Mystical Love (75 page)

Snatching a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket, Dick addressed the trio. “You first, Ned. Where were you in the last hour?”

The large figure stiffened, obviously offended; however, Brad was determined to ask questions.

“Who the hell set off the alarm?” Brad asked. He stepped forward, and Dick raised his hand in irritation.

“Hold on, Brad. I'm asking the questions here. I'll get to that later.”

Brad's mouth twisted in annoyance. He spotted Logan's figure. “Who the hell is this?” he asked. “And what's he doing with his arm around Sonny?”

“He's a Meta Corps agent out of New York City, and he's obviously comforting Sonny,” Dick replied calmly. “Now back off, Brad, and let me do my job.”

Brad retreated to a high, wing-backed chair and flung himself into it. “I don't need to lecture you on retreat security, Dick,” he chided. “Not when David is ... ” He broke off mid-sentence, stealing a quick glance at the covered body and then looking back at Dick. “Well, I don't need to lecture you about opening our doors to strangers,” he finished abruptly.

Seeing his strained expression, Dick made note of it in the back of his mind. Was Brad's annoyance real or fake?

“Brad's right,” Ned muttered. “Our company protocol is straightforward; we don't invite other agencies into our business without a formal request and approval.”

Sonny stepped forward. “I approved Mr. Reed being here. I'm currently working a case with him.”

“And without the board's approval, I might add,” Ned stated.

“I don't need company approval. This isn't Sanctuary business. And what I do on my own time is none of your business, Ned.”

The room's atmosphere charged up as three sets of eyes targeted Sonny's face. Dick hid a smile. Trying to intimidate Sonny by staring her down wouldn't work. Not with her ability to sense what everyone in the room was feeling—and thinking. The silence became pronounced, and wanting to defuse the situation, Dick shifted the topic back to his questioning.

“I'll ask again, Ned. Where were you in the last hour?”

“Where were
you
in the last hour?” Ned asked sarcastically.

The lieutenant fired up. “Answer the question, or I'll assume you had something to do with David's murder. Where
were
you?”

“Driving over from Serenity,” Ned responded quickly.

Brad seconded the info, his expression mellowing. “We drove over together; we each had therapy sessions in the lab this morning.”

“Did you leave the facility between sessions?”

Charlotte's head lifted. “How could he? I had the car.”

“And none of you talked to David in the last hour?”

“We haven't seen or talked to him since breakfast,” Charlotte stated.

Dick nodded and then wheeled around, returning his attention to Brad. “Anything troubling David lately? Any change in routine? Arguments?”

“We run a tight ship here, Dick,” Brad responded. “Just ask your staff. We try to keep any arguments for the Monday Morning Coffee Klatch.”

“And you, Charlotte? Have you noticed David acting differently?”

Charlotte twisted her wedding ring. “He's been edgy, but then he always is when meeting with our lawyers. Arguments? He always had them. With Ned, with Brad, it was normal.”

Dick shifted his stance. “Ned?”

“This is ridiculous,” Ned scoffed. He tugged his black vest down with a jerk. His smile did not indicate compliance. “I own part of the retreat. There's bound to be friction now and then. David and I didn't always see eye to eye on company policy.”

“You had words recently?”

“A few.”

“What about?”

“He received a complaint that I had treated several clients badly during their session. He felt they deserved a personal apology. We exchanged words.”

“There have been more than a few complaints,” Brad mocked him.

“
Your
history with clients is not so squeaky clean, either,” Ned shot back. “There was that lawsuit last year, claiming you touched a client inappropriately.”

Brad stiffened at the slur, but it was Sonny who lashed out.

“Don't you dare accuse Uncle Brad of touching young girls! You know the girl lied. It was proven in a court of law.”

“We're getting off topic here, don't you think?” Logan asked, pulling Sonny back. He stepped around her frame. “Is there a way to track David's whereabouts over the last week, Fletcher? Who he saw, what meetings he attended?” His gaze shifted to Ned. “Did he have a datebook the lieutenant might look at? It would help to know who he met with before his meeting with Sonny.”

“Surely you don't suspect one of us killed David,” Ned said. “His death will ruin our personal and professional reputations.”

“How much of The Sanctuary do you own?” Logan asked.

“Enough,” Ned replied evasively.

“The same as Brad?”

“Hardly,” Ned scoffed. “David rewarded hard work. He abhorred slackers. Brad hasn't quite gotten the hang of the hard work part yet.”

“Fuck you, Ned!” Brad yelled. “I do own shares in the retreat.”

Ned hid a smirk, his eyes openly amused. “We all know how you obtained
your
shares,” he said

Charlotte, still slumped on the couch, came to life, bristling at the slur. “That kind of slander is uncalled for. Brad has never asked anything from David—not shares or favors.” Her gaze bounced to Dick. “You know quite well that David hired Brad to oversee the investment portfolios long before we married.” Her gaze jumped back to Ned. “Brad deserves your respect, not your contempt.”

Ned managed an apologetic stare. “Sorry.”

Tossing her head, Charlotte refocused on Logan Reed. “I'm sure Meta Corps knows our history well. David and I founded The Sanctuary together; however, over the years, I found it necessary to sell my shares back to him. Brad holds only ten percent of the company.”

Brad rose from his chair suddenly, cutting into his wife's explanation. His stare impaled Dick. “Once the press hounds get wind of David's death, they'll camp outside the front gates. Can you guarantee additional protection? We're not equipped for a worldwide paparazzi descent, you know.”

“Our security team is more than equipped to handle overzealous paparazzi,” Dick responded.

Ned tugged his vest down again. “We all want the same thing here—a very discreet handling of the matter.”

Dick grimaced. He would have loved to use the press hounds to his advantage, though. The Sanctuary was bigger than life, and keeping David's murder on the down-low wouldn't produce glaring headlines unless he unleashed the details of David's demise to the World Wide Web.

“A feeding frenzy is not the answer,” Sonny said firmly. “If there's any hint of scandal, The Sanctuary will crash and burn.”

“Besides,” Logan offered, “David Blake was killed for personal reasons. By someone he knew very well.”

The group winced at the bald statement.

“What makes you say that, Mr. Reed?” Charlotte asked.

“Don't listen to him,” Brad fumed. “He's been here for … what? A couple of hours? He can't possibly know whether one of us is capable of murder.”

“He's right, though. It
is
a possibility,” Dick stated.

Every face showed outrage. Only Brad had the audacity to complain out loud.

“I suggest you investigate a little more before labeling one of us a killer. Your job is to remain impartial.”

“And thorough,” Ned added.

“You do work for us, after all,” Charlotte threw in. “Our safety is your number-one priority—and the guests', of course.” She rose from the couch. “We must prepare a statement for the press as soon as possible—one that's carefully worded.” She signaled to Ned. “Help me devise a statement that doesn't backfire on us, Ned. You always know the right way to word things.” He took her arm, and Dick listened to their voices as they exited the bungalow. To his surprise, his elbow was grasped tightly.

“Send Reed packing, Dick,” Brad said quietly. “He has no right to imply David was murdered by one of us.”

“If you have something to say to me,” Logan interrupted, “say it to me, not the lieutenant.”

“I'm merely pointing out that, for only knowing us for an hour, you're overly fixated on us—and Sonny.”

“If I don't mind his attention, Uncle Brad, why should you?” Sonny asked.

“Sonny's right,” Dick said. “She's certainly capable of sensing who is dangerous and who isn't.”

“Stow the lecture, Dick,” Brad chided. “I get enough lectures from Ned.” He left the bungalow quickly, slipping out the door without a backward glance.

Silence descended in the room for a moment, and then Logan broke the quiet. “Who wins if The Sanctuary goes bust?”

“
Aunt Charlotte would,” Sonny replied, and then, to the men's horror, she burst into tears
.

Logan was the first to move, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and listening to her distraught sobs. “You're not going to fling yourself into one of your visions, are you?” he asked. “Remember, I can't go where you go unless you take me.”

Her tears intensified, which made Dick panic. “Take her out of here, Reed.”

“Where the hell to?”

“She likes Saddleback Ridge.”

“Where the hell is that?”

“It's my favorite place,” Sonny said between sobs. “It's peaceful and quiet, and doesn't have dead bodies.” Her sobs intensified again, and this time, Dick saw Logan panic. Dick reached into his pocket and threw Logan the keys to his truck.

“My truck's out back. Use the GPS to find the ridge.”

Logan moved quickly, propelling Sonny out the door ahead of him. Watching them disappear, Dick grimaced. Who the hell had murdered David?

His thoughts fell on the men who had just left. Brad Fletcher was shrewd, but would he murder his brother-in-law to take control of the Blake empire? On the other hand, Ned was prone to hot outbursts that ended as quickly as they started. Both spent day and night working at Serenity, and they seldom, if ever, drew attention to themselves. In Dick's mind, it was more likely that Brad's low-key demeanor hid the desire to take out an enemy.

He turned and studied David's body. Thank God Sonny hadn't had time to use her empathic skills to reprise the moment of David's death. If she had, the news would've spread like wildfire—right to her unknown stalker.

Hearing his name called sharply, Dick spotted Charlotte Fletcher re-entering the bungalow. He saw her tear-stained cheeks at once and realized she, like Sonny, was attempting to push David's death to an “I'll deal with it later” file. Stopping in the center of the room, she glanced around, avoiding the covered sheet.

“Has Sonny left?” she asked.

“Just did. She had a meltdown. Logan took her for a ride to calm her nerves.”

Charlotte gave a strained laugh. “I suppose it's her turn now, to be thought of as a murder suspect.”

“Guilty till proven innocent, right?” He quickly changed the subject. “What's between Ned and Brad? Some petty work grievance, or does it go deeper than that?”

Charlotte's head shot up. “It's a continuance of a childhood rivalry, if you must know,” she stated. “They grew up together, and they have always tried to outdo each other in everything. As men, they're still fixated on besting each other, except now Ned uses Sonny as a weapon to needle Brad.”

Dick's head whipped around. “Are you implying Ned has made romantic overtures towards Sonny?”

“Hardly that.” Charlotte laughed. “It's her talent he secretly wants. He's said several times over the years that he wishes he could fling himself in and out of worlds like she does; however, I suspect that what he really means is that he wants to create a perfect world where he's master and the rest of us are his adoring slaves.”

“God help us if he ever finds a way to accomplish that task,” Dick said.

“We all lived different lives before coming to The Sanctuary,” Charlotte added. “Some of us may have a black skeleton or two in our closet.”

“I've already probed your life histories before coming to New Mexico.” Dick laughed. “But, with your permission, I'll take a closer look. My gut agrees with Logan Reed. David's murder was personal, not professional.”

Charlotte said no more and left Dick's side, making him wonder why she'd made a point to return and throw Ned under the bus. And why had she stressed Ned's relationship with Sonny? Her hints were casual, but he suspected something more lay behind them. He'd take another peek into Ned's background when he got back to the office. A second look might uncover some massive secret that got David killed.

“We're ready, Lieutenant.”

Dick turned, nodding to the EMS techs rolling a gurney into the room. He stepped aside as they collected David's body, wondering why Ned hadn't stayed to toss Brad or Charlotte under the bus. Was he deflecting suspicion from himself by flying under the radar? For what reason? Dick didn't know yet, but he'd bet his next month's paycheck that it was to keep from being grilled about where he spent his time when he wasn't conducting therapy sessions. Dick frowned at the thought. Was it possible to skip out on a therapy session, kill David Blake, and then be back in time for your next therapy session?

Dick shuddered at the thought. No, he'd not start suspecting Brad or Ned of murder just yet. Right now, he had to concentrate on their loyalty. Besides, if they really wanted to hurt David Blake, wouldn't bankrupting him be a much better ploy? After all, David prized money above all else. No, Dick's gut instinct was right. David had pissed someone off—the wrong someone. And it was Dick's job in the next few hours to find out who that someone was.