Her Alibi

He placed the bag on a granite island that separated the kitchen from the living room, where a wall once stood that had supported a shelf showing off Connor’s surfing trophies.

“Do you want something to drink? No wine...yet.”

“As much as I could use some alcohol right now, it’s still morning and I need my wits about me...all my wits.” Or at least the ones she still possessed after last night’s blackout.

“I have water, orange juice and iced tea from a bottle.”

“Tea, please.” She perched on the edge of the sofa, the soft leather almost sighing beneath her weight, and wedged her purse next to her feet.

When Connor exited the kitchen holding two glasses, the ice clinking with each of his steps, she patted the cushion next to her.

He handed her the glass, tossed a coaster onto the coffee table hand carved from a log and took the chair across from her.

Looked like he wanted to keep his wits about him, too. The two of them had always shared a magnetic attraction to each other, but maybe he’d been able to shut down that magnet after their last contact a few years ago.

“Tell me what’s going on.” He took a long gulp of tea. “Is it that husband of yours?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Right. You’re still fighting with him about that multimillion-dollar company?”

“It’s much worse than that, Connor.”

“Just spill it, Savannah.”

“Niles is dead...murdered.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up to that lock of brown hair that curled over one eye. “Murdered? Wouldn’t that be all over the news? I know I’m kind of a recluse these days, but I do have a TV—cable and everything.” He jabbed a finger at the huge flat screen that claimed the space above his fireplace.

“It’s... He’s... I don’t think he’s been discovered yet.”

Connor jumped from the chair, and the tea splashed over the side of the glass clutched in his hand. “What are you telling me?”

“I found him. At his house. Dead.”

“And you didn’t call 911?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not?” He threw his arm out to the side. “No, why would anyone call the police upon discovering a dead body, especially the dead body of your ex?”

“Exactly.” She took a small sip of tea and avoided his wild-eyed stare.

He stopped pacing and landed in front of the couch, looming over her with iced tea dripping from his hand onto the polished hardwood floor. “What the hell happened to him, Savannah? Why didn’t you call the police?”

She shook her glass to rattle the ice. “He was stabbed to death, and I didn’t call because the police would’ve arrested me.”

“Why?”

“Because I woke up in his house, in his bed, and I don’t remember how I got there.” She closed her eyes and held her breath.

The shocked stillness reverberating off Connor in waves made her more nervous than the agitated pacing. She peeled open one eye and swallowed.

A muscle throbbed at the corner of his mouth, and the fingers curling around the sweating glass sported white knuckles. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy sea.

Then he blinked, drained the tea in one gulp, wiped his palm on the leg of his board shorts and set the glass on the coffee table. “You’d better start from the beginning.”

Warm relief flooded her body and she almost collapsed against the sofa cushions. This was the Connor she’d hoped to see—in control and even-keeled. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but he hadn’t thrown her out on her derriere, either.

Sitting up, she squared her shoulders. “Niles and I met for a drink last night to discuss some business. I had come across something in the books and wanted to see some files.”

“Why didn’t he just send over the file? Why the meeting, the drink?”

She studied his square jaw, clenched in disapproval. Did she detect jealousy in that question?

“Niles had been wanting to discuss other aspects of the business with me for weeks and figured this was his opportunity to have me at his mercy.” She cleared her throat. “I really wanted those files, so I agreed.”

“How did the meeting go?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding the sore spot on the back of her head. “Like all our meetings. We ended up in an argument.”

His eyes flickered, but he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table and she eked out a little sigh because he was no longer looming over her.

“Did anyone at the bar notice you arguing?”

“I’m sure a few people did. We exchanged sharp words and may have got a little loud, but there was no knock-down-drag-out.”

He rubbed his knuckles across his clean-shaven chin. He’d shaved off the beard since the last time she’d seen him. Bearded or not, the man still pushed all the right buttons in all the right places.

She licked her lips, and his gaze bounced to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

“What happened next? How’d you end up at his house? That house in La Jolla, right?”

“Yeah, that one.” She caught a drop of moisture on the outside of the glass with her finger and touched it to her temple. “Niles had left the file I wanted at the house. I had to go with him to retrieve them.”

“Go with him? You didn’t drive your own car?” He tipped his head at the window, toward the Lexus in his driveway.

“I walked to the bar. It was close to my house and you know I don’t like to drive after even one drink.”

“Is that what you had? One drink?”

“Two.” She held up two fingers in a peace sign and then brought the fingers together. “Scout’s honor.”

Unless she’d downed whatever was in that crystal tumbler at the house.

“I’m not checking on you, Savannah. I believe you. What I’m trying to get at is if you were drunk when you left the bar with him.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t get drunk...anymore.”

“So why’d you black out? Do you remember going to his house? Driving in the car with him?”

“I do remember getting into his car. I remember more arguing on the way to the house, arriving at the house and then...” She shrugged. “Nothing after that. I don’t remember what we did at the house. I don’t know how I lost my clothes and ended up in his bed. And I sure as hell don’t know how he wound up dead.”

“And you didn’t...”

“What?” She jerked her head in his direction.

He swiped a hand across his mouth as if to keep the words from tumbling out. “You’re telling me that someone broke into Niles’s house, murdered him in a violent manner and you were allowed to sleep peacefully through it all. Why weren’t you killed along with Niles?”

“That, I can’t tell you.” She skewered him with a gaze. “You almost sound disappointed.”

Connor pushed up from the coffee table and stalked to the kitchen. “Don’t play the poor-me card. I know you too well.”

He thought he did, but she’d kept secrets from him before.

He buried his head in the fridge and popped up with a bottle of beer in his hand. “I’m not offering. Someone needs a clear head here, but it’s not gonna be me.”

“Beer for breakfast?” She held up her hands to deflect his scowl. “Never mind. And I already told you, I have no idea why the killer left me undisturbed...almost undisturbed.”

“Almost?” He took a swig of beer and hunched over the kitchen island.

She jabbed her index finger into her chest. “I did not voluntarily take off my clothes for Niles, and I did not crawl into his bed.”

“The murderer took the time to strip you naked and place you in Niles’s bed? Where was Niles’s body?”

“On the floor next to the bed.”

“Next to you?”

“On the floor.”

He snapped his fingers. “Did you check the security cameras? A place like that, a guy like that—he had to have video surveillance.”

“All disabled.”

He scratched his chin in an absentminded manner. He must’ve just lost the beard and missed it, although why Connor’s facial hair occupied her thoughts at this crucial moment was a mystery. She squeezed her thighs together and huffed out a breath. No, it wasn’t, no mystery.

“Murder weapon?”

“Gone.”

“Blood?”

“All over Niles and the floor beneath him, but only a little on me and none on my clothes.”

“You had blood spatter on you?”

“I wouldn’t call it spatter.” She curled her right hand into a fist. She didn’t want to show him her palm, but she couldn’t hide it. He’d notice it anyway.

Holding her hand out to him and spreading her fingers, she said, “The blood came from some cuts on my hand.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and then skirted the counter and charged toward her. She shrank back when he dropped to his knees in front of her and took her wrist between his fingers.

But she had nothing to fear from Connor.

With a gentle touch, he traced a fingertip over each cut, sending chills down her spine.

“These aren’t very deep...and they’re on the wrong hand.”

“The wrong hand?”

“The wrong hand for stabbing. You’re left-handed.”

She clasped his shoulder with her left hand. “I knew there was a good reason to run to you. D-do you think someone’s trying to set me up for Niles’s murder? Because I do. That’s what I think.”

“Could be. Do you have a motive?” He dropped her wrist and rose to his feet, as her hand slid from his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “Take your pick. We were fighting over the business. With his death, I get the whole thing, controlling interest back in my lap. A-and there’s something else.”

He had returned to his beer and raised his eyebrows as he took a sip.

“Life insurance.” She knotted her fingers in front of her. “Lots of life insurance.”

“It’s natural to assume a spouse would be the beneficiary of life insurance, even after a divorce. It’s not necessarily the first thing most people going through a separation think about.”

“Niles Wedgewood is not most people. He did think about dropping me as his beneficiary after the divorce in favor of his new girlfriend, Tiffany, and his junkie twin brother, Newland, and his sister, Melanie, up in San Francisco, but I convinced him we should leave each other as our beneficiaries until we had the business worked out.”

“And people know this?” Connor tugged on his earlobe, a sure sign of worry.

“His divorce attorney knows it.”

“How much are we talking?”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “Millions.”

“With Niles’s death, you stand to get the business and millions of dollars in life insurance money.”

His gaze sharpened and his eyes looked like chips of ice, sending a flutter of fear to her belly. She’d better get used to that look—especially if she couldn’t produce an alibi for last night.

“Looks bad, huh?”

He nodded. “Did it occur to you for one second to call the police?”

“You know more than anyone why I won’t do that. No, it never occurred to me. I need an alibi, Connor. I need you.”

“You want me to lie to the police for you. Claim you were here last night.”

She leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees. “Mom and I lied for your father.”

There it was.

Connor’s eye twitched at the corner. “There’s no footage of you at the house. You didn’t drive your car, so it wasn’t parked in the neighborhood. How’d you get home? Taxi? App car?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She sprang up from the couch, excitement and hope fizzing through her blood. He was going to help her. “I walked, and if you think that was easy with heels on, it wasn’t.”

“You walked home, got your car and drove straight down here?”

“I showered and changed first, but I didn’t waste much time.”

He snapped his fingers. “Cell phone? The police are going to pull your records. They’re going to know your phone was at Niles’s house last night at precisely the time he was murdered.”

“I didn’t have my phone with me.”

His head jerked back. “You didn’t have your phone? Who doesn’t carry their cell with them?”

“My battery has been dying on me. I left it at home, charging. I thought I’d be walking up to the bar to meet Niles for a quick drink, a discussion and those files.”

“And then you drove down here with it turned on? They’re gonna see that, too.”

“Foiled again.” She held up one finger. “I turned the phone off when I plucked it off the charger. It’s off even now.”

His eyebrows formed a V over his slightly sunburned nose as he pinned her with a slitted gaze before turning away from her.

The look sent a chill up her spine. Despite her explanation, he was wondering why she hadn’t brought her phone with her to the bar...but he’d see she’d been telling the truth about her phone.

“If the police don’t believe you...or me, they can track your license plate. There are cameras on the highway between here and La Jolla. If they want to, all they have to do is enter your license plate number and—” he flicked his index finger against his thumb “—they could get a hit, placing your car on its way to San Juan Beach today instead of last night.”

“I removed my plates.”

Connor swung around, his longish hair brushing his shoulders. “You could’ve been pulled over for not having plates.”

“I figured it was worth the risk for just the reason you mentioned. Did you think I wasn’t listening to you all those times you went on and on about police work and new innovations?” She tapped the side of her head. “It fascinated me. I was listening.”

“What’s your story?” He folded his arms, ready to listen.

“I was upset after meeting with Niles. I made him drop me off near my house, and then I hopped in my car and came down here to see you.” She strolled to the window and rested her forehead against the glass. “I was here at the time he was getting stabbed.”

“Why would you rush to my place? We haven’t seen each other in four years, not since your marriage.”

“We were...in love. Everyone in San Juan Beach knows that. I never got you out of my system. Never forgot you. Never stopped wanting you back.” Her breath fogged the window, and she drew a line through the condensation.

The silence yawned between them until she couldn’t take it anymore. She did a slow turn and met his eyes. “Is that...believable?”

“I suppose it could fool some people.” The frost dripping from every word made it clear she hadn’t fooled him. “But we’re gonna have to make it stick.”

“How? What do you mean?”

“You can’t go running back to your former lover and then leave him a few days later to get back to managing your multimillion-dollar company and spending Niles’s life insurance money.”

“I could if my lover rejected my advances.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“You wouldn’t have turned to him in your hour of need if you didn’t think you’d meet fertile ground. If I’m going to lie for you, you’re going to have to see this through. You’re going to have to stick around for a while to give this story legs.”

“I can do that—if you’ll have me.”

He leveled a finger at her. “I’m not going to get caught in this lie. I’m not going down for you—no matter what you and your mother did for my dad.”

“I understand. It’s in my best interest that we don’t get outed—life or death, actually.”

“Did you pack a bag or rush to me with just the clothes on your back?”

“Of course I packed a bag. It’s in my trunk.”

“I’ll get it.” He held up one hand. “Keys.”

She grabbed her purse from the floor by the sofa and dragged her keys from a side pocket. She tossed her key ring to him, and he caught it with his outstretched hand.

“Be right back.”

She watched him for a few seconds out the window and then turned, her lips twitching into a smile. It had been time to play her ace in the hole, but she knew she could get Connor to come around to her way of thinking. Even though he’d been a cop once upon a time, he had no regard for the police anymore. No trust in authority. Not much trust in her.

She sauntered toward the hallway and peeked into the first bedroom, the master suite, which Connor had transformed with dark woods and rich jewel tones. She didn’t know he had such good taste—unless he’d had help.

She’d come to San Juan Beach with confidence that Connor didn’t have a woman in his life. She still had her spies in this town, and they kept tabs on Connor for her. It wasn’t exactly stalking—just a healthy interest in the one man she’d love forever, but could never have.

The front door slammed and Connor yelled out her name, as if she weren’t down the hall.

She tripped back toward the living room and poked her head around the corner. “What’s the commotion?”

“What the hell is this?” He waved a plastic grocery bag above his head.

“I don’t know what you have there.” She wrinkled her nose as she eyed the bag.

He yanked on the handles, pulling it open. “You don’t know what this is?”

Her heart pounding against her rib cage, she crossed the room on shaky legs.

Connor thrust the open bag under her nose, and she staggered back...away from the sight of the bloody knife.

“Savannah, tell me the truth. Did you kill your ex?”

Chapter Three

Connor studied Savannah’s face as she peered into the plastic bag at the bloody knife.

Her big violet eyes widened, and her lips parted. Those eyes, a color he’d never seen before in his life, and the long lashes that framed them gave Savannah a look of innocence—but he knew better.

Who thought to leave a cell phone at home and remove a car’s license plates without something to hide?

Savannah’s bottom lip quivered as she dragged her gaze from the bloody evidence in front of her to his face. “I—I don’t... No!”

She spun away from him, clutching her belly. “I didn’t put that in my car. You found it in my trunk?”

“I found it in the spare tire well.”

“Why were you looking in there?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her mouth tight as if she blamed him for the presence of the knife.

The knots in his gut tightened. He wanted to trust Savannah, believe her crazy story. God, he loved this woman...once.

“The corner of the cover wasn’t lying flat, so I lifted it. The bag looked out of place. What’s it doing there, Savannah? Is it the murder weapon?”

“How do I know?” She lifted her shoulders to her ears and turned to face him. “I’m telling you, Connor, I blacked out when I got to Niles’s place.”

“The point being, you could’ve got into an argument with him, continued your argument from the bar even and...”

“Stabbed him multiple times in the back?” She shook her head back and forth.

“Maybe it was self-defense.” He tied the handles of the bag together and placed it on the floor by the front door—not that he could leave it there. “Maybe the fight got physical, and he attacked you with a knife. You got it away from him and struck back.”

“That’s insane, Connor. I didn’t have any...” She stopped and touched the back of her head with her fingertips.

“Any what? What’s wrong?”

“I have a bump on my head. I was going to say I didn’t have any injuries, but I have this lump on the back of my skull and these cuts on my hand.”

His feet had been rooted to the floor ever since he’d entered with the knife and a terrible dread in his gut. Now a new urgency propelled him forward.

He took Savannah by the shoulders. “Turn around.”

She presented her back to him, and a silky fall of dark hair rippled across her shoulders.

He nestled his fingers in the strands of her hair and slid them up to her scalp.

She winced and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Here?” He traced a large, hard knot on Savannah’s head.

“Ouch. That’s the spot.”

“You didn’t have that before you woke up this morning?”

“No. I don’t think the skin is broken, and I didn’t notice any blood in my hair.”

“He could’ve pushed you, and you fell back against something.”

“Maybe that’s why I blacked out. Oh, Connor.” Dipping her head, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what happened last night.”

His hands dropped to her shoulders again and he massaged his thumbs between her shoulder blades. “We’re going to figure it out, Savannah.”

“And what if we figure out I’m responsible for Niles’s death?”

He turned her around to face him and kissed her forehead. “We’ll deal with it.”

“And what about that?” She pointed a slightly trembling finger at the bag by the door.

“We should get it tested for blood and fingerprints.”

She jerked back from him. “Are you crazy?”

“I thought you wanted to find out who killed Niles.” He folded his arms and dug his fingers into his biceps to keep from touching Savannah again. That never seemed to end well for him.

“Yes, but how are we going to ID blood and prints from the knife without taking it to the police?” She sliced a hand through the air. “I’m not doing that, Connor.”

“I think I can work around that.”

“Connections?”

“Maybe a few.” His father had been police chief in this town for over twenty years, before the sheriff’s department took over and swallowed up the San Juan Beach PD. “In the meantime...”

“In the meantime, get rid of it.”

“I’ll find a place.” He aimed his foot at the suitcase he’d dragged in with the knife. “Why don’t you unpack and get ready for our first appearance?”

“Our first appearance where?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

“In public. If you showed up on my doorstep last night, we’d be out and about by now...or at least we should be to prove you’re here.”

“Makes sense.” She tossed her wound-up hair over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Like you pointed out earlier, I owe you for what you and your mom did for my dad. You never let me repay you for that.”

“Because even though Mom and I lied...and said Chief Wells killed my stepfather in self-defense, it still led to your dad’s death.”

Connor gritted his teeth. “Self-defense or not, it would’ve ended for Dad that way. Your stepfather’s associates were not going to let anyone get away with killing Manny Edmonds without payback.”

“My mom was always grateful for...what your father did.”

“My dad would’ve done anything for your mom.” Apparently it ran in the Wellses’ blood to do anything for the Martell women. Dad’s devotion to Savannah’s mother had broken up his marriage to Mom and ended his life. And Connor’s own devotion to Savannah had strained his relationship with his mother. How would this latest association end?

“Brunch?”

“What?” Connor ran a hand down the side of his face.

“I’m going to change while you get rid of that knife. Are we having brunch or lunch out to show my presence in San Juan Beach?”

Savannah sure seemed anxious to dispose of what was probably the murder weapon. “I’m not going to dump it.”

“Okay, whatever.” She strode past him and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, yanking it up. “I don’t want to know what you do with it.”

“Shouldn’t we take a look on TV or the computer to see if Niles’s body has been found yet?”

She held up one hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to know that, either. Better to feign surprise when the cops come calling.”

With a toss of her head, she tipped back her bag and dragged it across the floor to the hallway.

As she veered toward the guest room on the right, he called out, “Master suite. We’re back together, remember?”

Without a word or backward glance, she changed course and wheeled her bag into his bedroom.

He bent over and snatched up the plastic grocery bag by one handle. As it dangled from his fingertips, he stared at the spot where Savannah had disappeared into his bedroom.

He’d wanted Savannah back in his life for so long and now she was here in the flesh—needing him, sharing his bedroom, willing to engage in a pretend romance with him.