Designed to Death Page 17

  “What’s gone?”

  How in the world did this man ever solve a case when he couldn’t remember a conversation that took place a few minutes ago? “The thread I was going to print out for you proving Ms. Amtower blamed me for Belinda tricking her.”

  “Ms. Amtower posted on this thread.”

  I grimaced. “Not exactly.”

  Ted shook his head as if to clear it. “You’re saying Ms. Amtower accused you on the internet of being in cahoots with Belinda to pull this layout scam over on her, yet she didn’t exactly say it. If she didn’t say those words, what did she actually type on there?”

  I sunk down in the chair. Why did Ted have to make this so hard? “People were saying I was involved.”

  “These people were...” He motioned for me to supply the names.

  This was going to help me. Not. “Little Lamb. JealousMuch.” I included a few of the regular posters names I remembered.

  “Then this should be easy. There shouldn’t be too many people named Little Lamb. A couple of record searches and I’ll be able to round them up.” Ted snapped his notebook closed. “You wouldn’t happen to know any shepherds in this area?”

  I glared at him.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “You are not amusing.” I shoved the chair back a little bit further and stood.

  “I’m here investigating a crime, not for entertainment purposes.” He looked me up and down; a spark increased the green in his eyes. “Though...”

  I shoved my hands in my jean pockets to stop from swatting him. “Mind your manners, Detective Roget.”

  “We should go to your bedroom.”

  “What?” I screeched. “I don’t know what type of girl you think I am—”

  He rolled his eyes. “I need you to tell me if anything is missing from the bedroom.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, I guess he’d want to go there for that reason, and not for the reason his gaze hinted at. Or what I read into his gaze.

  Which, I shouldn’t be thinking about in the first place. I had a boyfriend. Or almost did anyway.

  “Want me to open the door?”

  “Shouldn’t you dust it for prints or something?” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling chilled.

  “Jasper and I did it earlier.” Ted pointed at the doorknob coated in black powder.

  At least I knew what took them so long. Ted hadn’t been making me sit in the car just to annoy me. “Go ahead.”

  Ted opened the door. I braced myself for what I was about to see.

  Relief rushed through me. I forced out the breath clinging to my lungs. Everything looked orderly. For me, it gave more credence to the theory Leslie Amtower had been the one going through my belongings.

  Another woman would know how much an invasion of privacy it was to search the bedroom. Someone going through my dresser drawers made me a little nauseous. This also said the breakin involved business and not personal.

  The places searched were the living room, craft room, and my computer. The places I’d keep proof. Since my job was also my hobby, she looked in my craft area to see if I had kept the items there. Or maybe she thought I was putting together a layout about the brawl and including a print out of the thread into my scrapbook.

  Some scrappers believed omitting the painful things in their life made a person dishonest and your memories a lie. I called it self-preservation. Why would I want to have a visual and written reminder of all the horrible times in my life? It was bad enough I couldn’t wipe them out of my head.

  “Does it appear anything is missing?” Ted drew me from my musings.

  “No. Everything looks pretty much in place. Just the way I left it.” I turned toward the closet and frowned.

  It was opened an inch. I always closed it. I walked over to it, telling myself Ted or Jasper left it open. Everyone knew closets were the go-to hiding place for criminals and nosy people when the owner of the residence or the police arrived.

  I finished opening the door. A few shirts were on the floor but for the most part everything was in place. A shoe kicked out of the way here and there. The criminal had definitely checked out the closet but hadn’t damaged anything. They had saved their rage for the computer room. The edge of a quilt hung down from the shelf a foot over my head. I grabbed the end and tossed it back up. It dangled back down. I glanced over my shoulder. Ted was pretending he didn’t notice me fighting with the quilt.

  Since I didn’t want my skeleton scattering all over the floor, even if Ted knew about it, I hauled out the step stool from the other side of the closet.

  I stepped onto it and started tucking the quilt back onto the shelf. My eyes drifted over to the far corner. My breath hitched. A corner of my “skeleton” box peeked from a pile of sweatshirts thrown on top of it. Sweatshirts I hadn’t put up there.

  With heart pounding, I inched the box out. The top fell off. No! No! No! I grabbed the container and yanked it down. I and the box crashed to the ground.

  Ted said something. My mind refused to process it.

  My wedding picture was gone. Along with the folder containing the case the military tried making against me. The newspaper stories from the post newspaper. Notes I had found showing Adam’s deception and intention of using me. My victimization. My vindication. All gone.

  No! No! No! Fear and anger raced through me. The blood pounded in my head and grew cold in my veins.

  No wonder they didn’t continue their search in my bedroom. They started with the closet and found just what they needed to prove me a murderer—the box holding my past.

  EIGHTEEN

  “What’s wrong?” Ted knelt down and placed an arm around me.

  I shook my head and stared into the almost empty box.

  He reached for the box. “I might be able to get prints off of it.”

  “No!” I threw myself across it.

  The main damage to my life was gone but a few scattered pieces still remained. I didn’t want to have everything out in the open. I should be able to keep a few things to myself.

  “What in the world do you have in there?” Ted worked on prying me off the box...evidence. “Naughty lingerie? A skeleton? Evidence of a murder?”

  I sniffled. “I have never owned naughty lingerie.”

  “Pity.”

  I shot him a glare intense enough to roast him alive.

  Ted smiled and bumped his shoulder into mine. “Good for you. Keep the spunk going. Don’t let a breakin make you believe your life is gone. I bet your grandmothers have some of the same pictures you did, or your other friends.”

  “You don’t understand.” I sat back on my heels, tears dripping down my face. “My life is gone. Or part of it anyway.”

  Ted made himself comfortable on the floor. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  Did I want to tell him? Could I not tell him? Whoever took those specific items did so for a reason, and it was likely to make me look like a murderer.

  “Stuff I had kept from when I was in the military.”

  “Okay.” Ted’s brows drew down. “I’m sure you could write to some agency or organization in the armed forces and ask for your records. If it’s other memorabilia, you could ask on some scrapbook boards or military alumni boards and see if anyone can help you find a way to replace them. You’re resourceful. And ‘no’ has never stopped you before from getting what you need.”

  I liked how Ted kept stressing “you” instead of using the usual “we” Steve and my grandmother preferred. It made me feel more in control and powerful. I needed those feelings right now.

  “It’s not personnel file type of stuff, or ribbons and medals.” My chest tightened. I choked on the words. Taking in a deep breath, I blurted out the truth before it strangled me. “My wedding picture. Articles about the murder.”

  “The murder in Germany Adam Westcott tried implicating you in.”

  I nodded. “Now you know why I don’t want the rest of this leaving my house.”

  “Prints might be on t
he box.” Ted rubbed his chin and stared at the box. “Okay, how about you let me take the empty box.”

  I shook it. “It’s not empty.”

  He looked at me like I was a very drunk family member he actually liked who couldn’t see the simple solution in front of them. “Take whatever is remaining in the box and put it in a different container.”

  Simplicity sometimes seemed difficult. Like when you’re trying a new technique labeled for beginners and it takes an hour to understand the directions, much less complete the “done in fifteen minutes” page.

  I waved my arms around. “Now I have to find a box in all this mess.”

  “You could just let me...”

  “Be quiet.” I snapped.

  I pushed to my feet and scouted around the house. Ted followed behind me, keeping his opinions about my behavior to himself.

  I had a lot of different types of scrapbook storage items in the dining room. I’d borrow something to use for now and get a box from the store tomorrow.

  I scanned all the storage systems. I had a nice array...collection...of them. Every time I found the perfect organization system, something cuter came along and I needed the new ones. Right now, my weakness was cute tote bags I could personalize with clever sayings, or Captain Obvious style statements like paper, stamps, flowers, etc.

  I pulled out a large pink and white tote from under the table with Crop It embroidered across it in turquoise. “This will work for now.”

  I carefully took out the photos, papers, and embellishments I had placed into packets. I put them on top of the dining room table. Hopefully, it encouraged me to get busy scrapping. Maybe tonight once Ted left. I needed something pleasant in my mind or else I’d never get to sleep.

  “I’ll be back down with the box,” I said.

  Ted nodded as he examined the afghan that had belonged to my grandpa. A lump built itself in my throat. He was looking for damage, probably knew someone who could fix it.

  Quickly, I re-housed the items from my “skeleton” box into my crop box and returned downstairs. “Here you go.” I thrust the container at him.

  Ted nodded. “I’ll get this back to you.”

  Nervousness wound through me. I twisted my fingers together. “What are you going to say if someone asks about it?”

  “What I always say to nosy people, I’m conducting a police investigation and can’t answer any question that might hamper the case.”

  “I’m sure Chief Moore will accept that answer.”

  “The Chief isn’t worried I’m harassing citizens by deeming items evidence and carrying it out of their homes.”

  I swallowed hard and brought up the name I was really worried about. “What about Steve? He’s a prosecutor.”

  Ted rested the edge of the box on his hip. “One, Davis can’t prosecute this case. Two, if you’re going to date the guy you should tell him.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if he’d understand. I don’t want—” I couldn’t explain anymore as tears wobbled my voice.

  “Then why are you seeing him?”

  “Good night, Detective.” I held open the front door.

  “Message received, Miss Hunter.” Ted nodded once and stepped out into the rain.

  A pair of headlights pulled onto the street. I stopped and watched. Was the chief bringing my grandmothers home, or had they called Steve to check up on me?

  Ted kept vigil in front of my door, keeping an eye on the car. It slowed but crept past mine and my grandmothers’ driveways and pulled into Steve’s. The dim light from the porch lamp let me recognize Steve.

  He glanced over at my house.

  “Doesn’t look like trouble.” Ted nodded a greeting at Steve as he walked to his cruiser.

  I waved.

  Steve opened his door and went inside, without one hint of acknowledgement toward me.

  Tears whispered along my lashes. What was that about?

  I backed into my house, closed the door and locked it. I leaned against it for a moment, fighting back tears even though I knew no one saw me. I wanted so much to unleash the sob building in my chest and heart.

  No. I wouldn’t let a man crush me again.

  If Steve somehow found out already about my past and thought me unworthy, then so be it. I didn’t grovel. Anymore. I begged and pleaded for a man once and ignored signs that should’ve made me run.

  Not a mistake I’d make a second time.

  Wiping my tears with the bottom of my shirt, I wandered back into my living room area. I paused, sniffing the air. A weird scent lingered. A cross between stale donuts and some woodsy scent crossed with lavender. Ted did woodsy but not with a flower mixed into it.

  Not that I spent a lot of time smelling Ted or anyone else. It also took Darlene off my suspect list. Whenever we had a crop, she always marked in the comment sections of our survey we need less sugar in the snacks we served, including a rundown of the nutrition facts on the sheet. Or if homemade, a question if we had inspected the kitchen to ensure proper food handling and preparing techniques. Yep, Darlene made a crop fun.

  The weird mix clung to the room, or something in it. I sniffed around until I came to the culprit. My grandfather’s afghan. Why did my grandfather’s blanket smell like—nope, not going there. I didn’t need to gather up a bunch of theories of why this one item in my home took on such a strong smell of the criminal. I’d rather be dense on the topic.

  Gingerly, I picked it up and carried it to the washer. I opened the top then dropped it on top of the dryer. Darn it. It was full. I had to do a load of laundry now. What a great way to end this truly, horrible, miserable, no good day.

  An image flickered in my mind. I grabbed the bottle of detergent. The memory tickled my mind again, insistent. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I was in the office. Grandma Cheryl busted in. I shoved a flash drive into my jeans pocket.

  The flash drive! Did I leave it in my pocket? I dropped the bottle to the ground, it bounced off my toe. Ouch! I waded through my dirty clothes until I found the jeans I wore Sunday. I shoved my hands into all the pockets. Yes!

  I pulled it out and did a happy dance. More like a happy hop as my toe throbbed. What was a little injury when I found the evidence someone didn’t want me to have. Take that bad guy. Thought you could thwart me.

  My celebration was short lived when I remembered what they had on me. Maybe, they’d be up for a trade. After I made a copy of everything and hid it in a place they’d never think of looking, like Darlene’s house. Everyone knew we didn’t like each other. There was no way they’d think we’d work together to protect the other one.

  Yep, they’d think Darlene would turn on me faster than the numbers on the national debt clock.

  I retrieved my cell and went to the recent calls section. I highlighted Darlene’s number and hit send.

  She answered on the second ring. “You’re in.”

  “I’m in.”

  “Good. Tomorrow morning strategy session at the store.”

  “Someone will overhear us.”

  “Where wouldn’t someone overhear us that wouldn’t look suspicious? It’s not like we visit each other’s homes.”

  True.

  “We need someplace that easily explains why we are there together and where we can meet soon,” Darlene said. “The ‘you’re guilty’ finger is keeping a steady bead on me right now. I’m not going to jail. I’ll do whatever is necessary to stay out.”

  Like destroying items in my home and taking my ugly to display to the world. Oh shut up, I told myself. I already decided it wasn’t Darlene so I shouldn’t travel back down that road of suspicion.

  We needed a meeting place where Darlene and I would naturally show up at the same time. There went three-fourths of the buildings in town. The grocery store, we only had two and residents frequented both. It held the same risk as Scrap This...too many ears. The hospital. No, her mother and my grandmothers would drive us both crazy. We’d be in Ted’s office fighting over which one of us did
kill Belinda just to escape the worry and lectures.

  “I’m waiting...” Impatience tightened Darlene’s voice.

  “I’m thinking...” I responded, mimicking her tone.

  Ted’s office. The police station. Not bad, except we didn’t want Ted or Bobbi-Annie figuring out what we were up to. We might as well just take an ad out in the paper. The newspaper. Now there was a good possibility. Except for nosy chasing-after-Steve Karen England. She’d be on the phone to Steve to tell him all about my new buddy. Not that he really cared what I did anymore.

  A heaviness filled my being. No moping over a guy. Besides, who said it was about me. The man had a tough job and had been working all hours. Even though he wasn’t on Belinda’s case, the county had a lot of other crimes he needed to prosecute.

  It seemed everyone in town wanted in on taking out legal action against someone. The perfect idea hit me. I grinned. “The courthouse.”

  “Courthouse?”

  “Yep. If anyone sees us there, they’re going to think we’re going to war against each other.”

  “Brilliant. The person who’s trying to set up one of us will think their plan worked and we’re working to prove each other guilty.”

  “Exactly.”

  I’d feel a little bad using Darlene except I knew she was also joining forces in this sleuthing gig to save her own hide.

  NINETEEN

  I parallel parked in front of the courthouse. Hitching the strap of my purse onto my shoulder, I exited my car. Showtime. I lifted my chin toward the sky and marched forward, getting into the act from the get go.

  “Oh Faith...” A voice sing-songed.

  I nearly tripped over my own feet.

  Karen England. Not someone I wanted around when I was creating the diversion of a lifetime. It was going to be hard enough for me and Darlene to pull this off without an observant reporter watching us. If anyone could figure out we were up to no good, it was Karen...and Steve. I hoped he was in court this morning and Mrs. Alwright didn’t notify him of my presence.

  My shoulders slumped forward as I turned around. No sense getting on Karen’s bad side when I needed her kind of liking me and not wanting to cause trouble. Right now, she figured being my friend was a way to win Steve’s heart so I might as well use it for my benefit.