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

  That was the last straw. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and her vision blurred. She would not cry in front of a man she’d just met. “Pardon me.”

  She fled from the room, from the house, taking the most direct path to her own home.

  Chapter Three

  “She’s grieving,” Mrs. Coker began. “Please excuse her.”

  Carter cut her off with a smile he’d perfected during his days as a lifeguard at the beach. The easygoing curve of his lips put people at ease, usually right before he gave them a directive they couldn’t ignore. “I’m afraid you’ll need to excuse me,” he said. “She is the client after all.” He caught Mr. Coker’s gaze. “We will need to finish our earlier conversation.”

  “Absolutely.” The older man gave a nod and Carter dashed out after Paige.

  He hadn’t yet been given an official tour of the property, but Jenna had sent a series of pictures from aerial views and press releases, along with the latest security schematic that had helped him get his bearings. Though the main house was huge, it wasn’t much of a challenge when the windows along the back of the house gave a view of the private pool and the path that led down to the boathouse. Paige’s house was in between, behind a soft screen of trees.

  Grieving or not, he recognized a woman on the brink of a breakdown. That made her unpredictable and right now, he needed to stabilize the situation. For her and everyone around her.

  The stress had left her skin pale and dark circles under her eyes. He doubted she’d slept at all last night. He’d noticed the way she huddled into her sweater and clutched her coffee mug as if she couldn’t get warm. When she’d started shouting, he’d wanted to gather her close and assure her he could fix it.

  Not cool. He labeled the urge as random. A hairline crack in his typical professional detachment. He needed to be careful not to let that grow into something problematic. His team was confident in her innocence and after seeing her in person, so was he. Still, he needed a clear head to get to the bottom of this setup.

  He was through the gate at the far side of the pool and on his way down the wide crushed-gravel path when he heard the sobs. Following the sounds, he found Paige crumpled on the steps of her front porch, as if she’d lost the race with her sorrow.

  She was curled into herself, her face cushioned on her folded arms. It felt all wrong to leave her there and somehow worse to intrude. She’d found out about the chef at the police station. His assistant had pulled her cell phone records and noticed the text message she’d sent to the chef before her meeting with Detective Lewis. She’d had no idea her friend had been killed.

  That hairline crack widened as he approached. Without a word, he sat down on the bottom step and waited for the worst to subside.

  They could sit here for an hour or a day. More if necessary. He didn’t care. Her legal team was working those channels to protect her and right now, the best thing he could do was be present.

  At last she sat upright, scrubbing at her face. When she noticed him, her lips parted, then she looked away, apparently too exhausted to be embarrassed.

  “Why don’t we go inside?” he suggested.

  Avoiding his gaze, she wrapped her arms around her shins and hugged her knees close to her chest. “How—” Her voice was a rough croak from the tears and she cleared her throat. “How does this work?”

  “You are my priority,” he said. “I support your legal team by keeping you safe.”

  “Is there a threat to my life I don’t know about?”

  “I hope not,” he replied. “At first glance, someone is framing you for murder. Isn’t that enough to take precautions?”

  “I suppose.” She pulled the band from her hair and thick waves of dark brown silk spilled over her shoulders. Her hands were quick to comb it back from her face and until it was all under control again. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, yet the deep blue irises were as vivid as ever.

  How could he ease this for her? “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”

  “You must say that to all the clients.”

  He didn’t. “You and Melissa were good friends?”

  One sharp nod, then she pressed her fingers to her eyes again. “As I told the police, I have no idea who would want her dead.” She stretched her neck. “I have to pull myself together before I call her assistant.”

  “Not a good idea.” She jerked around to stare at him and he tried to soften the blow. “It’s best if you don’t speak with anyone connected to her right now.”

  “Legally?”

  He watched the awareness fill her gaze. “Yes,” he confirmed.

  She pressed her lips together. “But I’m in charge of the party a week from Saturday. We can’t pull that off without food.” Her fingers rubbed at her temples. “You have no idea how long it took for my mother to finalize that menu.”

  Oh, he had some idea. Cora Coker struck him as a very particular woman. Paige, however, was more of an enigma. He wanted to believe the focus on the party was a diversion rather than an indication of priorities being out of whack. Maybe he didn’t want his illusion of the kind, compassionate woman to be crushed by reality.

  Either way, she needed his help. “Do you have an assistant who can handle the party details?”

  “I’m a freelance consultant,” she said. “People call me when they need to delegate.” She glanced at him. “I’d love to call off the entire thing, but that would wreck my mom.”

  He wondered why Cora was so invested in the annual party for Jack’s firm but chose to see how this played out. “You and Melissa were the only two people involved in the planning?”

  “No.”

  Her sharp answer seemed to startle her as much as it did him. “Paige, I’m going to be beside you through all of this.”

  “Not when I’m in jail for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “It won’t get that far.” He stood, extending a hand to help her up. “You have the Guardian Agency on your side.”

  She took his hand and a zing of awareness seemed to arc across his palm. He smothered his reaction. He wasn’t a newbie who couldn’t control a long-standing curiosity. On her feet at the top step, he had to look up a bit to her now.

  “My dad and I are close and I’ve met most of his influential friends,” she said. “But I’ve never even heard of the lawyer that got me out of the police station.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “You, I remember.”

  Crap. He’d hoped to avoid this or at least put it off a bit longer. “Is that so?” His name and face had been plastered all over the media when he’d tried and failed to rescue a child. He’d done all the right things, but someone had to take the fall for the wrong result. Overnight he’d become a pariah, his lifeguarding days over and with that loss of income, his college plan put on hold.

  Her gaze lifted to his hair and then drifted slowly down his body. It was all he could do to stand still and wait for her judgment.

  “Fourth of July weekend,” she said.

  “Pardon me?” That girl had died, practically in his arms, just before Labor Day. The beach had been packed with locals and tourists cramming in one more beach weekend before heading back to school and fall work schedules. No one else had noticed her struggling in the surf. Another few seconds and they would’ve lost her body forever. Even so, he’d failed to save her. There were nights when he woke with a start, his hands feeling sticky with the sand and blood matted in her sunny blond hair.

  “Fourth of July,” Paige repeated. “My friend lost control of her puppy. The goofball chased a little boy into the surf.”

  “You remember that?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Are you telling me you don’t?”

  “No. Actually, I do,” he admitted. He struggled to pull his head back up and away from the darker memory.

  “You were so mad at her.”

  He’d been angry that the clearly posted leash law had been violated and caused
a kid to suffer. “And you were the only logical person in the group.”

  “Possibly.” Her lips twitched at one corner. “She and I shared a house our last two years of college. I paid for a dog trainer to come work with us.”

  “Did it help?”

  Paige’s mouth curved into a wide, genuine smile. Puffy eyes aside, she was beautiful. “It did. He’s a really great dog now and she’s a much better dog owner.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, sincere. “Are you still friends?”

  “As the society definition goes.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Once it gets around that they’re looking at me for this murder she either won’t want anything to do with me or she’ll be at my side looking for the cheap publicity and easy points for being a devoted friend.”

  That didn’t sound like much of a friendship to him. “That’s okay with you?”

  She tipped her head side to side. “Let’s just say I had to learn quickly who to trust. Part of navigating the events and people who surround my parents.”

  “You trusted Melissa?”

  “One hundred percent.” She looked over his head, back toward the main house, though she couldn’t possibly see much through the trees. “You really can help me sort this mess out?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.” She rolled her shoulders back, seeming to fortify herself before she moved to the front door. “Come on in and tell me how this will work.”

  Light. That was his first thought as he followed her inside. Well, his second thought. Though she had a security system, it hadn’t been armed. That needed to change, but better to take it slow rather than start issuing orders.

  “Great place,” he said.

  The floors were a golden honey color that reflected the sunlight pouring through wide windows. Her home was modest compared to the main house, but no detail had been spared. Built in bookcases anchored one corner and in front of them she’d placed an oversized chair and a small table. Two hand-crafted afghans were layered over the back of the chair. It was easy to picture her there, curled up and lost in a book.

  “You must like to read,” he observed, walking closer. Definitely handmade. His mother crocheted and he recognized the technique. “Did you make these yourself?”

  “My dad’s older sister made one and I made the other.”

  He touched the afghan that had been worked in shades of ocean blue. “This one?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

  “You did.” He hoped chatting about something inconsequential would put her at ease with him in the house. He might be here a while.

  Her lips twitched again. “You’re sure of yourself.”

  “Just a guess. You seem drawn to ocean colors.” The other afghan was all cream and showed an intricate pattern that reminded him of a cable-knit sweater. Artistically done, but this one room revealed how much Paige appreciated color and movement.

  “Well, you’re right.” Her eyebrows flexed into a small frown. She rubbed her hands over her arms as if she’d caught a chill and then hugged herself. “This is about it,” she said. “Living room and kitchen.”

  What was probably a dining area the rest of the year had been shifted around to accommodate a Christmas tree in front of the window. He’d seen it from the porch and figured at night it made a pretty view. Pretty and private, considering how her house was situated on the family property.

  “My room is down the hall,” she pointed. “And the sunroom is back there. I use it as an office.”

  “Guest room?” he queried.

  She frowned again. “You’re not staying at the main house?”

  “You are my priority,” he reminded her. Clients often had a hard time adjusting to that fact. “It’s best if you think of me as your shadow until we sort this out.”

  “That’s how this works?” She pulled the cuffs of her sweater down over her hands.

  “Are you cold?”

  She just shook her head.

  He rocked back on his heels, waiting. Resisting another swelling need to comfort her. “I can sleep on the couch or the floor if that’s better for you.”

  “That’s just silly.” She started toward the hall on the opposite side of the kitchen. “I just assumed since Dad hired you… Never mind. The guest suite is this way.”

  “Your parents did a great job with this,” he said when they returned to the kitchen. He sat down at the island, admiring the unique countertop. “What is this?”

  “Recycled glass,” she replied.

  “It’s gorgeous.” A wealth of hues—pops of deep blue to pale yellow—were embedded in the surface, lending interest to the distressed white cabinets and deep gray accents.

  “I can get you a discount if you’re in the market for new countertops.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He swiveled on the stool. “Can I have a tour of your security system next? We’ll want to keep that armed at all times.”

  Her lips parted as if she would protest, but she caught herself. “You were serious about being my shadow.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Fine.”

  It didn’t take a trained observer to know she wasn’t fine with the idea at all, but she gamely showed him the system, the sensors at all of the doors and windows, and even gave him the primary code.

  “What next?” she asked as they stood in the sunroom.

  She’d transformed the space into an impressive office. Her desk looked to be an antique and beautifully restored. The computer and monitor were state of the art, along with a mic and a camera stand and lights.

  “I often do interviews and webinars for clients,” she explained.

  “Great view,” he said. On the other side of all that glass, a garden bed was framed by low, neatly trimmed boxwoods. The flower bed was mulched for winter, but three large planters in the space were filled with small rosemary shrubs shaped into Christmas trees.

  The rest of the office was furnished with a bookcase and filing cabinet as well as a worktable covered with scrapbooking materials, photos and papers. A trio of plain cardboard boxes were tucked under the worktable. And she had a seating area as well where she and guests could enjoy the view.

  “If you’re up for it, I’d like to talk about the case, get a feel for what to expect.” He found it interesting that she didn’t sit down in that room, but led him back toward the front of the house. Was she trying to hide something?

  “Where should I start?” She flopped down on her couch.

  He took the chair across from her. “Walk me through the day before last. Tell me everything you did between noon and the time you went to bed.”

  Her pale cheeks pinked up and the sudden blush made her look far younger and too innocent to be accused of murder.

  “I worked from home until noon. My first meeting was at one. Then I went by the party venue and we finalized the seating based on my final head count.”

  “The one o’clock meeting was where?” he interrupted, refusing to let her gloss over any detail.

  “I- I’ll get you that information,” she hedged. “It’s in my planner.”

  What was she trying to hide? He hadn’t seen a planner sitting out in the office. Maybe she kept an electronic planner on her phone. She didn’t seem like the type to forget where a meeting had been held or the purpose of it. Her mother, maybe, but Paige was too organized. He opted for patience during this first run through. “Go on.”

  “Umm, right. As I said, after the meeting was the stop at the venue. We booked a restaurant on Shem Creek this year.” She paused, pulled the sweater tight around her middle. “Melissa called in that favor for us.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “I did a little Christmas shopping after that and then stopped by Melissa’s kitchen downtown to pick up the last dessert samplers.”

  “The desserts you texted her about yesterday morning?”

  Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “How do you know about that text?”

  “My technology assistant ran the rec
ords.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It feels intrusive, but everything we’re doing is designed to help you. Did the police keep your phone?”

  “No. They wanted to, but the lawyer Dad sent in fought them on it.”

  “Good. Where is it now?”

  She tipped her head toward the hallway. “In the bedroom on the charger. This morning I just couldn’t deal with it. Maybe I should’ve cooperated with the detectives. When this story breaks, I’ll be inundated with messages.”

  He wondered how long they had before word got out. More importantly, he wondered who had the influence to keep it quiet. “Another reason not to call anyone connected to Melissa,” he pointed out.

  “Okay.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might be frustrated or angry that you were working with Melissa on this event?” Carter asked. “Does the holiday party normally go to a different company or location?”

  “No.” She chewed on her lip, her gaze on her hands as she plucked at the cuffs of the sweater.

  “Paige.” He waited until she met his gaze. She looked so sad and alone. “I can’t help you if I don’t have all the facts. What are you holding back?”

  She shook her head, looking away. “It’s complicated.”

  He wondered if she would elaborate. Maybe she was simply too overwhelmed by the entire mess. Jack had warned him his wife was fragile emotionally and had attempted suicide in the past. Did Paige take after her mom?

  “Melissa and I were not working on the firm’s annual holiday party,” Paige said in a rush, her eyes downcast. “We’re friends. We have worked together in the past. No one was hurt by anything we were doing or any arrangement we had. I’ve worked with other chefs on other events. She was the best choice for this event.”

  “If it’s not for the holiday party, what’s the event for?”

  “My dad’s retirement sendoff. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but at this rate it will be a miracle if he doesn’t figure it out.”

  Her voice was full of bitterness that he couldn’t reconcile with the background on the family. Aside from Cora’s issues, the Cokers were supposedly happy and content as a unit. They frequently attended public events together and supported each other’s pet projects and interests.