I’m Watching You (Richmond Novels #1)

Chapter Four

Monday, July 7, 9:45 A.M.

Lindsay leaned over the sink in the shelter’s kitchen, staring out the window toward the crime scene. Zack had expanded the crime scene to include the entire backyard. No doubt, he’d seal it for days, months. If anything, he was thorough.

Any hopes she’d had of preserving the shelter’s anonymity had vanished when she’d spoken to Zack. He wasn’t going to cut one corner on this investigation. She’d asked Ruby to call around to other shelters to find beds for her six residents.

Lindsay watched as the forensics technician brushed her bangs off her forehead as she stared up at Zack. The tech leaned toward him a fraction, her smile subtle but flirty. One hundred dollars said the chick was wearing perfume.

A familiar knot burned in the pit of her stomach. Was she the one Zack had slept with the night she’d thrown him out of their apartment? Painful memories compressed her heart. She turned from the window. It took a moment before she could breathe deeply.

Lindsay’s fingers tightened into fists. ‘I don’t care who he sleeps with now.’

Ringing phones startled her from her mood. All at once three lines lit up on the phone on the kitchen wall.

Lindsay slid open the pocket door that separated the kitchen from the conference room. Ruby sat at a small desk, the phone cradled under her ear. She mouthed ‘line two.’

‘Got it.’ Lindsay picked up the line in the kitchen. ‘Sanctuary Women’s Shelter.’

‘Lindsay?’

It was Dr Sam Begley, chief resident in emergency medicine at Mercy Hospital. Immediately, the pressure in her shoulders relaxed. Sam and Lindsay had met six months ago when she’d given a seminar on domestic violence to the hospital staff.

‘Sam, what can I do for you?’ She leaned against the sink, her back to the murder scene.

‘You might want to come down here,’ he said in a sober tone. ‘I’ve got a woman in cubicle six who’s been badly beaten. Her story has changed a couple of times. I think the abuse is domestic.’

A protective urge welled inside her. ‘How bad are her injuries?’

‘Cracked ribs. Bruised arms. Sprained wrist.’

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. A headache was starting to pound behind her eyes. ‘Did she say who did it?’

‘No, but she exhibits all the signs you outlined. No bruises on her face. Whoever did this didn’t want anyone to know she’d been slapped around.’

‘Did she say anything about what happened?’

‘She said she fell down some stairs. I was hoping the shelter had a bed available.’

Lindsay turned toward the window facing the cops crowding her backyard. ‘I don’t think we’ll have a bed for a few days. But I could talk to her, try to get her in another place if she’ll take it.’

He sighed into the phone. ‘Good. She needs someone to talk sense into her.’

‘You sound tired. Did you pull another eighteen-hour shift?’

He chuckled. ‘No rest for the wicked.’

Lindsay admired Sam. He was one of the hardest-working people she knew. She checked her watch. Better to stay, deal with Zack, and be done with him. ‘I’m stuck here at the shelter for another hour or so. Can you hold on to her?’

‘She’s over eighteen and can walk out of here any time she wants.’ He dropped his voice a notch. ‘But you know how slow the paperwork moves around this place. It could easily take a couple of hours before she’s discharged.’

Lindsay couldn’t help but smile. Sam made life easy. ‘I’ll be by as soon as I can.’

‘Good.’

‘You’re one of the good guys, Dr Sam Begley.’ She imagined his face turning red.

‘You’re the one who does the real work.’ He hesitated. ‘I had fun at the movies last week. We should do it again sometime soon.’

‘Sounds good.’ She hadn’t really thought of their outing as anything more than a friendly trip to the movies until Sam had kissed her. The awkward moment underscored the fact that she’d not been out with another man since she’d left Zack.

‘How about tonight?’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll buy you a slice of birthday cake.’

Her birthday was in two days. She’d almost forgotten. Leave it to Sam to remember.

‘I’m going to be working late tonight.’ She was grateful to have a real excuse. ‘Rain check? Maybe next week? And make the cake carrot.’

He laughed. ‘Consider it done.’

She glanced at her phone console, noticing two other lines blinking. ‘Hey, look, I’ve got other calls. Lots of stuff going on here today.’

‘Everything all right?’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘No problem. See you in about an hour.’

‘Thanks.’ Lindsay hung up and caught Ruby’s gaze.

Ruby cupped her hand over the receiver. ‘Line three. Dana Miller.’

Lindsay’s stomach knotted with tension. ‘Thanks.’

Dana, the shelter’s board chairman, was essentially Lindsay’s boss. Had Dana already heard about the murder or was the call about the missed teleconference? Neither topic boded well.

She punched line three. ‘Hello, Dana.’

‘What’s going on over there? First you miss our phone meeting and then the director at Riverside Shelter calls and tells me Ruby requested bed space for some of your residents.’

Lindsay sighed. No beating around the bush with Dana. ‘A body was found behind the shelter.’

‘What!’

‘It wasn’t one of our residents,’ she rushed to say.

‘Who the hell was it?’

‘I don’t know. The police aren’t telling me much right now.’

‘Damn it, Lindsay. This is not good.’

Lindsay pictured Dana sitting in her high-rise office wearing her trademark red Brooks Brothers suit. On her desk there’d be a half-full cup of coffee and a cigarette burning in a crystal ashtray. Dana had made millions in real estate and had built a reputation as a hard-driving ball buster who disdained sloppy emotions. Lindsay never could figure why she’d decided to champion battered women or Sanctuary.

‘I know the victim is a man, and as soon as I know anything else I’ll call you,’ Lindsay said.

‘Do you know how the guy died?’

‘No.’

Dana exhaled. ‘We don’t need bad press, Lindsay. Not after what happened before with that other woman.’

‘Her name was Pam Rogers.’ Dana may have forgotten the woman’s name but Lindsay never would.

Dana blew out a lungful of smoke into the receiver. ‘Handle this, Lindsay. I don’t want to defend the shelter again to the media. It’s not good for me or you.’

Handle this. ‘Consider it done.’

The line went dead.

Ruby poked her head into the kitchen, clearly having overheard the conversation. ‘Sorry about that. I wanted to call Riverside first thing. If we can get Aisha Greenland and her boys transferred there, the boys won’t have to switch schools.’

‘The children’s well-being comes before politics. You did the right thing. Did they get bed space?’

‘Yes. I’ve also put a call in to Michelle Franklin over at Hayden House.’ The shelter was in the east end of the county. ‘They’ve got two beds.’

‘We’ve got six people here now.’ Lindsay mentally went through the list of residents. ‘Greenlands to Riverside. Tracy and Cindy to Hayden House. Call the Y and see if they have a bed for Barbara.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘I’ll contact the women at work and tell them what’s happening. The last thing they need is to hear about this on the news.’

Ruby shook her head. ‘What a mess.’

‘Yeah.’

Lindsay called each of the women, did her best to downplay the situation, and promised to transfer their goods to the new shelters so they wouldn’t have to return to Sanctuary. Ruby would pick the Greenland boys up at school and take them directly to Riverside.

By the time she hung up the phone, Lindsay’s head was really pounding. She needed caffeine.

At the kitchen sink, she rinsed out stale coffee from the coffeemaker carafe, refilled it with tap water, and dumped it in the machine’s reservoir. She tossed out the old grounds, scooped fresh into the metal filter, and switched the machine on.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned in time to see Zack step through the front door, a cell phone cradled under his chin. He’d loosened his tie. Thick stubble covered his chin, as if he’d been up all night. His gun rested on his narrow hip.

He spoke into his cell. ‘Ayden, you and Warwick need to see this. Yeah, well, tell him his vacation is over.’

The deep timbre of Zack’s voice swirled around Lindsay, raking over her frayed nerves. Just having him close made her nervous.

Zack had a strong profile and Lindsay found herself liking his hair short. It suited him. Unexpected desire flickered to life. A part of her still wanted Zack. Probably always would. Damn. Her fickle libido was the last thing she needed to deal with right now.

‘I need to talk to the shelter director first,’ he added.

She turned back to the hissing coffeepot, in a sudden rush to have something to do. She pulled the half-full carafe out. Hot coffee dripped down on the machine’s burner as she quickly poured a cup, then replaced the pot. Coffee spilled over the edge of the burner.

She grabbed a handful of paper towels and started to mop up the mess. ‘Damn.’

Footsteps sounded behind her. ‘Patience never was your specialty,’ Zack said.

Lindsay ignored the greater meaning behind his words and swallowed a tart retort. ‘No, I guess not.’ Be nice, she thought. Turning, she held up a mug. ‘You want a cup?’

‘That would be great.’

She filled a cup with black coffee and handed it to him. He thanked her. The forced civility didn’t fit them. Their relationship had never been lukewarm. When they fought, laughed, or made love the intensity could have shaken the rafters. And she’d been proud of that. She’d never figured that that same intensity would also rip them apart.

Lindsay nodded toward her office door. ‘We can talk in my office.’

Tension snapping at her, she headed past him, down the center hallway to her office. Her office, like every other room in the shelter, served many purposes. The public health nurse used her desk when she visited, residents used the space for private meetings, and donations were usually left there before they were sorted.

Stacks of papers covered her desk but she could, at any given moment, find anything she needed.

Lindsay removed a donated clothes bag from a chair and set it behind her desk. She motioned for Zack to sit as she took her chair behind the desk. Here she felt safe.

Zack took a seat and flipped open his notebook.

‘Are you going to tell me who was murdered?’

In no rush, Zack sipped his coffee and then set it on the edge of her desk before settling his gaze on her. ‘You had any trouble here at the shelter lately?’

That was so Zack to answer a question with a question. ‘Not lately. You know about Pam Rogers, the woman who revealed the shelter location to her husband. He picked her up and later he killed her.’

‘Nine months ago, right before I joined homicide. I read the file.’

‘Since then, we’ve had no trouble.’

‘No threatening phone calls? No messages in the mail?’

‘No, nothing out of the ordinary.’ She sipped her coffee. It tasted bitter. ‘So who was murdered?’

He watched her face closely. ‘Harold Turner.’

Stunned, Lindsay dropped open her mouth. ‘The attorney?’

‘That’s right. You know him?’ He stared at her, gauging her reaction.

Yeah, she knew Harold. He liked to slap his wife around, a fact few knew. Lindsay had found out about the abuse when Jordan had cornered her in the ladies’ room at the Race for the Cure fund-raiser two weeks ago. Jordan had told Lindsay everything: Harold’s drug use, the beatings, and the verbal abuse. Lindsay had comforted Jordan and begged her to come to Sanctuary. But Jordan Turner had refused. She had admitted that she enjoyed Harold’s wealth far too much to abandon it. She had wiped her tears away, fixed her makeup, and assured Lindsay she could handle Harold. She’d called her tears a momentary lapse and then downplayed the entire incident.

Lindsay had likened Jordan’s emotional outburst to a leak in a dam. Eventually, the water would widen the dam wall, erode the foundation, and rush out with devastating force.

My God, had Jordan shot Harold? Had she lured her husband to the shelter and killed him as some kind of message to Lindsay? I can handle Harold.

If convicted, Jordan could spend the next thirty years in jail for ridding the earth of human slime. The need to protect Jordan overrode Lindsay’s responsibility to tell Zack what she knew.

‘Sure, who doesn’t know Harold? He’s in all the newspapers. He’s defending some drug dealer.’

‘Have you ever met him in person?’

‘Sure. We crossed paths at different fund-raisers. Two weeks ago, as a matter of fact, at the Race for the Cure gala at the Virginia Museum.’

Blue eyes narrowed. ‘That’s it? You’ve never spoken to him any other time?’

She didn’t look away. ‘Nope.’

His gaze held hers as if he were waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he frowned. ‘You’re not telling me everything.’

Uncomfortable, she leaned forward. ‘Are you some kind of psychic?’

‘I know you.’

She noticed his ring finger. The absence of a wedding band wasn’t a surprise. Because of his undercover work, he’d rarely worn it when they were married. ‘You knew me, Zack.’

His face hardened. ‘I know when you’re holding back information, Lindsay.’

She stiffened. ‘As I remember, you were good at hiding things too.’

His jaw clenched slightly, but otherwise he looked unaffected by her comment. ‘Lindsay, I’m here to investigate a murder, not rehash our marriage. We’ll save that gem for another day. Right now, I want to know if Harold Turner had a connection to the shelter.’

‘You’re right. Harping on ancient history is foolish.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘He’s never been here before, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I’m going to need to see your files.’

She had started a file on Jordan. Only a few notes, but it was enough to prove a connection. She wasn’t going to make it easy for Zack to arrest Jordan. ‘My files are confidential. If you want to know what’s in them, you’re going to have to get a court order.’

‘Consider it done.’ He studied her with more intensity. ‘Why not just tell me all that you know?’

‘You know why. The women who come through my doors or who talk to me are frightened, battered, and often humiliated. Some go on to better lives. Some go back to their husbands. Either way, they know I’ll guard their privacy. They count on me. I can’t betray their trust unless the court orders me to.’

‘Did Jordan Turner ever visit the shelter?’

‘No.’

‘You ever meet her?’

She folded her hands in front of her. ‘She was at the fund-raiser two weeks ago. We spoke briefly.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘How was Harold killed?’

‘Not ready to release that yet.’

‘Harold had a lot of enemies. He’d sell anyone out for a buck.’

‘Then why was he murdered behind the shelter?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Any of your residents have a drug problem?’

‘No. We test all who want to stay here. They’re clean.’

Always one to play his cards close to his vest, Zack simply nodded. ‘I think his body was positioned behind the shelter for a reason.’

Jordan. ‘Just because Turner’s body was found behind the shelter doesn’t mean his death had anything to do with me.’

‘I’ve never put much stock in coincidence.’ He ran his hand down his tie as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Where were you last night and this morning?’

His proprietary tone rankled her nerves. He didn’t have any rights to her time now. ‘I was home asleep. And I overslept this morning.’

He lifted an eyebrow, amused. ‘As I remember it, you rose at five every morning come hell or high water.’

‘A power outage knocked out all of the electricity in my row of town houses. My alarm didn’t go off.’

‘I also never remember you sleeping through the night.’

‘I did last night.’

‘Can you prove you were home last night?’

He didn’t trust her and that hurt more than it should. ‘Do I have to?’

‘It would be nice.’

Very few knew Lindsay had taken on Nicole Piper as a roommate. Her former college roommate had shown up two weeks ago on Lindsay’s doorstep begging for a place to stay. Nicole had left her abusive husband and was hiding from him. Lindsay had taken her in without question. If Zack knew she had a roommate, he’d start checking into Nicole’s past. And that could tip off Nicole’s husband as to her whereabouts.

‘Sorry, I can’t prove anything. I was home alone. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’

He studied her and then deliberately glanced around the office. ‘How many women does the shelter serve each year?’

She rolled with the change of topic. ‘We saw about a hundred women last year.’

‘Impressive.’ He scratched a few words in his notebook.

‘Sadly, business is booming.’

He nodded thoughtfully as if remembering that afternoon in Byrd Park when she’d confided her own horrific past to him. She’d told him of her mother’s murder, of her father’s suicide, and of her running away. He, better than anyone, understood her drive to protect the women and children under her care.

‘I want a list of everyone who was here last night,’ Zack said. ‘I want to see records of all the women who’ve been through the doors since you opened.’

‘Only when the warrant arrives.’

He looked annoyed. ‘You always have to be so stubborn.’

With an effort, Lindsay kept her tone light. ‘It’s what I do best.’

His lips flattened as he rose. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

She stood. ‘Always happy to help.’

At five ten, she stood eye to eye with most men. Zack had a good six inches on her. ‘Is it all right if I leave the shelter? I received a call from Mercy Hospital to counsel a battered woman. The doctor is trying to delay her, but he won’t be able to hold her more than an hour, which leaves me about twenty minutes.’

He seemed to gauge the truth of her words. ‘Keep your cell phone on this time. I want to be able to reach you easily.’

‘It’s always on.’

‘Not this morning.’

He had tried to call.

‘As I said, there was a power outage in my town house complex. I’m sure you can verify it with maintenance. And I put my phone in the charger as soon as I arrived here.’

Zack studied Lindsay again as if trying to pry into her brain.

Lindsay folded her arms over her chest, matching his glare.

‘I’ll be back this afternoon or tomorrow at the latest with the warrant.’

Thanks to Harold’s murder, she would have to deal with all the agonizing baggage she shared with Zack and had done her best to ignore this past year. ‘I can’t wait.’