Still Waters (4 page)

“Had you always envisioned yourself as a bodyguard to the stars?” Amber set her fork aside and sipped her water.

“Never crossed my mind until they knocked on my door.”

“What was it like? Are the big stars as difficult to work with as the gossip rags suggest?”

He really didn’t want to talk about his past. Things always ventured into the territory he still couldn’t revisit. The only reason he hadn’t changed the subject already was because she looked relaxed for the first time since they’d met.

“Stars are like anyone else. You’ve got the nice ones, and you’ve got the jerks. They put on their pants the same way you and I do.”

“According to Gina, you’re the best.”

He pushed back from the table and stood. “Your friend might have exaggerated just a little.” He carried his plate to the sink and rinsed it before depositing it into the dishwasher. Amber did the same with her bowl and fork.

“We need a notepad or something to list the names of the people who’ve written to you repeatedly.” He moved back to the table. The sooner they focused on the reason he was here, the quicker she would forget about all the questions she appeared to have for him. Not that he had expected anything less from the lady. Amber might not be a big-screen celebrity, but she was damned sure a big star in Birmingham. “Anyone who seems overly interested in your career or you as a person is what we’re looking for.”

She opened a drawer and came up with a notepad and pen.

“We should talk about your neighbors,” he went on. “Friends. Ex-boyfriends. Former girlfriends. Anyone who knows your routine. Anyone who knows you well enough to have a handle on your likes and dislikes. Paradise Peach tea, for instance. Who would know about your taste in tea?”

When she’d settled back at the table, she placed the pen next to the pad and looked him straight in the eye. “My sister and my parents. My colleagues at work. None of them would do this any more than I would. Most of my neighbors are the same ones who lived here when my grandmother was still alive. They’re older, and I’ve known them forever. I have no former girlfriends. I only have current ones.”

“No fallings-out. No estrangements of any kind?”

“There are people with whom I’ve lost touch, but nothing like you’re suggesting.”

“What about ex-boyfriends? Even the one-night stands—especially the one-night stands.”

“I don’t do one-night stands, Mr. Douglas. This is not Hollywood.”

“But it is the twenty-first century. Even people in Alabama do one-night stands, Ms. Roberts.”

“Not this person.” Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “And before you jump to that conclusion, I’m not a prude, either.”

“Ex-boyfriends?”

“We talked about this already.”

He exhaled a big breath and reached for patience. “I need more details.”

“There have been three.”

Did she just say three?
“Three?” he echoed.

She gave him a sharp look that answered the question. “One in high school. We started dating when we were freshmen. We broke up when we went our separate ways to college. He’s married with three children and lives in Wyoming. My second boyfriend was in college. He decided he wanted to travel the world before settling down. To my knowledge he’s still doing so. Last year I broke up with the man to whom I’d been engaged for two years.”

“Please tell me you dated a few guys in between.”

“A few. Yes. I was very busy with my education and then with building my career, Mr. Douglas.”

“Sean,” he countered. “The Mr. Douglas thing makes me feel old.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to make you feel old,
Sean
,” she acquiesced.

Like every other ridiculous reaction he’d experienced since coming into her home, the sound of his first name on those pink lips disrupted the rhythm of his pulse again. “The ex-fiancé has no reason to want to cause you trouble?”

She sent him a look. “Killing a man and leaving my panties in his bed is a little more than causing me trouble—wouldn’t you say?”

He nodded. She had him there. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“We broke up because he confessed that he’d never stopped loving his college sweetheart. They’re married with a baby on the way. They live in Mobile. I’m certain I’m the last person on his mind these days.”

The guy must have been a total idiot.

Sean cleared his throat and his head. “That leaves us with strangers.” More often than not, crimes of this nature were committed by an intimate, but not always. Occasionally strangers formed fantasy relationships or attachments with high-profile personalities. Once in a while those bonds led to murder.

“Okay.” She stood, took the lid from the box and set it aside. “I have quite a few letters and cards here.” She reached inside and lifted a mound of envelopes. She placed them on the table. She reached into the box once more and stalled. “What in the world?” Her eyes widened with horror. “Oh, my God.”

Sean moved to her side. In the box, amid the stacks of envelopes addressed to Amber Roberts, was a knife. Nothing elaborate or exotic, just a stock kitchen butcher knife, with an eight-or ten-inch blade covered in dried blood.

It was time to call his boss.

Chapter Four

Birmingham Police Department, 6:15 p.m.

Captain Vanessa Aldridge stared directly at Amber. “You want me to believe that you just happened to have a knife from the victim’s kitchen in your home. A knife, I might add, that is covered in his blood.”

The head of the Crimes Against Persons Division had asked Amber this same question several different ways over the past three hours. The lab had confirmed the blood on the knife was in fact Kyle Adler’s. The knife apparently was part of a set from his home. Dear God, how had this happened? Why would anyone do this to her? Her home had been searched by the forensic team for any other potential evidence. It was all completely insane.

“Your prints are on the knife handle, Ms. Roberts.”

Amber blinked. Her mind wouldn’t stay focused on the moment.

“Of course her prints are on the handle,” Teller countered. “She touched it while she was searching through a box of saved fan mail.”

“Do you have some way of proving her prints weren’t already there?” Aldridge argued.

“Do you have some way of proving they were?” Teller fired back. “I have no burden to prove anything, as you well know. You’re the one who needs to prove your accusations. And unless you can do that, Captain Aldridge, I would suggest you stop harassing my client.”

Amber felt sick. “I have never seen that knife before. I have no idea how it got in my house.”

Teller put his hand on her arm to silence her. He didn’t want her to make any spontaneous remarks. Only the prepared ones they had discussed before this meeting. This was wrong. All of it. And it was escalating. She was terrified at the idea of what might happen next. It felt surreal, like someone else’s life was spiraling out of control.

“You have a security system. Who else knows the access code?” Aldridge demanded for the third time.

“My client is uncertain of the answer,” Teller replied without hesitation.

“You don’t recall who you gave something as important as your security code? An old boyfriend? An associate from work? You can’t expect me to believe you have no idea who else might have access to your own home.”

The captain stared directly at her, ensuring Amber understood the questions and comments were meant for her regardless of the attorney seated beside her. Amber merely stared back. She’d already answered those questions. Teller had reminded her repeatedly not to allow Aldridge to drag her into a discussion. The captain’s job, according to Teller, was to trip Amber up and make her say something she didn’t mean. The truth was, Amber couldn’t have answered at the moment even if Teller had wanted her to. Some level of shock had descended, and she couldn’t think quickly enough to piece together a proper response.

“Ms. Roberts, I’m aware your attorney is supposed to work in your best interest, but frankly I’m concerned as to why he feels compelled to answer for you—if you have nothing to hide.”

Teller launched a protest.

Amber held up her hands. “Are we done here?” They had been at this for three hours. Her answers weren’t going to change whether she gave the prepared ones or the ones straight from her heart—assuming she could get the right words out. “Or do you plan to arrest me?”

Aldridge laid one hand atop the other on the table and smiled. “We’re done for now, but rest assured, Ms. Roberts, we will be speaking again. Soon, so don’t leave town.”

Amber wanted out of this room. She tried to slow her racing heart, tried to still her churning stomach.
Who would do this?
The question echoed in her brain. She could think of no one who wanted to hurt her this way.

Captain Aldridge walked to the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time before exiting. The silence that ensued left Amber feeling hollow and alone.

“Let’s get you home.”

Amber followed Teller’s prompts and exited the interview room. Douglas—Sean waited in the corridor.

“We’re going out the back,” he said to Teller.

Teller nodded. “I’ll go out the front and hopefully keep the media entertained long enough to allow the two of you to escape.

Escape.
Amber had been one of those reporters more times than she could count. Desperate to get the story. Determined to discover what the person in the spotlight was hiding. Certain the police were holding back crucial information.

“No.” Amber shook her head. “I’m not running from the press.”

Teller urged her to listen to reason as they boarded the elevator. She ignored him. As the doors opened into the lobby, he launched a final plea. “I can’t do my job if you don’t cooperate. Every step you take makes an impression. If this case goes to trial, the jury will be made up of people who watch the news and read the paper.”

Amber had had enough. She turned to him. “I’m certain you’ll be able to do your job under whatever circumstances arise, Frank.”

Teller held up his hands and backed off. “I’ve said my piece.”

As she approached the main entrance, Sean pulled her close. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of something you’re obviously intent on doing, but we will do it my way.” Her gaze locked with his as he went on. “You will stay right beside me. You will not reach out to anyone who reaches toward you. You will stay focused on moving forward while giving whatever responses you intend to give quickly and concisely.”

His eyes and the stony set of his jaw warned there would be no changing his mind. Unable to do otherwise, Amber nodded her agreement.

“Good. Let’s do this.” He pushed through the door, moving her along with confident strides.

Lights flashed and questions were hurled at her. As Sean had predicted, hands extended toward her. Amber felt as if she were being pulled in every direction. The few faces she recognized blurred with the many she did not.

“Amber, did you murder Kyle Adler?”

“Amber, have you been arrested?”

“Amber, were you and Kyle involved?”

She wanted to answer. Her feet stumbled, and her tongue felt tied. Her heart pushed into her throat.

“Give us your side, Amber!” a vaguely familiar voice shouted.

Behind her, Teller assured the crowd that Amber had not been arrested and was not involved with Kyle Adler. He firmly stated that she certainly had not murdered him.

Sean pushed his way through the microphones and the cameras stretching toward them. Amber moved along in his wake, able to remain upright and progress forward only because he held tightly to her arm.

They reached his car, and suddenly she was in the passenger seat. He slid behind the wheel, and they started to roll slowly through the seemingly endless crowd. The situation was completely alien to her. She felt lost and uncertain. This was what she did every day. How could she feel so completely out of place on this side of the story? Where was her professional training? Where was her courage? She should have answered those questions. She should have looked directly into the camera and told the world that she was innocent no matter what Sean or Teller told her to do.

How many times had she watched someone do exactly what she just did and doubted the veracity of his or her claims of innocence?

People watching the news would think precisely that about her. They would believe she’d killed a man. They would believe she knew all the tricks to avoid being found guilty because she was a reporter. They would believe she was lying because her job was to spin stories into the kind of news viewers couldn’t resist.

“I’m telling the truth.” She turned to Sean as he accelerated, leaving the horde of reporters behind. “I
am
telling the truth.”

He glanced at her. “I believe you.”

Did anyone else?

“We’re going to the office,” he explained as he made the next turn. “My boss wants to speak with you.”

Amber managed a nod. His boss was former deputy chief Jess Burnett. Gina trusted her. Amber had been working her way up the ranks when Jess first returned to Birmingham. She remembered the buzz about the FBI’s top profiler helping with the Murray case. No one would ever forget how serial killer Eric Spears had followed Jess here. Amber had read the stories about her and how she could find the face of evil when no one else could.

Please let her be able to find this one.

Fourth Avenue North

“A
MBER
, I
KNOW
this is unsettling.”

Amber produced a smile for Jess Burnett. “I never thought I’d say this, but yes, this is terrifying.” Had she been such a coward all this time?

“Being the target of breaking news is far different from finding the breaking news. Trust me on that one,” Jess assured her.

Certainly the former profiler would know. Amber remembered well when Jess had been the target of those who thought she’d brought evil to town with her—that she was on some level partially responsible for the heinous murders committed by Eric Spears and his followers.

“I appreciate that you understand,” Amber confessed. “What I really want to hear is that you can help prove I’m telling the truth. I don’t think Captain Aldridge believes me.”

“We’ll do all we can—you have our word on that,” Buddy Corlew assured her.

Buddy sat next to Jess. Amber knew a little about him, as well. He’d grown up in a rough neighborhood and he’d beaten the odds. He’d served in the military and the Birmingham Police Department. Even when his career as a detective had tanked, he’d built a thriving private investigation agency. The man was a fighter as well as the new husband of the recently named Jefferson County medical examiner.

If the people in this room couldn’t help her prove her innocence, Amber felt reasonably confident she was screwed.

Next to her Sean shifted in his chair as if he’d read her mind and recognized that she had left him out of her deduction. Bearing in mind that they’d found a bloody knife in her house—which confirmed beyond all doubt that someone had been in her home without her knowledge—she was pretty damned sure she needed him, too. And her attorney, Frank Teller, was the best. Amber would need them all to get through this nightmare.

“We didn’t invite Teller to this meeting,” Corlew said, “since what we’re about to tell you is off the record and he doesn’t need to know about it. For now.”

Was she thinking out loud or were they all mind readers? Amber took a breath and forced the crazy thought aside. She needed to calm down and focus. “I understand.”

“Buddy and I have contacts inside the department, and they’ve shared details with us that Captain Aldridge might not be ready to disclose at this time,” Jess explained. “However, none of what we’re about to tell you is breaking the law. We’re only bending it a bit.”

“I’m grateful for any insights into what the captain is thinking.” The woman gave every indication of being on a witch hunt. Amber had pondered the possibility that this was the captain’s opportunity to get back at the press. Since taking over as head of Crimes Against Persons, she had been cast in a bad light more often than not.

“I’ve had the opportunity to review the findings by the evidence technicians,” Jess began, “as well as the lead detective’s assessment.” She turned to a new page in her notepad. “The victim’s home is meticulously organized and painstakingly clean. No journal or personal notes were discovered, but I’ve asked the detective to have another look for any items that may be connected to other ongoing or unsolved cases.”

Tension coiled inside Amber. “You believe he may have been involved in some sort of illegal activity?”

Jess hesitated but only for a moment. “The china teacups found on his table were the only pieces in that pattern found in his home.” She removed a photo from a folder and passed it to Amber. “I’ve blown up the photo provided by the lead detective on the case. Look closely at the pattern. Is it possible those teacups and saucers came from your home?”

Amber studied the image, and her breath caught. She hadn’t been able to see the pattern very well in the photos Teller had shown her. “This is my grandmother’s china.” Her heart pounded. “He or someone he knew was in my house.”
Maybe more than once
, she realized as she thought of the knife.

Jess nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Amber looked from Jess to the photo and back. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Sean interjected, drawing her attention to him, “that
you
have been a victim without even knowing it.”

He was right. She’d been so focused on finding something that would prove she was telling the truth that she hadn’t considered herself a victim.

“Kyle Adler may have been obsessed with you,” Jess explained. “He may have come into your home on numerous occasions. He has no criminal record, but we’re operating under the assumption that he simply hadn’t been caught. His need to have something of yours may have caused him to cross the line, ultimately perhaps drawing him into association with the person who murdered him.”

Amber looked from Jess to Sean and back. “So it’s possible his killer may have saved my life. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“In some perverted way perhaps,” Jess agreed. “Envy may have driven him or her. The unknown subject—unsub—may have been Adler’s lover who learned of his obsession with you and killed him in a fit of rage. When your name and face hit the news as a person of interest in the case, this person may have put the knife in your house to further implicate you as the murderer. Or if he or she was working with Adler all along, the knife may have been in your home since the day it was used as a murder weapon.”

“How could he or she have known I would look in that particular box?”

“The choice was too specific to believe it’s a mere coincidence,” Jess agreed. “At this point my opinion would be that the unsub took his time and selected a place that wouldn’t be too obvious to the police but wouldn’t go unnoticed by you. Does anyone else know about the box of fan mail you keep in your closet?”

Amber started to say no, but the memory of the special she and Gina had done stopped her. “Gina and I did a special.” She looked at Sean. “I told you about it earlier.” To Jess she said, “We both shared a little about how our professional and personal lives intersect. I talked about the letters and...” Amber sighed. “And how I kept them in a lovely box on a shelf in my closet.”