3 The Chain of Lies (6 page)

“Thanks, but no, I promised Camille I’d help her in the kitchen.”

“Well, let’s talk later. My sister tells me you’re a private investigator, and I find that fascinating.”

The timer on the oven beeped loudly, alerting Camille the muffins were ready to come out.

“We’d better get back and tend to the food so we can eat.” Camille hooked her arm through Emily’s and walked her back to the kitchen area.

Within minutes Camille announced the food was ready. Spread across the long breakfast bar there were platters of two kinds of quiche, a sausage frittata, cinnamon-swirl french toast, thick slices of bacon, crispy hash browns, blueberry muffins, and fruit compote with strawberry whip. Stacked at the end were the plates, napkins, and silverware.

“Grab a plate and serve yourself, guys,” Camille instructed. “Nobody’s waiting on you in this house.”

The six of them sat around the dining table and enjoyed all Camille’s hard work and talent. Peter took a seat next to Emily and they shared friendly conversation and enjoyed the food. She found him interesting and easy to talk to with stories about his work, the places he’d traveled to, and his plans for the future at his new job in Seattle.

Though he shared quite a bit about himself, he often peppered his conversation with questions about her life and her work, which gave their exchange a nice balance. He told her about some of the stories he’d covered and she told him about some of the cases she had worked. He made her laugh a few times, but he also shocked her when he described a story he had covered recently on the trafficking of sex slaves in the United States. Occasionally, the other guests joined in on their conversation, but mostly it was just between the two of them.

When the food was consumed and the conversation died down, Emily took her plate and Peter’s to the kitchen and laid them in the sink. While the others enjoyed their coffee around the table, Peter picked up the remaining plates and silverware and brought them to the kitchen and offered to help Emily stick them in the dishwasher.

“There’s no need to do that, Peter.” Emily smiled at his helpfulness.

“Like Camille said, nobody’s waiting on me in this house. We all pitch in.”

“All right, then. If you insist,” she teased.

~*~

On her drive home, Emily’s phone began to ring and she saw it was Camille.

“Hello,” she answered cheerfully.

“Hello, there, Emily. This is Peter.”

Emily was startled a bit at the man’s deep voice. “Oh, I was expecting Camille.”

“She lent me her phone—you know, roaming charges. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? Tonight? You mean with you and Camille and Jonathan?”

“No, I mean with me. Nothing fancy, just somewhere casual.”

For a moment she thought she’d say yes, it would be fun. Certainly better than sitting home alone on a Saturday night, but then she remembered Colin. How would she feel if he took another woman out to dinner, even a casual and friendly one?

“I’d better not.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we had a connection today. Or was I the only one who felt it?”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, he seemed like a great guy, not to mention the fact he was her dear friend’s brother, but she had to be honest with him. “I like you, Peter. I had fun talking with you today. But…well, it’s just that I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize. Camille didn’t say anything. I would have thought she would have invited him over this morning, too.”

“He’s out of town for a little while, but he should be back soon.” Or at least she hoped he would be. “I think you guys would really hit it off.”

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Emily peeked up at her rearview mirror and noticed a black sedan four cars back. She made a sharp right turn at the next corner to see if the car stayed with her. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better say no. Sorry.”

She looked again in her mirror and the car was still there. She hung another sharp right and checked again. This time the car was gone.
Coincidence?
There were a lot of black cars on the road—still, until the mystery was solved, she’d have to stay vigilant.

CHAPTER 5

Saturday evening proved boring and uneventful. Emily almost wished she’d accepted Peter’s dinner invitation so she’d have something to fill the lonely evening, but no, she decided, that was a bad idea. At least she was grateful that the nightmares about Evan’s murder hadn’t come back to haunt her the last few nights.

The bright spot in the evening was a phone call from Colin. She had been sitting on her bed, already in her pajamas, perusing the address book once more.

“I’m so lonely for you, Colin.” Her heart ached for him.

“Maybe this will cheer you up.” His voice was deep and warm. “I spoke to the police chief about getting my old job back—that is, when I’m ready to come back to Paradise Valley.”

“Did he agree?” she asked, lying back against the pillows.

“He did, said ol’ Ernie is itching to get back to his old position as a patrolman.”

“Yes, Ernie mentioned that several times to me during the Wakefield case—that he wasn’t cut out for being a detective.”

“He
mentioned
? That doesn’t sound like Ernie.” Colin chuckled.

“Well, more like complained—I was trying to be nice. I can’t wait for you to come back, Colin, I miss you.” Emily twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

“I know. I miss you, too. It won’t be much longer, Babe, I promise. Dad’s doing a lot better.”

“That’s good to hear.” She sat up straight and crossed her legs Indian-style on the bed. “Oh, did I tell you that Camille’s brother is in town?”

“No. Just visiting or moving there?”

“Just visiting. His name’s Peter MacKenzie. He’s a TV reporter. He starts a new job in Seattle soon, and he’s here to see Camille and her family before it begins. I think he’s planning to stick around until after Molly gets back from Hawaii so he can see her.”

“What’s he like?”

“Handsome, interesting, funny.” How could she tease poor Colin so?

His voice became serious. “Hmmm, should I be jealous?”

“Well, he did ask me out.”

“What!” Colin shrieked. “What did you tell him?” Suddenly his voice was high and intense.

“What do you think? I told him no, that I was seeing someone, of course.” She probably shouldn’t have baited him that way, but it felt kind of nice to hear a sizzle of jealousy in Colin’s voice, standing up for his woman. It made her want him all the more. “I told you I’d wait for you.”

“I guess I’d better be moving my butt back there sooner rather than later.”

“I guess you’d better.” She laughed. “Not to change the subject, but I had a heart-to-heart with Isabel the other night and it turns out she
was
Izzy Handler from Evan’s address book.”

“No kidding.”

Emily explained to him what Isabel had shared about her relationship with Evan, and how she had moved to Paradise Valley to help him. However, the part where someone was possibly hiding in her house while the girls were there and may have overheard her conversation with Isabel, well, she thought she’d keep that to herself. It would only upset Colin and there was nothing he could do from seven hundred miles away.

“I’d better let you go, Emily. It’s getting late. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“That’d be nice,” she replied, reclining against the pillows once more.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

~*~

With nothing on the agenda for Sunday, Emily hadn’t bothered to set the alarm, hoping to get some extra sleep. She’d had too many exhausting nights with little sleep because of Evan, so sleeping in would be a treat.

At nine o’clock, there was a loud knock at her front door. She was still in bed, hovering in that dream-like space between sleep and waking. She was dreaming Colin had come back to Paradise Valley and was knocking at her door. Then another loud knock interrupted her dream and she realized someone really was at her front door.

“Coming!” she hollered as she grabbed her robe, not knowing for sure if the visitor could hear her or not. As she rushed to the entry, she could see the top of a police officer’s hat through the windows across the top of the door. “What on earth?”

She cinched the belt on her robe and opened the door part way, peeking around it. “Good morning, can I help you?”

“Emily Parker?” the officer asked.

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Do you mind if I step inside?”

She knew most of the officers in Paradise Valley, but this one didn’t look familiar to her. She looked past him and saw his cruiser parked in front of her house, then she looked for the familiar police badge on his uniform before agreeing.

These days she was suspicious of just about everyone. She backed up, opening the door all the way for him and he stepped inside the entry.

“What is this about?” Emily pulled her robe a little tighter around her chest.

“We got a call a little while ago from one of your neighbors who said he saw a man peeking in your windows. We just wanted to make sure you knew about it and that you were okay. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I was sleeping.” She wondered if the peeping Tom could have been the same person who’d been breaking in. “What neighbor called it in?”

“The report said anonymous, but the dispatcher said it sounded like an elderly man.”

“Mr. Cooke, next door.” She motioned toward his house with her thumb. “That was kind of him to look out for me.” She thought for a second about reporting the other break-ins, but then she would have to explain the entire story of Evan and his mysterious past. She decided she’d rather leave that investigation to the Feds. “Did the man see Mr. Cooke?”

“I believe he did. The report said the man ran off when he saw he’d been spotted.”

She wondered if Mr. Cooke would be in danger now. Emily decided to pay him a visit, see if he could describe the man.

“I’ll go have a talk with Mr. Cooke. I appreciate you stopping by, Officer, but as you can see, I’m fine.”

“You should make sure your doors and windows are locked when you go to bed, ma’am, just to be safe. You might also think about investing in an alarm system or at least a big dog.”

“I appreciate your suggestions,” she said, opening the door for him to leave. “I’ll give them some thought.”

As soon as the officer was gone, she went to her bedroom and threw on jeans and a red pullover sweater. She ran her hands through her hair and fingered it into place. After shoving her phone in her pocket, she stuck her gun in the back of her waistband and pulled her sweater down over it. She stepped into her flats and headed out the door to see her neighbor.

Knocking briskly on the front door, Emily could hear Mr. Cooke’s German Shepherd bark ferociously in response. She listened to the elderly man holler at the dog to be quiet right before he opened the door.

“Hello, Emily,” the short and stocky old man said with a grin. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses and the sunlight reflected off his shiny bald head. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The police stopped by my place and told me you’d reported a peeping Tom at my house.”

“I never gave them my name. How’d they know it was me?”

“They didn’t. I figured it out. Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“Oh, sure, sure.” He shuffled a couple of steps back and opened the door wide. “Come on in.”

The dog growled and Emily hesitated to go inside.

“Rocky!” the man yelled.

The dog quieted and Emily stepped in.

“Here, let me move those newspapers. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the sofa and picked up the papers before he dropped down onto his leather recliner.

“I appreciate your looking out for me, Mr. Cooke. Could you tell me what happened exactly?”

“Well, I was coming back from taking Rocky here for a walk. I saw the man looking into a window on the side of your house and I hollered at him, ‘Hey, what are you doing there?’ The man took off, jumped in his car, and drove off.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“It was black. One of those foreign jobs.”

“Could you describe him?”

“Older white guy, or maybe Latino, full head of gray hair. Not as old as me, though.”

“Is there any way he would know you lived next door?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, in case he’s the type to pay someone back for being a witness to him trying to break in.”

“You think he’d have the gall to show his face around here again? Old Rocky would tear his leg off.” The dog sat watch next to the old man, as if confirming.

She had to put a hand over her lips to stifle a giggle and cleared her throat. “Maybe, if he thought you could identify him—”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” The old man shook his head. “I was standing on the sidewalk with Rocky when he drove off. I can’t see how he’d know where I lived.”