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Authors: Alex Kingwell

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BOOK: Extreme Exposure
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Fisher continued. “The first officers at the scene thought it was a suicide. They saw Ms. Williams’ body in her bathtub, empty pill bottles nearby on the counter. No sign of a struggle. In ninety-nine percent of these cases, it is suicide.”

Matt tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying that they made assumptions they shouldn’t have?”

After a glance at Matt, Fisher turned back to Emily, ignoring the question. She shot Matt a glance, wondered just how much information they’d be able to squeeze out of the detective.

Fisher said, “I should also note that our initial contact with the victim’s family pointed to suicide or accidental overdose. Her sister, Celia Williams, said she saw her taking prescription medication about a week before her sister died.”

Gripping the bottom of the armless chair, she said, “That’s not true.” Celia had to be lying. Emily had seen Amber herself a couple of days before she died and knew Amber was clean.

His expression didn’t change. “I’m just telling you the facts as they were given. The victim’s mother, and your mother, told us when they were interviewed that they believed it was suicide.”

Swallowing, she didn’t say anything, wished he would skip the part about what the family thought. That they had tried to discourage her from pushing for a murder investigation she already knew, but not that they’d lobbied to have it shut down. Not that that should have had much effect on the police investigation, although it seemed that it might have.

Matt said, “What happened to change that initial ruling of suicide or accidental death?”

“There was no note, which in itself isn’t unusual, but when we interviewed all the witnesses a second time, problems surfaced with Jason Hatt’s alibi. He claimed he was with another woman, but she’s not what you call the most reliable witness.”

Her mouth fell open. “Another woman? Who is she?”

“I can’t say.” His poker face gave nothing away.

That churning in her stomach increased. “Was he having an affair?”

“I can’t say.”

Matt said, “But why would he kill Amber? Did she find out about this other woman?”

Fisher cleared his throat. “We’re still pinning down a motive.”

Emily sat forward, her mind reeling. “What about the attack on me? I know that wasn’t Jason.”

“Can you give us proof that it wasn’t? As I recall, you were unable to give a good description—”

“I was attacked, and it was night.” Aware she’d raised her voice, she made an effort to lower it. “But I still know it wasn’t Jason. The man who hit me was shorter.”

“He may have involved somebody else.”

Matt said, “Do you have any other evidence on Jason Hatt?”

“We’re working on it.”

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. “What about the autopsy?”

“The pathologist found no evidence of homicide. There were no marks on the body or any sign of violence. The lab reports showed a combination of three drugs, at levels high enough to kill her. But, like I said, there was no evidence to suggest that anyone else was involved.”

She stared at the detective, scrambling to understand. “It sounds like you don’t have a lot to go on.”

“These things take time. We’re awaiting results of some tests.”

The cell phone the detective was wearing on his belt buzzed. Answering it, he listened a moment before he said, “Be right out.” He finished the call and got to his feet. “I have another meeting.”

Following the detective to the door, she looked at Matt. His narrowed eyes indicated the same confusion that had her heart racing. Something about it didn’t smell right. Correct that. Everything about it didn’t smell right. Expecting answers, instead she had more questions. Was Jason being set up? Or did he really do it? Why would he lie about his alibi?

They walked in silence to the front waiting area. A woman stood at the counter. Emily tensed. Celia, Amber’s sister, was talking to Frank Cameron, the police chief. She looked every inch the professional in a crisp white shirt, gray pencil skirt, her long, curly brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her lipstick was deep red, almost maroon. Black high heels made her almost as tall as the chief.

Celia turned to look at them, a flicker of unease in her eyes. After saying something to the chief, she walked over, her gaze lingering on Matt for a second too long before it came to Emily.

Celia said, “I see you’re back in town. What are you doing?”

She spoke quickly, and her voice had a crisp edge that she likely used for clients. There was something else there, too, something darker. A chill gripped her heart. The casual indifference she had long received from Celia had morphed into open dislike, even hatred.

Taking a breath, she introduced Matt before answering the question. “Performing my civic duties. You?”

“Not bad, all things considered. Mother’s in France. She had to get away from all this. I thought about joining her, but I’m too busy at this time of year.”

Nodding, Emily started to walk away, but Celia said, “We all miss Amber, not just you. But we have to face up to the fact that she did this to herself.”

The chill in her heart turned to ice. She couldn’t think what to say, realized nothing would change Celia’s mind. What had Amber done to deserve such cruelty?

Celia lifted her red lips into a small smile. “You asked what I’m doing here. I’m moving on with my life. Frank is buying one of my listings. He just got a divorce and needs a house.”

Lucky for you.

Celia walked back to the chief, a wiry man in his fifties who stood next to the counter, watching. Catching Emily’s eye, he dipped his head in a small nod.

She’d met with Cameron once to discuss Amber’s case and hadn’t made her mind up about him. Watching him walk off down the hall with Celia, one thing became plainly obvious. That chill wrapped itself tighter around her heart.

She couldn’t trust either one of them.

*  *  *

Outside, Matt glanced at Emily as they walked to the car. Her eyes glistened with tears and dark thoughts moved like shadows across her face.

She kicked the tire of the car. “That got us a whole lot of nowhere.”

“I’d have to agree with you there.” That he wasn’t surprised, and that it smelled liked a cover-up, he kept to himself.

Standing beside the rental car, he glanced up at the windows of the police station. Someone watched them from the second floor.

“Let’s get out of here.” He unlocked the car doors. “There’s a park down the street. We can talk there.”

A few minutes later, when they stepped onto a gravel path at the entrance to the park, she said, “The detective sounds like he doesn’t have anything beyond Jason Hatt’s questionable alibi. I’d like to know who gave it, and what the problem is.”

“We’ll go talk to him, see if he’ll tell us.”

They followed the winding path for a minute without speaking. It ran alongside a large, formal flower bed, blooms of purple and yellow arranged in neat vertical lines. The late-afternoon sun sparkled through the leaves of the gigantic trees towering above them.

She said, “I keep thinking things would have been different if the first cops hadn’t screwed up.”

“I agree with you there. From what the detective said, it sounds like they had tunnel vision. They assumed it was suicide and didn’t consider other possibilities.”

“But that’s what I don’t understand. Fisher pretty well implied that they screwed up, but at the same time he didn’t seem to have any evidence that it wasn’t suicide or an accident.”

“Maybe there’s something he’s not telling us. Something about the autopsy or about the results they’re still waiting for.”

At a park bench, she sat down, looked across when he joined her. “What did you think of Celia?”

“It’s hard to get a full picture from just meeting her once, but she didn’t show very much regard for her sister.” He held back what he really thought, that Celia seemed like a real piece of work. It was hard to imagine she was related to Emily. Remembering that lipstick, he shuddered. It reminded him of the color of dried blood.

“I can’t believe she told them Amber was using again. I know she wasn’t.”

“Why would she lie?”

“I don’t know.” Emily rubbed her head in her hands.

Walking again, he said, “Or could it be something else?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean? That Celia killed her? I don’t know if I can believe that.”

“No, but maybe she knew who did it or why, and had a reason to cover it up.”

“It might explain her behavior, but it’s still hard to believe. And what about Amber’s mom and my mother? Why would they cover it up?”

“Maybe they really believed Amber killed herself. Or they didn’t want an investigation. It wouldn’t bring Amber back.”

“That’s not a good reason to bury the truth.” After a silence, she said, “I just don’t think Jason did it.”

“You might be right, but he still could know something he’s not telling.” He clenched his jaw. “Right now, it looks like we’re no closer to the truth.”

Seeing his frustration, she stopped and faced him. “Matt, you don’t have to stay.”

“You don’t want me to?” His breath caught in his chest.

“I’m not saying that. But I really have no idea what’s going to happen next.”

Letting out a big breath, he said, “I’m staying. We’re in this together.”

“Thank you. I really don’t know what to do. I hoped this would all be over, but right now it looks worse. We can’t trust anybody.”

Up ahead, five or six teenagers in dark clothing lounged on the grass beside the path. Two boys watched Emily as they approached. They looked away when Matt stared them down.

Oblivious to the attention, Emily said, “I can’t wait until this is all over and I can get out of this town. Everybody’s just a bit too close for comfort.”

Back at the car, he glanced at her as he put the key in the ignition. “What now?”

“I have to go see my mother. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just a feeling you’re not looking forward to it.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

He had picked up a prepaid cell phone earlier and handed it to Emily, getting out of the car while she made the call. A man jogged out of the park and up the sidewalk. A golden retriever ran beside him, a lime green rubber toy, maybe an alligator, between its teeth.

A minute later, Emily finished the call and he got back in the car.

She said, “I called her cell. She’ll be home in an hour.” She described where her mother lived, about twenty minutes away, and they decided to stop at a downtown café to grab a bite to eat.

Later, after they’d had soup and a salad and walked back to the car, she said, “Maybe they all know something I don’t. Something about Amber they didn’t want to tell me. Maybe she was having problems with Jason. Maybe I got it all wrong.”

“I don’t think so. Don’t forget that you were attacked. And tracked down to that cabin. I keep thinking back to that. You were very careful, but somehow they tracked you down. If we could find out how, it may be the clue we need.”

“But not even my mother knew. I didn’t want to put her in any danger. I thought it would be best if she didn’t.” She laughed derisively. “Besides, she can’t keep a secret. She’s the world’s greatest gossip. I wouldn’t trust her with information like that.”

“What did you tell her when you left?”

“I just said I had to take a vacation. At first she was angry, threatened to fire me, but she came around to the idea.”

“But she knew your life was in danger? She knew about the attack?”

“She said I was overreacting, that it was random. There had been an attack on a woman a week or two before not far from where I was attacked.”

He shook his head slowly side to side. How could her mother react like that?

They pulled onto the street where Emily’s mother lived. It had big old houses with verandahs and two- or three-car garages, not at all like his old neighborhood. They stopped in front of her mother’s place, a three-story Victorian.

“Did you grow up here?” It had a spindle-work porch and decorative trim, but was robbed of any folksy charm by somber gray-green wood siding.

She nodded. “It’s ridiculously big. She tried to sell it a few years ago, but I guess she was asking too much. It’s too big for most families. And it has a heritage designation, so it’s hard to get approval to do any renovations.”

He said, changing the subject, “When you were being chased out of your cabin, and I was on the mainland, taking pictures, I actually took some of you and those guys.”

She perked up. “Do you think there’s something on there?”

“I don’t know. I looked at the pictures this morning while you were sleeping, couldn’t see anything. It was pretty dark and far away, but we could find somebody who could take a look at them, see if they can enhance them.”

The corners of her lips lifted into a small smile. “It’s worth a try.”

“Why don’t you visit with your mother and I’ll make some calls about the pictures. I’ll find us a motel, too. It’s too risky to go to your apartment. I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay?”

“I need to get to a bank. I can’t keep letting you pay for everything.”

“We can get to one tomorrow, but don’t worry about the money. It’s not an issue.”

Nodding, she got out of the car, walked slowly to the front door. He waited until she was inside before driving off, realizing with a pang of fear that an hour was too long to be away. She was in her mother’s house, but that didn’t offer much reassurance.

CHAPTER NINE

W
hat did you do to your hair?”

Emily’s mother stood in the doorway, her expression suggesting a kind of mortified shock that was all too familiar. The best response, Emily had learned as a teenager, was no response. She used this tactic now, and after a long moment her mother stepped aside to let Emily in.

“And your clothes?” her mother said when she had shut the door, not ready to give up yet. “They look like they came from a thrift shop.”

“You don’t like the look?” Emily slipped off her sandals and leaned up to kiss the pale cheek her mother presented. They were the same height but her mother had the advantage of four-inch heels.

BOOK: Extreme Exposure
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