DEADLY REFLECTIONS (BEHIND CLOSED DOORS: FAMILY SECRETS Book 4) Read online

  He shook his head, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “This job surprises me all the time. I’ve learned some people never step a toe out of line until they do.”

  “What does that even mean?” she demanded.

  He flipped open the cover and slid the device across the table so she could see it. From his side of the table, he cued up a video. He pressed the arrow in the center of the screen. The image was a grainy, black and white view of a professional kitchen. From the angle, she assumed it was a security camera placed up high in a corner.

  At first glance, there was nothing familiar about the location. Paige waited for something more to happen. Ronnie hadn’t arranged all of this without a reason.

  A woman with pale hair pulled up high into a ponytail walked into the kitchen, a notebook in her hand. Paige swallowed as she recognized Melissa, the chef helping her with her dad’s surprise party. Melissa turned abruptly, dropping the notebook and raising her hands in the air. There was no audio, but she was clearly speaking to someone out of the camera’s view.

  She tapped the screen to pause the video and looked up at Ronnie. “This is Melissa Renner’s kitchen?”

  He nodded, then reached over and hit play.

  A moment later Melissa crumpled to the floor, her hands clutching her midsection. Paige gasped and tears filled her eyes as she watched dark fluid puddling around the body, flowing slowly toward the floor drain. Even in black and white it was clear to Paige that the chef had been shot.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips, doing her best to keep the sob in her throat from bursting out. Melissa was more than one of the best chefs in the city, she was a good friend. Paige shoved the tablet away. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “No, no.” Ronnie grabbed the tablet and hit rewind then turned the device toward her again. “Keep watching.”

  “I can’t,” she pleaded. “That’s my friend. And she’s…”

  “She’s dead, yes.” Ronnie’s confirmation was colder than a wall of ice. “I want an explanation, Paige. And I want it right now.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  He sat back. “She was murdered last night. Two bullets hit her, one ricocheted from a rib into her heart. Two other bullets were lodged in one of the kitchen walls.”

  “Between nine and midnight?” she guessed, based on his question about her whereabouts.

  “That’s what the medical examiner tells me,” he confirmed. “We have the time and location embedded in the video as well.”

  “You can’t think I did this. She’s my friend.” Ronnie’s relentless expression didn’t waver. “I was working with Melissa. I sent her a text about desserts for an event while I was waiting for you.”

  “Clever, but hardly enough to clear you.”

  Clear her? What would make him understand? Her gaze slid to the glass. Ronnie had said her father was here at the station and if she could preserve the secret of the party she would. “I need her alive more than just about anyone else in town right now.”

  “Is that so?” Ronnie braced his arms on the edge of the table. His head drooped for a moment before he pinned her with another hard gaze. “It’s better if you’re straight with me, Paige. Don’t make me run around in circles.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He brought up the video again, his finger moving over the screen. He placed it in front of her once more. “Watch.”

  Melissa’s body remained lifeless on the floor, but now a woman with dark hair was crouched at her side. The woman held a gun in one hand and pressed her fingers to Melissa’s throat and then her wrist, apparently checking for a pulse.

  Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and in profile Paige noticed the dark-framed glasses. She wasn’t dressed in the uniform Melissa’s staff wore. In fact her low-cut dark shirt showed generous cleavage from this angle. Not typical attire for a person who belonged in Melissa’s kitchens.

  Then the woman stood and, intentional or not, she turned toward the camera.

  “What on earth?” Paige couldn’t make sense of it. That was her. She was looking at herself. But it wasn’t her. Finally she understood Ronnie’s hard-nosed attitude. Other than the thick-framed glasses, she might have been looking into a mirror. “This isn’t me. I don’t know what you’re up to, but this isn’t funny, Ronnie.”

  “Detective Lewis,” he reminded her through gritted teeth. “This isn’t a stunt or a joke, I assure you. Don’t make this harder, Paige.” He sat down, looking earnest now, but she wasn’t buying it. “I didn’t go to your house as I would have with anyone else. I asked you and your father to come here to keep things as quiet as possible.”

  Because everyone who knew the family well knew Cora had “episodes” occasionally. Paige wanted to spit nails. Betrayal sliced through her, left her feeling weak and exposed. Ronnie knew her better than this. How could he believe that she’d shot her friend? “This is not me.”

  His jaw set. “When was the last time you were in this kitchen?”

  She swallowed. “Yesterday.” Picking up the final round of dessert samples for her mom. It had been her last stop. “This isn’t me.” She lifted her gaze to his and realized her protests were falling on deaf ears.

  “Stop. It’s you,” Ronnie said. “We have more evidence to back up the video. I’m good at my job and I’ll figure it out. So much easier for everyone if you come clean. Tell me what happened.”

  “There’s some mistake.” She had to make him understand. Had to wake herself up from this impossible nightmare. She glanced back at the still image. Yes, that woman looked like her. Too much like her. “It must be some kind of trick.”

  “Okay.” Ronnie folded his arms. “Who would want to trick the police and pin a murder on you?”

  “I don’t know.” A weak answer, sure, but it was the truth. She couldn’t think of a single person who hated her this much.

  “Why did you go see Melissa yesterday?”

  “The event,” she whispered. “Her company is catering an event I’m organizing.” She blinked rapidly, her composure crumbling. “A week from Saturday,” she added in a whisper. Whatever Ronnie thought, she had zero motive to kill the chef in charge.

  “Be smart here, Paige. You need to come clean.” He drilled a finger into the tabletop. “This is serious. A woman is dead and you’ve been caught on camera holding the gun as you check her pulse.”

  “I can’t explain what I don’t know,” Paige said, her throat dry. “This video has been altered or edited or something. I was there yesterday, yes. And I was home by seven-thirty. Home all night.” She stared at the face identical to her own, baffled. “This looks bad but it just isn’t possible.”

  “Looks bad?” Ronnie echoed. “I have you at the scene with the murder weapon.”

  He was so stern. So sure. She was screwed. “N-not me.” She licked her lips, nearly asked for a glass of water. “Can’t you test my hands?” she asked as the thought occurred to her. “For blood or gunpowder or anything else you can think of. You’ll see I’m telling you the truth. I don’t even own a gun.”

  He shook his head. “Your father does. In fact, a gun just like the one found at the scene is registered in his name.”

  She had no idea if Ronnie was bluffing. Her dad did own a couple of guns and he went hunting with friends at least once a year. Paige had never been interested enough in the weapons or hunting to ask for details. “That’s my father’s business. I’ve never held a gun in my life.”

  “Except right there.” Ronnie aimed a finger at the image frozen on the screen. He stood up and moved to the door, opening it for a young woman in a lab coat. “Let her take your fingerprints.”

  “Gladly.” Finally, a way to prove she was telling the truth. “I have nothing to hide.”

  He folded his arms, waiting. When the technician left, she said, “Ronnie, you must know you’re on the wrong track. I’m not a killer.”

  “You’re telling me that’s not you holding the gun, checking the pulse.�
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  “Correct. I can’t explain this person on the video, but it isn’t me.”

  “Money won’t get you out of this,” he warned, his voice low.

  That hurt almost as much as being accused of murder. “You know me better than that,” she said, meeting his gaze head on. Yes, she’d been born into a wealthy family, but she’d been raised by down-to-earth parents who believed in compassion, common sense, and a strong work ethic. She’d made a concentrated effort all her life to become more than the “Coker heiress” and “Alden princess” monikers she’d been saddled with since birth.

  Since birth or since adoption? Not a safe place for her mind to wander with Ronnie watching her so closely.

  “I want a lawyer.” She’d cooperated enough. Friend or not, she’d probably said too much already. Folding her arms over her chest, she pressed her lips together to prevent any further protests. Her gaze dropped to the screen once more, locked in a staring contest with the other woman.

  “Paige—”

  A knock sounded on the glass, cutting short whatever he’d been about to say. He muttered an oath. “Don’t move.”

  She wished she had the guts to stand up and walk out. He hadn’t actually said she was under arrest. But she was too good at doing what was asked, what was expected. She stayed in the chair, stewing, unsure what to do next.

  Chapter Two

  There were few things Carter Oakes enjoyed more than an early morning fishing trip. A soft sunrise on a clear day and the immense quiet out on the sea combined to restore his soul, with or without a good catch. And the sunrises off the Carolina coast never failed to make his heart light.

  His fishing boat rocked gently as he set his lines. If he could live out here, he would. He’d learned early to appreciate solitude and his interests and endeavors usually led him toward individual pursuits rather than team efforts. Just how he was wired. He’d been a freestyle specialist on the high school swim team and his first job had been as a lifeguard. When that work came to an end, he shifted to working at the marina and helping on chartered fishing trips to pay for college.

  He wasn’t a man who would claim life was easy or fair, but on mornings like this it was too beautiful to wallow in what had gone wrong.

  From a clear, waterproof pocket near the wheel his cell phone chirped. He had programmed that particular alert for only one contact: the private security agency he worked for. When he checked the display he saw the one word he expected:

  PROTECT

  Carter gave himself a mental high five. He was eager for a new assignment, even if it meant having his morning on the water cut short. Quickly, he packed up his gear and started back to shore.

  The Guardian Agency had hired him way back when no one else would grant him an interview. They’d given him money and time to finish his degree and a second chance to be the man he wanted to be and do work that made a difference. The phone chirped again and this time a name and photograph filled the screen followed by instructions to wait for the office to call and confirm the first meeting.

  A slight variation on the usual order of things, but then not much was normal or usual about this particular agency. They didn’t advertise their services and they didn’t recruit through normal channels. In fact, they had come to him, pretty much when he was destitute. Not only did they have details about his circumstances that hadn’t been publicized, they praised his decisions and integrity.

  The lawyer who handled the recruiting and hiring process, Nolan Swann, never shared how they’d found Carter. Instead, he outlined the agency expectations and offered up an irresistible package from salary to benefits. Carter had leapt into a new life without a single regret.

  Once he was underway, he took a closer look at the phone. The woman’s face looked familiar but the name brought everything into sharp focus.

  Paige Coker.

  Seriously? She was practically royalty in Charleston. The only child of Jack and Cora Coker, she was a society darling and the most eligible woman in the state since her very public breakup last year.

  Carter considered keeping an eye on the local and regional news part of his job. Preparedness mattered and surprises in the course of protecting a client could spell disaster. Whatever had gone wrong, it was a recent development.

  No wonder he had to wait for the office to handle introductions. The Coker family wouldn’t let just anyone waltz into their circle. If they remembered his name from the days when it had been plastered all over the media, they’d ask the agency to send someone else.

  Once he had the boat back in the slip, he dialed the office, wondering if someone had managed to kidnap Paige. She was an adult, a few years younger than him, but he imagined her parents would meet any ransom demand.

  Even at this early hour a chipper voice picked up on the second ring. “Gamble and Swann, how may I direct your call?”

  “Oakes confirming a new protection order.”

  “One moment.”

  A beat of silence and then he was connected. “Morning, Carter.”

  He recognized Swann’s voice. “Good morning. Calling in as directed,” Carter said. “Am I reading this name right?”

  “You are,” Swann confirmed. “Are you familiar with her?”

  “Only through the press.” He’d had one face-to-face interaction with Paige during his lifeguard days, but he doubted she remembered that. “Is there a direct threat?”

  “Yes,” Swann growled. “The Charleston Police Department wants to charge her with first degree murder.”

  “No way.” It was like taking an electric shock. “Someone on the CPD needs to take another look.”

  “Sounds like I put the right man on the job.”

  “You did.” He waited for instructions.

  “You know the client?” Swann queried.

  “Not exactly,” Carter admitted. “I know of her. She’s always spearheading or volunteering community efforts. I have met her in person a total of once.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “It was a chance encounter during a lifeguard shift years ago. She must have still been in college. My only brush with local celebrity at that point.” It had been a highlight just a few weeks before the tragedy that nearly destroyed him. Life knew how to throw a curve ball.

  On the other end of the call he heard Swann’s low chuckle. “Well she’s leaning toward notorious at the moment. Night before last, a chef in town was shot and killed and they have our client on a security video holding the gun and checking the body.”

  Whoever was keeping that out of the news had serious pull. “She left the gun behind?” He pegged her as smarter than that.

  “No. She claims she wasn’t there and therefore she couldn’t have left anything behind,” Swann explained. “The police believe what they can see and what the evidence backs up.”

  How was she caught on camera if she wasn’t there? Carter turned toward the city, calculating how long it would take him to post her bail and get Paige back home. Usually the legal side of the agency handled those things, but he could do it if they didn’t have anyone in town yet.

  “Is she still in custody?” Carter asked.

  “No, with the help of a local attorney we managed to get her released. Her alibi isn’t strong. Considering who she is and that she has no prior record, we prevailed. Police requested she stay on the Coker estate.”

  “Of course they did.” Not that it would be a hardship.

  “It also means that whoever set her up knows exactly where to find her,” Swann pointed out.

  Definitely a bigger problem. “Who’s with me on this one?” he asked. The Guardian Agency assigned a team to each case: one agent on site and another working up research and technology behind the scenes.

  “Jenna,” Swann replied.

  “Great.” Carter had worked with her in the past and they had a good rapport. “Am I sticking close to Paige or working this from a distance?”

  “Her dad is important to the higher ups here,” Sw
ann explained. “I want you as close as possible, twenty-four-seven until we find the real killer. We’ll take apart this video frame by frame until we figure out who did this and how they managed to get her face on the woman at the scene.”

  “They do claim everyone has a doppelgänger,” Carter said.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, it seems Paige has a murderous doppelgänger. Make sure Paige stays safe, keep her out of jail and dig as deep and hard as necessary to find who set her up.”

  Good. “Sure thing.” Carter preferred the action and challenge of cases with dual orders to protect and investigate. Sometimes, protection orders felt more like babysitting than work. An indefinite assignment to hang out at the Coker estate would make him twitchy in short order.

  “As a legal strategy,” Swann continued, “we need to give the police the right suspect or at least another avenue of investigation. If they get tunnel vision looking at our client, the real killer will skate.”

  “You’re sure she’s innocent.” No surprise there. The Guardian Agency had a knack for being on the right side of questionable situations.

  “I’m sure she didn’t kill her friend,” Swann clarified. “Do you have an opinion you’d like to offer on her innocence or guilt?” he asked.

  Carter was in the same camp as Swann. “I don’t know the facts, but I have a hard time reconciling Paige Coker with this kind of violence. She’s not one for stirring up drama in the press or playing the wealth and privilege card to get her way around town. She really is adored by people across the board,” he said.

  “Someone out there isn’t so enamored with her. Be careful,” Swann warned. “Everything comes under the microscope with a client like the Cokers. The detectives won’t give you much leeway and when this does hit the press, you’ll have less time to sort out what’s happening. Jenna is already analyzing the video to determine if it’s been doctored.”

  The video would’ve been Carter’s first move and he was grateful to have that step handled. He kept a go-bag on the boat, for situations just like this one. “I’ll be at the Coker estate within the hour.” If he needed clothing more formal than khakis and a button down, he and Jenna would cross that bridge later.