Once he opened the door for the detective, he motioned for the man to wait. “I need to get her to urgent care or the ER. She’s putting on a brave face but needs stitches.”
“Need an ambulance?”
“I don’t think so, and she’s too stubborn to get in one. I’ll be doing well to get her to let me drive.”
“All right.” The man pulled out his notebook. “Time to fill me in.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The bright lights and sterility pressed against Savannah.
How was she in the emergency room for the second time in three days? She hated hospitals. She wanted to get up and force her way home, but she needed to stay long enough for stitches. Her assailant had sliced her arm, not deep enough to cause permanent harm but long enough for her upper arm to feel on fire.
Jett had been insistent, and Detective Jensen had gone along with it, letting Jett herd her to his vehicle. Then he drove to the hospital, back to Arlington and the facility where Dustin had recovered.
Jett sat in the chair to the side of the emergency room table. She’d wanted to argue she should have the chair and he could go home, but instead she’d laid down. Almost immediately she’d wanted to take a nap.
Now she had to deal with Detective Jensen and his questions. The man stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and frown dipping his mouth into a grimace. “Care to explain why you thought it was a good idea to break into the apartment?”
“No breaking involved. I have a spare key that my niece gave me.” She tried to smile but it felt shaky.
Jett leaned forward but didn’t launch from the chair. “Hey, we called you.”
“Had to or I would have gotten a report from the hospital anyway.”
“Not to you specifically.”
“You might be surprised.” The detective’s grin was not friendly though it revealed the small gap between his front teeth. “I was getting ready to eat with my family for the first time in two weeks. You had to go and spoil it.”
Savannah watched the interaction between the boys and failed to suppress the urge to get between them. “It wasn’t like that. I needed the life insurance information on Dustin. We found the will that lists me as his executor.” She looked at Jett, who gave her a quick nod.
“I’ve got it right here.”
Savannah tried to thank him with her eyes. “Any idea who the intruder was?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” Detective Jensen glanced at his notes. “You didn’t see much.”
“There was barely enough light to note his bedroom was clean. I guess Stasi took care of that.” Though Savannah still expected to get the bill.
“That’s not who contacted us about cleaning.”
“What?” Savannah’s mind scrambled. “Who else would pay for something like that?” And there Stasi went taking credit for something she didn’t do. How like her little sister.
The detective flipped back through his notes. “A woman named Hope Boonmee.”
“Who?”
“Never met her. Said she was a friend of his.”
“Dustin?”
“Yes.”
“My sister said she ordered the cleaning service. When I walked into the bedroom, the man rushed me. I hadn’t turned on the light yet so I didn’t see much since I was fighting to escape before he killed me.”
The detective turned to Jett. “And where were you during all this?”
He had the credibility to look sheepish as he answered. “In the kitchen and living areas. Did you learn anything about this Hope Boonmee, like how she knew Dustin?”
Detective Jensen shrugged. “No need. Did you see the man leave?”
Jett shook his head. “He was heading out the window.”
At that moment a nurse breezed in with a tray of medical supplies. “Time to get you stitched up.”
Savannah grimaced but kept her gaze on the detective. “I’ll call if I remember anything.”
He nodded, then exited the small room that had grown crowded. Jett stepped out to make a call. An hour later Jett drove her home and pulled into a vacant slot in front of her town house.
“Want me to come in?”
She studied him a moment. So much it scares me. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride.” She started to get out, then turned to look at him. “Could I have the will and insurance information?”
“Sure.” He patted his coat’s inside pockets, then pulled out the documents. “Call if you need anything.”
She nodded and took the papers, a lump welling in her throat at his care.
* * *
Savannah wobbled slightly as she climbed out of his car but waved him away. Jett drove away reluctantly but was soon preoccupied with a curiosity about the woman who had paid to clean Dustin’s apartment. He called the research desk at the Source and asked the on-duty researcher, Tina, to work her magic and find Hope Boonmee.
“How do you spell it?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay.” She drew the word out and he could hear the click of a keyboard. “Anything else you can tell me about her?”
“She paid for Dustin Tate’s apartment to be cleaned this week. After his death.”
“Where did he live?”
Jett gave her the address, then hung up. An hour later she called back to say she had nothing but would keep looking.
“You’re the best, Tina. If you can’t find it, it doesn’t exist.”
He’d move to the next step, ask Savannah to let him ask Addy about the name and see how she reacted. Then he’d talk her into returning to Dustin’s apartment. There had to be something more there, or they wouldn’t have stumbled on an intruder.
* * *
Saturday, December 19
Addy was still asleep when Savannah returned from getting her rental. She crawled into the attic space to get her Christmas decorations down. While it didn’t seem worth it to decorate when it was just her, with Addy staying with her at least for a couple days and her parents possibly coming, it seemed like the year to make an attempt to decorate.
After she carried the boxes to the first floor, she made a bowl of oatmeal and pulled up a news app on her phone. She hadn’t googled to see what had happened to Evan Spencer, and she needed to know what the papers were saying. Three men connected to one article dying in the span of a week was statistically improbable, even if one had died in a plane crash.
The Washington Times barely mentioned it on a back page of the Metro section. The Post didn’t do much more. Even the Source seemed to overlook the death as one more petty crime gone bad.
Then she searched for Dustin’s death. She’s spent so much time living the aftermath that she hadn’t considered how it was portrayed in the press. Barely more than the mention of police responding to a scene and in one case a statement that his death could be related to an article he’d been mentioned in earlier that month.
She slumped back against her chair. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to find, but it was more than a few paragraphs.
The sound of movement overhead warned her that Addy was up and on her way to breakfast. Savannah prepared a second bowl of oatmeal and had it waiting on the table with a small plate of blueberries and strawberries when Addy made it down. Her hair was mussed and her eyes bleary as she sank onto a chair.
“Morning, Addy.”
The girl picked up her spoon and plopped an elbow on the table and then propped her chin on her hand. “I’m glad you didn’t say good.”
“It’s been a hard week.”
“Horrible. That silly kid’s book about horrible, terrible days has no idea what it’s talking about. I do. And I never want another one like this.” She spooned some blueberries on her oatmeal and then took a bite. “What were you thumping around for?”
“Thought we could decorate today.”
“Why?”
“For Christmas. I’ve been slow in getting my decorations up. I decided I need your help and expertise.”
“It shouldn’t make you feel worse. Anyway, I invited Grandma and Grandpa to come this way this year, so I’d better get a few decorations up. Make the place look festive.”
“You don’t have to babysit me.”
“I know.” And she did need to have a conversation with Stasi, but not yet. “I figured you’d stay here through the weekend, and then we’ll see where things stand.”
The girl looked up from her bowl, a frown marring her face.
Savannah reached across the table and squeezed Addy’s arm. “I want to spend the time with you. We’ll talk about the details for your dad’s service and try to have some fun.”
A knock at the door made them both startle.
Savannah pushed from the table. Who would be at her door on a Saturday morning?
She glanced through the window next to the door and saw Jett standing on the porch. “Addy, you okay if I let Jett Glover in?”
Her niece glanced up and then shrugged. “I guess it’s okay. Just let me take this upstairs first.”
The girl skittered around her and disappeared to her room. Savannah glanced outside again and then unlocked and opened the door.
Jett’s hands were shoved in the pockets of a barn coat, a plaid scarf wrapped around his neck. She leaned against the doorframe, feeling the bite of the wind.
“Can I come in?”
* * *
He grinned at her, but it couldn’t have its usual impact, not when he was more exhausted than rakish. He’d spent too much time searching for a thread that never materialized. That’s why he was here on her doorstep at this time of the morning. He wasn’t sure what she’d do with the unannounced visit, and listening to her conversation with her niece didn’t give him assurance she’d let him in.
“You can.” She stepped back, and he noted a surge of attraction as he moved by her.
“Thanks.” The entryway was small in Savannah’s townhome. Straight ahead was the coat closet, behind it the stairs. He waited for her to step into the living room so he could follow, but she seemed frozen in place, her gaze locked on him.
He leaned toward her, letting her feel the weight of his presence. Even if he wondered if a part of her still loved Dustin Tate, Jett was here now. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek behind her ear, and noticed the shiver she tried to hide. He kept his grin in check but repeated the gesture on the other side. She didn’t move as he tipped his head closer to hers, leaving his lips inches from hers, but far enough that he wouldn’t accidentally brush his lips across hers when he talked. No, when he kissed her, there would be nothing unexpected or unplanned about it. “Do you have coffee?”
She startled and her lips moved but nothing escaped. Then she licked them and huffed. “In the kitchen.”
She was skittish, so he’d be glacially slow if that’s what it took. His thoughts turned back to why he’d come.
“Why are you here?” She tried to sidle around him to shut the door and winced.
“Bruised?”
She nodded gingerly. “Between the car accident and our adventure yesterday, I’ll feel sore for a while. The stitches tug more than I expected.”
He unbuttoned his coat but left it on as he stepped into the middle of her living space. “Had you heard of Hope Boonmee before yesterday?”
Savannah considered his words, then shook her head. “Not that I remember.”
“Think Addy might have?”
“Why?”
“After Detective Jensen mentioned her name, I had a researcher at the paper look her up. Couldn’t find her.”
Savannah pulled out her phone and sank to the edge of her love seat. She started clicking away on the screen. “Not everyone is visible in white-page searches thanks to cells being primary phones.”
“Yep, but the paper has access to multiple databases.”
“What if she’s not from here?”
“I wondered the same thing. Last night I checked and learned Boonmee is a Thai last name.”
“What if she still lives in Thailand? Maybe she knows something?” Savannah set her phone to the side.
“Anything’s possible.” He undid his scarf and sat on a chair. “But how would she know about his death and pay for cleaning if she’s not from the States? Have you published an obituary?”
“No.” Savannah started tapping on her phone again. “I think we need to chase this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s head back to Dustin’s apartment. If she paid for the apartment to be cleaned, then he must have known her.”
He tipped his head but thought there was another option. “Or she’s connected to the killer and had it cleaned to get rid of evidence. And when we were there, we interrupted someone who was looking for something the killer left behind.”
Savannah pressed a hand against her stomach as if to still the rolling waves that thought generated. “Maybe Dustin has some record of her. We didn’t get very far in the search of the apartment.”
“Even if we had, we didn’t have her name.”
“But now we do.”
This was it. A thread to pull on. He had a good feeling about where it could lead.
* * *
The thought of going back didn’t thrill Savannah. Neither did it cause her to hyperventilate. “Let me check on Addy first.”
“She’s here?”
“At least for the weekend.”
“Will she be okay alone?”
Footsteps pounded overhead before a ball of energy flew down the stairs. “I’ll be fine. Decorating for Christmas, right, Aunt Savvy?”
“I suppose.” Savannah considered Addy, noting the dark bruising under her eyes. “Maybe you should focus on sleep today.”
“Only if you do.” Addy crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.
“Maybe later.”
“Exactly.” Addy edged closer to Savannah. “Just hurry back, okay?”
Savannah nudged Addy’s chin until their gazes connected. “I will. Promise.”
A bit later, she climbed into Jett’s Jeep and tapped another search for Hope Boonmee into her phone. Still nothing. “Can you take us to the law firm before we head to Dustin’s?”
He glanced at her quickly. “Why?”
“I think we need to use some of the online search engines I have access to there. Google isn’t sufficient. If she owns property in the US, I should be able to find her.”
“Only if Hope is her actual first name.”
Savannah frowned as she tapped another tab. If she could just remember her password she could try to search on her phone, but the screen was too small to do it comfortably. “What?”
He beat against the steering wheel as if keeping pace with his thoughts. “Many Asians adopt an English first name when they come to the States to make it easier for us. What if that’s what she did?”
“We won’t know until we look.”
“And I know the place to do that.”
“What?”
“The Source. On my laptop I’ve got access to resources that are probably different from yours. We’ll swing by my place, pick that up, and then go to the law firm if we still need to.”
“All right.” She added a quick note on her phone to look for a safe deposit box or similar account and key when she was back at Dustin’s. It was possible any evidence he had might be stored offsite. “And while we’re at the apartment, we should search for whatever Dustin had that told the real story of those trips.”
“Agreed.”
A few minutes of silence settled between them as Jett drove. Savannah’s thoughts ran through their conversations. “Has anyone responded to your online requests for information?”
“No, but whether people readily volunteer information depends on the story. Some people love the idea of talking to the media. Others want nothing to do with us.” He sighed as he followed the line of cars. “We haven’t done ourselves favors by confusing people about what news
is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Anyone can be a journalist now, but so much of it is fabricated no one knows what to believe.”
“Finding truth in a fake news world.”
“Exactly.” He stopped at a stop sign and glanced at her. “That’d be a great tagline for a news channel.” He started driving again. “The reality is the market is so muddied by bad journalists that it’s hard to discern who’s good and who doesn’t know how to ask the right questions.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Eventually someone will talk to me or we’ll find something.”
She leaned against the window and stared at the trees they passed. “When Addy asks me who her dad really was, I won’t know how to answer.”
“You don’t have to. She’s a teenager.”
“Who lost her father in a terrible, senseless way. And she found his body. I can’t whitewash that.”
“Maybe you don’t need to.”
She stifled a yawn. “Sorry.” She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “Do you think we’ll ever know the full story?”
He shrugged. “She’ll be okay. She has you to help her. You okay?”
“I won’t be until I know she is.” She puffed out air, then tried to clear her worries from her mind. The drive to Jett’s place was longer than going to Dustin’s or the law firm. Jett drove through Old Town onto George Washington Parkway. Savannah had always enjoyed the drive with the park and trails along the Potomac River on one side and small neighborhoods on the other. The real estate was pricey with its great location and river views.
Still she was unprepared when he turned off the parkway and in a couple of minutes pulled in front of a split-level home. “This is where you live?”
“Yep.”
“Reporters must make more than I thought.”
“Or I found a creative house-sitting arrangement.” He grinned at her shock. “Friends are on assignment overseas with the Secret Service. I’m helping them by staying here and maintaining the place, and they don’t have to worry about renting to strangers.”
After he climbed out, Jett hurried around to open Savannah’s door. He seemed pleasantly surprised to see her waiting patiently. “I had you labeled as a woman who would insist on getting her own doors.”
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