Authors: Debra Webb
“That works out perfectly,” he said, grabbing his courage with both hands. “Maybe you can come to dinner here with me and my family.”
The smile started at one corner of her mouth and spread across her face, and the whole room lit up. “I could do that, if you’re sure your family won’t mind.”
He downed a bite of pancake. “My family would be ecstatic. I warn you, though, they’ll jump to conclusions. If you’re not careful, my mother will start suggesting wedding venues.”
Amber’s tinkling laughter filled the air and made his heart glad. “I’m an expert at changing the subject.”
He bit his tongue to prevent asking her if she had given up on the idea of weddings. He damned sure had—or he’d thought so. Funny, the notion of marriage didn’t feel so difficult to imagine anymore. The realization should terrify him. Strangely it didn’t.
Silence enveloped them for a minute or two. Sean recognized reality had intruded. They weren’t kids punch-drunk after a night of incredible sex.
She set her fork aside. “What’re we really doing, Sean?”
All of a sudden he didn’t know how to answer that question. This—whatever it was—had happened so damned fast.
She nodded. “I can’t answer the question, either.” She exhaled a big breath. “I really like you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt before, not even when I was wearing an engagement ring. I just don’t know what it means.”
“I’m in the same place.” He shrugged. “I swore I’d never make this mistake again.”
“Is that what
this
is? A mistake?”
The hurt in her eyes tightened his chest to the point where he couldn’t draw in a decent breath. “I hope not.” All that bravado he’d felt earlier abruptly deserted him. “I honestly don’t know.”
Obviously his answer wasn’t the one she’d wanted to hear. “Wow. Okay.” She stood and carried her plate to the sink.
Damn it.
He grabbed his plate and joined her there. “I just meant—”
She backed away. “Let’s not do this right now, okay?”
He piled his plate on top of hers and set his hands on his hips. “Is this your way of protecting your feelings? You just blow it off and walk away?” That was exactly what she was doing. Maybe instead of arguing he should take the easy way out and forget the whole damned thing.
“You’re the one who called it a mistake.”
Before he could respond, his cell in his pocket vibrated. He dug it out and glared at the screen.
The boss.
He dragged in a calming breath and answered. “Hey, boss. You have news?”
Sean listened to the update and tried to feel relief. Didn’t happen. “Thanks. I’ll let her know.”
He ended the call and tucked his phone away. He had a bad feeling that what he was about to tell Amber would be the end of whatever
this
was. “The BPD found Thrasher. He’s dead. He left a note apologizing for all he’d done.”
Chapter Fifteen
Birmingham Police Department, 11:00 a.m.
“Peter Thrasher appears to have committed suicide. We can’t officially call it a suicide until we have the autopsy report, but based on the ME’s examination at the scene and the note he left, the preliminary call is suicide.”
Lieutenant Chet Harper opened the folder in front of him and passed an eight-by-ten photo to Jess. Next to Sean, Amber tensed. He’d tried a dozen times on the way here to apologize for not being able to explain himself, but she refused to talk. She had been vulnerable, needy. He should have protected her without allowing personal feelings to get in the way. How could he make her see what he meant if she wouldn’t hear him out?
He was supposed to be a professional. He was supposed to keep her safe. He’d fallen down on both counts and he’d taken advantage of her need to grab on to life with both hands. He had to find a way to explain to her that the mistake he’d meant hadn’t been what she thought.
Jess passed the photo to Sean, yanking him back to the present. The preliminary report indicated Thrasher appeared to have taken an overdose of over-the-counter sleep aids. The empty bottle had been found in his pocket. Apparently when he’d abandoned his car, he’d hitched a ride to the greenhouses where he grew flowers. One of his employees, a worker who spoke little or no English, had given him a ride. The employee had no idea Thrasher was embroiled in a murder investigation. He claimed Thrasher acted like he always did. When they had arrived at the greenhouses, Thrasher had told everyone to take the rest of the week off with pay.
“Forensics found evidence from both victims, McCorkle and Pettie, on Thrasher’s computer. He and Adler were sharing the videos via a cloud service.”
Jess studied the forensic report before passing it to Sean. “Is there any possibility the evidence was planted?”
Sean had been about to ask the same question. As badly as he’d screwed up with Amber, he hadn’t forgotten the case entirely.
“Are you suggesting that someone may have set up Thrasher?” Amber asked. “The potential third killer you mentioned before?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Jess confirmed. “Thrasher knew the BPD was looking for him and he goes to a greenhouse and puts himself to permanent sleep? Why not just disappear? Did he call anyone on his cell? This is not typical behavior for a serial killer, and I’m always suspicious of an alleged suicide note that ties everything up in a nice, neat little bow.”
Chet Harper shook his head. “We haven’t located his cell. We’re hoping to have his cell phone records later today.” Harper directed his attention to Amber. “The case will remain open until we’ve tied up the last of the loose ends, but we’re confident Adler and Thrasher murdered McCorkle and Pettie. It’s difficult to say who actually did the killing or if it was a joint effort. As for the potential third perpetrator, we’ll either rule out the scenario or we’ll find him.” When he turned back to Jess, he flared his hands. “Any additional input you have is always extremely valuable to the team.”
“I agree with your conclusions to a degree.” Jess surveyed the photos and reports now spread across the table. “But we’re missing something.”
“One other thing.” Harper reached into another folder and removed a report. He passed it to Amber. “The toxin that made you sick was azalea leaves. Someone chopped up the leaves and added them to your tea. Do you have a regular tea routine?”
Amber looked from the report to Harper. “I have a cup every evening when I get home from work.”
“Adler and Thrasher would have known that routine,” Harper said. “Since Thrasher worked with flowers and small shrubs, we checked the greenhouses. He was growing a variety of azaleas. The lab is attempting to determine if the leaves in your tea came from a plant in his greenhouse. The azalea leaves may have been added to your tea to disable you. One or both men were likely watching, prepared to act when the time was right for abducting you.”
Sean gritted his teeth. The son of a bitch’s carelessness with Amber’s life made him want to beat the hell out of something...or someone.
“Did you find evidence that similar methods were used with McCorkle and Pettie?” Jess wanted to know.
“We’ve got the ME’s office taking a second look,” Harper confirmed. “Dr. Baron believes the screening tests wouldn’t have picked up all potential plant toxins. She wants to run additional tests.”
“I understand that the case is ongoing,” Amber spoke up. “But are you saying Emma Norton and I are no longer in danger?”
Sean turned to Amber. She kept her gaze away from his. He’d made a mess of this morning and now she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
Damn it.
Harper and Jess exchanged a look. Harper said, “As far as the department is concerned, any threat these men posed no longer exists, but we are still investigating the possibility of a third person’s involvement.”
“I’m not completely comfortable with the facts in front of us,” Jess said with obvious caution, “but to our knowledge the source of the threat is gone. If there is a third killer involved, he may believe he’s tied up all the loose ends and will escape any consequences.”
“But we can’t be sure.” The words were out of Sean’s mouth before he’d taken the time to think through the statement.
All eyes were on him now. He might as well say the rest. “We can’t say that Amber is no longer in danger until we rule out the third killer scenario.”
A beat of silence echoed in the room.
“No doubt,” Jess said, backing him up. “Amber.” She turned her attention to the woman beside Sean. “The choice is yours. If you’d like to continue our security services a few days longer, we’re more than happy to do so. Lieutenant Harper, I’m certain, will have more answers soon.”
“I won’t stop,” Harper assured her, “until we know for certain. You have my word on that, Ms. Roberts.”
Sean braced for Amber’s decision.
“The cameras have been removed from my home,” she said. “Adler and Thrasher are no longer a threat.” She took a breath. “At this point, I feel secure on my own. I’ll, of course, be watchful.” She met the gaze of everyone at the table except Sean. “I appreciate all you and the BPD have done to bring a swift conclusion to this nightmare.”
“Amber,” Sean protested, “you should—”
“Get back to work.” She stood. “I’ve had way more time off than I’m comfortable taking.” She flashed a smile at Jess and Harper but still refused to even glance at Sean. “Thank you again.”
“If you change your mind,” Jess offered, “call. Day or night. We’ll be there.”
Amber gave her a nod and started for the door.
Sean pushed back from the conference table and followed her. He would owe his boss an explanation, but right now he couldn’t let Amber leave this way.
“Amber, wait.” He caught up with her at the elevator.
She jabbed the call button and reluctantly met his gaze. “We both have careers that need our attention, Sean. We don’t need any distractions or personal entanglements. Spending more time together would complicate things. I’m not ready for complications. Clearly you aren’t, either.”
He touched her, wrapped his fingers around her forearm. Even that innocent contact made his pulse rush. “We should talk about us first.”
For one instant he thought she was going to agree, but then her green eyes shuttered. “There is no us, Sean.” She pulled free of his touch. “I have a very important event to attend tonight. Everybody who’s anybody in Birmingham will be there—including your boss. I barely have time to pick up my dress from Martha’s and get ready. Goodbye, Sean.”
The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside. Sean watched her go. There was plenty he wanted to say, but none of it would come to him just now.
Eagle Ridge Drive, 2:00 p.m.
S
EAN
CLIMBED
OUT
of his car. Maybe he was way off base, but like his boss he wasn’t convinced this case was as cut-and-dried as it seemed. It didn’t feel right. He fully understood that part of what he felt was prompted by his feelings for Amber.
God almighty, he couldn’t pretend those feelings didn’t exist.
Problem was, he had his work cut out for him. Convincing Amber to give
them
a chance wasn’t going to be easy. He had to find the right words to rebuild the trust he’d crushed with this morning’s hurtful ones. Before he could worry about their relationship, he had to do whatever necessary to ensure she was safe.
He moved around to the back of Adler’s house. What he was about to do was breaking and entering. At least the house was no longer a crime scene. His boss wouldn’t be happy when she found out, but if he found a connection to a third killer, she would likely let his methods slide. He removed the lock pick from his pocket, glanced around and set to the task. He’d learned how to pick a lock from Buddy Corlew, but he wasn’t supposed to tell Jess.
The door opened easily. Inside the place still smelled like blood. He wasn’t exactly clear on what he expected to find. Mostly he intended to look until he was satisfied there was nothing to find. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started with the living room.
He scanned the framed photos, the books, unopened mail. As he moved through the house he checked drawers, shelves, cabinets and closets. Nothing.
Before closing the door to Adler’s bedroom closet, he hesitated. Might as well check the guy’s pockets and shoes. One by one, Sean went through his jackets, his shirts and his trousers. Nothing in the pockets.
“Damn it.”
There was only one thing to do. Check out Thrasher’s place.
Unfortunately, it was still a crime scene.
Killough Circle, 3:30 p.m.
S
EAN
WAS
INSIDE
Thrasher’s house without a glitch. As he did at Adler’s place, he moved from room to room, checking every available space.
He’d almost called it a bust, when he backed up to check a framed photo next to the television. A younger Thrasher with a couple of buddies. It wasn’t the sort of thing the cops would consider relevant; still it was worth a look.
“Well, hell.” Sean picked up the photo and scrutinized at it. There were three guys. Thrasher was in the middle, Adler on the left. Sean studied the dark-haired guy on the right. The kid, seventeen or eighteen, looked vaguely familiar. He flipped the frame over and removed the back. As he’d hoped, the names were written on the back of the photo. Thrasher, Adler and Guynes. Where had he heard that name? The three looked high school age. The clothes were definitely last decade’s.
Sean went back to the spare bedroom and opened the closet door. School yearbooks were piled on the top shelf. He grabbed the stack and went through the autographed pages. The threesome had been friends for years. Maybe they’d lost touch, but then why keep the framed photo displayed? People, especially men, didn’t do that unless the people in the photograph were more than a little important to their lives.
The senior yearbook gave him the answer he was looking for. Delbert Guynes had been injured in a football game his senior year. Making the winning touchdown, he’d suffered a spinal cord injury, which had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Sean skimmed the dedication page. Guynes was touted as a hero, as was his mother who always tailored the cheerleader uniforms.
Martha Guynes
... Martha Sews.
She had spoken as if she hardly knew Adler. She certainly hadn’t mentioned that her son and Adler were best friends all through high school.
Amber was picking up a dress there today.
Sean shook his head. The theory didn’t make sense. Delbert Guynes was paralyzed and sentenced to using a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He was a big video game player. Did that mean he was also a computer buff? What did a guy whose life consisted of being stuck in a wheelchair and under his mother’s thumb do for fun...or for pleasure?
The videos.
Maybe the cameras had been for Delbert.
Still, how could Delbert be involved with Adler and Thrasher’s criminal activities without his mother knowing?
Memories from his and Amber’s visit to the shop the other day flashed one after the other through Sean’s mind.
Were those shrubs lining the front of her shop azaleas?
Martha Sews, 4:30 p.m.
A
MBER
PEERED
OVER
her shoulder at the mirror. The back of the dress looked great. She smiled. “It’s perfect, Martha.” She turned back to the lady who had single-handedly kept Amber’s wardrobe fitting right for years now. Being what the fashion world considered petite was a real pain. Not even the most expensive labels managed to make clothes that fit her body. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Martha beamed. “I love taking care of you, Amber. You’re my favorite customer.”
Amber gave her another big smile before stepping back into the dressing room. “I’ll change and pay so you can call it a day.” It had to be five already. Thankfully that still left her enough time to get ready.
“Take your time. I’m locking up,” Martha called. “Would you like some tea before you fight the rush hour traffic?”
Arching her back, Amber reached for the zipper. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”
“Paradise Peach still your favorite?”
Amber almost stumbled stepping out of the dress. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But whatever you have will be fine.” Her stomach roiled. The ugly few hours she’d endured the other night had made her wonder if she would ever drink another cup of her favorite tea. Her response to Martha had been automatic. Amber’s grandmother had taught her to love hot tea. Louisa Roberts would be immensely offended that someone would use tea as a weapon.
“I have tea cakes if you’d like one,” Martha called. “You should treat yourself more often, Amber. You deserve it.”
Amber paused again as she wiggled into the unwashed jeans she’d bought yesterday. She tugged the sweater on next. The memory of rushing through the discount store grabbing clothes with Sean made her heart hurt. How had he stolen a place in her heart in a mere four days? She hadn’t meant to let that happen, but control had been taken from her so quickly her head was still spinning. Walking out of that meeting on her own today had been her way of taking back control. Adler and Thrasher were dead. She would be okay.