by Gerri Hill
“Yes. And boxing things up.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sammy…Sammy doesn’t live there anymore.”
“Sammy? He moved?”
“He died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
Finn chewed on her lip, then motioned toward her office. “In there. He died in there.”
Rylee swallowed. “Oh.”
“He…he was killed, actually. Shot.”
Rylee’s eyes widened again. “Like…recently?”
“Yes. The place was ransacked. Sammy must have heard them, came downstairs to investigate…they killed him.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times. “In there?” She swallowed again. “Does this sort of thing happen a lot?”
A hint of a smile lit Finn’s face before she arched an eyebrow. “Changing your mind?”
Rylee shook her head. “That’s why the office was…cleaned out?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you’re moving?”
“Yes.”
Rylee took a deep breath. “Have they arrested somebody?”
“No.”
Jesus…was she really considering the job offer? The job offer of receptionist and housekeeper? Working for a woman she had a one-night stand with? A woman who apparently didn’t remember it? Really? With a murderer on the loose?
“So?” Finn asked.
She took another deep breath. “Why was the office ransacked?”
“They were looking for something.”
“Did they find it?”
“No.”
Rylee raised one eyebrow. “Will they find it?”
“Considering I don’t know what they’re looking for…I’d have to say no.” Finn shoved off the desk. “So? Still want to work here?”
Rylee nodded. “I was a security guard. I saw my share of scary men.” She smiled quickly. “And I carry a gun.”
Finn seemed to consider her statement, then she nodded. “Okay, then. How about you help me move this desk?”
* * *
It took them the better part of a half hour to get the desk through the door and yes, on its side. Finn wasn’t worried about scratch marks. As she told Rylee, the desk was old. She’d bought it secondhand when she’d started the business. However, as they rested against it, Rylee made a suggestion that made too much sense.
“If I’m going to be the receptionist—and I’d much rather have the title of assistant—then why don’t we move this huge-ass desk over there and you get a new one for your new office?”
Finn’s gaze followed where she pointed, the little nook in the entryway, a spot where she’d always envisioned a desk…and a receptionist. Before, she’d kept a small table there, a lamp, a couple of chairs. Now? There was nothing there except a phone, which was plopped on the floor.
She raised an eyebrow. “Assistant, huh?”
Rylee smiled and Finn noted her perfect teeth, the smooth skin that showed not even a hint of a wrinkle or laugh line around her blue-green eyes. Blue-green eyes that seemed to look right into her very soul. It couldn’t possibly be, but that look seemed so familiar to her. It had been six months, yet…
“Assistant or…apprentice…whatever works best for you.”
Finn smiled. “Receptionist works best, but I’ll go with assistant, if that makes you feel better.” She tried to guess her age. Was she even twenty-five? “How old are you?”
“I’m fairly certain you can’t ask that question in a job interview.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a job interview.”
Rylee blew out her breath. “I’m twenty-nine, at least for another few weeks. And yes, I realize that’s a little old to be making a career change.” She shrugged. “It’s also a little old to quit a job without having another one. Quit a job and move across the state to a city where I don’t know a soul. And a little old to be concerned with my parents being disappointed in my choice. Choices,” she corrected.
“Well, first off, I would have pegged you at about twenty-five—”
“Oh…thank you very much! That’s sweet!”
“And second, I was thirty when I made a career change. If you’re not happy in your current job, you’re never too old to make a change.”
“Thirty? And what were you before?”
“I was a…a detective. Here in Corpus.”
“Really? You were a cop?”
“I was.”
“So you just quit one day and opened up this place?”
If only it was that simple, Finn thought. She shook her head. “No. It was a little more complicated than that.” She walked over to the reception area, wondering why she’d let this young woman—this woman she’d slept with—talk her into hiring her. She didn’t really need a receptionist or an assistant. She certainly did not need or want an apprentice. She had a sneaky suspicion that the very lovely Rylee Moore would talk her into that title before too long. She turned back to her, wondering if Rylee remembered that night or not. Yes, of course she did. She supposed Rylee was choosing to ignore it…much like she was. If she was going to work here, it was probably best that they ignore it.
“I guess you’re right. We should move the desk over here. I happen to be on good terms with the owner of a furniture store,” she said, thinking of Mr. Honeywell. He’d been both pleased and shocked when she’d given him her report. “I think I’ll go see him today and get some office furniture delivered.”
Rylee gave a huge smile and ran her hand across Finn’s old desk. “Great! When should I start?”
Finn looked up to the ceiling out of habit. “I’d like to get the apartment cleaned up as soon as possible.”
“Consider me on it.”
Finn pointed to a door in the hallway. “The stairs are there. There’s a closet inside the stairwell where Sammy kept all his cleaning supplies.” She looked at Rylee thoughtfully. “I’ll go up with you. There may be some things I’ll want to keep.”
“I’m assuming he was more than just a renter to you. I’m sorry.”
Finn nodded. “Yes, he was.” She didn’t feel the need to elaborate.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Finn stood in her new office, looking at the new desk, the credenza behind it, and the bottle of scotch and her father’s glass, the only things sitting on it. All the important things, she thought wryly as she took the key from her pocket—the unknown key—and slipped it into the middle drawer of the desk. After helping her pick out furniture on Friday, Honeywell had it delivered before noon Monday—yesterday. His guys had also hauled off all the old furniture in Sammy’s apartment. There had been an awkward moment when she’d had to approach the patrol car Dee had assigned to her. It was in the way of the delivery truck. She had taken that opportunity to ask them to park a little farther away from the office, telling them they were scaring off potential clients. They didn’t seem to care. Apparently, Dee had instructed them to park directly across the street. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Dee since their impromptu dinner on Thursday.
Which had been nice. It was thoughtful of Dee to pop over, somehow guessing that Finn would be alone on Thanksgiving. She wondered if Dee had done it because Finn was alone or because she was alone and wanted company on the holiday.
It didn’t matter, really. They’d spent a pleasant afternoon together, even venturing out into the light mist to walk the pier. She hadn’t seen Larry—her neighbor—since she’d told him about Sammy. He had spent Thanksgiving with his daughter in San Antonio. He’d left a message on her phone last night. He was back and wanted to get together. He wanted to know the details about Sammy. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, so she ignored his call.
“Do you ever sleep? I left at nine last night and you were still here.”
She turned, startled by the voice. It was barely daylight on another drizzly morning; she wasn’t expecting Rylee this early. She realized she was holding a cup of coffee and she hadn’t even taken a sip yet.
“I sleep…some,” she offered. “You’re here kinda early this morning.”
Rylee shrugged. “Trying to make a good impression on my new boss.”
Finn gave her a small smile. “Well, it’s not like we’re overrun with customers.”
“Do you have any clients? I mean, ongoing.”
Finn nodded. “A few businesses in town retain me for their new hires. And I have a few law offices that use me for divorce cases or custody battles, things like that.”
“I see. But nothing right now?”
Finn took a sip of her coffee, grimacing when she discovered it wasn’t even lukewarm any longer. Just how long had she been standing there, staring into space? Should she tell Rylee that she turned down a client who phoned yesterday simply because she couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the connection between Daniel Frazier and whoever killed Sammy? Should she tell her that despite Dee’s assertion that she should leave it alone, she was still poking around in Frazier’s business dealings?
“No,” she said simply. “Why are you here so early?”
“I thought I’d finish cleaning the apartment upstairs. Baseboards and such. You said you had painters coming this afternoon.”
“They’ll be here at one.”
“So then, I thought…you know, I’d be available to help you, if anything came up.”
“Ah. The apprentice thing, huh?”
Rylee smiled. “Yes, the apprentice thing. Can’t you give me something to do?”
“Look, kid, I told you, I don’t—” Her cell phone interrupted her and she answered without looking. “Finn here.”
“It’s me. Are you at home or office?”
“Office. What’s going on?”
Dee cleared her throat. “I’ve been processing a scene. Connie Frazier was murdered last night.”
“Christ,” she murmured. “Where?”
“Her home. Her housekeeper comes at five a.m. every Tuesday. She found her.”
Finn glanced at the clock she’d hung on the wall just yesterday evening. It was 7:22. “What happened?”
“Whatever they couldn’t find at your office, they apparently were searching for it here. She was tied up. Appears she was tortured.” Dee paused. “This is totally unorthodox, but I’d like you to come to the scene. Take a walkthrough with me. Get your feel on it.”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” She turned to Rylee. “I’ve got to go. Lock the front door. Don’t answer it for anyone. If the phone rings, don’t answer it. Don’t worry about the apartment. We’ll clean it up after the painters leave. It’ll be a couple of days before the new furniture comes anyway.”
Rylee’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
Finn ignored her question. “You said you carry a gun. Do you have it with you?”
“I do.”
Finn was about to walk out, then stopped. “I mean, you legally carry a gun, right?”
Rylee nodded. “I have a license to carry a handgun, yes. A Beretta.”
Finn met her gaze, again taken aback by the blueness of her eyes. The blue tinged with green. She almost forgot what she was going to say. “The guy…the guy who killed Sammy, it looks like he may have killed someone else last night. That was Detective Woodard. She wants me at the scene,” she explained.
Again Rylee frowned. “A detective is requesting a private investigator at a murder scene? Is that normal?”
Finn shrugged. “What can I say? Just lock up after me. I shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”
“Okay, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Police lights cut through the cloudy drizzle and Finn parked along the street, five or six cars back from the driveway to the Frazier residence. She was stopped as soon as she stepped onto the driveway by a uniformed officer.
“Detective Woodard called me,” she explained. “I’m Finley Knight.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. She’s expecting you. She was in the kitchen.”
Finn walked in through the front door, then stopped, taking in the total mess that was now Connie Frazier’s home. Much like her office had been, everything was turned inside out. She skirted around an oversized chair that had been tipped on its side, the cushions ripped open. The leather sofa had suffered the same fate. Her gaze was fixed on the blood that stained the beige carpet.
She followed the sound of voices, finding herself standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Dee was speaking on the phone and two men were beside her, one in uniform, the other in a rumpled suit. Dee must have sensed her. She turned and waved her closer.
“Yes, I’ll be in later. We can go over it then.” Dee pocketed her phone, then turned to the uniformed officer. “Captain says for you to stay until everything is processed. Send Baxter and Jones back on patrol.”
He nodded and left without a word. Finn arched an eyebrow as she stared at the other man. Dee motioned toward him.
“My partner, Joel Yearwood. Joel, this is Finley Knight. Her card was in Daniel Frazier’s possession when we found him.”
“Yes. And I understand your office got broken into.” He held a hand out and Finn shook it. “What brings you around? This is a crime scene.”
Finn stared at him for a long moment, then dismissed him, turning to Dee instead. “Find anything?”
“What you see is what you get. They’ve already taken the body. You’ll be spared that, at least.”
“Tortured?”
“Excuse me,” Joel interrupted. “Detective, this is highly—”
“I asked her to come by, Joel. As you said, her office was ransacked much like this house. Another set of eyes.”
“But—”
“I used to be a detective with CCPD,” Finn offered. “I’m sure Captain Mabanks will vouch for me.”
Dee smiled quickly. “Yes, I’m sure he will. Joel, why don’t you go upstairs, see if they need any help.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he said rather unenthusiastically.
Dee sighed when he left. “He’s not very seasoned or intuitive. He wants evidence handed to him nice and neat.” She headed back into the living room and Finn followed. “Most of the destruction is down here. It doesn’t look like anything was left untouched. Upstairs, it’s more hit and miss, really.”
Finn stared at a chair in the middle of the room and again at the bloodstains on the carpet around it. “Is that where you found her?”
“Yes.”
“So they made her watch while they ransacked everything?”
“I suppose. And of course we have no way of knowing if they found what they were looking for. Maybe that’s why the upstairs isn’t quite as bad. She could have given up the location.”
Finn shook her head. “Connie Frazier, to me, didn’t seem like the type to be able to withstand torture. I’d guess if she knew what they were looking for, she would have handed it over immediately.” She glanced again at the blood splatter on the beige carpet. “They cut off fingers?” she guessed.
“Yes. Six of them.” Dee ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t mind saying, it’s probably one of the worst things I’ve seen. She was covered in blood, head to toe.”
“Cause of death?”
“Gunshot to the head. It didn’t appear to be postmortem.”
Finn met her gaze. “Tortured. Organized crime? Mob?”
“In Corpus? Come on.”
“Drug cartel?”
“We’re quite a ways from the border, but they do have a long reach. It’s premature, at this point.”
Finn tilted her head. “As I said the other night, there were no red flags in his personal finances, but I did find a few things in his business affairs that looked off.”
Dee shook her head. “Finn, I told you, stay out of it.”
“Stay out of it? Then why did you ask me here?”
Dee blew out a breath. “Because I need someone to talk to about this besides Joel.”
Finn supposed it went without saying that
Dee didn’t trust her partner, so she simply nodded.
“Okay. I’ll play along. After all, you are guarding my home and office.”
“Yes, I am.” Dee glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to brief Captain Mabanks. Let’s take a walk through the house. I’ll let you form your own opinion on it.” She paused. “If you’re free, I can come by your house this evening. We can go over it then.”
“I’m free. Want to do dinner too?”
Dee smiled. “I don’t picture you the cooking type.”
“I’m not. I’m the pick-up-and-take-home type.”
“Can we do it early? Six?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you the bedroom.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rylee stood with her shoulder pressed against the doorjamb, her eyes roving around Finn’s office. She was curious about the woman, to say the least, but she did resist going inside. She wouldn’t resort to snooping in her desk drawers. She eyed the glass tumbler and a bottle of liquor on the credenza. Rum or bourbon? She shook her head. Not rum. No…that night, Finn had been drinking whiskey. She’d tasted it on her lips.
She closed her eyes at the memory, feeling a ripple travel down her body.
That night.
What were the chances? It was her one and only time to go to the bar. She certainly hadn’t gone with the intention of sleeping with someone. She was new in town and thought maybe she might meet someone, a new friend, something. Nothing more than that. But…damn. She’d looked across the bar and there she sat, her dark eyes watching her. Rylee had been paralyzed. Never in her life had she had such an instant attraction to someone. It was as if Finn had been looking into her very soul that night.
The first dance, she remembered the way their bodies had touched, remembered how she trembled when Finn had pulled her close…far too close for a first dance. She remembered thinking at the time that it felt like they’d danced thousands of times before. Perhaps that’s why it hadn’t shocked her when Finn’s lips had brushed her face, her ear…her mouth.
“God…”
Fate was a funny thing, wasn’t it?
She closed her eyes, then spun on her heel, heading back out to her own desk. Now here she was, working for that very same woman. And neither of them had so much as even hinted they remembered that night. No doubt there’d been surprise on her face that first day. Finn’s face had flashed only a glimmer of recognition, but that was it. No comment. No innuendo. No nothing.