by Regan Black
“Good. We advised them to stay put and keep a low profile. No interviews, no outings. I’ll let Jack know you’re on the way and that you will remain on site with Paige.”
As he finished tying up his boat, the memory of his singular conversation with Paige Coker floated through his mind. Her friend’s dog had slipped the leash and scared a youngster. The little boy had darted into the surf to escape the rambunctious dog, but the dog had followed, compounding the child’s panic.
In hindsight it had been a comedy of errors. Both the boy’s father and Carter had been close enough that the child hadn’t been in serious danger, but Paige’s friend hadn’t wanted to accept any responsibility for the boy’s distress.
Paige had stepped in and smoothed things over. She’d been gracious and polite with the little boy, the father, and even Carter. Working as a lifeguard on the beach, that was rare. His presence was generally ignored until a crisis occurred. None of her companions that day had viewed him as an equal, he’d just been another form of hired help, tolerated as a necessity, but preferably overlooked.
Eager as he was to get on the job, he was aware that rushing never helped. He worked smoothly through the necessary tasks and when he finished, he went down into the bow to change clothes and grab his gear.
Cleaned up and feeling good, he walked out to his car, his bag slung over his shoulder while he made a mental to-do list for himself and the Coker family. He would check in with Jenna on the drive over and make any adjustments to his initial plans based on her report about the estate security.
He had no idea how receptive the Cokers would be to his recommendations or his inquiries as an investigator. Many people struggled to be forthcoming, even when he needed the intel to help them. He hoped, for the sake of their most-likely innocent daughter, that Jack and Cora would be cooperative.
Paige refilled her coffee mug and followed her mother out to the sunroom as requested. This time of year the sunlight pouring through the glass took the edge off the brisk morning and, with the help of strategically set heaters, the tropical plants were pampered and thriving. The fragrance usually lifted her mood. Today she barely smothered the growl.
Lucky plants.
Good grief, just when she thought her mood had hit rock bottom, she was jealous of ornamental citrus trees.
She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her own house. She needed breathing room. It would’ve been nice to have some space to grieve her friend’s death. Last night, her mother had made a solid argument for Paige to move back into the main house. She just couldn’t imagine it, not with the uncertainty and frustration over the past churning inside her belly.
The woman at the scene could have been her sister. If the police had shown her father the video, he wasn’t saying a word. Probably a good thing. The questions were becoming a tempest inside her head and she didn’t want her mother anywhere close when it finally blew.
Reminding her mother that she was twenty-nine and no longer a child, hadn’t been enough. Thankfully, reason had prevailed in a combination of her father’s calming influence and his request for extra personnel from the security service.
Breakfast with her parents had been non-negotiable, so here she was, doing her best to remain positive when the shadow of a murder charge loomed like a storm cloud over her head.
“Did you sleep at all, sweetheart?” Cora asked as she plucked a brown leaf from a lemon tree.
“A little,” Paige replied. She’d woken early to put a cool compress on her eyes to reduce the puffiness after crying most of the night. As much as she wished the tears had all been for Melissa, she was terrified that no one would be able to prove she hadn’t been there.
“I’m sorry your friend is gone. She was a lovely woman and a talented chef.”
Was. A brutally final word.
“Your father is doing everything possible to get to the bottom of this.” Cora crossed the room and took a seat at the wrought iron bistro table. “Join me, honey.”
Paige didn’t bother to argue.
Her mother reached over and patted her hand. She wasn’t yet sixty and she looked a whole lot closer to forty without any surgical intervention so far. Paige selfishly hoped she was wrong about those niggling questions in her mind and that it was possible she had inherited those good genes. Or maybe it wasn’t genetics that kept her mother so young, but an added perk of her husband and daughter keeping stress as far from her as possible.
However Jack had explained their visits with the police to Cora, her mother was dealing well with the startling situation. She’d been a bit weepy last night but pulled herself together by the time Paige joined them for dinner.
She looked down at their joined hands and tried to accept the comfort offered. Aside from this increased clinginess, it was almost a normal day. Except everything felt fractured and disjointed. She wasn’t sure anything would be normal ever again, even if she didn’t land in jail.
“I really should get back home, Mom.” She dreaded the calls on her list. “I need to get started on the adjustments to our original party plans.”
Cora sat back, her gaze sharper than usual. “Can I do anything to help?”
Let me leave? Paige shook her head, keeping the thought locked inside. “No, thanks.”
Her mother twisted around, made sure they were alone. “I’d rather not call off the party. The police are wrong about you obviously.”
“Obviously.” Paige settled back in the chair with her coffee, resigned to riding out whatever her mother had to say while her mind wandered. “The party doesn’t need to be cancelled.” She mentally crossed her fingers that she would be present and not behind bars for a crime she didn’t commit.
Ronnie said he had evidence in addition to the video. Her lawyer flicked that away, claiming her DNA was at the scene because she visited Melissa’s kitchen recently.
“They’ll get to the bottom of this soon. They have to understand you had nothing to do with this crime,” Cora said.
And how long would that take, she wondered. How many weeks would the media speculate about her being a killer? “I sure hope you’re right, Mom.” She’d been relieved that nothing in the news this morning mentioned Melissa’s death, but she knew it wouldn’t last.
Those hours in the interrogation room had been a misery. On top of watching her friend die, she’d had to write out everything she’d done that night and then surrender her passport. As if running would solve anything. Leaving town would only make her feel more alone. She had no idea how to go about clearing her name.
She shook her head. It was all surreal.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Cora said. “It’s best if you stay active, visible, and behave as normally as possible.”
“Best?” She set down her coffee with a hard bump. “I’m really not up for going out.” She fought back a wave of tears with every breath.
“I was thinking about that new place on King Street.”
Paige gulped. “No, thank you.” The last thing she wanted was to be put on display. Her name and picture and probably the dreadful clip from the security tape would eventually get out. Just the idea of the scrutiny threatened to break her.
“Okay.” Cora tapped her mug with a glossy French-manicured fingernail. “What about the raw bar you enjoy so much?”
Paige pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to snap. Or scream. Cora meant well, but lately it was a bigger struggle than usual to smother her own reactions and needs. “Why do we need to go out?” she asked with careful deliberation.
“You need to be visible, sweetheart. We need to send a clear message that we’re all unified, content, and unruffled by this nonsense. The police and the public should see that you aren’t cowering or hiding from their ridiculous accusations.”
She disagreed one hundred percent. Her mother clearly hadn’t seen the video. There was zero chance that going out for dinner or conducting business as usual would change opinions at the police department. Being innocent
might not be enough when the perpetrator on camera looked exactly like her.
Cora looked around furtively and then whispered to Paige, “Do we need to hire another caterer?”
“That’s on my list of things to address today,” she replied. “I’m not sure how Melissa’s team will feel after...” She couldn’t say the words again.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Cora said.
Her mom’s bright confidence only added to the sensation that she was being twisted and torn apart. Her mother always focused on the best and yet one of her oldest friends now believed the worst. Before she’d found that picture of her dad and the woman from the office, Paige knew what she believed about herself. Now all bets were off and she was flailing, searching for a safe anchor point.
She pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging lightly.
“Honey you need to relax,” Cora scolded gently. “The party will come off without a hitch and your father will love it.”
Paige laughed, a bitter sound in her ears. There were times when it seemed as if her mother lived just a step out of sync with the rest of the world. A step closer to rainbows and sunshine even in the middle of a hurricane.
“Am I interrupting?”
At the sound of her father’s voice, Paige looked up and tried to muster a smile. He walked into the room, followed by another man who struck her as vaguely familiar. Then again, she had seen a lot of faces since she started on this party for her dad.
Only one mattered. The face of the woman holding that gun in Melissa’s kitchen.
Manners prevailed though and she stood, along with her mom, to welcome their visitor.
“Allow me to introduce my wife, Cora, and our daughter, Paige,” her father said. “Girls, this is Carter Oakes. He’s part of Paige’s legal team and he’ll be staying with us until things are resolved.”
Things. What a bland word for this entire mess.
Mr. Oakes looked as if he’d walked right off the set of a boating advertisement. His sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head and he wore a sky-blue pinstriped button-down shirt open at the collar over khaki slacks with dark, oiled-leather deck shoes. He had broad shoulders and trim hips and his tanned skin, sandy hair and golden-brown eyes all seemed to be shot with sunlight. He struck her as a model, or a professional athlete, not a legal expert.
He moved to greet Cora with a handshake and a smile. Paige kept her distance, her hands locked around her mug. “You’re a lawyer?” she asked. “Wait.” The rest of her father’s words registered. “You’re staying with us?”
“With you, yes,” he confirmed. “I’m not a lawyer, I’m your new personal security and a private investigator.”
A ripple of heat rushed over her skin at the sound of his voice. Something about him made her want to lean closer. Clearly, she was overtired and this wasn’t the best time for a houseguest. “Mr. Oakes—”
“Call me Carter. Please.”
“Carter,” her father interjected, “is a private investigator with the law firm that represents you now. He’s just arrived and we need to discuss how we plan to proceed. As a family.” He exchanged a tight smile with his wife and reached for her hand. “I think we’d all be more comfortable talking in the sitting room.”
“Of course.” Cora put her hand into Jack’s.
The sitting room was protected by real walls, not that Paige believed anyone was really lurking out there to eavesdrop. Her father was diligent about security measures, one more thing Paige attributed to her mother’s need for a stable, quiet environment. What if all this time he’d been protecting them from a different threat?
“This way.” Cora glided out of the room. “It will be a pleasure.”
Behind her parents, Paige rolled her eyes. What kind of a pleasure did her mom think this meeting was going to be?
Then she caught Carter staring at her and realized he’d noted her exasperation. Great. Way to make a positive first impression. He must be thrilled to be helping a murder suspect with no respect for her parents. She’d have to explain that as soon as possible. If he was supposed to be on her side; she should probably give him more incentive to be helpful.
While her dad got everyone situated in the sitting room, she detoured to the kitchen and gathered glassware and a pitcher of water and then poured coffee into a carafe and added mugs to the tray. She reached into the refrigerator for cream and when she closed the door, he was there.
“I’ll carry this,” Carter said. “It looks heavy.” He took the tray from the island before she could protest.
“Um. Thanks.” She hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen.
She trailed him into the sitting room, admiring how he seemed to fit in with the social routine. Did he often serve the refreshments while meeting with clients? As coffee and water were poured, her mother launched into a glowing recitation of how everyone loved Paige and no one had motive to set her up like this.
That left the uncomfortable conclusion that Paige must be the killer, though she was sure her mother didn’t mean to give that impression. “Mom.” She shot her dad a pleading look. “Why don’t we let Carter tell us what he needs to know?”
“Mrs. Coker’s perspective is a fine place to start,” Carter countered. “Part of my job is to dig deep and look for someone with motive to pin this murder on you.”
“She doesn’t have enemies,” Cora insisted. “Everyone adores her.”
“That is the general consensus,” Carter said. “It isn’t always accurate.”
Paige wanted to find a hole to fall into. The coffee was making her queasy, so she reached over and poured a glass of water instead. She glanced at Carter and the hard line of his jaw tickled her memory. They must have met, but she couldn’t recall exactly where.
“You believe I’m innocent?” she asked him, too tired after her sleepless night for tact.
“Yes.”
Wow. His certainty gave her a hopeful boost. “Have you seen, ah, everything the police have indicating I was at the scene?”
“Only briefly,” he admitted. “We have technical experts picking apart the surveillance video. If it was doctored, we’ll find it.” He turned to Jack. “You and I will need to talk about any enemies who could benefit from something like this.”
Her dad frowned but agreed with a nod.
“Mrs. Coker, it helps that you can’t think of anyone close to Paige who would want to hurt her this way. Thank you.”
Clearly, he’d been warned how to interact with her mom. She wondered just how long Carter had been here before Jack had brought him in for introductions.
“You aren’t under house arrest,” Carter assured Paige. “If your daughter needs to go anywhere, I’ll accompany her, but I’m asking all of you to please stay close to home for the next few days.”
“But why?” Cora aimed her most charming smile at Carter. “Wouldn’t it be better if she goes about her normal activities? People need to realize she has no reason to hide. She didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not here for public relations,” Carter replied. “However, I don’t believe going out and being seen would help Paige. To the police this case looks cut and dried. They’re certain they have the right person and they are determined to give the district attorney an unshakeable case. In addition to keeping Paige safe, my role is to give the police another suspect and another theory about the motive behind the crime.”
“I didn’t have any reason to kill Melissa,” Paige said. “Not that Ronnie is open to the truth.”
Carter seemed ready to answer her, but her mother was suddenly upset. “Wait a minute. You said keep her safe.” She clutched at Jack’s hand. “What’s going on? What haven’t you told me?”
Jack held his wife’s hand in both of his, his gaze holding hers. “Carter is here as a precaution, honey. We know our Paige didn’t do a single thing wrong, but we don’t yet know why Melissa was killed. The only other person at the scene bore a striking resemblance to our Paige.”
She had the distinct impression the man saw too much. As security he was probably well trained to watch and assess people. He’d surely noticed the anger and fear she was too tired to effectively hide. If only he knew all the layers to her personal hell. She rubbed at the chill on her arms. Ever since she realized Ronnie believed she was guilty she had been growing colder. She hadn’t been able to get warm enough last night or in the shower this morning.
This situation was impossible and yet all too real.
While Jack soothed Cora, Carter moved closer to Paige. “Your father tells me you were working with the chef on a special event,” he said, his voice low.
“Yes. That’s right.” She could only hope her father didn’t know exactly what that event was. “Melissa was a dream. Her menu would’ve been—will be—fantastic.” She had to think positively.
“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?”
“No.” Paige shook her head, wishing she could escape the dreadful images in that video. “She was widely respected and well-liked. And she was my good friend.”
“You weren’t having any kind of a dispute with her?”
“What would we have argued over? The menu or the budget? The head count? Even if those things had been troubling, not one of them was worth her life. It’s like I told the police, I actually need Melissa. As a chef and as a friend.”
“Sweetheart, hush now. Take it easy.”
She whipped around to face her father, rude words dancing on the tip of her tongue. Blinking she realized she was on her feet with no recollection of standing up.
“You were shouting,” he said in the same tone he used with Cora.