Reclaim My Life Page 5

  “What about her car?”

  “We’ve posted an APB for the vehicle. Tomorrow, I’m going to search the victim’s home and office for clues to her contacts, appointments, or anything that might be worth following. Until the medical examiner in Jacksonville gives me time of death, I can’t check for alibis. For now, I’m spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.”

  “So the murder victim was last seen having dinner with three other women. Any of them suspicious?”

  “Not in the least. They met weekly to socialize, but I’m not certain they knew each other well. All three seem shocked by the death of their friend. They remember her mentioning an abusive boyfriend in her past, which is why I want to go through her personal belongings tomorrow. I need to follow up on that lead.”

  “You’re a smart detective. Follow your instincts.”

  Smart detective? “Gee, Dad, that sounded almost like an endorsement.”

  “Don’t get sassy with me—”

  “Come on. Don’t pretend you weren’t disappointed with my going into law enforcement.” Wil lowered the shrimp into the hot oil and set the timer. “Or does holding public office make it more respectable now?”

  Dad stared at the useless hand lying in his lap. “That was a long time ago.” He raised his chin and glared at Wil. “How long before we eat?”

  “Just a few minutes. Sam and I ate earlier at the Hurricane Lantern, but I’ll drink a glass of tea with you.”

  “There’s plenty of that in the fridge.”

  Sure enough, when Wil opened the refrigerator, he discovered Hazel had filled a gallon dispenser with brewed iced tea. All his father had to do was place his glass on the shelf below it and use the spigot. Most of the first floor was wheelchair accessible and convenient for his father to do as much for himself as possible. He might have been able to fry his own shrimp if he’d been able to reach the countertop.

  “So how is Samuel?”

  “Opening day for the new school year had him busy, but he says it went well.” Wil used the ice dispenser on the fridge door to fill two tumblers before adding the tea. He set both glasses on the table and turned back to the Fry Baby, then drained the fried shrimp on a paper towel. “What do you want with your shrimp?”

  “Whatever’s in the fridge. See if there’s some of Hazel’s slaw left.”

  Wil found a Tupperware container of fresh coleslaw and filled a plate that would’ve passed for a platter at the Lantern—if he’d added fries—and placed it in front of his father. Sitting down across the table from Dad, he gestured toward the meal. “Dig in.”

  Dad polished off the food within minutes while Wil sipped his tea, barely sweetened, just as he preferred. He resisted wiping his dad’s face or helping him fork the slaw into his mouth. He’d grown accustomed to the mess from his father’s meals and ignored it. Dad wouldn’t appreciate the help, anyway. He took pride in doing for himself. At least the stroke hadn’t totally debilitated him, but it saddened Wil to see his father’s mind, sharp as ever, trapped in a broken body.

  “Thanks.” After he finished eating, he one-handedly stacked his dishes and pushed them toward Wil. “Can you rinse these for me? Hazel will have a fit if I don’t load the dishwasher.”

  “Sure.” Wil took the dishes to the sink. Sophie trotted over in a hopeful search for scraps, but Dad had cleaned his plate. His appetite had improved since the stroke. Two or three years ago, he’d had to be coaxed and cajoled to take more than a bite. “Anything else I can get for you?”

  Dad shook his head. “Keep me posted on this murder. Maybe you can bounce ideas off my hard head.”

  Wil smiled at that, then sobered, reading between the lines. His father needed a purpose. For too long he’d felt useless. Maybe he and Wil could help each other. “You know, I do need a confidant, if you’re sure you don’t mind my picking your brain.”

  “Slim pickin’s, son, but be my guest.” He patted the grease from his mouth with his napkin, doing a remarkable job of cleaning up with one hand. “If you’re as good a lawman as you are a cook, you’ll figure out this murder in no time.”

  His father’s praise caught him off guard. Twice in one evening? “I doubt that, but we’ll see.” He drank the rest of his iced tea, then added the glass to the dishwasher.

  “Nonsense. Have you talked to Adam Gillespie yet?”

  “Only to run him off the crime scene. It’s not his jurisdiction, Dad.”

  His dad snorted. “I’m not talking about Adam Gillespie, chief of police. I’m talking about Adam Gillespie, Romeo. Ask him about taking that girl for a boat ride down the Suwannee a couple weeks ago.”

  “What girl?”

  “You know, the one who got murdered. The vet, Cathleen Hodges.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next afternoon, Elizabeth opened the door to her pickup and stepped back. The blast of heat from the interior felt like a gust from her blow dryer set on high. The lenses of her eyeglasses fogged in an instant. She cursed herself for not placing the reflective solar shields on her dash. After suffering her second summer in the sunshine state, she should’ve known better. Shade from the huge live oak bordering the faculty parking area spread toward her truck, but too late to offer relief from the pent-up heat. She tossed her briefcase onto the seat of the cab and locked the door.

  Sunny’s high-pitched voice called out her name. “Are you ready?”

  Elizabeth cleaned her fogged glasses with the hem of her shirt, then tucked it back into her waistband. “Let’s do it.” She fell into step beside Sunny and headed toward the staff parking lot.

  “You’d think we’d get a nice tropical shower to cool things off.” Sunny unlocked and started her car with her remote. Unlike Elizabeth, she hadn’t forgotten her solar shades, but the interior of the black Lexus radiated heat nonetheless.

  Sunny seemed as in love with her Lexus as she was with Ian, not that Elizabeth blamed her. The car was new, luxurious, and expensive—again raising questions in Elizabeth’s mind about Ian and Sunny’s finances. They lived in a cramped apartment, both working for a college notorious for its lower-than-average salaries, and lived modestly for the most part. Sunny rarely drove her luxury car, opting to bicycle the short distance to work when she didn’t need to drive; but she took frequent trips, like this weekend trip to visit her mother. She may have come from a moneyed family or had a wealthy ex-husband in her past, though she’d never said. Ian didn’t seem troubled by her spending—but, then again, the marriage was still new.

  Elizabeth kept her uneasiness to herself. Who was she to evaluate anyone’s relationship? Her one stab at a serious romance had demonstrated her poor judgment of character. She should’ve listened to Grandma. After her broken engagement, she’d sworn that any man she’d consider marrying would have to pass the Grandma litmus test. Instead, she’d landed in an even bigger mess and most likely would never see her grandmother again.

  “What’s the matter, Liz? You look on the verge of tears.”

  Elizabeth was ready with another lie, although this one carried some truth. “I guess I can’t stop thinking about Cathleen.”

  “Yeah, me too. Getting away from here for a few hours will help get our minds off it.”

  Sunny left the campus and took Main Street out of town toward Highway 41, which took her to a state road that connected with Interstate 75. Within minutes they headed north, crossing the state line into Georgia. Although the Lexus was a nice ride, Elizabeth would’ve been more at home in her Chevy S-10 pickup. WitSec, as her handler referred to the Witness Security Program, gave her the almost-new truck, standard shift transmission, fully loaded with options including OnStar. She liked shifting gears and had rarely owned an automatic. She’d made an exception with her mobile veterinarian van, but that seemed a lifetime ago.

  As soon as they hit the interstate, Sunny resumed her ongoing campaign to give Elizabeth a makeover. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Liz, but have you thought about a new color for your hair? I think you’d
look bitchin’ as a brunette.”

  “I don’t want to be a brunette.”

  “Okay, how about going blonder? Highlights, maybe. Something to perk up your look, you know?”

  “I appreciate your interest, girl, but let me keep the look I’m comfortable with.”

  She’d deliberately made herself into a mousy, nondescript person to avoid drawing attention. Sofia Desalvo had been a striking, model-thin brunette with impeccable taste and style, or at least compared to Elizabeth Stevens. Elizabeth was as ordinary and as plump as she could make herself, wearing black-rimmed glasses she didn’t really need.

  But Sunny’s ambitions to update her image were not to be derailed. “Okay, but let’s at least get pedicures, all right? I think a pedicure is the ultimate extravagance.”

  Elizabeth decided she’d have to choose her battles and acquiesced this once. Unlike Sunny, with her anklet and toe rings to show off, Elizabeth never wore sandals in public. What harm in a pedicure? “Sounds like fun. Is it expensive?”

  “In Boston, yes. In Valdosta, I doubt it. In fact, I think they have a nail salon in the Wal-Mart.”

  “You’re on.” Elizabeth chuckled at the incongruity of traveling in a Lexus to Wal-Mart for a pedicure. “Do you miss living in Boston?”

  “Huh?” The question seemed to surprise Sunny. “No. I haven’t lived there in a while, anyway. I’m happy wherever Ian is. If his job had been in Nome, Alaska, that’s where I’d be now.”

  Not for the first time, Elizabeth envied the couple’s relationship, even if she didn’t understand it. “Ah, love.” She hammed a long sigh, which was rewarded by Sunny’s giggle.

  An hour later, Elizabeth sat in a chair across from Sunny’s while an Asian man applied scarlet enamel to her toenails. A pedicure, complete with whirlpool footbath, was a new experience for Elizabeth—one she admitted she’d like to repeat. She’d indulged in a hot, sexy color, knowing her toes would be concealed from the public. It’d been a long time since she’d enjoyed a guilty pleasure.

  “This was a great idea, Sunny. Thanks for suggesting it.”

  “Sure you don’t want a manicure, too?”

  She checked her watch. “Not tonight. We want to hit the mall, and we still haven’t had dinner.”

  Sunny laughed. “You are so food-focused. You need to start bicycling with me.”

  Elizabeth snorted. Sunny may have loved her Lexus, but she adored her yellow all-terrain bike. She rode it all over campus. Even her precious Lexus had a special bike rack on the trunk to which she attached and locked the bicycle. “Tell me, which one do you love more—your car or your bicycle?”

  “No brainer, Liz. My bike. Cars make life easier, but they pollute and cost money to drive.”

  “And keep you dry in the rain.”

  “My bike keeps me in shape, but it also helps relieve stress, you know? I just love my long rides, away from town and traffic. Helps clear my head.” Sunny’s waxing poetic about cycling was nothing new.

  “I know the distances you ride. Trust me—cycling with you would do more than clear my head. I’d have to have the bicycle seat surgically removed.”

  “We’ll start out slow and easy. Come on. It’d help you trim down.”

  Just as Elizabeth feared. “I’ll pass.”

  Sunny frowned. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m concerned for your health.”

  “I know you are, but I just don’t have that fitness gene.” In truth, Elizabeth missed physical activity, especially horseback riding. She related to Sunny’s love of long, solo rides, whether by wheel or by hoof.

  Dammit, it wasn’t fair that she had to deny everything about herself! Her handler had warned her repeatedly to avoid any typical behavior or habit. She could betray herself without telling a soul if she wasn’t careful. So far, everything she’d done, including this wild pedicure, had been opposite of the behavior of the person she’d left behind—and had also kept her out of danger.

  Thoughts of danger resurrected her worries about Cathleen’s killer. “Sunny, maybe you should stick close to town on those solitary bike rides, at least until Cathleen’s murderer is caught.”

  “All the more reason for you to dust off your bike and ride with me.”

  Elizabeth chuckled in spite of her concern for her friend’s safety. “Nice try. But I don’t have a bike to dust off.”

  They tipped their stylists, paid their bills, and picked up a few items at Wal-Mart that the local stores didn’t carry. “Where do you want to eat?” Sunny asked when they’d checked out.

  “Your choice, girl.” Before going into the Witness Security Program, Sofia Desalvo would never use expressions like “girl.” Her new persona, Elizabeth, liberally peppered her vocabulary with such.

  Sunny drove to a chain steakhouse, famous for its stuffed animal heads on the walls staring at the diners. After they ordered, Sunny flashed a wide grin at Elizabeth. “Now, admit it. The pedicure was worth every penny.”

  “Yes, it was.” A pang of regret squeezed her chest. “Still, I can’t help feeling guilty. We’re doing something frivolous and fun, when our friend is … dead.”

  Sunny nodded, sobering. “I feel the same. But this is exactly the time we need something frivolous and fun. It’s therapy. I’m sure Cat would approve.”

  Elizabeth’s cell phone rang. Or more accurately, played her Shania Twain ringtone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s Kris. Where are you?”

  Elizabeth glanced across the table at her friend and mouthed, Kris. “Valdosta having dinner. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just thought if you weren’t busy, we could go out for a beer. Since you’re an hour away, forget it. I’m just feeling bummed about Cathleen.”

  “Me, too, girl. She’s been on my mind all day.”

  “I wonder what kind of funeral arrangements her family will make. Have you heard?” Kris asked.

  “Not yet.” Unbidden, the image of Sheriff Drake popped into her head. “Maybe we could ask the sheriff.”

  Across the table, Sunny did an eye roll and said, “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Elizabeth glared. Why did Sunny tease her about Wilson Drake? Why had she said, “He’s hardly your type, Liz.”?

  “Well, I won’t keep you. I just thought if you weren’t doing anything—”

  “Plan on coming over to my place tomorrow evening, and we’ll order pizza from Vinnie’s.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. Want to invite Sunny, too?”

  “She’s going to visit her mother over the weekend. It’ll just be us two.”

  “I’ll bring beer and see you around five.”

  Elizabeth ended the call and shoved her cell phone into her purse. “Kris is feeling down about Cathleen’s murder.”

  “I guess we should’ve invited Kris to come with us today. I didn’t think.”

  “She had PTA tonight, remember?”

  Sunny shrugged. “You know, Kris is going to take Cat’s death the hardest. I think they’d gotten quite chummy.”

  Elizabeth didn’t argue, but she’d connected with Cathleen, too. She and Cathleen shared a love of animals and a career in veterinary medicine, although Elizabeth couldn’t admit as much. They’d even attended the same vet school, although at different times.

  Elizabeth had abandoned her veterinary practice, just as she’d deserted everything else she’d loved and taken for granted. Not that she wasn’t grateful to be relocated out of harm’s way. Cathleen’s murder spooked her, though. Had the Witness Security makeover been for nothing?

  Friday morning, Wil took time for breakfast at the diner, telling himself it was to check with Elizabeth. Maybe she remembered something to add to her statement about Cathleen Hodges. Who was he kidding? Elizabeth intrigued him, no doubt about it. Refreshingly candid and natural, she measured up to everything on his prospective Mrs. Wilson Drake list. The fact that his mind had leaped to thoughts of marriage when he had yet to get to first base with the woman didn’t faze
him. First base? Hell, he hadn’t even stepped up to the plate yet.

  He stopped by her table. “This seat taken, Professor Stevens?”

  She cocked her head and smiled. “Be my guest, Sheriff Drake.”

  Lorraine materialized with a large mug of black coffee. “What’ll it be, Wil?”

  “Better make it toast, bacon, and eggs, darlin’. I don’t know when I’ll get lunch.”

  “Busy day?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, I’m meeting with FDLE about the homicide. Later I have a disaster meeting.” Not to mention his planned search of the murder victim’s home and office.

  “How do you know the meeting is going to be a disaster?”

  That made him chuckle. “No, it’s a meeting about planning for a disaster. This is the height of hurricane season, and I have a regular meeting with the mayor, chief of police, rescue, and FEMA to evaluate our preparedness.”

  She picked up her cup, the steam from her hot tea fogging her glasses. “Well, I hope it’s just a precaution. I’ve never experienced a hurricane, and I’d rather not, thank you very much.”

  “We were lucky last season. With this year’s drought, we could probably handle a rain dump without fear of flooding. But the winds can be devastating.”

  Removing her glasses, she treated him to an unobstructed view of her thickly lashed eyes. Using a paper napkin, she dried the vapor from the lenses. “As far inland as we are, how likely is it that Foster County would be hit by a hurricane?”

  He took a much-needed drink of his coffee before answering. With a homicide on his mind, he really didn’t need the additional worry of hurricanes. “This area averages one every thirty or so years. The last was in 2004.”

  “I thought Florida had frequent hurricanes, certainly more often than thirty-year intervals.”

  “Northeast Florida is less vulnerable than the rest of the state.”