Chasing Shadows Page 15

  Hobbs nodded and followed suit. They headed inside the station, making a quick stop by the breakroom to pick up what Avery found to be a rather disappointing cup of coffee. They had just began walking toward the office when Avery heard Chief Deputy Ramsey calling her name. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway of his own office, waving her in.

  She waved back and then turned to Hobbs. “Go ahead and call the coroner’s office to see if they’ve got the autopsy on our victim started yet, while I see what the Chief needs.” Hobbs nodded and continued on, while Avery began to make her way down the opposite end of the corridor. She took a sip of the coffee as she walked, an action that she immediately regretted. Frowning at the bitter taste, she stepped inside the Chief Deputy’s office, one that was only slightly larger than her own. The frown deepened when she saw Bishop sitting in one of two chairs opposite Ramsey’s desk.

  “Gentlemen,” Avery said, taking the seat next to Bishop. Ramsey nodded back to her in greeting, while Bishop sat quietly in the chair looking, Avery thought, a little more arrogant than usual.

  “How are you feeling?” Ramsey asked, shuffling some papers around on his desk as he sat.

  Avery smiled. “Never felt better.” Actually, her hand was throbbing, her shoulder ached, and she still had a slight ringing in her ears—none of which she had any intention of sharing. Avery took a casual sip of the horrible coffee. “How are you?”

  “Fine, just fine,” Ramsey said before leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms before continuing. “Detective Bishop and I were just discussing the 10-89 from yesterday. I think it’s safe to say at this point that we have a murder on our hands.”

  If he fucking says what I think he’s going to say… “It’s still a little early in the investigation, but yes, I’d agree that the signs are beginning to point that way.” Avery kept her eyes on Ramsey as she spoke, making an effort to keep her voice level.

  “Yes, well…” Ramsey shifted around in his chair as if trying to get comfortable. “Given the circumstances—”

  “I’m sorry, Chief, what circumstances are those?”

  “Well, this is going to be a high-profile case, one where we can’t afford to have any missteps,” he said. “Taking that into consideration, along with what happened yesterday with your injury…”

  Avery gripped the coffee cup as she shook her head. “It’s barely more than a scratch on my non-dominant hand—”

  “And a concussion, I believe the ER reported,” Ramsey continued as if Avery hadn’t spoken. The ache in her shoulder began to creep along the back of her neck, prickling her flesh as it moved. Ramsey cleared his throat. “And then there’s your involvement with a potential witness,”

  The anger that had been building since Avery walked in the room erupted. She glared at Bishop. “What the fuck did you tell him?”

  “Nothing that wasn’t true,” Bishop drawled. He crossed his legs as he sat back in the chair and began tapping his fingers on his knee. “As I was explaining to the Chief earlier, your Hollywood friend knew the victim. There could be a question of conflict of interest.”

  “There could the question of my foot up your ass,” Avery murmured, resisting the urge to throw what was left of her coffee at Bishop’s smug face. Instead, she sat it down on the edge of Ramsey’s desk.

  A smile tugged at Bishop’s lips. “I’m sure we can all agree that the last thing we would want to do is give any potential…ammunition…for a defense attorney to latch onto. You know how fickle juries can be.”

  “Listen here, motherfu—”

  “Detective Smith,” Ramsey said sharply. “I understand you’re upset, but let’s not say anything that we’ll regret later.”

  Avery continued to stare at Bishop for a long minute before shifting her gaze back to the Chief Deputy. “Yes, sir,” she muttered. Her temple throbbing, her body trembling with rage, Avery took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. She knew that she was playing right into Bishop’s hands right now, and if she ever hoped to get the Chief back on her side… Well, kicking Bishop’s ass in the middle of Ramsey’s office probably wouldn’t be the way to do that. “So, what is it that you want to do, Chief?”

  Ramsey twisted his lips as if what he was about to say tasted bad. “I don’t think we have any other choice, Smith.”

  “So, you’re kicking me off this investigation?”

  “No,” Ramsey shook his head, “but Detective Bishop will be taking the lead.”

  Her arms crossed, Avery nodded. “And?” She could feel that there was more.

  “And it may be best if you took a couple days off,” he said, looking almost apologetic. “Think of it as medical leave due to yesterday’s incident. It won’t be charged against your vacation time.”

  Seething, Avery gave a curt nod and rose from the chair. She’d only taken a step toward the door when Ramsey stopped her. “Smith, there is one more thing.”

  Fuck, what else? She sighed and turned back to face him. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t want to lead with this because I was afraid…” Ramsey’s expression sobered as he shook his head. “Avery, it’s about Bill Marshall.”

  ****

  After returning home to Loralyn’s house, Cam had decided to treat herself to a hot, relaxing shower before diving back into finishing up the house. Now, dressed in her favorite jeans and a t-shirt, she stood in the center of the living room taking stock of what was left to be done. The room was little changed from the day that Jennifer had stopped by. Decades’ worth of knick-knacks collected from some of the finest yard sales in Alabama sat boxed beside two crates of cookbooks, all ready to be donated to the women’s auxiliary group that Loralyn had belonged to.

  Cam knew that at some point she would have to emotionally deal with the fact that her high school friend was dead. Not just dead, but apparently murdered. For now, though, she had to push thoughts of Jennifer aside if she was ever going to finish packing and closing up the house and get her life back on track to being normal again. Picking up an empty box from the stack near the couch, Cam headed into the kitchen. Once there, she opened a cabinet and began making quick work of pulling out the plates and cups inside. Loralyn, Cam had discovered early on, was a borderline hoarder. From cookbooks to knickknacks to casserole dishes, Loralyn had spent her life amassing all in large quantities. It was, Cam mused as she transferred one of a pair of Gone With The Wind commemorative coffee cups from the cabinet to the box, one of the many things she loved about Loralyn.

  Sometime that morning between the maple bacon and being dropped off at her rental car by Avery and Hobbs, Cam had decided that the apparitions she’d seen yesterday were all just a product of too much stress and too little sleep. Looking wistfully at the coffee cup in her hand, Cam decided that one didn’t have to be attuned to the paranormal to feel Loralyn’s spirit in the house. It was everywhere. The house was preserved just as Loralyn had left it the day before she’d gone into the hospital, as if she might return at any minute. Even the scent of her perfume still lingered in her bedroom. Loralyn’s presence in the house she’d lived in for seventy years was such that, if Cam was on the set of her show, she wouldn’t have to “hunt” very far for evidence.

  Cam placed the cup into the box and reached back into the cabinet. “If anyone’s there,” she said smiling, mimicking a line from her show, “please knock three times.”

  Knock-knock-knock.

  Her hand froze over the second commemorative cup, her breathing stilled. Rhett Butler stared back at her from the porcelain mug, almost seeming to peer over her shoulder. Cam was afraid to look to see what…or who…might be there.

  Knock-knock-knock.

  Trembling, she swallowed hard and forced herself to turn around, grabbing the coffee cup in case she needed a weapon. The kitchen looked just as it had moments before. There were no dark shadows or ghostly mists, just boxed up dishware and the stacks of Tupperware that lined the counter by the sink. Cam cocked her head and listened, r
elieved to hear nothing beyond the sound of the kitchen clock ticking.

  Must have been the wind. Sighing, she shook her head. Damn this place. First I’m seeing things and now I’m hearing—

  “Cam…”

  “Aiieee!”

  “Cam?” Avery suddenly rounded the corner to the kitchen. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide and scanning the room, her hand hovering over her gun belt.

  “I was before you tried to scare the life out of me.” Holding a hand to her chest, Cam leaned back against the kitchen counter. “What the hell, Avery?”

  “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked, so I came on in to make sure everything was okay.” She shook her head. “You really need to keep that door locked.”

  Her heart still pounding loudly in her chest, Cam huffed. “You came all the way over here to tell me to keep my doors locked?”

  Smirking, Avery shook her head. “No, I’ve got something for you.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out Cam’s cell phone. “As suspected, Bishop had it.”

  Cam squealed like it was Christmas morning as she rushed across the kitchen and all but snatched the phone from Avery’s hand. “Oh my gosh, thank you!”

  Avery nodded. “You’ve got like fifty missed calls from someone named Shaye.”

  “That’s my assistant producer,” Cam muttered, scrolling through the missed calls and texts. “She probably thinks I’ve been ignoring her.”

  Avery nodded again and, crossing her arms, gave a quick glance at her surroundings. “So, is that your angle on all this ghost business? Publicity for your show?”

  Cam frowned as she looked up from the phone. “What are you talking about?”

  Avery gave Cam a stony stare and then walked past her and out into the living room. “The whole ride over here,” she said, passing by a stack of empty boxes, “I’ve been trying to figure out what your motive for all this is, but couldn’t figure it out.”

  “You lost me.”

  “The Johnston place, that would be pretty easy…old abandoned house. That it would be haunted would be an easy sell.”

  Shaking her head in confusion, Cam watched Avery wander around the living room, seeming to look everywhere but in Cam’s direction. “Avery, what are you talking about?”

  “What am I talking about? What am I talking about…” Avery broke off her words with a scowl. She faced Cam, her eyes narrowing. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you saw Bill Marshall in my office. I’m just wondering if you’re really that good of an actress.”

  “I saw Bill Marshall in your office,” Cam said matter-of-factly. “I told you last night. He said he wanted to come by and see you before he left town.”

  “You know, I was willing to humor you and your ghost stories before. You’re cute and it seemed harmless enough. But when you…” Avery’s words broke again. She continued to stare at Cam, her expressionless face in stark contrast to the fiery glint in her eyes. “If you think there’s anything to be gained by playing on people’s emotions, you’re dead wrong. You can play your little psychic act on TV all you want to, but not here, not with me.”

  “Avery…” Wait—I’m cute?

  “No, I don’t want to hear it.” She crossed her arms. “What, did someone call or come by my office while you were there and tell you what happened?”

  “What happened? And the only person that came by your office was Bill Marshall.”

  “Give it up, Cam,” Avery said, her tone challenging.

  Cam stared back at Avery, trying to figure what the hell the other woman was talking about. Cam couldn’t help but think that somehow Pissed-Off Avery—eyes stormy, lips set tight, nostrils flaring—was actually pretty hot. Arching an eyebrow, Cam drawled, “Exactly how hard did you hit your head yesterday?”

  Avery continued unabated. “Maybe you decided that it would fit nicely into your little plan?”

  “And what plan would that be?”

  “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

  “Is everybody in this damn town insane?” Cam said, rubbing her temple. “I’ve already told you,” she said with a sigh. “Detective Marshall came by looking for you. He said he wanted to say goodbye before he and his wife left to go be with their daughter.” Cam shrugged. “That’s who he said he was anyway. I don’t have anything else to say about it. There is no plan. There is no angle.”

  Avery opened her mouth to speak and then, eyes widening, skin paling, she closed it. She took in a deep breath and suddenly looked unsteady on her feet. “What did you say?”

  “I said there is no angle.”

  “No…” Avery shook her head. “The other…about Marshall.”

  “That he and his wife—I think he said her name was Jo?—were leaving to go visit with their family.” Cam scrunched her nose as she thought back to the interaction. “I believe his exact words were something along the lines of being happy that he was finally getting to spend time with his daughter and grandchildren.”

  Visibly shaken, Avery looked down and seemed to sway on her feet.

  “Avery, what’s wrong?” Cam took a step forward and placed a hand on Avery’s arm. “Do you need to sit down?”

  Avery flinched as if she’d been burned, staggering back from Cam’s touch. She looked at Cam with an expression that was undecipherable and then turned, all but running out of the house.

  That had been an hour ago. After Avery had left, a bewildered Cam had stood for some time in the living room of the empty house trying to make sense of their conversation. Finally giving up, Cam had decided that the answers she needed would not be found in Loralyn’s cupboards.

  While the last place Cam expected to find herself after the day she’d just experienced was back at Avery Smith’s house… Here I am.

  She knocked twice before the heavy oak door swung open and she found herself face to face with Mildred Smith.

  The contempt for Cam’s presence was written all over her face. “What do you want?”

  Lovely. Putting up with the irrational ire of one Smith woman was more than enough for one day. “It’s nice to see you again, too,” Cam quipped, not waiting to be invited in before brushing past the elderly woman. “I need to see Avery.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Her car is in the driveway.”

  “That doesn’t mean—

  “It’s okay, Grandma,” Avery said, suddenly appearing in the hallway. She stared at Cam for a moment before motioning for her to follow. Cam followed her into the living room and, at Avery’s gesture, took a seat on the settee. Avery sat down on the chair beside it. Cam stared at her. Despite the lines she practiced saying in her mind on the ride over, she suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Hearing a noise, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jane and Mildred hovering just outside the doorway.

  Avery leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temple with her uninjured hand, and quietly regarded Cam, who was struck by how tired the other woman looked.

  “Bill Marshall is dead.”

  Whatever Cam had been prepared for Avery to say, it wasn’t that. Eyes wide, she said, “Oh no…what? What happened?”

  Avery gave a barely perceptible nod before continuing. “Marshall and his wife were on the way back to Bethel Springs from a day shopping at the outlet mall off I-59. A truck swerved out of its lane and clipped their car, causing it to flip. Jo was killed instantly. Marshall…” her voice broke, “…he was rushed to the university hospital in Birmingham, but died in surgery.”

  “Oh no, Avery, I—” Cam moved to rise from the settee, but just as quickly froze, a chill spreading down her neck as a thought formed. “When did this happen?”

  “Five o’clock yesterday.”

  Cam shook her head. “No, Avery, that can’t be right. That would mean when I saw him in your office…”

  “He was already dead.”

  “Avery…I…”

  Her gaze fixed on something just past Cam’s shoulder, Avery continue
d, her voice taking on an almost wistful tone. “When I first moved back home to Bethel Springs and started with the Sheriff’s Department, I was worried how I would fit in. How they would take me being a woman, a gay woman at that. Marshall…he treated me just like one of the guys. Never made a difference to him that I’m a lesbian. He made me feel at home...like I belonged.”

  “Oh, Avery.” Cam resisted the urge to take the other woman into her arms and comfort her, settling instead on leaning forward in her direction. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He told me one time—we’d been up thirty hours straight working on a missing child case and were both overtired. I don’t know what made him….” She shook her head as if trying to shake loose the painful memory. “Anyway, he told me one time that I reminded him of his daughter.” Avery shifted in her seat, turning her focus on Cam. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “The one who’d died along with her two children in the tornadoes that rolled through the state back in 2011.” Cam felt numb as Avery spoke. “How?” Avery asked, shaking her head. “How is it possible that you knew that?”

  “He told me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  Avery continued to hold Cam’s gaze, her face expressionless.

  Cam chewed her bottom lip, deciding it was time to tell Avery everything. She took a deep breath and then said, “He’s not the only one I saw in your office. Jennifer was there, too.”

  “Jennifer?” Avery arched an eyebrow. “Jennifer Morris?”

  Cam nodded, not sure what else to say.

  Avery leaned back in the chair, shaking her head as she gave a mirthless laugh. “The world has gone crazy. I don’t suppose she was kind enough to tell you who killed her?”

  Cam shook her head.

  “Not that it matters anyway,” Avery said, rubbing at her temple. “For all intents and purposes, I’m off the case.”

  “What?” Cam jolted upright on the settee. “Why?”

  Avery flicked her eyes at Cam. “Potential conflict of interest.”

  “What? What conflict of interest?”

  “You.”