Still Waters (5 page)

Jess nodded. “He was watching. He’s using all he knows about you to frame you for murder.”

“He’s certainly done a top-notch job so far.” Every piece of evidence in the case pointed to her as the murderer. How could her entire life be turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours?

“With your permission,” Jess said, “the detective in charge of the case wants to have a couple of evidence techs go through your house a second time to see if they can pick up any overlooked prints left by the victim or any other potential unsub.” Jess removed her reading glasses and placed them on her desk. “It’s a long shot, but we shouldn’t ignore the possibility that one or both may have been in your home many times.”

Amber held up her hands. “I have no problem with them turning my house upside down if it helps find the real killer.”

“There’s always the possibility,” Corlew warned, “they’ll find more planted evidence that could hurt your case. You might want to run this by Teller before you commit.”

Amber pressed her hand to her lips. She hadn’t thought of that scenario. She shook her head. “I have nothing to hide. If something else has been hidden in my home, I want to know.”

Jess nodded. “All right. I’ll let Sergeant Wells know. She’ll call Sean in the morning with a time.”

“Meanwhile,” Sean spoke up again, “I have a locksmith at your house changing the locks as we speak. As soon as we get back there, you should change your access code and your password for your security system.”

Amber’s head was spinning again. “I’ve never given anyone—not even my own parents—the access code or password to my security system. At least not that I can remember.”

“There are other ways,” Corlew assured her. “Perps can order electronic equipment on the internet that overrides or breaks access codes.”

“Which is another reason,” Jess cut in, “we believe the person who murdered Adler and planted the evidence in your home has done this before. He’s too smooth to be a first timer.”

Amber thought of the man Kyle Adler. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him except for the occasional delivery. On those occasions he’d always seemed so kind and shy. His was not a face she would have associated with evil.

Sean spoke up again. “Does your station keep the original footage from your assignments or just the part that doesn’t end up on the cutting room floor—so to speak.”

“The station stores the footage that airs, but not the raw footage before it’s edited.” Hope welled in her chest. “My cameraman may keep all the raw footage. I can check with him.”

“If Adler was watching you,” Sean offered, “we might find him in the crowd wherever you were reporting breaking news. It’s worth a shot.”

Jess agreed.

Amber couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of checking the footage. She had to clear her head and focus. Her future depended on how this turned out. She could spend the rest of her life in prison or end up on death row. Worse, a murderer could get away with his heinous act.

“Go home, Amber,” Jess said. “Try to get some rest, but don’t clean your house tonight,” she added with a smile.

“Don’t worry.” Amber stood. “I won’t touch anything I don’t have to touch.”

“Good idea,” Jess granted.

As they left the building, Sean exited ahead of her. He scanned the street and checked his car before motioning for her to cross the sidewalk and climb in. He closed her door and went around to the other side. Dusk had the street lamps flickering on against the coming darkness. She closed her eyes and leaned fully into the seat. This day couldn’t be over soon enough for her.

When the car moved down the street, she opened her eyes and turned to the driver. “Do you really believe we’ll be able to find all the pieces of this puzzle?”

He glanced at her. “Don’t worry—we’ll find him.”

Amber stared out at the darkness. “I hope so.”

She didn’t want the next story about a person who spent years in prison before being exonerated to be about her.

Chapter Five

Hugo L. Black United States
Courthouse
1729 Fifth Avenue
North
Tuesday, October 18, 10:30 a.m.

Sean did not like this one bit. He’d had no sleep since Amber had paced the floors most of the night. She’d insisted that was what she did when she battled insomnia. She’d also insisted he should take one of the bedrooms and just ignore her.

Impossible.

The loose fit of the pink flannel pajamas showed nothing of her curves or all that pale, creamy skin. There wasn’t one thing sexy about the overly modest sleeping apparel, and still he couldn’t keep his mind off her. At one point he’d even covered his head with the pillow. The move hadn’t helped an iota.

He’d opted to sleep on the sofa since the layout of the family room and kitchen gave him a view of both the front and rear doors. The house was an older one, but it had been renovated at some point, opening up the main living space. The locks had been changed and her security system had a new access code and password.

First thing this morning she had informed him that she had to get back to work. She wouldn’t discuss taking a vacation. She had ongoing assignments, she’d insisted. Apparently last night’s insomnia had evolved into today’s determination to pretend nothing had happened.

Three cups of coffee and one caramel latte later and Amber was rushing around the station prepping for the McAllister assignment. On the way to the federal courthouse, she’d explained that Forrest McAllister had been the go-to guy for investments by the who’s who of Birmingham for many years. Eight months ago he’d been charged with insider trading. Now that same who’s who were doing all within their power to distance themselves from the man. His trial started today.

Sean had heard something about the big story, but he hadn’t followed it. Apparently, he was going to now.

Watching Amber wasn’t a hardship. The blue skirt and sweater she wore today fit her petite body perfectly. Her hair hung in soft waves, and those cute little freckles were faintly visible across the bridge of her nose.

Get your head back on the job, man.
The cameraman had promised to dig through the work they’d done together. He couldn’t promise he had anything Amber was looking for. Her first cameraman had retired more than a year ago. She hadn’t been able to reach him yet. Sean intended to remind her to follow up with both men later today.

Vehicles sporting the logos of television stations and newspapers from all over the southeast ringed the block. Security had the courthouse locked down. The street, however, was brimming with people—mostly newshounds. Between the horde of reporters, the occasional helicopter overhead and the blaring horns of frustrated drivers attempting to navigate Fifth Avenue, the situation was a security specialist’s worst nightmare.

There was no way to cover every direction from which trouble could come. He was left with no recourse but to stay as close as possible to his client. Sweat lined his brow. He felt as if he were guiding a rocker client through the crowd for a sold-out concert. It never ceased to amaze him how many megastars felt the need to brush shoulders with thousands of fans despite the risk that one of them might be a wacko. Sean had navigated the crowds, ever watchful and barely breathing. Like now. His senses were on full alert. Adrenaline had his heart in the fight-or-flight zone. Every muscle was tense, ready to react to the first sign of trouble.

The hearing had started at nine. Since the date and time of the hearing had been a closely guarded secret, the reporters following the case had missed McAllister’s arrival. Word had traveled like wildfire as soon as the man was spotted entering the courthouse. Now they all waited for his exit and any sound bite his team of attorneys would permit to slip. Amber had managed a spot right up front, near the steps into the building. In the event of trouble, maneuvering through the crowd behind them would not be an easy task. Just his luck.

Suddenly, the towering entrance doors opened and a group of men exited. Sean recognized the main player from the shots he’d seen on the news and in the papers. The suits all around him were a combination of security and lawyers. The difference was easy to spot; the lawyers carried the briefcases while the others wore communication devices in their ears and constantly scanned the area around their client.

As if floodgates had been opened, the rush of reporters swelled into a tide of bodies, microphones and cameras. Sean wrapped his fingers around Amber’s left forearm to keep her close. Intent on getting some word on how the hearing turned out, she ignored his move. Questions were hurled at the group exiting the building. Amber’s was the loudest voice. For such a petite woman, she had a set of pipes and she knew how to use them.

The cameraman slipped in front of Sean, blocking his view forward. Sean held tighter to Amber and elbowed his way between her and the big guy.

Once the group reached the sidewalk, the crush of bodies was too close for comfort. Sean didn’t like this. He angled his body to stay close to Amber. She stretched toward her target.

The huddle of security guards and lawyers abruptly stopped. McAllister stepped forward. A hush fell over the crowd of reporters. “Today was the first step in proving my innocence,” he announced. “See you next week.”

As soon as he was swallowed by his guards, the attorneys shouted, “That’s all for today!”

Amber twisted to face her cameraman. “Did you get that?”

“Got it,” the man fondly known as Bear assured her.

“Let’s find a quiet place and do a lead-in,” Amber directed.

Before Sean could suggest they get the hell off the street, she was climbing the steps to the building’s entrance. She took a position and smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Hair and makeup are good,” the cameraman assured her. “We are live in the studio in ten, nine...”

As he counted down, Sean scanned the crowd that had followed McAllister to the waiting limos. Behind him, Amber delivered a thirty-or forty-second overview of the case and introduced this morning’s hearing results. When she signed off the air, Sean was able to breathe again.

The position they were in was far too open, not to mention they were backed against a wall—literally. No overt threats to Amber’s life had been posed, but his orders were to assume the worst. If the attempts to frame her for murder failed, the perp might very well choose a different strategy.

“Can we get out of here now?” Sean asked as the cameraman packed up his equipment.

“We can.” Amber moved toward him. “There’s a clerk inside I want to follow up with first.”

As long as they were off the street, Sean would be happy.

“See you at the station,” Bear tossed over his shoulder as he hustled away.

Sean reached to open the door for her as a dozen or so of the reporters who’d only moments ago been hanging on McAllister’s every move were suddenly closing in on them. He stepped in front of Amber.

“Amber, is it true the murder weapon was found in your home?” the nearest reporter shouted.

Sean turned his head and whispered to her, “Go inside. Now.”

“Did they find your prints on the weapon?” another voice shouted.

“If you didn’t know the victim as you claim, can you explain how this happened?”

“Were you and Kyle Adler having an affair?”

More questions speared through the crisp morning air. Rather than go inside, Amber stood stone still, staring at the people who were her colleagues—colleagues determined to get the story even if it meant turning on one of their own.

“What about those red panties they found in his bed?” a man accused as he moved to the front of the horde. “Are you going to deny they’re yours?”

Sean didn’t wait for Amber to react. He opened the door and dragged her inside. Two security guards immediately stopped them.

“We have a meeting,” Sean announced, hoping Amber would snap out of her coma and get them past these guys.

“Paula Vicks,” she said, her voice shaky. “She’s expecting us.”

After passing through security, Amber seemed to regain her composure. They moved to the elevators and she selected a floor. Sean kept his mouth shut as the car shuttled them upward. The elevators, like every other part of the building, would be monitored by security.

The elevator bumped to a stop, and the doors opened. She took a right down the corridor, and he eased up close beside her. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He wasn’t going to touch that one. “Good.”

She seemed to square her shoulders as she reached for the door. He followed her inside. A woman about Amber’s age, tall and thin with blond hair and brown eyes, was waiting. She shepherded them into a small office and closed the door.

“I can’t talk to you about the McAllister case, Amber. I can’t talk to you about anything.”

Amber appeared surprised. “What’s going on, Paula?”

“Rumor is you’re about to be charged with murder. I’ve taken too many risks giving you tidbits already. Anything or anyone related to you is about to come under intense scrutiny. I can’t be a part of that. I’m sorry.”

Amber nodded. “I understand. If you can just tell me the date of the next hearing on the McAllister case, we’ll leave it at that.”

“A week from today. Same time.”

“Thanks.” Amber exited Paula’s office without another word.

Sean kept his mouth shut until they were back in the first-floor lobby. The tension radiating from Amber said loads. This ugly business had just trickled into her career. For a woman whose career came first, this new reality was devastating. Outside the reporters had thankfully vanished. They reached his car without incident.

Once they were inside, he asked, “Where to now?”

“My office. I need to dig up everything I can find on Kyle Adler.”

“Then we need to go to Corlew’s office instead.”

Amber hesitated at the door he’d opened. “I thought your firm had already given me everything they had on Adler.”

Sean shrugged. “You have everything obtained through the usual channels. It’s time we checked out a few others.”

When she didn’t argue, Sean closed her door and rounded the hood. He’d call Corlew en route. If Corlew’s contacts couldn’t find it, it didn’t exist.

The Garage Café, Tenth Terrace South, 11:15 a.m.

S
EAN
WAS
NO
stranger to the Garage, but Buddy Corlew considered the place his conference room. He held more meetings here than he did at the office. This particular meeting couldn’t be held at the office anyway. Jess knew Buddy skirted the law from time to time, he’d done it for years as a PI before he and Jess formed their partnership. Jess, being the boss, had one rule: never break the law. So Buddy conducted whatever business Jess might not approve of here.

Buddy acknowledged their entrance with a nod. Sean ushered Amber to his table. She had asked a lot of questions on the way, and he’d assured her that Buddy could answer just about anything she wanted to know. Sean worried that no one was asking the right questions. To some degree the dilemma was understandable. At this point, the motive for Adler’s murder was unclear. The motive for framing Amber was even foggier.

Buddy stood as Amber took the chair Sean pulled out. “I saw you on the news a little while ago.” Buddy gestured to the screens hanging around the bar. “You think McAllister is innocent?”

Amber smiled, looking relaxed for the first time this morning. “I do not, but that conclusion is based primarily on the fact that I just don’t like him.” She leaned forward. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll make my next exposé about you, Mr. Corlew.”

Buddy held up his hands. “No worries here. I’ve never met a woman who could tolerate a man who gave her secrets away.”

“What about Kyle Adler’s secrets?” she asked.

Sean wasn’t surprised. The lady had built a career on getting straight to the point. He’d seen her falter a bit the past twenty-four hours, but she didn’t give up.

“Mr. Adler was a strange one.” Buddy rested his forearms on the table, leaning in a little closer. “He didn’t go to college and still he was twenty-seven before he held a steady job and moved out of his parents’ basement. He rented a small home over on Eagle Ridge Drive about two years ago. He made a living delivering
things
.”

“Things besides flowers and dry cleaning?” Amber asked.

She stood by her certainty that the few times Adler had shown up at her door to make a delivery he hadn’t come inside. Sean had pressed her to consider whether or not she’d ever turned her back for even a few moments. Had she gone to get a tip from her purse in the other room? Even a couple of minutes could have given him the opportunity he needed to make a move.

“Groceries, prescriptions, flowers, dry cleaning, you name it,” Buddy said in answer to her question. “Your books overdue at the library? Just give him a call, and he would pick them up and drop them off for you. But he made his real money driving folks home from the clubs and bars around town.”

A waitress appeared and took their orders. Buddy insisted they have lunch on him. Amber hadn’t eaten that morning. After seeing what she kept in her fridge and cabinets, Sean expected her to order a salad. A woman as tiny as she was couldn’t possibly eat more than a spoonful at a time anyway. She surprised him by ordering a burger, fries and a regular cola. Maybe she felt the need for carbs. He damned sure did. He’d been starving all morning.

“Did Adler ever drive you home?” Sean asked once the waitress was on her way.

Amber shook her head. “Absolutely not. I haven’t spent much time on the club scene in years. Occasionally I meet friends or colleagues at a bar, but I always leave under my own steam.”

Buddy pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I compiled a list of the businesses he operated from the most frequently.” He passed the list to Amber. “It’s possible your encounters with him may have been more frequent than you realize. We shouldn’t rule out anything. Start with that list and compile your own. Any deliveries, pickups, drives to the airport or to pick up your car after it was serviced, whatever you can think of that required assistance from another person.”