She knew the minute she walked into the real estate agency that something was off. Usually, on Monday morning her coworkers would be gathered around the coffee machine, gossiping and talking about their weekends. Today, there was an odd stillness about them. Instead of gabbing and enjoying their morning brew they surrounded a desk and stared down at a newspaper spread before them.

“Morning, crew. What’s going on? Why does everybody look so serious? ” “ She tossed her briefcase and shoulder bag into her tiny office and headed over to join the others. A couple of them shuffled to the side so Marissa could get a good look at the newspaper. When she finally acknowledged comprehension of what she was reading, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She blinked and read the headline again, trying to accept the reality of it.

 

Popular Realtor Attacked and Murdered During Open House

For the second time in just six weeks, a local female realtor has been sexually assaulted and murdered during an open house event. Anastacia Green, 29, was discovered when the homeowners returned to their residence. The community is asking: Is this the work of a serial killer?

 

Marissa kept swallowing back bile as she scanned the article that reported the finding of the realtor’s body. The police had not confirmed that the deaths were connected, but speculation was high.

The first murder was bad, but this was even worse. Marissa had known Staci Green all her life.

She couldn’t believe her long time long-time schoolmate and arch rival was dead…murdered. The two women had known each other as long as Marissa could remember. True, there had been no friendship there since they were in seventh grade and Staci stole Marissa’s first boyfriend and attempted to steal every boyfriend she’d ever had after that. They had been fierce competitors in the real estate market as well and because their families were friends they were often forced together in social situations where they barely tolerated each other. But she would have never wished her dead…especially not viciously murdered.

“Wow.” The single word was all she could manage to utter.

“They say the police have no leads,” John Sellers, a gangly, bespectacled man , volunteered.

“She was raped before she was murdered.” Grace Wheeler’s voice was barely a whisper, one hand clutching at her tightly buttoned blouse. She used one finger to slide her glasses back up to the bridge of her pointed nose.

“It’s awful, just awful.” Tasha Bennet, the youngest realtor at the company, sniffled. “I don’t think I’ll ever do another open house again.”

Who could have done this? Who?

The questions were still ringing in her mind when a hush fell over the room. Marissa looked up and saw her boss and the owner of the agency striding into the room. a A   striking woman in her sixties, Lydia Hart immediately took command wherever she went. She was classically beautiful, tall and statuesque. Her short full cap of silver hair was always dressed impeccably, her clothes the finest fabrics and designs. She oozed an air of sophistication and control, professionalism and permanent poise.

“Well, I see you’ve all heard the news.” Lydia crossed her slender arms and met each of their gazes with her own piercing icy blue stare. “It’s tragic, it’s shocking, but it’s over. We’re not going to waste time focusing on it. Our Monday morning sales meeting is, as usual, scheduled to start at 9 am. Shall we begin?”

She cast her gaze around and frowned. “Now where is that son of mine? Has anyone seen Harrison?”

“Here I am, Mother,” a voice called from the doorway. All eyes turned to watch Harrison Hart enter the room. You would never guess by looking that this short, balding, pudgy man was the son of Lydia Hart. They looked nothing alike and personally, Marissa thought Lydia treated Harrison like the proverbial redheaded stepchild. He was the jack of all trades around the office. He answered phones, greeted clients, and maintained the website for the company. She treated him like a slave and he still lived at home with her. Yet oddly enough he’d never gotten his realtor’s license and participated in that side of the business.

“You’re late, Harrison.” Lydia’s voice was cold and critical. “Take your place and take notes.”

Lydia started the meeting with reports from weekend activities. Marissa attempted to listen but her thoughts kept drifting back to Staci Green.

Staci had been the only little girl in the neighborhood the same age as Marissa when she was a child. They grew up on the same block, just two houses apart. Even as a child Staci had been bossy and demanding, but Marissa put up with her because she was the only other little girl around.

The enchantment didn’t last long, though. It ended the night of the dance when Marissa walked out of the gym and found Anastasia plastered against Aaron’s body, her arms clinging to his neck. She looked as if she’d been crying, but the only thing Marissa really noticed was Aaron’s arms around her friend’s waist.

That was the end of the friendship and the beginning of the competition between Staci and Marissa. From then on it seemed as if Staci had determined that everything would be a challenge between her and Marissa. If Marissa showed interest in a boy, Staci was right there to lure him away. If Marissa embraced a new style, Staci had to take it one step further. Staci competed with her on debate teams, in cheerleading competitions, and academics. After high school , they both went away to college and four years later both found themselves right back in Indianapolis. Then the two women each entered the real estate business. The competition continued.

And now Staci was dead.

“And what new listings did we get over the weekend?” Lydia’s cool voice broke into Marissa’s thoughts. Once again , she tried to focus on the meeting. Once again , her thoughts drifted.

Were these murders connected? Was there a madman out there stalking female realtors at open houses? If Marissa remembered correctly the first realtor that had been attacked was

A moment of stunned silence filled the air after Lydia departed before people began to shuffle around and murmur comments. Marissa heard someone call Lydia a cold-hearted bitch, and another voice spoke up in agreement. It was as though they had forgotten that Harrison, the ‘bitch’s’ son was still sitting at the table. Marissa cast a glance at the quiet man and caught a glimpse of anger in his pale blue eyes, but he just gathered his belongings and left the room. Poor guy. It couldn’t be easy being the son of such a strong, domineering woman, especially when his personality was exactly the opposite.

Wow. It all seemed so long ago, yet the memory was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

And now Staci was dead.

The intercom interrupted her thoughts.

“There’s a call for you on line 1, Marissa.” The voice of Angela, the receptionist, rang out. “A Mr. Aaron Mathews.”

“Who?” Marissa asked, sure she had heard wrong.

“Aaron Mathews.”

Holy crap. It was like she had conjured him up from the past with her memories.