzical expression crossing her face.

  “Our friends from the highway apparently started here.”

  She quickened her pace, and he was forced to jog to keep up. “I should go first.”

  She ignored him, taking the lead as they trekked up the cement stairs to the fourth floor. Though he’d never visited her, he knew which unit was hers.

  Heavy bass music and the thick odor of fried food lingered in the cold afternoon air. They ascended the next three flights, then hastened across the walkway to her apartment at the end.

  Asia gripped the paint-chipped iron rail and halted in front of what was left of her splintered door, hanging by one hinge. She pivoted and faced him, her jaw tight.

  His heart squeezed at the sorrow tainted with anger reflected in her eyes, and words of comfort eluded him. A new resolve infused his veins. He would prove her innocence, because seeing Asia hurt nearly undid him.

  “We’re going to get through this.”

  She gave an almost imperceptible nod. “You have to love the irony here.” She ducked inside.

  “What’s that?”

  “I always lock my door, even if I run out to dump trash. That was effective.”

  “Someone must’ve seen who did this.”

  “No one in the complex will talk to cops,” Asia replied.

  He followed her through the entry. The open floor plan gave him an unobstructed view of the ransacked home. Papers, books and picture frames once displayed with love and pride lay strewn around the aged brown carpet, amid the dissected sofa cushions.

  The destruction continued into the bedroom. He carefully avoided stepping on anything as he inspected the area. Her slashed mattress spewed its innards, ravaged beyond repair. The pillows had been ripped apart and the sheets and blankets lay scattered across the floor.

  Slade returned to the living room, where Asia slumped against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry—just give me a second to process this.” Her outstretched arms gestured to the mess, and her voice increased an octave with each word until she was practically screeching. “Why would they do this? What did I ever do to deserve being attacked like some common criminal?”

  She’d been through so much. He couldn’t blame her faulty thinking, but they needed to stay within protocol. Slade spoke in an almost too calm tone. “None of this is your fault. This is a perfect example of why we have to keep the patrol apprised. It shows you’re on someone’s list and in danger. Don’t touch anything. Let the crime investigators do their job. Every criminal messes up sometime. Let’s hope they left fingerprints.”

  Asia shuffled past him and he trailed behind. She paused at the foot of her bed.

  “Talk to me,” he probed.

  “No one will believe me. They’ll spin it to support their assumption that I killed Nevil Quenten.” She motioned to the disaster surrounding them.

  “Were you fighting with someone here? Could that have happened on Thursday night?”

  Asia shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Take a deep breath and look around.”

  “I have been—”

  “The desecration here testifies to a search. There’s no question about their attacking us on the road. Do you think finding the whale will help you remember?”

  “Who knows?”

  He prayed something would click for her before they had to hand the scene over to the evidence techs. Whatever this card held, Zander had given his life for its secret, and someone else deemed it worth killing Quenten.

  If they didn’t find it fast, Asia was next.

  * * *

  Asia scanned the apartment, taking in the calamity that had befallen her home.

  Slade shifted closer, invading her personal space. “I realize this threw you off, but take a minute and focus. Are you getting any flashes? Visions?”

  Amusement battled with frustration. “That’s not how it works. It’s random, like when I smelled the cinnamon.”

  She squatted in front of her favorite picture. Broken glass had scratched her father’s face, scarring her heart.

  “Don’t touch anything.” Slade held her wrist, restricting her from touching the frame.

  Asia jerked her hand back and rose, conflicted between falling apart and throwing a fit. “Once the evidence guys come rushing in, I’ll lose complete control of my home.” Irrational reasoning fueled impossibilities. Just a few minutes to regain my footing or resign myself to my suffering.

  Slade said nothing, probably fighting his follow-the-rules self, but appreciation for his compliance comforted her. Hopelessness sucked energy from her, yet Slade’s presence resuscitated her broken spirit, if only temporarily.

  “Okay.” His gentle tone and shadowed eyes revealed genuine concern.

  No. Stay mad. It’s safer. Letting go of her rage might release the dam barring her emotional breakdown.

  A thorough survey of the destruction restored her anger to full throttle. She’d been invaded, and the evidence technicians would cover everything in black dust, collecting her things like specimens.

  Asia moved around the bed and gasped at the sight of her grandmother’s shredded quilt. Slade approached in slow, careful steps, as if he understood the solemnity of th
e moment. Kneeling, she started to gather the pieces of irreparable scraps.

  Slade grabbed her arm. “You can’t touch anything.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “Why?”

  One word that encompassed her entire world.

  One word that would exonerate her if it were truthfully answered.

  She rocked on her heels, desperate to hold on to the remnants of her childhood. “I’m tired.”

  “I know.” He reached for her, but she scooted away, resisting his touch. A flash of hurt crossed his face and his arms fell to his sides.

  A wave of grief engulfed her, dragging her beneath its suffocating embrace. Why was someone out to destroy her?

  “I’m so sorry, Asia.”

  Tears choked her, but she swallowed, unwilling to yield to them. No. Not yet. There’d be no recovery if she surrendered to the pain.

  She pushed herself up and walked out to the living room. Her four-foot artificial Christmas tree lay on its side next to the window, ornaments scattered in a haphazard perimeter. Those that weren’t crushed clung to the branches. Her gaze landed on the little wooden whale positioned halfway under her bookshelf. She crouched down. “That’s it!”

  Slade had followed her, and clashing emotions warred across his handsome features. He squatted beside her and shook his head. “It’s a lot smaller than I imagined. And we can’t touch it until after the investigators collect their evidence.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Depends.”

  An argument lingered on her lips, and she continued to stare at the item. “Zander had lost so much weight from his drug use, I barely recognized him. I told him God would help him if he only asked, but he laughed it off. That wasn’t new. He’d mocked me about needing a crutch whenever I went to church.”

  Zander also promised to make her fall in love with him again. There was no chance of that happening, but Slade didn’t need to know that part of the conversation. Her voice quivered. “If I’d been a better Christian, or wife, maybe he wouldn’t be—” Her heart plummeted from familiar guilt again.