Obsession & Eyewitness: Obsession / Eyewitness

“You really think I should call Ryan tonight?”

“Absolutely. Give him a chance to do the mea culpa. A few emails do not constitute a full-blown affair.”

“I’m surprised you’re so…forgiving, Michelle.”

Michelle shrugged. “It’s the opposite. You should be surprised if I weren’t.”

Amanda walked with Michelle to the front door and out of reach of the headlights. Luckily Michelle had turned on her porch light before she’d left, so she could actually put her key in the lock.

Thrusting open the door, she ducked inside and snagged Amanda’s sweater from the chair. She handed it to her friend and gave her a hug. “Call him.”

She watched as Amanda floated down the walkway, the fog sucking her into its embrace. Michelle waited, listening for the slam of the car door and the growl of the engine. Instead she heard…a soft thud. Fog this thick muted noise, but that didn’t sound like a car door.

“Amanda?” Michelle squinted into the white wisps swirling around her. The lights from Amanda’s car created a dull illumination on the sidewalk, but Michelle couldn’t focus on anything beyond that. Maybe Amanda couldn’t wait to get home and decided to call Ryan on her cell phone.

Michelle descended one step, her hand clutching the banister beside her. “Amanda?”

Scuffling sounds broke the eerie silence, causing the hair on the back of Michelle’s neck to quiver. Her clammy hand slipped from the banister. Had Amanda tripped and fallen on the ground?

Clasping her sweater to her chest, Michelle inched down the walkway to the gate Amanda had latched behind her. Across the sidewalk, still parked in the street, Amanda’s Mercedes loomed in the fog.

“Amanda, where are you?” Michelle pushed open the gate and stumbled onto the sidewalk. She walked in front of the car toward the driver’s side, the door still open to the street. As she scuffed her feet along the asphalt, hands held in front of her like a blind person, her toe plowed into something soft and giving on the ground.

Michelle’s heart skittered in her chest as she crouched down next to the inert form. Amanda must’ve fallen and injured herself. The lights from the car’s interior cast a waxy glow on Amanda’s pale cheek. Michelle wedged a hand beneath her friend’s head and turned it toward her.

Amanda’s wide, staring eyes sent a river of chills down Michelle’s spine. Then she became aware of the sticky wetness oozing through her fingers.

As Michelle drew away her hand, Amanda’s head lolled back revealing a dark slash across her neck.

Michelle fell backward, as a high, keening wail pierced the blanket of fog. It wasn’t until she stopped to breathe that she realized the sound was coming from her own mouth.

CHAPTER TWO

THE CRY, LIKE an animal in extreme pain, shot through the fog and pierced his gut. But Colin knew human suffering when he heard it. He was intimately familiar with human suffering.

He dropped the rocks he’d been chucking into the water and lurched toward the sound. After a few seconds’ break, the wail began again and he glommed onto the sound of misery like a homing device. He stumbled from the sand onto the dirt path leading to the road.

Through the veil of white mist, he discerned a car parked on the street, its headlights on and the driver’s-side door open. As he jogged closer, the fog parted to reveal two figures, both on the ground next to the open door. Had there been an accident?

He heaved to a stop, his chest tight, adrenaline pumping through his system. One person lay crumpled on the ground and the other, a woman, leaned back on her arms, her head thrown back, her face twisted with anguish.

He squatted beside the nonresponsive person and jerked back. Someone had slit her throat. He’d seen her face before…at the restaurant.

He scrambled toward the other woman, Michelle Girard, and grabbed her shoulders. “What happened? Who did this?”

Her wide, glassy eyes skimmed his face as she dragged in another breath. He shook her to dispel the shock, and the oncoming scream gurgled in her throat.

Then her gaze darted back and forth and she clutched his shirt, popping off two buttons with the strength of her grip. “He’s here.”

She scrambled to her feet, dragging him with her. Her body shook convulsively and her knees gave way. Before she could fall to the ground, Colin wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the body of her friend.

“Did you see him?”

Her head whipped around, dislodging the droplets of moisture clinging to her hair and showering his face. “No. He must still be here. I didn’t hear a car. I didn’t see anything.”

Colin reached between their bodies and unzipped his gun bag, hanging around his waist. He withdrew his weapon and pulled Michelle toward the house with the white picket fence. “This is your house, right?”

She glanced at his Glock, and a tremble rolled through her slim frame.

“I’m Colin Roarke.” He rubbed a circle on her stiff back. “Do you remember me from the restaurant a few hours ago?”

She nodded, and he propelled her toward the front door. He halted on the porch. “Did you leave your door open?”

Again she nodded, and Colin pushed over the threshold, clutching his gun. Michelle clung to his arm with her blood-stained hands as he checked the other rooms in the small house.

He grabbed her phone and called 9-1-1, and then tried to get Michelle to sit down. Shivers racked her body, and Colin knew if he released her she’d plunge to the floor.

Finally she bent her knees and perched on the edge of her couch. “It just happened. She was leaving my house. I heard noises, but I couldn’t see anything. Oh, my God, he murdered her right in front of me and I didn’t see a thing.”

As she buried her face in her hands, Colin put his arm around her heaving shoulders. She’d been lucky the killer hadn’t come after her. His muscles ached with tension. He wanted to run out there and find the SOB who had done this, but he couldn’t leave Michelle.

He wouldn’t leave her like he did that time when she was a kid.

Sirens blared through the night and they both jumped. Michelle jerked her head up, a shaky hand covering her mouth. “I hope Ryan’s not working tonight. He can’t see Amanda like that.”

Colin pushed off the sofa and headed for the door. Michelle trailed after him. “You can wait inside, Michelle. Someone will come in to question you.”

She twisted her hands, still smudged with traces of her friend’s blood. “I can’t stay inside, especially if Ryan’s out there.”

Colin dragged the collar of Michelle’s sweater up to her pale face. “You don’t need to see Amanda again. Stay in the yard.”

He stepped onto the porch, tucking Michelle behind him. Three police cars and an ambulance squealed to a stop in the street. Must’ve emptied out the entire P.D. of Coral Cove. Did they even have a homicide detective? Colin strode forward, holding his FBI badge in front of him as the red-and-blue lights filtered through the fog.

Colin scanned the faces of the cops swarming out of their cars and didn’t see Sergeant Stewart among them. But like any small-town cop off duty, he’d pick up the call on his scanner. He’d know his wife had been with Michelle Girard tonight.

The officer in charge peeled away from the surge of cops and barreled toward Colin. “What happened?”

“Mrs. Stewart dropped off Ms. Girard and somebody attacked Mrs. Stewart before she got into her car.”

Michelle hovered behind Colin, hooking a finger in his belt loop. She didn’t seem to be able to stand on her own without wobbling, but Colin didn’t mind being her rock.

The cop smacked a hand to his forward. “Stewart? Amanda Stewart, Sarge’s wife?”

“That’s right, Clark. It happened in front of me, but I couldn’t see a thing.” Michelle had stepped forward, pulling back her shoulders, still clutching Colin’s arm for support.

Another pair of headlights plowed through the fog, and tires screeched on the damp asphalt. A man’s voice, frantic and hollow, echoed in the night. Sergeant Stewart stumbled into the crime scene, now illuminated with spotlights and casting an eerie yellow light on all the grim faces. He dropped onto his knees next to his wife’s body and groaned.

Michelle broke away from Colin, her stride strong and purposeful. Two uniformed officers prevented her from approaching Stewart, but she called to him.

From his doubled over position, Stewart raised his head. He staggered to his feet and tripped toward Michelle. She held out her arms and Ryan crushed her body to his, burying his face in her shoulder.

His muffled voice repeated, “What happened? What happened?”

“Officer—” Colin peered at the cop’s badge “—Trammell? Maybe you should question Ms. Girard inside and get Sergeant Stewart away from the crime scene.”

Trammell nodded. “It’s Lieutenant Trammell. You’re that FBI agent, Roarke, in town to investigate Tiffany Gunderson’s death, right?”

“I am.”

Trammell swiped a hand across his brow. “Looks like death is following you around, Agent Roarke.”

Colin clenched his teeth. You have no idea, Lieutenant.

Trammell yelled to one of the gawking officers. “Get County on the line now. Tell them we need a homicide detective and a CSI team.” Trammell tapped Michelle on the back while he clapped his hand on Sergeant Stewart’s shoulder. “Go inside, Sarge.”

With her arm clasped around Stewart’s waist, Michelle led him through the gate and up the brick walkway to her house.

She’d been falling apart just a few minutes ago. Now she was supporting her friend’s husband with the strength of an Amazon woman. Michelle settled Stewart on the sofa and retrieved a box of tissues from the bathroom.

“Do you want some water, Ryan? Something stronger?” She shoved the tissues toward him.

“No. Nothing. What happened, Michelle?”

Stewart asked the question, but Trammell pulled out his notebook.

While Stewart alternately sobbed and cursed, Michelle recounted how Amanda had driven her home and walked to the front door to get her sweater. She grabbed one of the tissues and dabbed her nose. “She disappeared into the fog and I kept waiting for her car to start but I didn’t hear it. I heard some noises and when I went out to investigate…I found her on the ground.”

“Where’d you go tonight, Michelle?” Lieutenant Trammell looked up from scribbling in his notebook.

She glanced at Colin and then shifted her gaze back to Trammell. “We went to Burgers and Brews for an early dinner.”

“Why there? Why tonight?” Stewart practically barked his questions, and Trammell’s jaw tightened.

The tension in the air stretched as tight as a new string on a guitar. Jealous husband? Colin would’ve gone in for the kill with Stewart on edge. Trammell hadn’t even asked Sergeant Stewart for an alibi, but local cops handled their own differently. The homicide detective on his way from County would take care of business.

Trammell cleared his throat. “What were you doing outside, Agent Roarke?”

“My parents have a house down the street from Ms. Girard’s on the other side of Columbella. I walked there after dinner in town and was chucking rocks on the beach when I heard Ms. Girard scream.”

“Did anyone else come out of their house? The Vincents? Did you see anything?”

“There was nobody on the street. I saw the parked car and the two women. I didn’t want to leave Ms. Girard alone to do a search of the area. Can’t see two feet in front of you in this fog, anyway.”

“The Vincents are out of town.” Michelle shot Colin a grateful look from beneath her dark lashes.

Taking care of Sergeant Stewart had put the soft color back into her cheeks. Being needed had given her purpose and direction. Stewart knew he could lean on her, since he’d been clutching her hand ever since they’d sat down.

Just as Michelle had leaned on him after the murder. And he’d liked someone counting on him for the first time since…

As Trammell continued his questioning of Michelle and took a sample of the blood from her hands, Colin kept his lips sealed. He had his own notions about Amanda’s death, but he had more digging to do before trampling all over the local P.D.’s investigation. He’d need a closer look at the crime scene before jumping to any conclusions, and if he found the telltale sign that this murder was connected to Tiffany’s and Belinda’s, he could make a case to his supervisors to take over the investigation.

Because even though he’d led the CCPD to believe he was here on official business, he was actually on vacation. They didn’t need to know that just yet.

Tucking his notepad back into his shirt pocket, Trammell pushed up from the sofa. “Are you going to be okay, Michelle? The team’s probably going to be in front of your house for most the night, so this is the safest place to be right now.”

“I’ll be fine, but what about Ryan?” She squeezed the sergeant’s knee and tears flooded his eyes again.

Colin tracked every detail of the sergeant’s demeanor. The man had skipped right past shock into grief. How had he gotten to Michelle’s house so quickly when he was off duty? He’d asked earlier why Michelle and his wife had gone to Burgers and Brews. That implied they weren’t living together or Mrs. Stewart hadn’t bothered to tell her husband where she was going.

Trammell studied the toes of his shiny black shoes. “Sergeant Stewart is coming to the station for some questions.”

Another fat tear rolled down Stewart’s cheek. Either he didn’t catch the significance of Trammell’s statement or he didn’t care because he had nothing to hide.

A Detective Marsh from the county appeared and assured Trammell that his CSI guys were gathering evidence while the Coral Cove cops were canvassing the neighborhood.

Before taking off with Trammell to question Sergeant Stewart, Detective Marsh had a few more questions for Colin and Michelle.

Michelle told him she hadn’t heard a car’s engine or footsteps or any other noises after finding her friend’s body. And Colin had heard only Michelle’s wail. That’s all he’d needed to hear to block out every other sound and sensation except for an urgent desire to trample out the source of Michelle’s pain.

Colin had his own question for Detective Marsh. “Did you find anything unusual on the body? Flowers? Petals?”

“If the crime scene investigators found anything, they’d have it bagged and tagged by now, Agent Roarke. This isn’t your case yet, is it?”

Colin rolled his eyes. He hated the petty politics of jurisdiction and one-upsmanship that dominated some law enforcement agencies. “Not yet, Detective Marsh.”

Marsh lifted a brawny shoulder. “Then I guess you won’t find out until it is yours.”

Trammell and Marsh accompanied Stewart to the police department, but the coroner’s van had arrived and the cops were still traversing the area. Michelle would hardly be alone, but Colin found it difficult to abandon her.

She dragged in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. “Thank you for coming when you did. H-he could’ve attacked again. I honestly don’t think I could have moved from that spot if you hadn’t come along.”

“I’m glad I was outside.” Colin unlatched his gun bag and settled it, heavy with his weapon, on Michelle’s coffee table. “It’s strange that neither one of us heard a car or footsteps running.”

Her eyelids flew open and she hugged herself, her fingertips burrowing into her sweater. “Even if a Mack truck had driven by, I don’t think I would’ve noticed.”

“But I would have, and I didn’t hear anything.”

“By the time I found Amanda and screamed the killer had probably already run away.” She hunched her shoulders. “You wouldn’t have heard anything once you reached us…me.”

Colin jumped from the couch and crossed the room to the front window. He twitched back the curtain. The back doors of the coroner’s van yawned open, ready for its cargo.

“Columbella House still empty?”

“Ever since… Yeah, still empty.” Michelle shivered and rubbed her arms through her thick sweater.

Colin pressed his hand against the cool glass. “Maybe the killer ran for cover over there and then took off amid the noise and excitement of the police arrival.”

“You mean you think he could’ve been at Columbella all the time we were inside waiting for the police?” Her eyes widened and she pulled her sweater tighter around her body.

Good job, Roarke, scare the lady even more.

“I don’t know.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned to the side and wedged his shoulder against the window. “I’m just guessing.”

“Oh, God.” Michelle spread her hands in front of her face. “I still have Amanda’s blood on my hands.”

She scrambled from the couch and ran into the kitchen. At the sink, she squeezed copious amounts of dishwashing liquid into her palm and rubbed her hands together so hard Colin expected sparks.

As the operation went on and on, Colin approached her from behind and peeked over her shoulder. Lady MacBeth-like, she continued to scour her hands under the hot water, silent tears streaming down her face and dripping off her chin.

Colin grabbed a dish towel, cranked off the water and gently clasped Michelle’s shoulders, turning her toward him. He wrapped the towel around her hands, pulling her close. Then he rested his chin on top of her soft, light brown hair.

“I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry you found her.”

She nodded beneath his chin and sniffled. “We hadn’t been friends that long. We went to high school together, but we really didn’t know each other until several years after we graduated. We became best friends pretty fast after that.”

“And you have your ten-year reunion this summer.”

“Yeah.” She brought the towel to her face and used it to wipe her nose. “I don’t feel much like going now.”

Colin patted her back awkwardly. Her warmth and the sweet scent of her hair made him want to take her in his arms, and in her condition she just might go there willingly.

“Sit down, Michelle.” He grabbed the handle of her refrigerator. “Do you want something to drink? Do you have any wine? Beer? Something to take the edge off?”

“I—I don’t drink.” She slid a glass from the dish drainer on the counter and filled it with tap water. Then she floated back to the couch and sank to the cushion.

“Lieutenant Trammell didn’t ask you many pertinent questions. I guess because this is a small town, and he figures he knows all the answers. That homicide detective will probably call you in for more questioning.” Colin dropped to the chair across from Michelle and hunched forward. “Did Amanda have any enemies? Marital problems?”

Michele took a gulp of water, and then cupped the glass between her hands. “Yeah, well, Clark Trammell already knows Amanda and Ryan are…were…separated. I’m sure he’s already told Detective Marsh and they’re questioning Ryan more thoroughly, but there’s no way he had anything to do with Amanda’s murder.”

“Why were they separated?”

“Ryan sent some suggestive emails to another woman.” She splayed her hands on her thighs and studied her long fingers. “The other woman lived in Colorado and I think Ryan was just flirting, but Amanda didn’t see it that way.”

Colin rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “Did he ever meet this other woman, start an affair?”

“Oh, no.” Michelle shook her head and her silky hair spilled over one shoulder. “Ryan loves Amanda, but she took him for granted and I think he just needed a little validation from another woman. He had no intention of cheating.”

“Sounds like you were on Ryan’s side.”

“I tried not to take sides, but I think a couple should try to work things out, don’t you?” Michelle kept her eyes downcast, her dark lashes crescents on her cheeks.

A muscle ticked Colin’s jaw as he lifted one shoulder. Not if your fiancée cheats on you while you’re overseas serving your country.

“So maybe not the husband, but we know the killer didn’t do it for money. He didn’t steal her fancy car and didn’t snatch her purse.” Colin strolled back toward the window and parted the curtains. The coroner had left and now a tow truck had Amanda’s Mercedes latched behind it.

Michelle joined him at the window, still clutching her sweater around her tall, slender frame. “I can’t believe this is just some random killing. Not in Coral Cove.”

“I don’t believe it is random.”

Turning toward him, she tilted her head. “Why are you here investigating Tiffany Gunderson’s death? She died in an elevator shaft in a hotel in San Francisco. Shouldn’t that be a job for the SFPD?”

Colin took a deep breath and held it. Officially, the FBI had no idea he was here in Coral Cove investigating a murder. Should he tell Michelle that Tiffany hadn’t been the first Coral Cove High alumna to die a violent death? That Tiffany hadn’t been the first body found with a strange yet touching calling card? Should he tell her two, now three women from her graduating class all had their lives snuffed out in an instant?

He searched her wide, dark eyes, still glassy from shock and tears. Easing out a breath, he brushed his thumb across her damp cheek, dislodging a strand of hair. “Tiffany’s death involved some special circumstances. That’s why I’m looking into it.”

Her nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes, no longer cloudy and unfocused. His vague explanation hadn’t fooled her one bit.

She tightened her jaw and then shrugged, returning her gaze to the formless shapes scurrying back and forth in the street. “You’re not at liberty to tell me anything, but I don’t believe for a minute Tiffany’s death was an accident. Not after tonight.”

Colin ran a hand across his mouth. He’d have to watch what he said in front of Michelle because right now she didn’t have to know she might be on this killer’s short list of victims.

She gasped, and her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “Did you see that?”

No, I was watching you.

While Michelle dug her nails into his flesh, he cupped his hand around his face and peered out the glass. “I don’t see anything except the cops out there wandering around.”

She tapped on the windowpane and whispered. “A light at Columbella.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I DON’T SEE ANYTHING.” Colin’s broad shoulder pressed against hers as he leaned forward to squint into the fog-shrouded night.

Could he feel her shivering? Would he realize it had as much to do with his masculine scent and the feel of him next to her as it did with the flickering light she’d seen at Columbella House?

She clenched her teeth and released her grip on Colin’s wrist. Amanda’s blood hadn’t even dried on the street and here she was getting giddy over a man’s touch. Maybe that email had it right: Like mother, like daughter?

Jerking away from the window, Michelle swiped her keys from the table and scooped up a flashlight from a basket by the door. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Are you crazy?” Colin grabbed her hand. “Someone just murdered your friend, and he’s still out there.”

“That’s right. Someone just murdered my friend, practically on my doorstep, and I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.” She wrestled from his grasp and jingled her house keys in her palm. “I won’t be walking over to Columbella House by myself, anyway. The cops and the county CSI guy are still out there.”

Now that she’d blurted out her brash statement, more from guilt than anything else, Michelle dragged her feet to the front door. She didn’t really want to cross the street to Columbella House. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that gloomy old Victorian, so out of place among the bungalows and beach cottages of Coral Cove.

Colin yanked his gun bag from the coffee table by its strap and hitched it around his waist. “If you saw a light at the house, I believe you. But the cops probably already canvassed that area. They might not be so anxious to cover that ground again.”