Читать книгу Hidden Deception - Leann Harris - Страница 10

Elena opened the door to Joyce’s house. The modest dwelling on the edge of a business district had originally belonged to Phillip Jackson, but he’d sold it to Joyce for the mighty sum of fifteen hundred dollars. That information her mother told her after her father’s funeral had amazed Elena, but as she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her father was an exceptional man.

Pausing inside the door, Elena let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. The room looked as if a bomb had gone off in the place. Sofa cushions were pulled off and split open. In the corner, the desk had been ransacked, drawers hung awry, papers scattered about.

The kitchen mirrored the living room, with drawers hanging askew and dumped on the floor. Walking down the hall, she peeked into the bathroom. Same song, second verse. In the upstairs bedroom, the bed had been dismantled, the mattress pulled off the bed. The dresser drawers were thrown about the room with the mirror ripped off, the shattered remnants scattered over the top. Numbly, she walked around the room and glanced into the closet. Oddly enough, nothing was disturbed.

Elena pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed 911 as she walked toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Without thinking, she used her purse as a weapon and aimed at the man’s head. She made contact. He stumbled back into the hall and she tried to race by him. He lunged for her and caught her around the waist. Their momentum carried them to the floor. Somehow, he twisted in midair and took the brunt of the blow when they landed. She was ready to fight for her life when she looked into the man’s face and saw Daniel Stillwater. She went limp.

He said nothing.

In the quiet, she heard the 911 operator calling.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Scrambling away from Daniel, she yelled. “What’s the matter with you?”

He slowly got to his feet and offered his hand. “Are you all right?”

She took it and stood. “No.”

“Ma’am,” the operator called.

She could chew him out later, but now she needed to tell the operator she was okay. She looked around in the hallway for the phone.

“Ma’am,” the operator again called.

“Where is it?” Elena said, frantically scanning the hall. She stepped back into the bedroom. There between the mattress and a drawer lay her phone. Snatching it up, she said, “Uh—I’m sorry.”

“Are you all right?” the operator asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Are you being held against your will?” the woman questioned.

Color filled Elena’s face. “No, no. It’s just that I thought the intruder was—”

Daniel motioned for her to give him the phone. She did. He quickly explained the situation to the 911 operator, gave his police ID number and told her to notify the units on the way that he was with Ms. Jackson. He also asked for an evidence team to be dispatched to this address. He disconnected and handed the phone back to Elena. “Let’s go and greet the officers.”

She dropped the phone into her purse and followed him to the door. Outrage and mortification had replaced fear in her brain. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. You’re lucky I didn’t use the move my father taught me when he knew I was going to New York City.”

His brow arched. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you as an intruder.”

That gave her pause.

“What are you doing here?” He was all business.

“The medical examiner released Joyce’s body. I told Mom I’d get something for the funeral home to dress Joyce in.” She looked into the bedroom. “But someone had decided to destroy the place before I got here.”

“So it was this way when you entered?”

She frowned at him. “Yes, it was. Do you think I did this?”

He said nothing.

“I got here about five minutes ago. I was so stunned that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had just decided to call 911 when you appeared in the doorway and we did that little thing.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

His lips twitched.

When they arrived at the front door, the patrol units were already there.

Reaching for the doorknob, Daniel said, “I’ll have to commend patrol division on their quick response time.”

Elena frowned. That wasn’t exactly her first thought.

He called out to the patrolmen, then slowly appeared in the open door. The patrolmen holstered their weapons and walked to the front door. Elena recognized them. They were the same ones who responded to Joyce’s murder.

“Stillwater.” Icenhour nodded to the house. “What are you doing here?”

“Our murder vic from yesterday, this is her house. I wanted to let you know that Ms. Jackson and I were inside and the robbery call-in was a misunderstanding. No use having you shoot me.”

Icenhour nodded. “It would be hard to explain how I shot a Santa Fe Police Detective.”

Daniel pointed over his shoulder. “Someone has systematically destroyed the house. I want to see if we can get usable fingerprints. Also, I want you to look around the property and see what you come up with.”

The two patrolmen nodded and walked away. Daniel turned to Elena. “Do you still want to get a dress for Joyce?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes.”

He nodded and indicated for her to go back inside. “Why is your family handling the burial?

Why doesn’t Joyce’s family take care of those arrangements?”

“Her parents disowned her and wanted nothing to do with her after her time in prison. Apparently, she never mentioned them again.”

He studied her, then nodded. “Follow me.” They walked into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom. He stepped into the closet. “Pick out something.”

Crowding into the closet by him, she tried to focus on a dress. Suddenly, the grief, fear and uncertainty swamped her. She didn’t want to cry. She wouldn’t cry. All the clothes blurred, and tears ran down her cheeks. The harder she tried not to cry, the more she did.

“Are you all right?” he softly asked, his lips close to her ear.

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.

When he touched her shoulder, the dam broke and the tears flowed unchecked. Unseeing, she turned into his chest. All the turbulent emotions she’d bottled up poured out of her.

She didn’t know how long she bawled. A minute or eternity, but when the storm had passed, she stepped back. On his shirt was a big, wet spot.

She motioned to the spot. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes held a wealth of understanding and the gentle smile curving his lips eased her embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t throw up on me as my daughter has after a crying spell.” He handed her his handkerchief.

She laughed in spite of herself. “At least there’s that.”

Noise from the outer room startled them.

Daniel stepped out of the closet and said something to the patrolman. She used the time to gather her wits and dry her face.

When he came back, he said, “The patrolmen found the back door open. Our perpetrator came in that way.”

She nodded and then turned her attention to picking out a dress. She grabbed a soft blue one with a matching belt and a wide lace collar, pulled it out and showed it to Daniel.

“Let’s take it downstairs where I can note what you took and then you can deliver it to the funeral home.”

It was quickly done, the garment’s pockets checked for anything. When nothing was found, he allowed her to leave. As she drove away, fear clutched her heart. Just what had Joyce been involved in that someone would search and trash her home with such violence?

But that wasn’t the only worry slithering around her brain. She didn’t know what it was, but it was there. “Lord, help. Give me Your guidance and protection.”

He watched from his car as she drove away. The cops quickly left the scene after her. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as anger shot through him. This was the second time she barged into the place he was searching. The woman was becoming a complication he couldn’t afford. Joyce had uncovered the truth and threatened him with it. He wanted that proof destroyed.

He would find it, no matter what it took. He wouldn’t go to prison. Not again.

Daniel finished taking down the last license plate from the cars parked on the road beside the grave, then slipped the small spiral notebook into the inside pocket of his sport jacket. He’d run checks on cars and their owners when he got back to the office, then compare notes with what his partner turned up. Hopefully, Raul had tracked down Joyce’s family.

He walked over the sand and stones to the grave site and joined the mourners. There were only a handful of people. Elena and her mother, Preston Jones, Cam McGinnis, Carolyn Ellis from the homeless shelter, and Susan and Jeff Marks, owners of Mama Rose’s Cantina.

“Lord,” the minister began, “accept the spirit of our sister and comfort those who grieve for her, we pray. Amen.”

Each person held a rose and as they filed by the coffin, they put a rose on the closed lid. When Elena looked up, she stopped.

“Detective Stillwater.”

Before he could respond, Cam McGinnis moved behind Elena. His expression and the set of his body signaled the coming flare-up.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

The words exploded in the silence of the overcast morning.