Chapter Nineteen
The coroner’s return afforded River the opportunity to escort Vicki to Becca’s shop. He lifted the police tape for her to scoot under. “I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just didn’t hear you knocking.”
“I hope so.” Straightening, she scooped back a strand of blonde hair from her face. “But why are we going this way?”
“Well, with your favorite reporter-stalker standing behind the other police line, I thought it might be better if we slipped between the buildings and approached Becca’s shop unobserved.” Grinning, he removed his gloves and booties.
“Sneaky,” she drawled, her gray eyes sparkling in the crisp midmorning light. After removing her gloves and booties as well, she dropped them into his waiting hand, and he tucked them into his pocket. “I like it.” A smile curved her lips, and his chest tightened.
Continuing up the cobblestone street, they passed River’s car and the police officer on duty. They found a set of stairs and descended to the Riverwalk level. Emerging from between two buildings, they turned left on the sidewalk.
“There’s her shop.” Vicki hurried to the door, and River followed.
Inside, the upscale shop was lit, and the discreet sign in the window displayed the word Open in flourishing script. River turned the knob and found it unlocked. Entering first, he scanned the shop for anything awry.
Across the room a curtain of beads rattled, and Becca entered.
“It’s about time you got here, sleepy head.” The dark-haired artist stumbled to a stop, her eyes wide with surprise. She slapped her hand to her chest, and the bangles on her arm clinked. “Detective Chastain, Vicki?”
Vicki rushed across the studio. “Oh, Becca.”
“What’s wrong?”
She threw her arms around her friend’s neck. “I knocked earlier, and you didn’t answer. I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
Becca’s eyebrows drew together. “Why would you think that?”
“Another girl was found.” River crossed the room, thankful to find the dark-haired artist alive and well. Vicki had been through enough for one morning.
Becca turned to River, her face taut with concern. “Where?”
“The next exit up to Bay Street.” He gestured in the general direction.
“Oh, my goodness!” Her dark eyes grew wider.
“The whole area’s blocked off. Police tape everywhere.” Vicki squeezed Becca’s arm. But instead of relief washing over her features, she remained tense, and a hint of fear flashed across her face.
River studied Vicki. Why was she still afraid? Becca was safe. At one point, he’d worried the crime scene, the mutilated body, and the overpowering stench would be too much for her. But she’d remained steadfast in her assurances she was fine. He shook his head.
“You didn’t answer,” Vicki continued. “I saw people gathering, and when I saw the body, I thought it might be you.” She hugged her friend again. “Thank God I was wrong.”
“I’m fine.” Becca patted Vicki’s back. “I was doing inventory, moving stuff around. I guess I just didn’t hear you. I can’t believe it happened so close by.”
“Did you see or hear anything when you arrived?” he asked.
“No. I got to the shop around six. It was quiet. I didn’t see anyone.” Her face whitened. “Do you think he was—?”
“No.” River waved away her concern. “The timeline puts her death before six. Just routine questions.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Well, I’ve got to get back to it.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. At least this part of the morning turned out well. “Glad to know you’re okay, Ms. Carlson.”
“Thank you, Detective.” She turned toward the beaded curtain, her long colorful skirt swishing around her legs. “I need to go sit down for a moment. Vicki, you can show Detective Chastain out.” Without waiting for a response, the raven-haired artist went into the back room. Long strands of beads undulated in the doorway, softly clacking in her wake.
Pivoting on his heel, River headed toward the shop’s exit. Halfway across the room, he stopped to look at a picture—an excuse to stay a little longer.
“You have good taste,” Vicki said, joining him.
“Never been accused of that before.” The painting was nice, the colors soft shades of blues and greens. River stared at the piece of art. The blends were attractive enough, but he had other things on his mind. “So, what’s up with you and the officer we passed on the way here?”
“Who?” Her mouth quirked, and her brows drew together. “Officer Burns?”
“So, you admit you know him.” His jaw clenched. He hadn’t expected her to know his name.
She wandered farther down the line of paintings. “How about this one?” She gestured toward a medium-sized canvas with deep purple and blue swirls and flecks of gold that sparkled like stars. She crossed her arms over her chest. “When Detective Dauscher directed Lenny and me to opposite corners, Officer Burns was kind enough to keep me company.”
River snorted. “I saw him checking you out.” The guy hadn’t taken his eyes off Vicki. He’d smiled way too much and leaned toward her—an act of intimacy. “You two a hot item now?”
“Why?” She tilted her head, and a curtain of hair fell forward, obscuring half her face. “Jealous?”
He stared hard at the painting, trying to ignore his peripheral of her. All that hair, those teasing gray eyes. Man, he wanted to kiss her again. “I was going to ask you out to dinner, but I wouldn’t want to step on any toes if you’re already involved.”
“At the moment, I’m not seeing anyone.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “And as for dinner, I’d love to go, but I already have plans with Becca.”
“Oh.” Well, hell. What am I supposed to do now, ask her out for tomorrow night?
The beads in the stockroom doorway rattled, and Becca peeked through. “Um, Vicki, about dinner tonight. Something just came up, so I won’t be able to make it. Feel free to make other plans.” She raised an eyebrow and smiled.
Vicki shook her head. “Seems I’m free after all.”
River grinned. “Why don’t I just take both of you out?”
“Oh, no.” Becca stepped through the beads. “You and Vicki go. Have fun. I’ve got painting to do anyway.”
“Please come with us.” Vicki’s eyes were wide and pleading. She bit her lower lip.
River glanced at Vicki. Is she afraid to be alone with me? They’d been out to eat before. He shook his head, remembering while they’d kissed, she’d had a vision of his impending death. Maybe she worried about having another.
“If you’re sure I won’t be imposing.” Becca narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like being a third wheel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” A nervous giggle escaped her lips as she turned to River. “Tell her she’s not a third wheel.”
“You’re not a third wheel.” He grinned. “Besides, sitting at a table with the two of you will make me the most envied man in the restaurant.”
“Okay, then.” Becca nodded. “I’ll go.”
“Good.” Vicki took his arm, led him across the studio, and opened the door. Outside, she looked up at him, her furrowed brow softening. She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. “Thank you.”
He stared down at her, meeting her heated gaze. Desire stirred inside him. “Glad I could help.”
Giving him a shy smile, she stepped back through the doorway. “See you tonight.”
He sauntered down the sidewalk, the warmth of her kiss still tingling on his lips. From her actions, it appeared she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. So what had gotten her so nervous about leaving Becca alone?
Unless…. River put the pieces together as he climbed the stairs up to Bay Street. She must have had a vision about her friend.
Even her statement about worrying Becca had been murdered made perfect sense. She’d wanted to accept River’s invitation, but she didn’t want to leave the raven-haired artist alone. His offer to take both of them to dinner had solved the problem.
He started down the cobblestone street, moving to the side to let the coroner’s van rumble past. The body had been removed, and soon he would get an autopsy report. If the copycat continued in his current imitative fashion, River already knew what the report would say.
Officer Burns stood on the side of the street and nodded to River. “Detective.”
“Officer.”
The guy was crazy to think he stood a chance with someone like Vicki. She was way out of his league. Of course, River still had to figure out why she was interested in him.
From the far side of the police line, Dauscher gave a slight wave. River flicked his wrist, acknowledging he’d spotted him. Paperwork and more paperwork lay ahead. Witness interviews, reviewing the pictures on the UFOP reporter’s camera card, and time spent working with a sketch artist to get a rendering of Matthew.
River strode past his Malibu. He continued as far as the front fender before realizing something didn’t seem right. Backing up, he peered through the lightly tinted window.
A folded white paper lay in the seat.
“Crap.” A ball of ice formed in his stomach. River glanced around. Is the son of a bitch watching me right now?
He dug inside his jacket, retrieved the latex gloves he’d removed earlier, and pulled them on again. With care, he lifted the handle, but the car door didn’t open. A shiver ran down his back. This guy could have rigged a bomb to explode. He moved to the other side and tested the passenger door. Locked. Just like I left it. So how the hell did he get in?
River shook off the tension and took his keys from his pocket. A quick tap of the fob, and the locks released. Opening the door, he plucked the message from the seat. He forced his fingers steady as he unfolded the paper.
At the top of the page, a circle with a pentagram inside and a pointed D in the center had been neatly drawn in thin black pen. Beneath, in bold lettering, the word Licentia. Below were the same initials. KLR. Kent Lee Rowton. Killer.
“Sonovabitch.” The words flowed from his mouth on a whisper of air. The bastard had been here. Right here in plain sight.
“What’s up?” Dauscher approached, his brows drawn. His focus shifted to the paper in River’s hands. “Oh, shit. Is that what I think it is?”
River nodded and held the message for him to see. “Found it in my car. My locked car.”
Dauscher scanned the paper and shook his head. “Sonovabitch is bold. I’ll give him that.”
“We’ll send it to trace, but I doubt they’ll find anything.” He dropped it into a plastic bag his partner pulled from his jacket and held open for him. “What I want to know is how he got it inside my car without anyone noticing.”
Dauscher’s head swung toward the officer on duty. “Burns.”
The guy hurried to them. “Detective?”
“You wander off at any time since you were assigned to watch the line?” Dauscher jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the police tape behind him.
“No. Been here the entire time.”
Dauscher narrowed his eyes. “No distractions?”
“Haven’t spoken with anyone except Ms. Spiere.” Burns glanced at River. “She was up here for a few minutes, but the area remained clear the whole time.”
“What about my car?” River asked. “You could see it the entire time? No one poking around?”
“I could see it just fine. No one went near it.” He stared at the Malibu, and his brow furrowed. “Except….”
“What?” Dauscher snapped.
The officer rubbed his forehead. “Well, the only time your car wasn’t in plain view was when the coroner’s van came through. They stopped, asked if they should go around and enter by way of the Riverwalk or was there room to turn around without disturbing the scene.” His eyes widened with worry. “But they couldn’t’ve been stopped more than a minute or two.”
Dauscher’s eyebrow quirked up. “Plenty of time.”
“Thanks, Burns.” River strode down the street, ducked beneath the police tape with Dauscher on his heels. Frustration ate at him. This guy was brazen yet slick. “Doubt they’ll find anything.” He stopped where the woman had been found. “But let’s get my car dusted again in case he got sloppy. I’ll start questioning witnesses. Who found the vic?”
“Couple of drunk college kids.” Dauscher pulled out his notepad, flipped it open. “Marty Kasson and Donald Gavin. Started the weekend puke-fest early.”
“I’ll want to see them first. Then I’ll move on to the list of potential witnesses.” He glanced up at the rising sun then down at the line of gawkers. Damn, it’s gonna be a long day.