Dead Certain (13 page)

“Apology accepted.”

“Now, what about this Archer Lowell, this guy who stalked Amanda last year? I know he’s still in prison, but do you think he might be behind all this? Maybe got someone to harass her?” Evan asked.

“I visited him yesterday. He swears he didn’t know anything about it. Says that he understands what it will mean if he contacts her in any way, shape, or form. That he hasn’t even had any visitors other than his mother and his sister.”

“And you believe him?”

“It checked out at the prison. No visitors except for Mom and one sister, and that’s been really sporadic. No outgoing mail. Only calls are to his mother’s house, so I don’t know how he could be pulling it off. And he seemed genuinely surprised when I asked him about it.” Sean shook his head. “On the other hand, there seemed to be something there, under the surface. Nothing I could put my finger on, but a sort of awareness of something.”

“Maybe I’ll pay him a little visit before I go—” Evan stopped midsentence.

“Before you go where?” Amanda asked.

“Before I go back to Lyndon.” He averted his eyes.

“That’s not what you were going to say.” Amanda poked her brother in the chest. “Where are you going?”

“You know how I left the Lyndon P.D. to work with the county?”

“Yeah, so you’re a big-time detective with the county CID now.” She nodded. “So?”

“So there was an opportunity to send someone down to Quantico for some intensive training, and—”

“You’re going to the FBI Academy?” Her eyes lit up. “Evan, you’ve been wanting to do that forever. This is wonderful news! When were you going to tell me?”

“Actually, it’s for the National Academy, not to be an FBI agent. And I just found out yesterday. The guy who’d been asked to go had a family emergency and had to back out, so they asked me if I wanted to take his place.” He smiled at his sister. “But I can go some other time. It doesn’t have to be now.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, but you are if you think I’m going to leave for eleven weeks when someone is stalking you. Someone who may very well have just murdered two of your best friends for reasons we haven’t even begun to explore.” His mouth settled into a grim line, Evan added, “You’re coming back to Lyndon with me.”

“No, I am not. I have to be here for Marian. She only has one niece in Wisconsin, and someone is going to have to be here to walk her through things, to help her out, if she needs or wants it. She’s only nineteen.”

“If she had a niece, she had a sister or a brother.”

“Brother. Died three years ago.” Amanda shook her head. “Marian had only the one niece. Oh, maybe an odd cousin or two, but the niece is her heir, and she’s very young to have to do this alone. I’m sorry, Evan. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not leaving Broeder.”

“Then I’ll come here.”

“And miss your shot at some big-time training? Come on, Evan . . .”

“I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“I have a business to run,” Amanda reminded him.

“Your life is more important than your business,” Evan countered.

“If I could make a suggestion . . .” Sean offered. “Maybe Amanda could stay at my sister’s house. That way, she wouldn’t be alone, she’d be here for the funeral, and she’d be able to keep her business open. And we could keep a close eye on her. Besides, I need Amanda to go through the deceased’s shop and see if she can tell if anything is missing. This investigation is just beginning, Detective. Amanda may have information that she doesn’t even realize she has.”

“I’ll be fine in my house. You’ve just admitted that you’ve been watching it for the past few days, and there haven’t been any problems. I don’t see any reason to move out. Why can’t you just keep up the surveillance?” Amanda asked. Still, she was somewhat intrigued. She couldn’t help but wonder what any sister of Sean Mercer could be like. He was all business all the time, and had been since the minute she met him.

“That was before I had two murders on my hands.”

“I’d feel better if I were the one watching her back anyway,” Evan noted.

“Well, since she’s a witness in a murder in my jurisdiction, I think that responsibility is mine.” Sean held the phone in one hand, the fingers of the other hand poised to dial. “Besides, if we’re wrong about this, and these two murders are just some fluky coincidence—”

“Which neither of us is inclined to believe,” Evan muttered.

“—and have nothing to do with your sister, you’ll have missed a hell of an opportunity.”

“How big a town is Broeder, Chief?” Evan asked.

“We have about seven thousand people.”

“Incidence of violent crime?”

“Very little, actually.”

“And the last murder in Broeder was . . . when, Chief? Before Derek England, that is.”

“About six years ago,” Sean conceded.

“Well, if none of this is connected, you have one stalker and two killers on the loose at the same time. How likely is that, Chief Mercer?”

“Not very. I agree. But we have to keep an open mind and see what the investigation concludes.” He held up the phone. “Do I make the call?”

Amanda folded her arms. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Amanda, this is not negotiable. You stay with someone here in Broeder, or you come back to Lyndon with me now. Simple as that,” Evan told her.

“I’m staying, and you’re going.” She sighed and turned to Sean. “You win. If it’s all right with your sister, that is. Just make certain that she understands that I may have a bull’s-eye painted on my back.”

“I just hope we don’t have cause to regret this later,” Evan said, resigned to leaving Amanda in Broeder.

“Evan, I owe it to Derek and to Marian to do whatever I have to do. I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away now. I still have some of Derek’s records to go through. If there’s anything I can do to help with the investigation, I need to do that.”

“You’ll keep me in the loop?” Evan asked Sean.

Sean nodded. “Leave your card with your numbers on it—one for me, one for my secretary.”

Evan peeled two cards from his wallet and handed them over. “At the first sign of something not being right—the first time something doesn’t feel right—she’s out of here, agreed?”

He stuck out his hand. This was more than an agreement between two law enforcement agents and they both knew it.

“Agreed.” Sean shook Evan’s hand.

“Go on then.” Amanda pointed at the phone reluctantly. “Make the call.”

Sean finished dialing the call, and after a brief conversation, hung up the receiver. “Greer said she’d love to have you stay. She’s happy to have the company, since her husband is going to be out of town at a sales meeting for most of the week and she doesn’t like to stay alone in the house.”

“Great,” Amanda said with more enthusiasm than she felt.

“All right, but you call me if you need me,” Evan insisted. “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t go anyplace alone, don’t—”

“I’m going to be fine, and I’m not going to do anything stupid.” She hugged him. “Go on now. Get back to Lyndon and get yourself packed to leave for Virginia tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. Just go and do your training thing.”

“Right.” He kissed her on the cheek, then nodded to Sean on his way out of the room, pausing for one moment in the doorway. “Anything at all . . .”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Sean assured him.

“I’ll need to go to my house to get some things. Clothes, my toothbrush, you know,” Amanda said after Evan left.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I’ll need to get my car. It’s still out at St. Mark’s.”

“We’ll leave it there for the time being. You’re not going to be going anyplace alone, and if it’s parked anywhere else, it will be a clear sign to anyone who’s looking for you. Oh, before I forget, wait just a minute. . . .”

He walked into the hall, and Amanda could hear his footsteps fade slightly. Minutes later, he returned, her gun in his hand.

“I really have no reason to keep this.” He handed it over to her. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I should have returned it to you sooner.”

“You just did it again. That makes twice today.”

He tilted his head to one side, puzzled.

“You called me Amanda. You’ve always been so careful to address me as Ms. Crosby.”

“Oh. Well, you’re not a murder suspect anymore.”

“Good to know.” She tucked the gun into her purse. “If I’m not a suspect anymore, do I get to call you Sean?”

“Sure.”

“You’re very serious about your job, aren’t you?”

“It’s the most important thing in my life.”

“More important than your family?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“I have no family, other than my sister.” He held the door for her and gestured for her to walk through it, adding, “And I really don’t even know her.”

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

If Amanda had been put in a room with a hundred other women and told to pick out Sean Mercer’s blood relative, Greer Kennedy would have been guess number one hundred. Where Sean was tall and dark, Greer was petite and blond. Where more often than not his facial expression was somewhere between scowl and skepticism, Greer’s was cheery and open, and she exuded a generally happy nature that her brother seemed to lack.

“I’m so sorry about your friend.” Greer met Amanda in the driveway outside her home with a hug that was both welcoming and sympathetic. “What a terrible thing. Now, you come right on in here and, Sean, you bring her bag. Don’t make her carry that. . . .”

“Oh, it’s okay, I can—” Amanda reached for the bag she’d dropped when Greer had first embraced her.

But Greer had already taken her arm, and Sean had picked up her bag, so Amanda permitted herself to be led inside of the little house that was every bit as cheerful as Greer herself.

“Your home is so lovely.” Amanda stood in the entry, from where she could see the dining and living rooms, both of which were painted in rich jewel colors, the furniture polished and pampered, the hardwood floors draped in oriental rugs. Homey touches abounded, from the plump pillows on the sofa to the bowl of phlox and black-eyed Susans that sat in the middle of the dining room table. “It’s so generous of you to let me stay. I mean, a stranger, no notice . . .”

“Don’t be silly. Any friend of Sean’s, and all that.” Greer dismissed her compliment with a wave of one hand.

“You’re very kind.” Amanda smiled, wondering when she and Sean had become friends.

“Now, don’t mention it again. Sean, you just take that bag of Amanda’s up to the guest room—she’ll be in the room you stayed in when you first got to Broeder—then come back down to the kitchen.” Greer turned to Amanda. “Unless you feel you need to rest. I can only imagine how terrible this day must have been for you. . . .”

Amanda shut her eyes, trying to avoid the memory of Marian’s body on the floor. The blood. All that blood.

“I’m all right. Thank you.”
I will be all right. I will be. . . .

“Then let me get you something to drink. Perhaps some soothing herb tea. Or something stronger maybe? A glass of wine?” Greer was all motion, all energy. She talked fast, and her footsteps seemed to keep pace with her mouth. Amanda had trouble keeping up.

“Actually, I think a glass of wine would be wonderful, if it isn’t too much trouble. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble. Now, would you like to sit out on the patio? We just had it screened in. West Nile, you know.”

“What?”

“West Nile virus. Spread by mosquitoes. We screened in the patio so that we could sit outside and enjoy the nice summer evenings without slapping ourselves silly.” Greer continued to talk even after she disappeared through the dining room door. “Those mosquitoes were brutal this year. Damned things were everywhere. And of course, the summer is nearly over now. Won’t be but another month we’ll be able to sit out there without bundling up.”

She bustled back into the room, two crystal wineglasses in hand.

“We’ll use the good stuff today. Just because I feel like it.” She smiled at Amanda as she pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. “Not every day that Sean brings a girl home.” She searched a nearby drawer, pausing to say, “Actually, Sean has never brought a girl home. . . . Ha, here it is.”

She held up a corkscrew, then turned her attention to using it.

“Oh, Mrs. Kennedy, Sean and I aren’t—”

“Greer. Please call me Greer. Mrs. Kennedy was my mother-in-law, God rest her soul. What a character she was. Sean tell you about her?”

Pop.
The cork was out.

“Jesus, Greer, what the hell was that?” Sean appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room.

“It was a cork. What do you think it was? You think someone was shooting at us?” She laughed, then looked at the expression on her brother’s face. “Shit, you did think someone was shooting at us.”

Sean sighed.

“Sean, why would you think—”

“Got any coffee left from lunch?”

“I’ll make a pot. That’s been sitting there for hours. And while I do that, you can tell me why you thought someone might be shooting at this house.”

“It’s not the house, it’s me,” Amanda told her. “Sean, didn’t you tell Greer about Derek? Don’t you think she deserves to know what she’s getting into?”

“I started to tell her,” Sean began to explain, “but sometimes, when you’re trying to talk to Greer . . .”

“Who’s Derek?” Ignoring Sean, Greer turned the spigot on and began to fill a glass carafe with water.

“See what I mean?” He turned to Amanda.

“Derek England was my partner. We owned an antiques shop together out at St. Mark’s.” To Sean, she said, “You could have tried a little harder.”

“Oh, which one? I shop out there all the time. Why, that little clock out there on the hall table came from St. Mark’s.” Greer poured water into the coffeemaker, set the carafe, and hit the on button.

“Our shop is Crosby and England. And Derek—”

“Derek England is the man who was found shot in his car two weeks ago, Greer,” Sean filled in when he saw Amanda falter.

“Oh, my God. Of course. I read about it.” She turned to Amanda. “Oh, honey, that was your partner? You’ve really had a time of it, haven’t you? I’m so sorry. What you must be going through . . .”

“Thank you, Greer.” Amanda swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat.

“Didn’t I hear that the police—” Greer stopped midsentence and turned to Sean. “Sometimes I still forget that’s you. You have no leads, right? I heard it on the news.”

“Right. And then this morning we found another shop owner from St. Mark’s dead—another friend of Amanda’s, as I explained to you when I called earlier.”

Greer stared at Sean for a long moment. “So you’re saying that someone is killing off shop owners at St. Mark’s?”

“You could say that.”

“Should I expect the rest of them sometime between this afternoon and this evening?” Greer asked.

“The rest of who?”

“The other shopkeepers.” Greer fixed her brother with a stare. “Or is there some reason why Amanda might be a target whereas the others are not?”

“We don’t know. Right now, she looks like the only obvious common thread between the two. The only one I know of who was close to both victims.”

“They’re not just victims, Sean, they’re her friends,” Greer admonished him as if Amanda wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table.

“You’re right. They were friends. Sorry.” This to Amanda.

She nodded and reached for the glass of wine Greer had poured for her.

“Did you eat anything today?” Greer asked.

Amanda shook her head.

“I thought Dana picked up lunch for you.” Sean frowned.

“She offered. I couldn’t have eaten anything.” Amanda sipped at the wine. It was cool and slightly fruity and just what she needed at that moment.

“Then go easy on that and I’ll see what I can find for you,” Greer said.

“Please don’t go to any trouble . . .”

Greer waved off her protests. “Not a problem. I was in the mood for an early dinner, actually, and just about to have some of this wonderful tomato and cheddar cheese pie I made yesterday. Oven’s already heated.” Greer turned back to the refrigerator and pulled out a light green pie plate covered with aluminum foil. “What do you think? Want to try it? It really is delicious.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“How ’bout you, Sean?”

“I’ll pass, Greer, but thanks.” He grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. “I’ll pick up something later on. Right now, I need to get back to the station.”

“Oh, sure. Of course. You go on back to work and find the person who killed Amanda’s friend.” She filled a plastic travel mug with the freshly made coffee and handed it to her brother. “Her friends. The same person, right? The same person killed them both?”

Sean nodded. “It looks that way.”

“Then go catch him. I’ll save you some dinner.”

“What can I do to help?” Amanda asked, watching Sean cross the grass on his way to his Jeep, then wave to someone on the opposite side of the street. She leaned a little closer to the window, saw a parked police cruiser. Someone to watch the house, she thought, while Sean was at the station.

“Not a damned thing. You just sit right there, and I’ll heat this up. We can go outside for a bit and put our feet up and drink our wine. And after you eat, you can go lie down for a bit, if you like, or you can sit outside by yourself, if you need to be alone. I’ll understand.”

“Thank you. I appreciate how kind you’re being.”

“Well, this has to be just a terrible time for you.” Greer took a baking sheet from a cupboard and a knife from a rack that stood on the counter. She sliced off two pieces of pie and deposited them on the baking sheet, then popped the tray into the oven. Everything the woman did was quick and smooth.

“Now, shall we sit out on the patio while our dinner heats up?” Greer asked.

Not waiting for an answer, Greer picked up her wineglass and motioned for Amanda to follow her out the back door. The patio was a snug enclosure, with a white wicker love seat and two chairs grouped around a matching table with a glass top. Greer sat on the love seat, and Amanda chose the rocking chair.

“I love a rocker, don’t you?” Greer asked as she set her glass on the table. “So soothing.”

Amanda smiled and sipped her wine. It was cool and silky going down, and she leaned back against the thick chair cushion, grateful for its comfort.

“Now, Sean said your brother was here?”

“He was. He went back to Lyndon, where he lives. He’s got a chance to train down in Virginia at the National Academy.” Amanda heard the trace of pride in her voice. “I didn’t want him to miss the opportunity.”

“Of course not,” Greer agreed readily, though she wasn’t sure what the National Academy was, or why it was important that Amanda’s brother go
now,
but she let it pass. “So, you don’t have other family in the area?”

“No. Our parents divorced years ago. Mother and second family in California, Dad and second—and third—family in Minnesota.”

“Oh.” Greer appeared momentarily surprised. “You have half siblings? Stepsiblings?”

“Both, but they’re all much younger. We hardly know them.”

“A pity.” Greer sipped thoughtfully at her wine.

“Why?”

“If something’s more important than family—however far extended—I do not know what it is.”

“Are you and Sean from a large family?”

Something settled over Greer’s face. “Sean didn’t tell you?”

Amanda shook her head.

“Why am I not surprised?” Greer rolled her eyes skyward. “We lived with our grandmother until she died, then we were put up for adoption. Separately. I was placed with a wonderful couple. Just the loveliest people. I had the best upbringing possible. They’re retired now, living in Arizona and living life to the hilt.”

“And Sean?”

“He . . . had a harder time of things.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact. “He was a tough cookie, even as a little kid. Too much of a handful, they all said. The county would send him out with a family, he’d last maybe a couple of months before they sent him back. Eventually, they just put him into foster care, and he bounced around for a while, until he was eighteen and could join the army.”

“Poor Sean.” Amanda frowned. She’d had no idea. “How did your parents die?”

“What?”

“Your parents. I’m assuming, since you said you were living with your grandmother and later adopted, that your parents had died?”

“I don’t know how our father died, or if he did, for that matter. He could still be alive, for all I know. I have no memory of him at all, nor does Sean. He was never in our lives, and apparently in our mother’s only from time to time, and then just long enough to get her pregnant before he took off again.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have asked . . . Please, don’t feel as if you have to talk about it.”

Greer waved away Amanda’s protests. “And our mother . . . well, we’re still not certain what happened to her.” Her jaw settled into a hard line even as her voice softened.

“I don’t know what to say.” Amanda flushed with embarrassment, but Greer didn’t appear to notice. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Greer stage-whispered, and forced a smile. “On the one hand, I figured you knew, if you were close to Sean, but on the other, knowing Sean, I should have known that he wouldn’t have talked about it.”

“Greer, Sean and I are . . . not close. He’s brought me here because he thinks I’m at risk at home alone.”

“I see. Oh, there’s the timer. Shall we eat out here? No, don’t get up, I’ll bring it. You just sit and relax.”

“Are you sure I can’t—”

“No, no. You just stay put.”

Amanda took another small sip of wine, mindful that it would take little more than a thimbleful to make her head spin, given the day’s events and the lack of food. She put the glass down on the table and looked around the room. On the table next to her chair was a small photo album. She picked it up and began idly thumbing through it.

“Oh, that’s our Kevin,” Greer said as she returned carrying a tray laden with two salad bowls and two plates, each holding a generous wedge of tomato pie.

“Your son?”

“Yes.” Greer set the tray on the wicker coffee table. “He was the joy of my life. I miss him like crazy, every day.”

Amanda was afraid to ask.

“Yes.” Greer recognized the look on the younger woman’s face. “We lost him last year.”

“He was sick?”

“Kevin had Down’s syndrome. He also had spina bifida. Poor baby had so many problems . . .”

“Greer, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She shook her head. “He was a challenge in every way, that boy of ours was, because he faced so many challenges developmentally, physically. But God, how I—we—loved him. He brought us such joy. It was hard sometimes, but he brought us the greatest joy. . . .”

“I’m so sorry,” Amanda apologized for what seemed like the fifth time that afternoon.