Still Waters (11 page)

When they had checked every nook and cranny in the small kitchen, they moved to the living room. Amber chatted casually with McCorkle. Sean decided she could have been a cop herself. She had a way of prompting answers without directly asking the questions. McCorkle didn’t hesitate even once. Sean doubted she realized she was being interrogated. By the time they moved on to the bedrooms, Amber knew all about Kimberly’s social life and the long, hard path to her career.

“I’ll take the bathroom,” Sean offered. He had no desire to spend the next twenty minutes or so trapped in one of those little bedrooms with Amber. In the past twenty-four hours she had gotten deep under his skin. He wished he could regret it, but the necessary emotion just wouldn’t come. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help savoring it.

As good as it felt, it could not go any further while he was responsible for her safety. He could fantasize all he wanted.

Kimberly McCorkle’s bathroom was crammed with the usual female necessities. Lots of hair and skin products. Loads of fragrances. Various types of razors. Toothpaste. Bodywash in a variety of scents. Amber’s bathroom looked a lot like this. The first night he’d stayed at her house he’d had a hell of a time evicting her scent from his system. The subtle citrus fragrance was fresh and clean and made him long to taste every inch of her.

“Idiot,” he muttered. He moved on to the medicine cabinet. No drugs other than aspirin and a half-empty prescription of antibiotics.

“Sean!”

He closed the mirrored medicine cabinet door and hurried to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Amber pointed to the jewelry box on the dresser. “It was under the velvet lining.”

He moved to her side and took a look. Amber had removed several necklaces and a watch, as well as the lining in the bottom of the jewelry box. How had the evidence techs missed this? “Was it obviously loose?”

“No. One of the necklaces hung in the fabric and pulled it away from the bottom.”

At the bottom of the box were a couple of folded notes and the card from the floral shop lying right on top. It wasn’t a business card; it was the one sporting the note that accompanied the bouquet.
I’m watching you.

“We need a plastic bag,” he muttered.

“I’ll get one,” McCorkle said, sounding breathless.

Amber reached into the jewelry box and gingerly removed the card by its edges. “Should we look at the notes, too?”

“For sure.” Sean removed the stack of notes carefully; there were four in all. Each was from the ex, Yates, who hadn’t wanted to end the relationship.

“She thought the flowers were from him,” Amber said. “She was keeping all this in case she needed it in the future.”

But her future never came.
The words echoed through Sean’s head. Amber wouldn’t have a future either if this bastard had anything to do with it.

McCorkle returned with a plastic sandwich bag and Sean bagged the evidence. Amber made her aware of the notes, which weren’t particularly threatening, simply obsessive. Sean’s mind wouldn’t quit replaying those haunting words.

Did Amber have any idea how lucky she was to be alive? His throat tightened.

By the time they were at the front door, McCorkle’s composure had frayed.

“We’ll get this evidence to the police,” Sean assured her. “They’ll get this guy.”

When they were in the car and headed downtown, Amber turned to him. “Before we go to the police, I want to go back to the floral shop.”

Sean moved his head firmly side to side. “No way.”

“It can’t be a coincidence that all three flower arrangements came from the same florist and that at least two had the same warning.”

Sean wouldn’t deny the point. “It’s still circumstantial and—” he shot her a pointed look “—we’re playing fast and loose with evidence that may prove necessary to solving a double homicide.”

She twisted in the seat and pled her case from a different perspective. “We have no idea what this guy does to stay ahead of the police. We do know he got past my security code. He could be listening to a police radio. I don’t want him tipped off.”

Sean shook his head. He had to be nuts, and yet she had a point. “What do you expect to say to Thrasher?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I don’t want him to get away.”

Sean braked for a light, and she touched his arm. He turned to her, and the stark fear on her face startled him. “How will I ever feel safe again if he gets away?”

Before he could stop the words, he made a promise he hoped like hell he could keep. “I won’t let that happen.”

Chapter Eleven

Thrasher Floral, Pearson Avenue, 3:00 p.m.

“Can we go in now?” Amber asked again.

Sean didn’t like the idea of going in before they called Harper, but he’d put off the inevitable for a full fifteen minutes. If he didn’t agree to going in soon, Amber would likely ignore him and go in anyway. Keeping her reasonably cooperative was essential.

“As soon as that customer comes out,” he promised, “we’re going in.”

Amber acquiesced to his latest delay tactic with nothing more than a roll of her eyes.

The shop was in a small building on Pearson Avenue. Thrasher was thirty-one, the same age as Kyle Adler. Birmingham and its surrounding suburbs made for a fairly large population, so the two might not have grown up in the same neighborhood or have gone to school together, but they knew each other. Adler made deliveries for the floral shop—two of those deliveries had carried cards with warnings. Sean was damned certain a third one had, as well; he just couldn’t prove it.

Since Adler was dead, who had delivered Amber’s flowers? Thrasher? He’d denied making the delivery and claimed the employee who filled the order was out sick when Harper questioned him. If Harper had located the employee and questioned her, Sean hadn’t heard about it. There was a lot happening in a short period of time. So much so that keeping everyone in the loop was difficult. Not that he and Amber had been keeping anyone informed. That had to change soon. They were way over the line already. Jess wouldn’t be happy. The boss considered B&C’s relationship with the BPD sacred. Maybe he’d still have a job when this case was finished.

At this point, he didn’t have much to lose by putting off calling Harper for a few more minutes. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it right. It was time to ask Thrasher different questions.

The entrance opened, and the brunette they’d been watching at the counter exited with a small arrangement.

“That’s our cue.” He climbed from behind the wheel and moved around to meet Amber on the sidewalk. “Careful what you say,” he warned. “We need him cooperative, not defensive.”

She made a face. “Trust me—I’ve done this once or twice, Mr. Douglas.”

“So I’m Mr. Douglas now?”

She eyed him skeptically. “For the moment.”

Shaking his head, he opened the door. The bell jingled as they entered. The lady behind the counter looked up. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Thrasher’s. How can I help you?”

“Is Mr. Thrasher in?” Amber asked, taking the lead.

Sean suppressed a grin. She might be petite, but there was nothing small about her personality. She was pretty damned fearless. Like most people who met her in person for the first time, he’d thought she would be taller, too. He decided then and there the reason was her personality. Amber Roberts was larger than life.

The clerk shook her head. “He called me this morning and said he was sick. I rushed over and opened the shop.”

“Thank you—” Sean noted the name on her badge “—Louanne. We’ll try to catch him again later.”

Amber glared at him as he guided her out the same door they had just entered.

“What’re you doing? I want to have a look around in that shop.”

He ushered her to the car and opened her door. “Get in and I’ll explain.”

With a reluctant huff, she dropped into the seat. Sean hurried around to the driver’s side and joined her.

“Let’s go to his house.” She dug through her purse. “I can locate his address in about thirty seconds.”

“We have to call Harper. Now. No more putting it off.” He pulled his cell from his pocket, ignoring her irritated glare. “We want whatever evidence we find to be admissible in court, Amber. We can’t just go rummaging through the man’s shop looking for clues.”

“You didn’t mention having issues with the idea when we were going through Rhiana’s and Kimberly’s homes.”

“We had permission,” he reminded her. “Their mothers were right there with us. We’ve gone as far as we can with this. It’s time to let the cops do their job.”

She stared at the street for a long moment. “Fine. Make the call.”

Sean entered Harper’s number and brought him up to speed. With the order to back off ringing in his ears, he ended the call and gave Amber the bad news.

“Detective Harper says it will take some time to get a warrant. He
suggested
we go home and wait for his call. The techs are finished at your place. He thinks it’s safe if you want to go home.”

“I knew this would happen.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We should have nosed around when we had the chance.”

He didn’t bother pointing out once more that rendering evidence unusable was not their goal. “We skipped lunch. After what you went through last night, we need to rectify that oversight.”

“I’m not hungry. I...”

When she remained silent, he glanced her way. She stared forward, her lips slightly parted. He licked his own and shifted his attention back to the street. The woman had amazing lips. He’d spent a lot of time watching those lips, and even when she’d been sick as a dog in the wee hours of the morning they were still tempting.

“We’ve been so focused on finding the evidence,” she said, more to herself than to him. “We’ve ignored what it means.” She turned to him. Her eyes round with something like disbelief. “They were watching us, and I don’t mean from afar. I’m talking about up close.”

Sean braked for a four-way stop. “Adler and Thrasher?”

She nodded, her gaze seeking his. “The flowers were delivered the day before each victim went missing. Mine had been ordered several days before they were delivered. They were watching.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “One or the other or maybe both came into my house—into their houses—and took souvenirs, but that’s not all they did while they were there.”

A horn blared behind them, forcing Sean to take his eyes off her and to move forward. He got where she was headed. “You’re thinking they planted cameras so they could watch.”

“Oh, my God.” Both hands went to her face then. “There’s no other explanation.”

Harper hadn’t mentioned finding any surveillance devices. Sean reached over and took her hand in his. “You’re okay. Adler is dead, and we’re on to Thrasher. Whatever one or both did, it won’t happen again.”

She scrubbed at her eyes. “We have to search my house. Now. I need to know if they were watching me... I need to be sure.”

“Since no other toxins have been found, I think it’s safe to have a look. But I’m not letting you stay there again until this is over.” Sean gave her hand a squeeze before letting go.

She held his gaze a beat longer. “Okay.”

His entire being aching to lean across the seat and kiss her. He shifted his attention straight ahead. What he really wanted to do was pull over and make her feel this raging desire building inside him. She needed kissing. She needed to feel safe and cared for. For the first time in a very long time, he hoped he got the opportunity to make her feel that way.

Forest Brook Drive, Homewood

A
MBER
STARED
AT
her home for a long moment after the car stopped moving. Sean was getting out and would be at her door any second, but she suddenly couldn’t move. Growing up, she had spent endless hours in this house. Louisa Roberts had been the perfect grandmother. She always baked cookies for Amber’s arrival. If it was summer, there would be fresh-squeezed lemonade. If it was winter, there would be homemade hot chocolate. They read together and played games. Grandma Louisa owned every good board game made between 1950 and 1980, she’d boasted.

In this house Amber had felt completely safe and loved her entire life.

Until now.

Her door opened, and Sean waited for her to climb out. She stared up at him, conscious of her need to throw herself into his arms. She suddenly felt so isolated and completely alone. He was the one person that made her feel remotely safe right now. She wanted to know the shelter of his arms...she wanted to know him.

Shaking off the overwhelming reactions, she emerged from the car and steadied herself. When this was over, she intended to take a serious vacation. She hadn’t taken a real vacation since the summer she graduated college. The job at the station was already hers, so she’d taken two weeks on the West Coast to relax and shop for a fashionable wardrobe. She’d returned well rested and seriously broke. Her grandmother had laughed and given her a high five. That winter Louisa Roberts had passed away.

Amber pushed aside the tender memories and waited while Sean unlocked her front door. The silence inside made her belly clench. Normally her security system would be screaming for attention, but she had left it disarmed for the police. Actually, they hadn’t armed it when they’d raced out of here headed for the ER. How had this place that had once felt so safe suddenly become so filled with potential danger?

Her heart was pounding by the time she crossed the threshold. As terrifying as the reality that someone had broken in and touched her things was, it was still good to be home on a level no one could touch.

The evidence technicians hadn’t left the mess she had expected. Everything looked just as she’d left it when they’d hurried off to the ER last night. The teacup she’d used as well as the can of tea were missing. Both were evidence now. In a day or two the lab would be able to tell her what sort of poison had been added to her tea. She’d done some Google searches before she’d fallen asleep this morning, but the symptoms for most toxins were so similar it was impossible to narrow down the possibilities. She was, however, relatively certain the culprit was some sort of plant.

“Where should we begin?” she asked, shifting to what they’d come here to do.

“The cameras might be really small. Basically they could be planted anywhere, but—” he met her gaze “—we should check the bedroom and bathroom first.”

The idea made Amber sick to her stomach. “How do you want to do this?”

“Do you have a stepladder?”

She nodded. “In the garage.”

Rather than go to her bedroom, Amber waited in the living room for Sean to return. She hoped the feeling of uncertainty in her own home would pass quickly. When this was over and she was on that nice, long vacation, she intended to have the house cleaned and painted. All the food products were going in the trash. Every dish and spoon and utensil would be sanitized in the dishwasher. Every single item she owned was going to be washed or dry-cleaned.

It was the only way she would ever feel comfortable in her home again.

While Sean checked the overhead light fixtures and tops of the windows, Amber started the challenging task of going through the bookshelves and clutter on the chest of drawers and dresser.

“Here we go.”

She turned from the bookshelf to see him take a small object from the narrow shelf made by the plantation shutters on the window. Her heart lurched.

“We need a box,” he said. “A shoe box, hatbox, whatever you have handy.”

Amber rushed into her closet and grabbed the first shoe box she could get her hands on. She dumped the contents and hurried back to where he waited. He placed the small gadget in the box. She positioned the lid over it. If the thing was still live, she didn’t want whoever might be watching to see anything else.

Before moving on to the next room, they covered every square foot of her bedroom and discovered one more camera, this one on top of a family portrait that her grandmother had commissioned when Amber’s father was five. Even if the evidence techs had moved the painting, they wouldn’t have noticed it unless they were looking specifically for something so tiny.

A third camera was found in the bathroom on the cabinet above the toilet, angled to ensure she was captured taking a bath or shower. The fear she had felt earlier was gone. Fury had taken its place. This was her home! The living room and the kitchen were bugged with one camera each. She stood in the middle of her kitchen now and allowed the rage to course through her. It was either that or throw up, and she’d done enough of that last night.

“We should take all this to Harper,” Sean suggested.

Amber didn’t argue.

When they left she armed the security system for all the good it would do.

Sean called Lieutenant Harper, who suggested they meet at Thrasher’s home since he was en route there with a warrant.

“Did they find him?” Amber wanted to know. Sean hadn’t mentioned the floral shop owner.

He shook his head. “One of the neighbors said he left this morning at the same time he always does to open the shop and he hasn’t returned.”

“He’s gone.” Amber didn’t need confirmation. The man knew the police were getting close to figuring out his connection to Adler and the murdered women and he’d run.
Damn it!

“I’m sure the BPD issued a BOLO. Thrasher won’t get far.”

Amber hoped he was right.

Killough Circle, 6:15 p.m.

A BPD
CRUISER
sat on the street in front of the house belonging to Peter Thrasher. The sedan Lieutenant Chet Harper and Detective Chad Cook had arrived in was parked in the driveway alongside the evidence techs’ van. Yellow tape marked the area as a crime scene. The two uniforms guarding the perimeter had informed Amber and Sean they had to wait on the street until further notice. Two other cruisers had blocked both ends of the block. No reporters were getting in.

Amber had been pacing the sidewalk for a good forty-five minutes. She was dying to know what was going on inside the house. Had they found evidence tying Thrasher to Adler? She rubbed at her forehead. Had they found photos or videos of her or the other women?

She hugged her arms around herself and paced in the other direction. Had the two sold the intimate look at her life to some adult site? Her stomach churned. If they had uploaded the videos they made to the internet...

“You’re going to wear out that sidewalk,” Sean commented.

Amber stalled and glared at him. Leaning against his car, his arms folded across his chest, ankles crossed, he appeared completely unperturbed. How could he look so calm? Two women had been murdered. She would have been number three if someone hadn’t killed Adler. She might still end up murdered if Thrasher wasn’t found. Reality washed over her like a dash of icy water. She would be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life if he got away.