Autumn's Eyes (Storm Season Book 1)

by J. L. Sutton

  With nothing else to do at the office on a Saturday I locked up behind me while I contemplated how best to kill a few hours. Craving something sweet and sticky I set my sights on the diner. My mind drifted as I cruised between the weekend traffic, and it wasn’t long before Dawn was on my mind again. The admittedly beautiful, black eyed woman hadn’t been far from my thoughts since yesterday evening. It was mostly my unquenchable curiosity, but something about her I couldn’t quite explain kept me returning to examine every word of the two brief times I saw her.

  The diner was almost empty when I arrived. Halfway between the breakfast and lunch crowds the waitresses on duty today were lounging against the counter, taking a break before things got too hectic again. I took my usual seat in the back next to the window looking out onto Main Street so I could watch the people strolling by, and I managed to get myself settled before a welcome face appeared with a pot of coffee and a menu.

  “Morning Megan.”

  “Good morning Benjamin.” She smiled widely, always friendly no matter how her day was going. “Coffee?”

  “Yes please, and a slice of apple pie when you get a chance.”

  “Coming right up.” She nodded, filling a fresh cup for me before disappearing behind the counter.

  Megan was working here for close to a year now. She always seemed happy to see me, which led me to suspect she had a little bit of a crush on me. Luckily I was the only one who noticed it—my friends loved to take every opportunity to persuade me back into the dating pool.

  It’s not that the idea didn’t appeal to me. I had even been on two dates this year, though they never really amounted to anything. The fault was firmly on my shoulders. I liked to think I was ready to move on with my life, but I had a mental brick wall to get around. I just couldn’t get myself to believe I had another chance after Claire. Sometimes I felt cursed, like life took some sick pleasure in letting me glimpse something worth wanting, only to snatch it away before I could grab on. And just like that Claire was at the forefront of my mind again. Even after almost three years the memories of that night were still fresh in my mind.

  I had just come home from work on a cool summer evening laden with bags of Thai food, eager to watch the game I was looking forward to all week. Too hungry to wait for her, I slumped onto the couch and lost myself in the game. It wasn’t unusual for her to arrive a little late, but by the end of the second quarter I was on edge, so when her phone went to voicemail I left her a message asking her to call me. Minutes ticked by as I waited, the blur of motion on the screen no longer fully holding my attention. Pacing restlessly long before the game was over I began eyeing the door expectantly every time I turned around. When the phone finally rang I nearly tackled the coffee table in my haste to answer it.

  The man on the other end of the phone said he was a doctor. He said a lot of things I didn’t hear that night, because only one thought occupied my mind. Claire was never coming home. I stood unmoving for a long time after the call, the air in my lungs slowly freezing solid. I don’t remember breathing as I tried to piece together what the man said. Claire was walking to the bus stop, the same way she did every night. Except on this particular night she wasn’t alone.

  Her attacker fled the scene without taking anything of value, but not before the coward put two nine millimeter rounds into her chest.

  She’d never hear the message I left her. I’d never hear her voice again. Never get to be there for her after a crappy day, watch her face light up when she painted, or tell her how much I loved her. I think the part that still haunts me the most is Claire hadn’t gone quickly. The coroner said she was there for at least seven agonizing minutes while she bled to death on the cold, empty sidewalk. And she was there alone. It’s difficult not to blame yourself after something so senseless, and like a lot of people I couldn’t help it. I was inconsolable. I hated myself for not being there, for letting her slip away from me right when she needed me the most.

  I made a promise that night, to both her and myself. I wouldn’t give up until the man who did this to her answered for it.

  In a way it was almost strange. Claire was the one who passed away, yet I had to keep coming up with new, varying definitions just so I could convince myself I was still here, still alive. Her death shook me to my very core, tearing me to pieces, and like a grieving fool instead of dealing with her death in a sensible, healthy way, when they told me I couldn’t investigate her death I gave my notice at work and signed up as a professional investigator. In hindsight I realized it wasn’t a particularly intelligent move on my part, but grief makes people do drastic things.

  I wasn’t looking back now. No, I always found my own way and this wouldn’t be any different. I just wished I had something more to show for it, some small headway towards making good on that promise instead of just waiting for some new development.

  Over the years my hunt for Claire’s killer had unapologetically become my obsession. She was someone you just had to love, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who missed her dearly. There was very little our little group didn’t know about each other’s lives, hell sometimes I wondered if Jennifer knew more about my relationship with Claire than I did. But no one, not even Claire knew about the diamond engagement ring I now wore as a reminder on a thin silver chain on my neck.

  Just then Megan’s voice knocked me out of daydreaming and back into the diner. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, that’s all thanks.” I smiled sheepishly, hoping she wasn’t standing there long.

  “Sure, enjoy.” She returned the smile as she carried a plate of bacon and eggs to another table.

  If I really did phase out for long she gave no indication that she minded, and trying not to dwell on it I tucked into my slice of pie. After savoring every last bite I gulped down my coffee before heading back to my apartment, generously over tipping Megan in the hope she’d forgive my daydreaming.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch between watching TV and reading through today’s emails. Not exactly interesting, but it wasn’t often I had the chance to really relax, and I was determined to do as little as possible until I absolutely had to. When trying to get excited about the evening failed I abandoned the couch with a groan and took a shower. The black on black suit on my bed was neatly laid out next to a fresh stack of business cards I printed during the week. I promised to give Jennifer a ride tonight, returning the favor of her driving me around last Sunday, so I slipped into my eveningwear before tucking the cards in my pocket. Pausing only to leave a cracker out for Hansel I called Jennifer to let her know I was on my way.

  Jen lived fifteen minutes from me in a small flat she shared with her roommate across from the city park, and she must’ve seen me through the window because she was out the door before I killed the engine. She wore a stunning, deep burgundy dress and matching high heels, putting her almost to my height, her hair finely worked into an intricate bun that undoubtedly took her hours to accomplish. She stumbled lightly while adjusting her glasses—my money was on a new pair of shoes.

  “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She hugged me gently, careful not to wrinkle our clothes. “It’s not too much is it?”

  I smiled. She must be nervous if she was asking my opinion. “Not at all.”

  “Good.” She relaxed a bit, eyeing me warily up and down. “You don’t look too bad yourself—nice to see you healed up quickly.”

  “Why does everyone keep bringing that up?” I muttered, absentmindedly scratching the ragged mark on my shoulder. “Let’s get moving, unless you’re planning on making an entrance?”

  The drive took longer than I expected. We passed the time by teasing each other in good humor as I wound my way down unfamiliar streets, almost succeeding at taking my mind off the last few days. Unfortunately, Jennifer had an uncanny knack for noticing when I wasn’t fully engrossed in the conversation.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked when we were about halfway there.

>   “You know me—dreading the party as always.” The lie came easily to my lips, my expression giving nothing away. While it’s true I didn’t really want to be there tonight, the last thing I needed was for her to be worried about me. I did enough of that myself.

  “You make it sound like torture.”

  “If Eric’s dad tells another story about his boat, it could be.” The mock-horror on my face made her laugh again, the tense moment all but forgotten. The most I would get out of tonight was a few hours with my friends, or if I was lucky a potential client, and that was good enough for me.

  Eventually we reached the suburb of Fairview, a beautiful neighborhood on the very outskirts of the city I only ever got to visit while on business. The rows of brightly colored two story houses and elegant gardens were a far cry from the chaos, bright lights and noise of the inner city. Following the directions from my GPS, who I called Daphne due to the horrendous monotone that reminded me of my ninth grade science teacher, the homes gave way to flat, open terrain that blended into the darkness as we neared our destination.

  Passing through the gates of the Fairview Marina we drove up a narrow paved road lined on both sides with tall candles, their yellow flames flickering ever so slightly in the breeze. The main building was on a gentle slope overlooking the ocean, a brilliant white oval glowing dimly in the moonlight. A sharply dressed valet appeared at my door, greeting me politely as I handed him my keys. The sight of my old Chevy between all the exotic cars left me cringing internally. Shaking off the comparisons in my head I walked around the car to open Jennifer’s door and her eyes lit up as she took in the building’s entrance.

  “I can’t wait to see inside,” she practically purred.

  I nodded, forcing myself to smile as we followed the white velvet ropes to the entrance. “Best not keep everyone waiting then.”

  Jennifer wasn’t disappointed—once again Eric’s mother had simply outdone herself. The entranceway opened up to a grand room, filled with tables neatly laid out in a perfect semicircle surrounding a spacious dance floor. The tables were covered with bouquets of white roses in crystal vases that matched the overhanging chandeliers. A stage was set in the back of the room where a band played, filling the room with a slow, sultry jazz number. I let Jennifer take the lead, first finding our assigned seats and then making our way to the bar where we would no doubt find Eric. I grabbed two glasses of champagne from a young server and handed one to Jennifer. It had a light, crisp floral aroma. Halfway through the glass I spotted Eric talking to his father, so I neatly stacked our presents with the others on a large table against the wall before catching up with Jennifer.

  “You made it!” Eric smiled widely, breaking away from the group to greet us.

  “I promised I would, didn’t I? You two act like I never show up.”

  “True, you usually do.” Jennifer smiled ruefully. “Quite a party you’ve got here.”

  Despite my earlier objections I had to agree with her. “Indeed.”

  “I know right?” Eric gestured over his shoulder. “Of course you know my father.”

  “Good evening Mr. Hall.” I shook hands with Eric’s father, boring stories aside we got along pretty well.

  “Benjamin, a pleasure as always.” Like Eric he wore a pristine black suit and tie, the cufflinks alone probably costing more than everything I was wearing.

  “You don’t look too bashed up.” Eric noted between ordering a set of drinks from the bar. I begrudgingly filled in the details of my assault to him during the week. “Been too long since I hit someone myself.”

  Ah Eric, always the troublemaker. “I wouldn’t have minded the backup. You’d have loved it.” I was also sure I received help in the form of a petite enigma with an annoying habit of disappearing, but I kept the thought to myself.

  “You’re both children.” Jennifer shook her head in exasperation.

  “It’s a male thing.” Eric laughed, punching me on the shoulder. “Seriously though, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “You and me both.” I grinned. Despite my usual response to dive into any situation I think staying in one piece rather suited me. “Where’s Stacy tonight?”

  “She’s running late, knowing her it’s hardly surprising.” He chuckled. What was more surprising is that I remembered her name. The rate Eric burned through female company was baffling. I could only recall this latest conquest’s name because Jennifer despised her so thoroughly.

  Eric grilled me for more information about last weekend for a few minutes before he was unceremoniously dragged away by his mother to spend time with the rest of his relatives, mouthing something that looked like “help me” before disappearing into the crowd. I was glad to spot Eric’s younger brother Tom sitting on his own and quickly roped him into the mix. He looked almost exactly like Eric, save for a lighter shade of hair and a wider face. Tom shared my interest in photography, and before long I coaxed him into telling me about his recent trip to Spain.

  I sorely wished I could travel myself, but between work and looking after my sister I had long given up ever seeing the world. Though one day I really would like to get as far as New Orleans, a place I always dreamed of going with Claire. Sometimes I wondered if I always wanted to travel, or if I wanted to travel because I knew I couldn’t. The last real trip I took was with my father and Lisa to Niagara Falls for a week. Lisa was so happy touring through the countryside, making us stop every few miles to see something that caught her interest. It was almost crippling to see her now, locked away behind the iron doors of Patrick Fords. Did she even remember the feel of the wind from the open car window gently brushing against her face?

  Just then three heavy taps followed by the deep voice of Eric’s father on the microphone caught everyone’s attention. “Good evening, ladies and gentleman. If you will please find your seats—dinner will be served shortly.”

  Tom followed Jennifer and me to our table. Judging by how animated Eric had become two tables over I guessed he was already well lubricated, and as entertaining as it would be I hoped he wasn’t making any speeches. Before I let my mind drift to him rambling on stage a small legion of men and women in matching uniforms appeared carrying trays of food with uncanny precision. A starter course of creamy vegetable soup with bread so fresh it was still warm in the middle was served, followed by an entrée of perfectly roasted pepper-crusted lamb shank that fell off the bone. Jennifer, being a vegetarian, ate a healthy portion of vegetable lasagna that even I had to admit looked pretty damn good. A berry tart and Crème Brule for dessert followed by an assortment of warm beverages, from Turkish style coffee to chai tea.

  “Glad you came now, huh?” Jennifer nudged me.

  “Absolutely.” After a meal like that the rest of the night could be a disaster and I’d still have come.

  As soon as the dishes were cleared the lights dimmed, and once again Eric’s father took the stage and said a few words of adoration for his son, who for the moment seemed to be enjoying the attention. Eric couldn’t have possibly made his father more proud when he decided to follow in his footsteps as an architect, though it did nothing to curb his carefree lifestyle. Not that I was in any position to judge my friend on his life choices, even if it meant bailing him out of jail at two in the morning because after a few drinks attempting to sneak into the local amusement park seemed like a good idea. Now that was an interesting night. When Eric’s father left the stage the band took up their positions and the music resumed. The rest of the people in the room slowly began to peel away to join other tables, or order drinks from the bar.

  “Where are you off to?” Jennifer asked when I stood up from the table.

  I patted my jacket pocket lightly, flashing a sly smile. “Work.”

  She nodded seriously. No one else at the table would have understood what I meant, but she knew all too well. Like it or not a social engagement this grand was an opportunity, one I couldn’t afford to miss. I took a deep breath to relax myself before I made my way to Eric’s tabl
e, ready to play out my little act.

  Eric pulled out an empty chair for me and I joined the conversation, Stacy arriving just in time to keep Eric well occupied for me. Taking my time I moved my focus from Eric to his father as the rest of the family went off on their own. Friends of his father would come and go, and naturally he’d introduce me to all of them. People were always quick to ask what other people did with their lives, and mine was particularly interesting. I memorized everyone’s name and face that I spoke to so I could seek them out later to discretely hand them one of my cards. Being a PI was a lot like being a divorce attorney—you didn’t want anyone to know you hired one until you had everything you needed from them.

  “You should’ve been a salesman.” Eric laughed as we walked back to the table where Jennifer was chatting to Tom and another girl I recognized from somewhere but couldn’t place. “You’re almost as smooth as I am.”

  “Be careful then, it may just cost you a lovely lady.” I winked, causing Stacy to burst out giggling. The look on Eric’s face was priceless.

  After refreshing our drinks we all followed Eric outside, walking along the building to a small wooden balcony. From the hilltop you could just make out the city in the distance, its sparkling towers lighting up the horizon like a cluster of tiny diamonds. The autumn air was cool and dry, refreshing after being packed so close to all those people. We leaned against the railings, laughing together like we did when we were kids, long before we got older and respectable. Okay, Eric just got older. Tom produced a small digital camera from his inside pocket and shuffled us all close together with the city behind us, and after a few snapshots I traded places with him so I could get him in the frame. The only pictures I had of my friends together were taken years ago, with Claire, and it would be nice to have an updated version that I could look at without feeling hollow. When Eric’s drink ran dry we made our way back to the party.