Hidden Deception
Hidden Deception
Leann Harris
Her own father had killed her mother. Afterward, Elena Segura Jackson had been adopted by a loving Santa Fe family. For years she'd tried to focus only on the present and future–not the past. But now another murder, in her family's antique shop, brings the old memories rushing back.Detective Daniel Stillwater, widowed father of a little girl, vows to find the killer. In Daniel's presence, Elena dares feel safe. Yet the killer keeps coming back, wreaking havoc in the shop, looking for…something. Like a moment when the good detective isn't by Elena's side.
A noise sounded downstairs.
Elena moved to the door and listened. She knew someone was down in the supposedly empty store. She turned off the light and reached for the phone, dialing 9-1-1. When the operator answered, she whispered her situation.
Pocketing the phone, she slipped out of the office and walked to the top of the stairs to listen. After a moment, she heard something move. She slipped back into the office and dug for Daniel’s phone number. He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel, there’s someone in the store.”
“Elena?”
“Hurry.” She heard someone walking up the treads and hung up. Where could she hide? The office had a large window with a fire escape. She hurried there, hoping she could beat the intruder. The old window hadn’t been opened in years. She unlatched the window and pulled. It sounded as if the gates of a dungeon were opening, but it was her only hope.
LEANN HARRIS
Leann has always had stories running around inside her head. When her youngest child started elementary school, she finally gathered her nerve and began writing. She joined RWA in 1987 and is a charter member of Dallas Area Romance Authors and former president. Her first published novel was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest and was nominated by Romantic Times BOOKreviews as one of the best first novels in 1993. The author of eleven novels, her latest book is her first for Steeple Hill. She has a BS in speech from the University of Texas at Austin and is a certified teacher of the deaf, teaching deaf high school students algebra and chemistry. She’s been married for thirty-five years and has two grown children.
Hidden Deception
Leann Harris
The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.
—Nahum 1:7
I’d like to thank:
My sweet husband, who cooked a lot of dinners.
My mom who always encouraged me.
And Sharon Mignerey,
who is the best “what if” partner.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Something was wrong.
Elena Segura Jackson stared at the open back door of her family’s antique shop.
“Hello.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. A shiver ran up her spine. “Joyce, are you here?” This was Joyce’s night to lock up. Elena listened for a moment more. Nothing.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided herself. “You’re acting like a five-year-old.”
Shaking off her apprehension, she moved inside. Where was the inside security light? Reaching for the switch, she flicked it on. Nothing happened.
Her stomach sank. Taking a deep breath, she called out again, “Joyce.”
The outside light did little to penetrate the vast darkness of the store. It was like walking into a cave, wondering what she’d find with her next step. She bumped into several pieces of furniture. Slowly, she made her way from piece to piece moving toward the stairs in the center of the room. The papers she needed were upstairs in her office. Halfway across the room, she stumbled and caught herself on the back of a chair.
“Wha—” She looked down. Her eyes followed a pair of legs up to a skirt and a blouse. The body lay against the large Spanish chest.
Slowly she approached the body. “Joyce?”
Kneeling, she shook her shoulder. “Joyce? Are you okay?”
Nothing.
Elena turned the woman over. It was Joyce. Her eyes were open, staring into nothing. Elena shook Joyce’s shoulders, but there was no reaction.
Releasing her, Elena’s fingers skated over Joyce’s chest and encountered a wet spot. Elena jerked her hands back. Although she couldn’t see the color of the liquid, she could smell the coppery scent. Blood.
Stumbling to her feet, she turned. A figure materialized out of the darkness, and before she could react, something crashed into her head turning the world black.
Detective Daniel Stillwater and his partner, Raul Rodriguez, climbed out of their police-issued sedan. Two police cruisers and the evidence van dotted the area around Amarillo Plaza in old town Santa Fe, closing down traffic on the street.
“Hey, Stillwater, you get this case?” Patrolman Mark Sanchez called out.
“We did. You the first responder?”
“Yeah, Icenhour and I caught the call. He’s inside with the lady who found the body. She’s not in too good a shape, crying and blubbering, but you know what a talker Icenhour is. He can soothe things over.”
Daniel stepped into the antique shop and looked around. The overhead lights beat down harshly on the old furniture and elegant collections in the room. He couldn’t figure out what folks saw in this old stuff. It looked like some of the stuff in his aunt’s house. The evidence lieutenant looked up from his evidence kit.
“Find anything?” Raul asked.
“No.” The tech stood. “There was a collection of smudged prints on the doorknob, but there’s nothing I’ve discovered in the shop. The vic was stabbed several times in the chest and bled out.”
“Thanks, Greg,” Daniel replied. He scanned the shop and didn’t see anyone else. A set of wooden stairs divided the room, leading to the second floor. “Where’s the witness?”
“She and Icenhour are upstairs in the office.”
Daniel and Raul climbed the stairs, their shoes echoing heavily on the worn wooden treads.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Icenhour’s voice floated out the open door at the top.
When they reached the top riser, they scanned the area. To the right, the space opened out to a storage area piled with boxes, chairs and carpets. To the left was a door marked Office. Looking inside, Daniel saw Icenhour sitting in a chair next to a woman. She held an ice pack to her left temple. In her late twenties, she had shoulder-length straight black hair with a sprinkling of bangs across her forehead. Those bangs brought a man’s gaze to her golden-brown eyes. Twin tracks of tears ran down her pale, smooth cheeks.
She looked up, and Icenhour turned.
“Detectives, this is Elena Jackson, who found the body.” He finished the introductions then stood. “I’ll go downstairs and see if they need any help.”
Raul took Icenhour’s seat. Daniel grabbed a chair in the corner and pulled it close. He took a notebook and pen from his coat pocket. “Tell me what happened this evening, Ms. Jackson.”
She set the ice pack on the desk. “I forgot some papers I needed and was coming back to the shop.” She looked from him to Raul. “I found the back door to the shop unlocked, which alarmed me. Joyce is—was always so reliable about store procedures. But—”
Daniel waited for her to continue. He knew when to push a witness and when to back off and let them proceed at their own speed.
She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“But…” Raul prompted after several seconds.
Daniel threw him a look and Raul shrugged as if to say “someone had to.”
“Joyce seemed to be distracted lately. I should’ve been more diligent and asked her what was wrong.”
“So you think something odd was going on in her life? Did she have any family issues?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know. I think Joyce might have been divorced. She never talked about her past and wasn’t looking for another relationship.”
“Why do you say that?” Daniel asked.
“I’ve seen a couple of customers try to flirt with her. She shut them down. Politely, but she discouraged men. This last week, though, she was remote, as if something was bothering her.”
“Have any idea what?” Rodriguez pressed.
She shook her head. “No.”
Daniel’s gut reaction told him the woman was hiding something.
“Did you have any cash on hand? Maybe someone was after money?” Daniel asked.
She shook her head. “I make the deposit run in the late afternoon. We don’t keep a lot of money in the store.”
“Is anything missing?” Raul questioned.
“Where is she?” A woman’s voice floated up the stairs.
“Ma’am, you can’t go up there,” Icenhour replied.
“You want to try and stop me?” The steel in her voice caught both Daniel’s and Raul’s attention.
For the first time, Elena smiled. That smile tugged at Daniel’s heart.
“That’s Mom. You might as well let her up. She won’t stop until she makes it up here.”
They didn’t need a scene. Daniel stood and walked to the door. “Icenhour, let the woman come up here.”
Instantly, a woman appeared in the doorway and brushed by Daniel. In her early sixties, with blond hair and deep-blue eyes that burned with concern, she was a handsome woman, who bore no physical resemblance to her daughter. Instantly, she scooped Elena into her arms.
“Are you all right?” She pulled back and brushed Elena’s hair from her face.
When Elena tried to speak, she couldn’t say a word, but nodded.
“What have you done to my daughter?” the older woman demanded, turning to the detectives and glaring.
Daniel understood her reaction, but her attitude wasn’t helpful. “Your daughter’s—”
“Mom, the detectives have done nothing. Seeing Joyce’s…body…reminds me of—”
The older woman nodded. “I want to take my daughter home.”
Daniel glanced at Rodriguez, who nodded. “That’s fine.” Daniel reached inside his sports jacket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Elena. “If you remember anything else, please get in touch with me.”
She took the business card and clutched it in her hand.
As the women started to leave, Elena paused and handed Daniel her keys. “Will you lock up?”
“Yes.”
Once they were alone, Rodriguez stood and shook his head. “Talk about a mother bear protecting her young. I wouldn’t want to get between that woman and her daughter.”
Daniel slipped the keys in his pocket, then joined Rodriguez at the door.
“I know. Let’s see if the guys downstairs have finished up.”
He watched from the shadows as the police swarmed over the building. He ground his teeth. The stupid female showed up too soon. He hadn’t finished his search. Of course, Joyce had surprised him, too. Threatened him, but he solved that problem. He could solve this new problem. There was another night, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found what Joyce had stolen from him. Too much depended on that evidence, and he would find it.
When Elena walked into the Santa Fe police headquarters, the large clock on the wall read 6:20 a.m. It hadn’t been a peaceful night. She’d wrestled “the nightmare,” only this time it had a new twist. This time the dream started with her arriving at the antique shop and finding the body. But when she turned the body over, it wasn’t Joyce she discovered. It was her birth mother’s body, and suddenly the room had altered to the kitchen where her mother died. Her father, in a drunken rage, had grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed her mother when she refused to get him another beer. Elena had been eight when that happened. Her older brother had called the police and held their mother while they waited for the cops.
It had taken years for that vision not to haunt her dreams. Too many times her adoptive parents held her while she cried. This morning she didn’t want to add to the sorrow and grief her mother felt for Joyce.
After experiencing that old nightmare, Elena knew she couldn’t go back to sleep, so she dressed and decided to go to work. Unfortunately, her car and keys to the shop were still with the detectives. Instead of waking her mother and facing questions, Elena wrote a note and took a bus downtown. She could walk from the main police station to the shop.
The receptionist walked to her desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. “May I help you?”
“Is Detective Stillwater here?”
The woman called the detective’s extension. “Detective, there’s a woman here—” She paused and looked at Elena.
“Elena Jackson.”
The woman repeated the name. “Okay. I’ll relay the message.” She hung up the phone. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
Elena turned and looked out the plate-glass windows into the empty street. It glowed with a soft predawn light. The scent of piñon and mountain cedar filled the air. This time of day always refreshed Elena, and in the stillness, she could pray. She could tell the Lord about her day and spend time with Him. Even in New York, where there was a mass of humanity, the mornings were her time to renew herself. In New York, praying as she walked to work had made her appreciate the beauty of the city, but when she came home to New Mexico, her soul found peace.
The smell of the receptionist’s coffee floated through the air, reminding Elena that she hadn’t had her morning cup yet. A stop at Juan’s at the corner of the street would be her first priority after she got her keys. Juan’s Café was a favorite hangout for the cops and lawyers downtown, but, despite that, she’d wanted coffee and one of the breakfast burritos Juan cooked up. Often, when she was a teen, her adoptive father had brought her to the store and they’d stop at Juan’s for a treat.
“How are you doing this morning?” Daniel’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts.
Elena turned and watched the detective walk toward her. He was a good-looking man, something she hadn’t noticed last night. Of course, she had been a little too preoccupied to look, but now she gave him a once-over. Whipcord lean, Daniel had a wealth of blue-black hair, high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes and a well-defined mouth. The coppery tone of his skin reminded Elena that it was his ancestors who first roamed this land. He probably had his fair share of female admiration. She didn’t notice a wedding ring on his left hand. Although he’d been up all night, he didn’t look tired.
“I came by for my keys. I wanted to get to the shop and see what needed to be done.”
“Let’s go back to my desk. Your keys are there and we can go over your story again.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Now that you’ve had the night to think about what happened, maybe something else occurred to you.”
Suspicion filled her. Did he think she had something to do with Joyce’s murder? But before she could say anything, her stomach rumbled. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Daniel’s mouth curved with amusement.
“I haven’t had breakfast,” she mumbled. “I was going to stop by Juan’s before I went to the store.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Her brows knitted into a frown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Let’s go to Juan’s. Over some burritos, we can go over your statement.”
“Huh—” Her stomach rumbled again.
His gaze captured hers.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Daniel went back to his desk, picked up her keys and handed them to her. He put his notebook in his shirt pocket, grabbed his corduroy jacket and slipped it on.
Rodriguez sat back in his chair. “Hey, when you’re at Juan’s, buy me a number one and have him send it over.” He pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to Daniel.
Elena noticed the silent message the two men exchanged and wondered what it was about. Once outside in the morning air, Elena glanced at Daniel.
“Am I about to get the third degree?” she asked.
“No. What makes you think that?”
“All the silent messages you and your partner exchanged.”
“You’re imagining things.”
She didn’t believe him and prepared herself for the grilling.
The wonderful smell of coffee and refried beans surrounded her as they stepped into the restaurant, making her worries disappear. Whatever the detective had in mind, she could handle it after a cup of coffee and something to eat.
She ordered and found a booth in the corner away from the noise and chatter of the restaurant. Daniel ordered his breakfast and Rodriguez’s. After paying for them, he joined her.
“Have you remembered anything else about Joyce that you didn’t tell me last night?” he asked.
“I’ve tried not to think, to put everything out of my mind.” She concentrated on her burrito.
He took a bite of his breakfast. “How long did Joyce work at your store?” he questioned.
“She worked for my parents for the last five years.” When he gave her a look, she explained, “I was in college at UNM, studying art. When I came home one Christmas, Joyce was working at the store. I knew her casually, but if you want more information on her, talk to my mother. Mom worked with Joyce every day for the last five years. I worked holidays and some summers when I came home. Once in New York, I rarely saw Joyce.”
“But you’ve been here in Santa Fe for the last six months?”
Elena frowned at him. If he knew the answer, why ask the question? Maybe he was testing her. “My father passed away at the beginning of March. Mother wasn’t able to handle the business, so I quit my job in New York and came home.” She didn’t want to discuss the grief that put her mother in bed or how in order to keep things running, she’d come home. Her adopted older brother lived in Seattle with his family. Of the two of them, she was more able to come and help their mother.
He took out his notebook and scribbled something down. “So you aren’t familiar with Joyce?”
She frowned at him. “No. She was a wonderful employee, always on time, reliable, helpful to my parents. Since I’ve been home, I can’t name any problems with her.” Of course, Elena had been worried about Joyce.
“What are you not telling me?”
Her head jerked up. “What makes you think—”
He gave her a pointed stare. “I’m a trained investigator.”
Elena shrugged. “As I told you last night, Joyce seemed to be preoccupied over the last couple of weeks.”
“Tell me about it.”
Elena tried to come up with exact instances. “One time she put the special orders in the wastepaper basket. Another time, she forgot to put a large check in the cash register. And another time, she came to work without her purse. She had to drive home and get it. That wasn’t like her. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she just had an off day. It wasn’t an off day, but an off week. But I didn’t press her. We all screw up.”
As he jotted notes in a small spiral, the clatter of silverware and dishes filled the air. Elena tried to peek at what he wrote, but his head came up, and she smiled and settled back into her seat.
“And you never knew anything about her personal life?” he pressed.
Something was going on here. “No, I didn’t, but I’ve got a feeling that you know something I don’t.”
He leaned back against his chair. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
TWO
She looked stunned. “No.”
“Hey, Stillwater.” Jeff Muller, a patrolman and fellow soccer dad, walked up to the table. He nodded toward Elena. “You going to the girls’ soccer game this afternoon?”
His daughter, April, and Jeff’s daughter, Melissa, played on the same soccer team, the Red Peppers. They were 9-1 for the season. This was their final game. “I wouldn’t miss it, Jeff. Has your daughter’s injury healed?”
“Yeah. She’s only got a few scabs left, but she’s ready to play.”
“I’ll see you at the field at five.”
Jeff nodded and walked off.
When Daniel looked back at Elena, he saw her struggling with the information he’d just dropped about Joyce. She was either a good actress or the info came as a total shock. His heart wanted to believe it was surprise, but his brain argued she could be acting.
Of course, he was fighting an unseen enemy—attraction.
She was the first woman who’d grabbed his attention since his wife’s death. He’d found himself looking forward to seeing her today. Of course his reaction could be a combination of tiredness and hunger.
Liar, a voice in his head whispered.
“Are you sure you have the right woman?” she carefully asked.
They’d taken the dead woman’s prints and run them through their AFIS computer system. Joyce Murphy’s name and mug shot had popped up. “I’m sure. She’d been convicted of passing counterfeit money.”
Elena’s mouth fell open.
“So my news comes as a big surprise,” he continued.
That jerked her out of her fog.
“Of course.” She shook her head. “I never knew. She was a trusted employee. I’m sure my parents didn’t know about her past. She was the only employee my parents had over the past few years, with the exception of my brother, Adrian, and me. Joyce was there for my mom when Dad had his heart attack and has helped since his death.”
Elena’s impression of Joyce didn’t sound as though she continued her criminal ways. “Did your parents ever mention a concern about Joyce?”
“They never said anything to me. You could call my brother in Seattle to see if they mentioned anything to him. Of course, he left home before I did.”
Elena’s phone rang. She dug around in her purse and grabbed it. “Hi, Mom. No, I’m with Detective Stillwater.” She looked up at him. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
He watched her face as she listened to the answer.
“You did, but I don’t—” Her hand curled into a fist. “Okay. No, I’ll be at the shop in a few minutes.” She closed her phone and carefully placed it in her purse. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “Mom knew about Joyce’s past. Are we finished? I need to meet her.”
“We are for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might have more questions as the investigation goes along.”
She nodded, gathered her purse, and left. He carefully observed her. He’d checked out her background. Elena Segura Jackson had no criminal record. Adopted at the age of ten by the Jacksons after the trauma of seeing her mother murdered by her father, she’d had a normal life with teenage rebellion. She had one ticket for speeding, but that was it. Her college records showed her as an A student and her move to New York had been uneventful as far as law enforcement was concerned. He needed to interview the mother and brother. It might turn up something.
There was something that bothered him. It was this attraction thing. What he needed to do was to chalk it up to too little sleep.
His cell rang.
“Hey, Dad, are you going to be home before I leave for school?” April asked.
“I’m on my way, now, sweetie.”
“Good. Grandma wants you to bring home some milk. She says you won’t mind.”
He laughed. His mother’s friend, Rosalyn Mendoza, had come to his rescue when he came home from his unit in Afghanistan to take care of his wife, who had breast cancer, and daughter. His own mother had died before his daughter was born, but Rosalyn had adopted his daughter as if she were her own granddaughter. April only knew Rosalyn as her grandma. “You tell her I’ll bring the milk. If she’s plays her cards just right, I might bring home some apricot empanadas from Juan’s.” He knew the baked turnover was a favorite of his daughter’s.
April cheered. “Hurry home.”
He laughed. “You just want the empanadas before you go to school.”
“No, Dad, it’s you I want to see.”
Her words brought on bittersweet pain that reminded him of how little he’d given his daughter over the years. But with the Lord’s help, that would change.
Getting off the bus at the northwest corner of Amarillo Plaza, Elena tried to put aside the fear gnawing at her. She didn’t want to think about what happened last night, but it seemed to race after her like a stalker. Hurrying past Mama Rosa’s Cantina on the corner, Elena walked toward Past Treasures on the north side of the central plaza in old town Santa Fe. This square was part of the original city, built with adobe. Wooden beams used to construct the adobe stores were used to support the new wooden awning built to give shoppers shade in the middle of a blistering day. In the center of the square, old hitching posts were left to emphasize the history of the area.
When she got to the shop, there was nothing there to indicate a murder had occurred within those walls. All the police tape was down, but the door remained locked. She found the keys in her purse and opened the door.
With her hand on the knob, she prayed, “Lord, give me strength.” Slowly, she entered the building. Her gaze scanned the room. The police had moved things, and there was black powder on several pieces of furniture and the back door.
Walking into the room, she heard voices coming from the janitor’s closet at the back of the store.
“You don’t have to do that yourself, Diane. Call your experts that deal with rugs.”
From the voice, Elena recognized Preston Jones, the owner of the art gallery next door. Preston dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.
The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.
“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”
“The bus.”
Preston and Cam appeared behind her mother.
“How are you doing?” Cam asked, coming to her side. In his early fifties, he was a hippie, who came to Santa Fe in the early seventies and never left. He still bore some of his rebellious attitude toward the establishment and wore what was left of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. His designs had become famous, and he’d developed a wide following. He was also a major dealer of native jewelry created by local artisans.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he hugged her.
She stiffened. “I’m okay.” She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. When he released her, she stepped back.
Preston caught her gaze. “Are you sure?” He was the polar opposite of Cam. Preston Jones was tall, with a hundred-dollar haircut and clothes of the Hollywood elite, silk shirts and designer pants. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would help scrub this room. He’d probably give the sponge to her mother or Cam and then supervise.
“I can’t believe what happened here.” Cam looked around the room. “When I arrived this morning, the last of the cops were driving off. No one would tell me anything until your mom got here.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would anyone want to harm Joyce?”
Elena looked at her mother. They needed to talk.
“Guys, Mom and I need a few minutes,” Elena informed them.
The men glanced at Diane and she nodded.
Cam rested his hand on Elena’s arm. “If there’s anything that I can do, you let me know.”
She appreciated Cam. He’d been a rock when her father died. Those first few days after she arrived home from New York City had been hectic, but if something needed to be done, Cam had stepped up and helped until Adrian had arrived from Seattle.
Preston nodded. “Those are my sentiments, too. If you need anything, call.”
After the men left, Diane turned back to her daughter. “How are you?”
Elena sat down in the old rocker they’d recently acquired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go get my keys and purse from the cops. Detective Stillwater was still there.”
Diane sat on the coffee table next to the rocker. “And—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Joyce’s police record?”
Diane looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t my secret.”
“You didn’t think I needed to know?”
“At the time, no.” When Diane looked up again, she grabbed Elena’s hand. “Do you remember when your father worked in the prison ministry?”
“Vaguely.”
“It was something he had a passion for. He met Joyce while she was still incarcerated for helping her ex-husband to pass counterfeit twenties. Apparently her ex-husband convinced her to pass some of the funny money.”
“She knew that money wasn’t real?”
“Yes. When Joyce came up for probation, your dad was contacted and asked if he would sponsor her.”
“So he agreed?”
“Yes. He believed Joyce had turned her life around and wanted to give her a new start. Your father trusted her. His trust was rewarded. Besides, your father’s faith in her led her back to church.”
Elena wasn’t surprised by the news. Phillip Jackson had been a mighty man of God with a heart that encompassed all around him. He’d been a tall man, with a full head of black hair. His laugh had been a thing of pure joy, and his smile had eased her heart more than once. When the Jacksons had first adopted her, she remembered how nervous she was around Phillip, worried that his temper would flare out of control. That had been her experience with her birth father. He would rage, shout and strike out. If he was mad, everyone in the family knew to hide.
Elena remembered the first time she’d disobeyed Phillip. She’d been in the antique store and spilled her purple grape soda on her father’s desk. She knew the rule about not bringing drinks into the office. When Phillip had discovered it, he’d been livid. He’d yelled and approached her. She covered her head with her hands expecting a blow. When nothing happened, she peeked through her fingers. Her father’s stricken expression shocked her. He squatted before her and waited.
It took several minutes, but she lowered her hands. He then said the most amazing thing. “I’m sorry, Elena.” She hadn’t believed her ears.
“I was wrong to yell at you. Please forgive me.”
Elena wasn’t sure she heard right. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
It was the first time in her life anyone had asked for her forgiveness. But he didn’t move and continued to look at her.
“Yes. I forgive you.”
He nodded. “I give you my word, Elena, that I will never raise my hand to you. That doesn’t mean that when you do wrong you won’t be punished. But you will never have to fear me.”
Her father had been true to his word. He’d loved her and guided her through her teens. She knew her father would forgive her, but there were consequences for doing wrong. Slowly over the years, she learned to trust, and God had worked through Phillip to show her what a true father would do for his child.
Phillip had been that way with all the people around him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Joyce?”
“It happened while you were away at school. Besides, your father felt if Joyce wanted to share her past with you, she would’ve.”
Oddly, the information made Elena feel worse. Why hadn’t her father trusted her with that information?
“I guess I better start on the carpet.” Diane stood and walked back to the spot where Joyce’s body had been.
Elena came to her side. “I agree with the guys. Let a professional clean it.”
After a moment’s pause, Diane nodded her head. “Okay.”
“I’ll go call our regular guy.” She started toward the office.
“Elena—”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“It wasn’t you, sweetheart. Your father thought it wasn’t his secret to tell.”
“I understand.” But in her heart, she didn’t.
When Daniel woke at two in the afternoon, he showered, dressed, and made himself a cup of coffee. The night shift always took it out of him or maybe he was getting too old for night shifts. On the refrigerator under the magnet from Carlsbad Caverns was the playoff schedule for April’s soccer team. The final game was tonight at five. Her gym bag with her soccer uniform and shoes sat by the back door. He grabbed his digital camera, wanting to catch all the action of the game, and added it to the pile he needed to put into the trunk of his car.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, he opened his Bible to Ephesians 6 and read the chapter. Verse 11 jumped out at him—Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.
He knew from experience how important that armor was. When he was in Afghanistan fighting with his unit, he felt at peace in the midst of the flying bullets and tank fire. But when the chaplain had told Daniel his wife was dying of cancer, he’d felt naked. He’d come home within days and had two weeks with Nita before she died. In those dark hours beside her bed, he realized what he’d done to his wife. He had more of a bond with the guys in his unit than his wife. She hadn’t blamed or accused him of being a rotten husband, but she exacted a promise that he would not leave April. It was a promise that he’d not broken.
Shaking off the memories, he closed his Bible, snagged April’s gym bag and walked to his car. “Thank You, Lord, for another chance with April.”
He loved every moment with his little girl.
Walking into the police headquarters, Daniel met Raul. He held up the file in his hand. “ME’s preliminary report.”
The news stunned Daniel. “Already?”
“Amazingly, there was a lull at the morgue, so he got to our vic. She was stabbed four times. With the first three, our perp missed her heart. It was the final blow, straight into the heart that killed her.”
Obviously the crime had occurred at Past Treasures. Had the murderer been trying to rob the shop, or did it have something to do with Joyce’s life? “You want to interview the surrounding shop owners to see what they know?” They needed to know more about the victim. The square where the murder had occurred had a very low robbery and murder rate.
“I do. Let me get my coat and we’ll canvass the area.”
Once Raul got his coat, it took less than five minutes to get to Past Treasures. The store remained closed and Daniel didn’t see activity inside. They walked next door to the art gallery.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with a full head of dark hair and a deep tan approached them. “Gentlemen, how may I help you? Are you here to see the latest Jean-Paul Jaunes painting before it flies out the door?”
“I’m Detective Daniel Stillwater and this is my partner, Detective Raul Rodriguez. We’re with the Santa Fe Police and are investigating the murder of Joyce Murphy.”
He shook his head. “When I saw that Diane hadn’t opened the store, I went over there to see what the matter was. That was so tragic.”
Raul scowled. The guy was putting it on rather thick.
“Could we speak to you about Joyce?” Daniel asked.
“Of course. Why don’t we talk in my office?”
They followed him to the back of the store. His office was off the back workroom. Paintings, storage crates and bubble wrap filled the room, but no one was in sight. Mr. Jones walked to the enclosed office in the front corner. He’d spared no expense in furnishing the room, from the antique Spanish desk to the Tiffany lamp on the desktop. Beside it sat a laptop, open and working. Motioning to the chairs before the desk, he sat in the chair behind it.
Once settled, Daniel asked, “How well did you know Joyce?”
“She worked next door for several years. We traded hellos, but I didn’t know her very well.”
“Did you ever see her with a boyfriend? Or a friend she hung with?”
“No. The woman was completely closed up. She didn’t do small talk.”
Raul leaned forward. “Did she ever come over here and look at your gallery? Maybe talk about business at the store next door?”
“She came over here a couple of times. She didn’t appreciate fine art. And she couldn’t afford it. I told her it was a good investment, but she didn’t believe me.”
Daniel jotted down a couple of notes. “Do you know if anyone had anything against Joyce? Someone who she had a fight with.”
“I can’t say I ever saw anyone fight with her. But she mentioned working at the homeless shelter, the food bank and her church. There are plenty of people at the homeless shelter you can’t trust. Try there.”
“What church?” Raul asked.
“First Community Church over on St. Mary’s Avenue.”
“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.
“Nothing. One time I asked about her plans over the Fourth of July holidays—if any of her family was coming into town. She said nothing about family and planned to stay in town.”
“Can you think of anything else about Joyce? Habits, likes, dislikes?” Daniel hoped that Preston might help provide a clue to Joyce’s killer.
“She loved the Dodgers. Knew all the members of the team. She was something of a baseball fanatic.”
That piece of news could help. “Did she like college baseball?”
“Can’t say. You might ask Diane or Susan and Jeff Marks over at Mama Rosa’s.”
Daniel glanced at his partner, silently asking if he had any questions. Raul shook his head.
Pulling out his business card, Daniel handed it to Preston. “If you think of anything else, call me.”
Preston dropped the card onto his desk. “Sure.”
The detectives started out of the store, but Raul stopped by a large painting of a lily on a branch. Daniel had to swallow his smile at his partner’s puzzled expression.
“Are you interested in buying a good piece of art?” Preston flashed a smile at the detectives. “I have several up-and-coming local artists. You can buy them at a reasonable price before they become famous.”
Raul’s eyes widened. “There’s a market for this stuff?”
Jones bristled. “This is the Jean-Paul Jaunes painting I told you about earlier. He is the hottest upcoming painter on the art scene in the Southwest.”
Daniel grinned. Raul was more into the bold colors of his conquistador ancestors.
“Well, for that price, he better be number one.”
The painting’s price was equal to two months of a detective’s salary.
“It is an investment, Detective.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather put that kind of money in a good car,” Raul replied.
Preston sniffed and walked away.
“Apparently, you have no taste,” Daniel teased.
“No, I just have common sense. I don’t plan on being robbed.” Raul nodded to the door.
They walked down the street to Cam’s jewelry store, Three Star Creations, located on the south side of Past Treasures. The instant they walked into the store, Cam looked up from the customer he was helping. “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment,” he said, and went back to helping his customer. While Cam finished up, Daniel surveyed the store. Three Star Creations had a name in the city for its unique and inventive pieces.
When the customer finished her purchase and left the store, the man turned to Raul. “What can I do for you?”
Daniel stepped forward and introduced himself and the other detective. “You know about the murder of Joyce Murphy.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe what I saw when I came to work this morning. I’ve been sitting with Diane and Elena all morning.”
“Can you tell me anyone who might want to hurt the victim?”
“No one. Of course, I wasn’t close to Joyce. She kept to herself. Wasn’t very friendly.”
“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.
“Nothing.”
“Is there any incident that you can think of where Joyce had a run-in with someone? Or maybe she mentioned someone who was angry with her.”
“No.”
“No boyfriends?”
“She never mentioned anything to me, and I never saw anyone.”
Daniel handed him his business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”
He nodded.
As they walked to the next store, Daniel muttered, “So far all we know is the woman was perfect.”
“And that bothers me,” Raul answered.
It was a red flag for Daniel, too.
Daniel and Raul walked the length of the alley behind the shops on the square. Cars from the shop owners and their employees dotted the alley. Parked behind the back door of Past Treasures was a cleaning truck. Daniel walked up the three steps that led to the door. The top step broadened out to make a small landing.
Carefully, he studied the back lock.
“Do you think it was a random robbery?” Raul asked. He glanced up and down the alley.
“Could be, but why not break into the jewelry store or the art gallery? Wouldn’t it be easier to fence jewels or one of the smaller paintings than some antique chest?”
“Naw, you couldn’t give away that art, but you might be able to get rid of the jewelry.”
Daniel studied the back door. “I don’t see any signs of the lock being forced.”
Raul joined Daniel on the top step. “So a pro did this, not an amateur or some teenager high on something.”
“Sounds right to me. Let’s check the statistics on robberies in the area, but I don’t think it was random. I think whoever broke in was after something in that shop.”
The back door opened and a man stepped out with a steam cleaner. He looked up and stopped. “The store’s closed today.”
“I was so sorry to hear about Joyce.” A woman’s voice floated out of the open back door.
Daniel pulled out his ID and showed it to the man. He shrugged and walked to his truck.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the woman continued.
“No, but thank you. There’s nothing at the moment.”
Daniel recognized Elena’s voice.
He knocked on the back door to announce their presence.
Elena and her mother and another woman turned toward the sound.
“Detective.” Diane Jackson moved forward. “Is something wrong? Do you need more information?” A hint of panic colored her voice.
He smiled to ease her anxiety. “We’ve come to look at your shop in the light, to see maybe where the murderer might’ve come from.”
All three women paled.
Daniel turned to the woman he didn’t know and introduced himself. “And you are?”
“Susan Marks. My husband and I own Mama Rosa’s on the corner of the square.”
“Did you know Joyce?”
“Yes, I did. She helped with the homeless shelter. We donated food to the facility, and she helped us take it over there and serve.”
“How long has she been doing that?” Raul questioned.
“The last year and a half.”
“Have you noticed anything unusual about her in the last few weeks?”
“No.” Susan glanced at her watch. “I need to get back for the dinner rush.”
Daniel pulled out his business card and gave it to the woman.
After she left by the back door, he turned to Elena and her mother. “I’d call a locksmith today and have that back lock switched out. Whoever broke in here didn’t have a difficult time. Make it harder for anyone if it happens a next time.”
THREE
Elena opened the door to Joyce’s house. The modest dwelling on the edge of a business district had originally belonged to Phillip Jackson, but he’d sold it to Joyce for the mighty sum of fifteen hundred dollars. That information her mother told her after her father’s funeral had amazed Elena, but as she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her father was an exceptional man.
Pausing inside the door, Elena let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. The room looked as if a bomb had gone off in the place. Sofa cushions were pulled off and split open. In the corner, the desk had been ransacked, drawers hung awry, papers scattered about.
The kitchen mirrored the living room, with drawers hanging askew and dumped on the floor. Walking down the hall, she peeked into the bathroom. Same song, second verse. In the upstairs bedroom, the bed had been dismantled, the mattress pulled off the bed. The dresser drawers were thrown about the room with the mirror ripped off, the shattered remnants scattered over the top. Numbly, she walked around the room and glanced into the closet. Oddly enough, nothing was disturbed.
Elena pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed 911 as she walked toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway.
Without thinking, she used her purse as a weapon and aimed at the man’s head. She made contact. He stumbled back into the hall and she tried to race by him. He lunged for her and caught her around the waist. Their momentum carried them to the floor. Somehow, he twisted in midair and took the brunt of the blow when they landed. She was ready to fight for her life when she looked into the man’s face and saw Daniel Stillwater. She went limp.
He said nothing.
In the quiet, she heard the 911 operator calling.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Scrambling away from Daniel, she yelled. “What’s the matter with you?”
He slowly got to his feet and offered his hand. “Are you all right?”
She took it and stood. “No.”
“Ma’am,” the operator called.
She could chew him out later, but now she needed to tell the operator she was okay. She looked around in the hallway for the phone.
“Ma’am,” the operator again called.
“Where is it?” Elena said, frantically scanning the hall. She stepped back into the bedroom. There between the mattress and a drawer lay her phone. Snatching it up, she said, “Uh—I’m sorry.”
“Are you all right?” the operator asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Are you being held against your will?” the woman questioned.
Color filled Elena’s face. “No, no. It’s just that I thought the intruder was—”
Daniel motioned for her to give him the phone. She did. He quickly explained the situation to the 911 operator, gave his police ID number and told her to notify the units on the way that he was with Ms. Jackson. He also asked for an evidence team to be dispatched to this address. He disconnected and handed the phone back to Elena. “Let’s go and greet the officers.”
She dropped the phone into her purse and followed him to the door. Outrage and mortification had replaced fear in her brain. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. You’re lucky I didn’t use the move my father taught me when he knew I was going to New York City.”
His brow arched. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you as an intruder.”
That gave her pause.
“What are you doing here?” He was all business.
“The medical examiner released Joyce’s body. I told Mom I’d get something for the funeral home to dress Joyce in.” She looked into the bedroom. “But someone had decided to destroy the place before I got here.”
“So it was this way when you entered?”
She frowned at him. “Yes, it was. Do you think I did this?”
He said nothing.
“I got here about five minutes ago. I was so stunned that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had just decided to call 911 when you appeared in the doorway and we did that little thing.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
His lips twitched.
When they arrived at the front door, the patrol units were already there.
Reaching for the doorknob, Daniel said, “I’ll have to commend patrol division on their quick response time.”
Elena frowned. That wasn’t exactly her first thought.
He called out to the patrolmen, then slowly appeared in the open door. The patrolmen holstered their weapons and walked to the front door. Elena recognized them. They were the same ones who responded to Joyce’s murder.
“Stillwater.” Icenhour nodded to the house. “What are you doing here?”
“Our murder vic from yesterday, this is her house. I wanted to let you know that Ms. Jackson and I were inside and the robbery call-in was a misunderstanding. No use having you shoot me.”
Icenhour nodded. “It would be hard to explain how I shot a Santa Fe Police Detective.”
Daniel pointed over his shoulder. “Someone has systematically destroyed the house. I want to see if we can get usable fingerprints. Also, I want you to look around the property and see what you come up with.”
The two patrolmen nodded and walked away. Daniel turned to Elena. “Do you still want to get a dress for Joyce?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes.”
He nodded and indicated for her to go back inside. “Why is your family handling the burial?
Why doesn’t Joyce’s family take care of those arrangements?”
“Her parents disowned her and wanted nothing to do with her after her time in prison. Apparently, she never mentioned them again.”
He studied her, then nodded. “Follow me.” They walked into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom. He stepped into the closet. “Pick out something.”
Crowding into the closet by him, she tried to focus on a dress. Suddenly, the grief, fear and uncertainty swamped her. She didn’t want to cry. She wouldn’t cry. All the clothes blurred, and tears ran down her cheeks. The harder she tried not to cry, the more she did.
“Are you all right?” he softly asked, his lips close to her ear.
She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.
When he touched her shoulder, the dam broke and the tears flowed unchecked. Unseeing, she turned into his chest. All the turbulent emotions she’d bottled up poured out of her.
She didn’t know how long she bawled. A minute or eternity, but when the storm had passed, she stepped back. On his shirt was a big, wet spot.
She motioned to the spot. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes held a wealth of understanding and the gentle smile curving his lips eased her embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t throw up on me as my daughter has after a crying spell.” He handed her his handkerchief.
She laughed in spite of herself. “At least there’s that.”
Noise from the outer room startled them.
Daniel stepped out of the closet and said something to the patrolman. She used the time to gather her wits and dry her face.
When he came back, he said, “The patrolmen found the back door open. Our perpetrator came in that way.”
She nodded and then turned her attention to picking out a dress. She grabbed a soft blue one with a matching belt and a wide lace collar, pulled it out and showed it to Daniel.
“Let’s take it downstairs where I can note what you took and then you can deliver it to the funeral home.”
It was quickly done, the garment’s pockets checked for anything. When nothing was found, he allowed her to leave. As she drove away, fear clutched her heart. Just what had Joyce been involved in that someone would search and trash her home with such violence?
But that wasn’t the only worry slithering around her brain. She didn’t know what it was, but it was there. “Lord, help. Give me Your guidance and protection.”
He watched from his car as she drove away. The cops quickly left the scene after her. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as anger shot through him. This was the second time she barged into the place he was searching. The woman was becoming a complication he couldn’t afford. Joyce had uncovered the truth and threatened him with it. He wanted that proof destroyed.
He would find it, no matter what it took. He wouldn’t go to prison. Not again.
Daniel finished taking down the last license plate from the cars parked on the road beside the grave, then slipped the small spiral notebook into the inside pocket of his sport jacket. He’d run checks on cars and their owners when he got back to the office, then compare notes with what his partner turned up. Hopefully, Raul had tracked down Joyce’s family.
He walked over the sand and stones to the grave site and joined the mourners. There were only a handful of people. Elena and her mother, Preston Jones, Cam McGinnis, Carolyn Ellis from the homeless shelter, and Susan and Jeff Marks, owners of Mama Rose’s Cantina.
“Lord,” the minister began, “accept the spirit of our sister and comfort those who grieve for her, we pray. Amen.”
Each person held a rose and as they filed by the coffin, they put a rose on the closed lid. When Elena looked up, she stopped.
“Detective Stillwater.”
Before he could respond, Cam McGinnis moved behind Elena. His expression and the set of his body signaled the coming flare-up.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
The words exploded in the silence of the overcast morning.
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Leann Harris
Her own father had killed her mother. Afterward, Elena Segura Jackson had been adopted by a loving Santa Fe family. For years she'd tried to focus only on the present and future–not the past. But now another murder, in her family's antique shop, brings the old memories rushing back.Detective Daniel Stillwater, widowed father of a little girl, vows to find the killer. In Daniel's presence, Elena dares feel safe. Yet the killer keeps coming back, wreaking havoc in the shop, looking for…something. Like a moment when the good detective isn't by Elena's side.
A noise sounded downstairs.
Elena moved to the door and listened. She knew someone was down in the supposedly empty store. She turned off the light and reached for the phone, dialing 9-1-1. When the operator answered, she whispered her situation.
Pocketing the phone, she slipped out of the office and walked to the top of the stairs to listen. After a moment, she heard something move. She slipped back into the office and dug for Daniel’s phone number. He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel, there’s someone in the store.”
“Elena?”
“Hurry.” She heard someone walking up the treads and hung up. Where could she hide? The office had a large window with a fire escape. She hurried there, hoping she could beat the intruder. The old window hadn’t been opened in years. She unlatched the window and pulled. It sounded as if the gates of a dungeon were opening, but it was her only hope.
LEANN HARRIS
Leann has always had stories running around inside her head. When her youngest child started elementary school, she finally gathered her nerve and began writing. She joined RWA in 1987 and is a charter member of Dallas Area Romance Authors and former president. Her first published novel was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest and was nominated by Romantic Times BOOKreviews as one of the best first novels in 1993. The author of eleven novels, her latest book is her first for Steeple Hill. She has a BS in speech from the University of Texas at Austin and is a certified teacher of the deaf, teaching deaf high school students algebra and chemistry. She’s been married for thirty-five years and has two grown children.
Hidden Deception
Leann Harris
The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.
—Nahum 1:7
I’d like to thank:
My sweet husband, who cooked a lot of dinners.
My mom who always encouraged me.
And Sharon Mignerey,
who is the best “what if” partner.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Something was wrong.
Elena Segura Jackson stared at the open back door of her family’s antique shop.
“Hello.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. A shiver ran up her spine. “Joyce, are you here?” This was Joyce’s night to lock up. Elena listened for a moment more. Nothing.
“Don’t be silly,” she chided herself. “You’re acting like a five-year-old.”
Shaking off her apprehension, she moved inside. Where was the inside security light? Reaching for the switch, she flicked it on. Nothing happened.
Her stomach sank. Taking a deep breath, she called out again, “Joyce.”
The outside light did little to penetrate the vast darkness of the store. It was like walking into a cave, wondering what she’d find with her next step. She bumped into several pieces of furniture. Slowly, she made her way from piece to piece moving toward the stairs in the center of the room. The papers she needed were upstairs in her office. Halfway across the room, she stumbled and caught herself on the back of a chair.
“Wha—” She looked down. Her eyes followed a pair of legs up to a skirt and a blouse. The body lay against the large Spanish chest.
Slowly she approached the body. “Joyce?”
Kneeling, she shook her shoulder. “Joyce? Are you okay?”
Nothing.
Elena turned the woman over. It was Joyce. Her eyes were open, staring into nothing. Elena shook Joyce’s shoulders, but there was no reaction.
Releasing her, Elena’s fingers skated over Joyce’s chest and encountered a wet spot. Elena jerked her hands back. Although she couldn’t see the color of the liquid, she could smell the coppery scent. Blood.
Stumbling to her feet, she turned. A figure materialized out of the darkness, and before she could react, something crashed into her head turning the world black.
Detective Daniel Stillwater and his partner, Raul Rodriguez, climbed out of their police-issued sedan. Two police cruisers and the evidence van dotted the area around Amarillo Plaza in old town Santa Fe, closing down traffic on the street.
“Hey, Stillwater, you get this case?” Patrolman Mark Sanchez called out.
“We did. You the first responder?”
“Yeah, Icenhour and I caught the call. He’s inside with the lady who found the body. She’s not in too good a shape, crying and blubbering, but you know what a talker Icenhour is. He can soothe things over.”
Daniel stepped into the antique shop and looked around. The overhead lights beat down harshly on the old furniture and elegant collections in the room. He couldn’t figure out what folks saw in this old stuff. It looked like some of the stuff in his aunt’s house. The evidence lieutenant looked up from his evidence kit.
“Find anything?” Raul asked.
“No.” The tech stood. “There was a collection of smudged prints on the doorknob, but there’s nothing I’ve discovered in the shop. The vic was stabbed several times in the chest and bled out.”
“Thanks, Greg,” Daniel replied. He scanned the shop and didn’t see anyone else. A set of wooden stairs divided the room, leading to the second floor. “Where’s the witness?”
“She and Icenhour are upstairs in the office.”
Daniel and Raul climbed the stairs, their shoes echoing heavily on the worn wooden treads.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Icenhour’s voice floated out the open door at the top.
When they reached the top riser, they scanned the area. To the right, the space opened out to a storage area piled with boxes, chairs and carpets. To the left was a door marked Office. Looking inside, Daniel saw Icenhour sitting in a chair next to a woman. She held an ice pack to her left temple. In her late twenties, she had shoulder-length straight black hair with a sprinkling of bangs across her forehead. Those bangs brought a man’s gaze to her golden-brown eyes. Twin tracks of tears ran down her pale, smooth cheeks.
She looked up, and Icenhour turned.
“Detectives, this is Elena Jackson, who found the body.” He finished the introductions then stood. “I’ll go downstairs and see if they need any help.”
Raul took Icenhour’s seat. Daniel grabbed a chair in the corner and pulled it close. He took a notebook and pen from his coat pocket. “Tell me what happened this evening, Ms. Jackson.”
She set the ice pack on the desk. “I forgot some papers I needed and was coming back to the shop.” She looked from him to Raul. “I found the back door to the shop unlocked, which alarmed me. Joyce is—was always so reliable about store procedures. But—”
Daniel waited for her to continue. He knew when to push a witness and when to back off and let them proceed at their own speed.
She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“But…” Raul prompted after several seconds.
Daniel threw him a look and Raul shrugged as if to say “someone had to.”
“Joyce seemed to be distracted lately. I should’ve been more diligent and asked her what was wrong.”
“So you think something odd was going on in her life? Did she have any family issues?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know. I think Joyce might have been divorced. She never talked about her past and wasn’t looking for another relationship.”
“Why do you say that?” Daniel asked.
“I’ve seen a couple of customers try to flirt with her. She shut them down. Politely, but she discouraged men. This last week, though, she was remote, as if something was bothering her.”
“Have any idea what?” Rodriguez pressed.
She shook her head. “No.”
Daniel’s gut reaction told him the woman was hiding something.
“Did you have any cash on hand? Maybe someone was after money?” Daniel asked.
She shook her head. “I make the deposit run in the late afternoon. We don’t keep a lot of money in the store.”
“Is anything missing?” Raul questioned.
“Where is she?” A woman’s voice floated up the stairs.
“Ma’am, you can’t go up there,” Icenhour replied.
“You want to try and stop me?” The steel in her voice caught both Daniel’s and Raul’s attention.
For the first time, Elena smiled. That smile tugged at Daniel’s heart.
“That’s Mom. You might as well let her up. She won’t stop until she makes it up here.”
They didn’t need a scene. Daniel stood and walked to the door. “Icenhour, let the woman come up here.”
Instantly, a woman appeared in the doorway and brushed by Daniel. In her early sixties, with blond hair and deep-blue eyes that burned with concern, she was a handsome woman, who bore no physical resemblance to her daughter. Instantly, she scooped Elena into her arms.
“Are you all right?” She pulled back and brushed Elena’s hair from her face.
When Elena tried to speak, she couldn’t say a word, but nodded.
“What have you done to my daughter?” the older woman demanded, turning to the detectives and glaring.
Daniel understood her reaction, but her attitude wasn’t helpful. “Your daughter’s—”
“Mom, the detectives have done nothing. Seeing Joyce’s…body…reminds me of—”
The older woman nodded. “I want to take my daughter home.”
Daniel glanced at Rodriguez, who nodded. “That’s fine.” Daniel reached inside his sports jacket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Elena. “If you remember anything else, please get in touch with me.”
She took the business card and clutched it in her hand.
As the women started to leave, Elena paused and handed Daniel her keys. “Will you lock up?”
“Yes.”
Once they were alone, Rodriguez stood and shook his head. “Talk about a mother bear protecting her young. I wouldn’t want to get between that woman and her daughter.”
Daniel slipped the keys in his pocket, then joined Rodriguez at the door.
“I know. Let’s see if the guys downstairs have finished up.”
He watched from the shadows as the police swarmed over the building. He ground his teeth. The stupid female showed up too soon. He hadn’t finished his search. Of course, Joyce had surprised him, too. Threatened him, but he solved that problem. He could solve this new problem. There was another night, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found what Joyce had stolen from him. Too much depended on that evidence, and he would find it.
When Elena walked into the Santa Fe police headquarters, the large clock on the wall read 6:20 a.m. It hadn’t been a peaceful night. She’d wrestled “the nightmare,” only this time it had a new twist. This time the dream started with her arriving at the antique shop and finding the body. But when she turned the body over, it wasn’t Joyce she discovered. It was her birth mother’s body, and suddenly the room had altered to the kitchen where her mother died. Her father, in a drunken rage, had grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed her mother when she refused to get him another beer. Elena had been eight when that happened. Her older brother had called the police and held their mother while they waited for the cops.
It had taken years for that vision not to haunt her dreams. Too many times her adoptive parents held her while she cried. This morning she didn’t want to add to the sorrow and grief her mother felt for Joyce.
After experiencing that old nightmare, Elena knew she couldn’t go back to sleep, so she dressed and decided to go to work. Unfortunately, her car and keys to the shop were still with the detectives. Instead of waking her mother and facing questions, Elena wrote a note and took a bus downtown. She could walk from the main police station to the shop.
The receptionist walked to her desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. “May I help you?”
“Is Detective Stillwater here?”
The woman called the detective’s extension. “Detective, there’s a woman here—” She paused and looked at Elena.
“Elena Jackson.”
The woman repeated the name. “Okay. I’ll relay the message.” She hung up the phone. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
Elena turned and looked out the plate-glass windows into the empty street. It glowed with a soft predawn light. The scent of piñon and mountain cedar filled the air. This time of day always refreshed Elena, and in the stillness, she could pray. She could tell the Lord about her day and spend time with Him. Even in New York, where there was a mass of humanity, the mornings were her time to renew herself. In New York, praying as she walked to work had made her appreciate the beauty of the city, but when she came home to New Mexico, her soul found peace.
The smell of the receptionist’s coffee floated through the air, reminding Elena that she hadn’t had her morning cup yet. A stop at Juan’s at the corner of the street would be her first priority after she got her keys. Juan’s Café was a favorite hangout for the cops and lawyers downtown, but, despite that, she’d wanted coffee and one of the breakfast burritos Juan cooked up. Often, when she was a teen, her adoptive father had brought her to the store and they’d stop at Juan’s for a treat.
“How are you doing this morning?” Daniel’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts.
Elena turned and watched the detective walk toward her. He was a good-looking man, something she hadn’t noticed last night. Of course, she had been a little too preoccupied to look, but now she gave him a once-over. Whipcord lean, Daniel had a wealth of blue-black hair, high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes and a well-defined mouth. The coppery tone of his skin reminded Elena that it was his ancestors who first roamed this land. He probably had his fair share of female admiration. She didn’t notice a wedding ring on his left hand. Although he’d been up all night, he didn’t look tired.
“I came by for my keys. I wanted to get to the shop and see what needed to be done.”
“Let’s go back to my desk. Your keys are there and we can go over your story again.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Now that you’ve had the night to think about what happened, maybe something else occurred to you.”
Suspicion filled her. Did he think she had something to do with Joyce’s murder? But before she could say anything, her stomach rumbled. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Daniel’s mouth curved with amusement.
“I haven’t had breakfast,” she mumbled. “I was going to stop by Juan’s before I went to the store.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Her brows knitted into a frown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Let’s go to Juan’s. Over some burritos, we can go over your statement.”
“Huh—” Her stomach rumbled again.
His gaze captured hers.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Daniel went back to his desk, picked up her keys and handed them to her. He put his notebook in his shirt pocket, grabbed his corduroy jacket and slipped it on.
Rodriguez sat back in his chair. “Hey, when you’re at Juan’s, buy me a number one and have him send it over.” He pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to Daniel.
Elena noticed the silent message the two men exchanged and wondered what it was about. Once outside in the morning air, Elena glanced at Daniel.
“Am I about to get the third degree?” she asked.
“No. What makes you think that?”
“All the silent messages you and your partner exchanged.”
“You’re imagining things.”
She didn’t believe him and prepared herself for the grilling.
The wonderful smell of coffee and refried beans surrounded her as they stepped into the restaurant, making her worries disappear. Whatever the detective had in mind, she could handle it after a cup of coffee and something to eat.
She ordered and found a booth in the corner away from the noise and chatter of the restaurant. Daniel ordered his breakfast and Rodriguez’s. After paying for them, he joined her.
“Have you remembered anything else about Joyce that you didn’t tell me last night?” he asked.
“I’ve tried not to think, to put everything out of my mind.” She concentrated on her burrito.
He took a bite of his breakfast. “How long did Joyce work at your store?” he questioned.
“She worked for my parents for the last five years.” When he gave her a look, she explained, “I was in college at UNM, studying art. When I came home one Christmas, Joyce was working at the store. I knew her casually, but if you want more information on her, talk to my mother. Mom worked with Joyce every day for the last five years. I worked holidays and some summers when I came home. Once in New York, I rarely saw Joyce.”
“But you’ve been here in Santa Fe for the last six months?”
Elena frowned at him. If he knew the answer, why ask the question? Maybe he was testing her. “My father passed away at the beginning of March. Mother wasn’t able to handle the business, so I quit my job in New York and came home.” She didn’t want to discuss the grief that put her mother in bed or how in order to keep things running, she’d come home. Her adopted older brother lived in Seattle with his family. Of the two of them, she was more able to come and help their mother.
He took out his notebook and scribbled something down. “So you aren’t familiar with Joyce?”
She frowned at him. “No. She was a wonderful employee, always on time, reliable, helpful to my parents. Since I’ve been home, I can’t name any problems with her.” Of course, Elena had been worried about Joyce.
“What are you not telling me?”
Her head jerked up. “What makes you think—”
He gave her a pointed stare. “I’m a trained investigator.”
Elena shrugged. “As I told you last night, Joyce seemed to be preoccupied over the last couple of weeks.”
“Tell me about it.”
Elena tried to come up with exact instances. “One time she put the special orders in the wastepaper basket. Another time, she forgot to put a large check in the cash register. And another time, she came to work without her purse. She had to drive home and get it. That wasn’t like her. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she just had an off day. It wasn’t an off day, but an off week. But I didn’t press her. We all screw up.”
As he jotted notes in a small spiral, the clatter of silverware and dishes filled the air. Elena tried to peek at what he wrote, but his head came up, and she smiled and settled back into her seat.
“And you never knew anything about her personal life?” he pressed.
Something was going on here. “No, I didn’t, but I’ve got a feeling that you know something I don’t.”
He leaned back against his chair. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
TWO
She looked stunned. “No.”
“Hey, Stillwater.” Jeff Muller, a patrolman and fellow soccer dad, walked up to the table. He nodded toward Elena. “You going to the girls’ soccer game this afternoon?”
His daughter, April, and Jeff’s daughter, Melissa, played on the same soccer team, the Red Peppers. They were 9-1 for the season. This was their final game. “I wouldn’t miss it, Jeff. Has your daughter’s injury healed?”
“Yeah. She’s only got a few scabs left, but she’s ready to play.”
“I’ll see you at the field at five.”
Jeff nodded and walked off.
When Daniel looked back at Elena, he saw her struggling with the information he’d just dropped about Joyce. She was either a good actress or the info came as a total shock. His heart wanted to believe it was surprise, but his brain argued she could be acting.
Of course, he was fighting an unseen enemy—attraction.
She was the first woman who’d grabbed his attention since his wife’s death. He’d found himself looking forward to seeing her today. Of course his reaction could be a combination of tiredness and hunger.
Liar, a voice in his head whispered.
“Are you sure you have the right woman?” she carefully asked.
They’d taken the dead woman’s prints and run them through their AFIS computer system. Joyce Murphy’s name and mug shot had popped up. “I’m sure. She’d been convicted of passing counterfeit money.”
Elena’s mouth fell open.
“So my news comes as a big surprise,” he continued.
That jerked her out of her fog.
“Of course.” She shook her head. “I never knew. She was a trusted employee. I’m sure my parents didn’t know about her past. She was the only employee my parents had over the past few years, with the exception of my brother, Adrian, and me. Joyce was there for my mom when Dad had his heart attack and has helped since his death.”
Elena’s impression of Joyce didn’t sound as though she continued her criminal ways. “Did your parents ever mention a concern about Joyce?”
“They never said anything to me. You could call my brother in Seattle to see if they mentioned anything to him. Of course, he left home before I did.”
Elena’s phone rang. She dug around in her purse and grabbed it. “Hi, Mom. No, I’m with Detective Stillwater.” She looked up at him. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
He watched her face as she listened to the answer.
“You did, but I don’t—” Her hand curled into a fist. “Okay. No, I’ll be at the shop in a few minutes.” She closed her phone and carefully placed it in her purse. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “Mom knew about Joyce’s past. Are we finished? I need to meet her.”
“We are for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might have more questions as the investigation goes along.”
She nodded, gathered her purse, and left. He carefully observed her. He’d checked out her background. Elena Segura Jackson had no criminal record. Adopted at the age of ten by the Jacksons after the trauma of seeing her mother murdered by her father, she’d had a normal life with teenage rebellion. She had one ticket for speeding, but that was it. Her college records showed her as an A student and her move to New York had been uneventful as far as law enforcement was concerned. He needed to interview the mother and brother. It might turn up something.
There was something that bothered him. It was this attraction thing. What he needed to do was to chalk it up to too little sleep.
His cell rang.
“Hey, Dad, are you going to be home before I leave for school?” April asked.
“I’m on my way, now, sweetie.”
“Good. Grandma wants you to bring home some milk. She says you won’t mind.”
He laughed. His mother’s friend, Rosalyn Mendoza, had come to his rescue when he came home from his unit in Afghanistan to take care of his wife, who had breast cancer, and daughter. His own mother had died before his daughter was born, but Rosalyn had adopted his daughter as if she were her own granddaughter. April only knew Rosalyn as her grandma. “You tell her I’ll bring the milk. If she’s plays her cards just right, I might bring home some apricot empanadas from Juan’s.” He knew the baked turnover was a favorite of his daughter’s.
April cheered. “Hurry home.”
He laughed. “You just want the empanadas before you go to school.”
“No, Dad, it’s you I want to see.”
Her words brought on bittersweet pain that reminded him of how little he’d given his daughter over the years. But with the Lord’s help, that would change.
Getting off the bus at the northwest corner of Amarillo Plaza, Elena tried to put aside the fear gnawing at her. She didn’t want to think about what happened last night, but it seemed to race after her like a stalker. Hurrying past Mama Rosa’s Cantina on the corner, Elena walked toward Past Treasures on the north side of the central plaza in old town Santa Fe. This square was part of the original city, built with adobe. Wooden beams used to construct the adobe stores were used to support the new wooden awning built to give shoppers shade in the middle of a blistering day. In the center of the square, old hitching posts were left to emphasize the history of the area.
When she got to the shop, there was nothing there to indicate a murder had occurred within those walls. All the police tape was down, but the door remained locked. She found the keys in her purse and opened the door.
With her hand on the knob, she prayed, “Lord, give me strength.” Slowly, she entered the building. Her gaze scanned the room. The police had moved things, and there was black powder on several pieces of furniture and the back door.
Walking into the room, she heard voices coming from the janitor’s closet at the back of the store.
“You don’t have to do that yourself, Diane. Call your experts that deal with rugs.”
From the voice, Elena recognized Preston Jones, the owner of the art gallery next door. Preston dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.
The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.
“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”
“The bus.”
Preston and Cam appeared behind her mother.
“How are you doing?” Cam asked, coming to her side. In his early fifties, he was a hippie, who came to Santa Fe in the early seventies and never left. He still bore some of his rebellious attitude toward the establishment and wore what was left of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. His designs had become famous, and he’d developed a wide following. He was also a major dealer of native jewelry created by local artisans.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he hugged her.
She stiffened. “I’m okay.” She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. When he released her, she stepped back.
Preston caught her gaze. “Are you sure?” He was the polar opposite of Cam. Preston Jones was tall, with a hundred-dollar haircut and clothes of the Hollywood elite, silk shirts and designer pants. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would help scrub this room. He’d probably give the sponge to her mother or Cam and then supervise.
“I can’t believe what happened here.” Cam looked around the room. “When I arrived this morning, the last of the cops were driving off. No one would tell me anything until your mom got here.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would anyone want to harm Joyce?”
Elena looked at her mother. They needed to talk.
“Guys, Mom and I need a few minutes,” Elena informed them.
The men glanced at Diane and she nodded.
Cam rested his hand on Elena’s arm. “If there’s anything that I can do, you let me know.”
She appreciated Cam. He’d been a rock when her father died. Those first few days after she arrived home from New York City had been hectic, but if something needed to be done, Cam had stepped up and helped until Adrian had arrived from Seattle.
Preston nodded. “Those are my sentiments, too. If you need anything, call.”
After the men left, Diane turned back to her daughter. “How are you?”
Elena sat down in the old rocker they’d recently acquired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go get my keys and purse from the cops. Detective Stillwater was still there.”
Diane sat on the coffee table next to the rocker. “And—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Joyce’s police record?”
Diane looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t my secret.”
“You didn’t think I needed to know?”
“At the time, no.” When Diane looked up again, she grabbed Elena’s hand. “Do you remember when your father worked in the prison ministry?”
“Vaguely.”
“It was something he had a passion for. He met Joyce while she was still incarcerated for helping her ex-husband to pass counterfeit twenties. Apparently her ex-husband convinced her to pass some of the funny money.”
“She knew that money wasn’t real?”
“Yes. When Joyce came up for probation, your dad was contacted and asked if he would sponsor her.”
“So he agreed?”
“Yes. He believed Joyce had turned her life around and wanted to give her a new start. Your father trusted her. His trust was rewarded. Besides, your father’s faith in her led her back to church.”
Elena wasn’t surprised by the news. Phillip Jackson had been a mighty man of God with a heart that encompassed all around him. He’d been a tall man, with a full head of black hair. His laugh had been a thing of pure joy, and his smile had eased her heart more than once. When the Jacksons had first adopted her, she remembered how nervous she was around Phillip, worried that his temper would flare out of control. That had been her experience with her birth father. He would rage, shout and strike out. If he was mad, everyone in the family knew to hide.
Elena remembered the first time she’d disobeyed Phillip. She’d been in the antique store and spilled her purple grape soda on her father’s desk. She knew the rule about not bringing drinks into the office. When Phillip had discovered it, he’d been livid. He’d yelled and approached her. She covered her head with her hands expecting a blow. When nothing happened, she peeked through her fingers. Her father’s stricken expression shocked her. He squatted before her and waited.
It took several minutes, but she lowered her hands. He then said the most amazing thing. “I’m sorry, Elena.” She hadn’t believed her ears.
“I was wrong to yell at you. Please forgive me.”
Elena wasn’t sure she heard right. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
It was the first time in her life anyone had asked for her forgiveness. But he didn’t move and continued to look at her.
“Yes. I forgive you.”
He nodded. “I give you my word, Elena, that I will never raise my hand to you. That doesn’t mean that when you do wrong you won’t be punished. But you will never have to fear me.”
Her father had been true to his word. He’d loved her and guided her through her teens. She knew her father would forgive her, but there were consequences for doing wrong. Slowly over the years, she learned to trust, and God had worked through Phillip to show her what a true father would do for his child.
Phillip had been that way with all the people around him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Joyce?”
“It happened while you were away at school. Besides, your father felt if Joyce wanted to share her past with you, she would’ve.”
Oddly, the information made Elena feel worse. Why hadn’t her father trusted her with that information?
“I guess I better start on the carpet.” Diane stood and walked back to the spot where Joyce’s body had been.
Elena came to her side. “I agree with the guys. Let a professional clean it.”
After a moment’s pause, Diane nodded her head. “Okay.”
“I’ll go call our regular guy.” She started toward the office.
“Elena—”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“It wasn’t you, sweetheart. Your father thought it wasn’t his secret to tell.”
“I understand.” But in her heart, she didn’t.
When Daniel woke at two in the afternoon, he showered, dressed, and made himself a cup of coffee. The night shift always took it out of him or maybe he was getting too old for night shifts. On the refrigerator under the magnet from Carlsbad Caverns was the playoff schedule for April’s soccer team. The final game was tonight at five. Her gym bag with her soccer uniform and shoes sat by the back door. He grabbed his digital camera, wanting to catch all the action of the game, and added it to the pile he needed to put into the trunk of his car.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, he opened his Bible to Ephesians 6 and read the chapter. Verse 11 jumped out at him—Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.
He knew from experience how important that armor was. When he was in Afghanistan fighting with his unit, he felt at peace in the midst of the flying bullets and tank fire. But when the chaplain had told Daniel his wife was dying of cancer, he’d felt naked. He’d come home within days and had two weeks with Nita before she died. In those dark hours beside her bed, he realized what he’d done to his wife. He had more of a bond with the guys in his unit than his wife. She hadn’t blamed or accused him of being a rotten husband, but she exacted a promise that he would not leave April. It was a promise that he’d not broken.
Shaking off the memories, he closed his Bible, snagged April’s gym bag and walked to his car. “Thank You, Lord, for another chance with April.”
He loved every moment with his little girl.
Walking into the police headquarters, Daniel met Raul. He held up the file in his hand. “ME’s preliminary report.”
The news stunned Daniel. “Already?”
“Amazingly, there was a lull at the morgue, so he got to our vic. She was stabbed four times. With the first three, our perp missed her heart. It was the final blow, straight into the heart that killed her.”
Obviously the crime had occurred at Past Treasures. Had the murderer been trying to rob the shop, or did it have something to do with Joyce’s life? “You want to interview the surrounding shop owners to see what they know?” They needed to know more about the victim. The square where the murder had occurred had a very low robbery and murder rate.
“I do. Let me get my coat and we’ll canvass the area.”
Once Raul got his coat, it took less than five minutes to get to Past Treasures. The store remained closed and Daniel didn’t see activity inside. They walked next door to the art gallery.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with a full head of dark hair and a deep tan approached them. “Gentlemen, how may I help you? Are you here to see the latest Jean-Paul Jaunes painting before it flies out the door?”
“I’m Detective Daniel Stillwater and this is my partner, Detective Raul Rodriguez. We’re with the Santa Fe Police and are investigating the murder of Joyce Murphy.”
He shook his head. “When I saw that Diane hadn’t opened the store, I went over there to see what the matter was. That was so tragic.”
Raul scowled. The guy was putting it on rather thick.
“Could we speak to you about Joyce?” Daniel asked.
“Of course. Why don’t we talk in my office?”
They followed him to the back of the store. His office was off the back workroom. Paintings, storage crates and bubble wrap filled the room, but no one was in sight. Mr. Jones walked to the enclosed office in the front corner. He’d spared no expense in furnishing the room, from the antique Spanish desk to the Tiffany lamp on the desktop. Beside it sat a laptop, open and working. Motioning to the chairs before the desk, he sat in the chair behind it.
Once settled, Daniel asked, “How well did you know Joyce?”
“She worked next door for several years. We traded hellos, but I didn’t know her very well.”
“Did you ever see her with a boyfriend? Or a friend she hung with?”
“No. The woman was completely closed up. She didn’t do small talk.”
Raul leaned forward. “Did she ever come over here and look at your gallery? Maybe talk about business at the store next door?”
“She came over here a couple of times. She didn’t appreciate fine art. And she couldn’t afford it. I told her it was a good investment, but she didn’t believe me.”
Daniel jotted down a couple of notes. “Do you know if anyone had anything against Joyce? Someone who she had a fight with.”
“I can’t say I ever saw anyone fight with her. But she mentioned working at the homeless shelter, the food bank and her church. There are plenty of people at the homeless shelter you can’t trust. Try there.”
“What church?” Raul asked.
“First Community Church over on St. Mary’s Avenue.”
“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.
“Nothing. One time I asked about her plans over the Fourth of July holidays—if any of her family was coming into town. She said nothing about family and planned to stay in town.”
“Can you think of anything else about Joyce? Habits, likes, dislikes?” Daniel hoped that Preston might help provide a clue to Joyce’s killer.
“She loved the Dodgers. Knew all the members of the team. She was something of a baseball fanatic.”
That piece of news could help. “Did she like college baseball?”
“Can’t say. You might ask Diane or Susan and Jeff Marks over at Mama Rosa’s.”
Daniel glanced at his partner, silently asking if he had any questions. Raul shook his head.
Pulling out his business card, Daniel handed it to Preston. “If you think of anything else, call me.”
Preston dropped the card onto his desk. “Sure.”
The detectives started out of the store, but Raul stopped by a large painting of a lily on a branch. Daniel had to swallow his smile at his partner’s puzzled expression.
“Are you interested in buying a good piece of art?” Preston flashed a smile at the detectives. “I have several up-and-coming local artists. You can buy them at a reasonable price before they become famous.”
Raul’s eyes widened. “There’s a market for this stuff?”
Jones bristled. “This is the Jean-Paul Jaunes painting I told you about earlier. He is the hottest upcoming painter on the art scene in the Southwest.”
Daniel grinned. Raul was more into the bold colors of his conquistador ancestors.
“Well, for that price, he better be number one.”
The painting’s price was equal to two months of a detective’s salary.
“It is an investment, Detective.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather put that kind of money in a good car,” Raul replied.
Preston sniffed and walked away.
“Apparently, you have no taste,” Daniel teased.
“No, I just have common sense. I don’t plan on being robbed.” Raul nodded to the door.
They walked down the street to Cam’s jewelry store, Three Star Creations, located on the south side of Past Treasures. The instant they walked into the store, Cam looked up from the customer he was helping. “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment,” he said, and went back to helping his customer. While Cam finished up, Daniel surveyed the store. Three Star Creations had a name in the city for its unique and inventive pieces.
When the customer finished her purchase and left the store, the man turned to Raul. “What can I do for you?”
Daniel stepped forward and introduced himself and the other detective. “You know about the murder of Joyce Murphy.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe what I saw when I came to work this morning. I’ve been sitting with Diane and Elena all morning.”
“Can you tell me anyone who might want to hurt the victim?”
“No one. Of course, I wasn’t close to Joyce. She kept to herself. Wasn’t very friendly.”
“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.
“Nothing.”
“Is there any incident that you can think of where Joyce had a run-in with someone? Or maybe she mentioned someone who was angry with her.”
“No.”
“No boyfriends?”
“She never mentioned anything to me, and I never saw anyone.”
Daniel handed him his business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”
He nodded.
As they walked to the next store, Daniel muttered, “So far all we know is the woman was perfect.”
“And that bothers me,” Raul answered.
It was a red flag for Daniel, too.
Daniel and Raul walked the length of the alley behind the shops on the square. Cars from the shop owners and their employees dotted the alley. Parked behind the back door of Past Treasures was a cleaning truck. Daniel walked up the three steps that led to the door. The top step broadened out to make a small landing.
Carefully, he studied the back lock.
“Do you think it was a random robbery?” Raul asked. He glanced up and down the alley.
“Could be, but why not break into the jewelry store or the art gallery? Wouldn’t it be easier to fence jewels or one of the smaller paintings than some antique chest?”
“Naw, you couldn’t give away that art, but you might be able to get rid of the jewelry.”
Daniel studied the back door. “I don’t see any signs of the lock being forced.”
Raul joined Daniel on the top step. “So a pro did this, not an amateur or some teenager high on something.”
“Sounds right to me. Let’s check the statistics on robberies in the area, but I don’t think it was random. I think whoever broke in was after something in that shop.”
The back door opened and a man stepped out with a steam cleaner. He looked up and stopped. “The store’s closed today.”
“I was so sorry to hear about Joyce.” A woman’s voice floated out of the open back door.
Daniel pulled out his ID and showed it to the man. He shrugged and walked to his truck.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the woman continued.
“No, but thank you. There’s nothing at the moment.”
Daniel recognized Elena’s voice.
He knocked on the back door to announce their presence.
Elena and her mother and another woman turned toward the sound.
“Detective.” Diane Jackson moved forward. “Is something wrong? Do you need more information?” A hint of panic colored her voice.
He smiled to ease her anxiety. “We’ve come to look at your shop in the light, to see maybe where the murderer might’ve come from.”
All three women paled.
Daniel turned to the woman he didn’t know and introduced himself. “And you are?”
“Susan Marks. My husband and I own Mama Rosa’s on the corner of the square.”
“Did you know Joyce?”
“Yes, I did. She helped with the homeless shelter. We donated food to the facility, and she helped us take it over there and serve.”
“How long has she been doing that?” Raul questioned.
“The last year and a half.”
“Have you noticed anything unusual about her in the last few weeks?”
“No.” Susan glanced at her watch. “I need to get back for the dinner rush.”
Daniel pulled out his business card and gave it to the woman.
After she left by the back door, he turned to Elena and her mother. “I’d call a locksmith today and have that back lock switched out. Whoever broke in here didn’t have a difficult time. Make it harder for anyone if it happens a next time.”
THREE
Elena opened the door to Joyce’s house. The modest dwelling on the edge of a business district had originally belonged to Phillip Jackson, but he’d sold it to Joyce for the mighty sum of fifteen hundred dollars. That information her mother told her after her father’s funeral had amazed Elena, but as she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her father was an exceptional man.
Pausing inside the door, Elena let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. The room looked as if a bomb had gone off in the place. Sofa cushions were pulled off and split open. In the corner, the desk had been ransacked, drawers hung awry, papers scattered about.
The kitchen mirrored the living room, with drawers hanging askew and dumped on the floor. Walking down the hall, she peeked into the bathroom. Same song, second verse. In the upstairs bedroom, the bed had been dismantled, the mattress pulled off the bed. The dresser drawers were thrown about the room with the mirror ripped off, the shattered remnants scattered over the top. Numbly, she walked around the room and glanced into the closet. Oddly enough, nothing was disturbed.
Elena pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed 911 as she walked toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway.
Without thinking, she used her purse as a weapon and aimed at the man’s head. She made contact. He stumbled back into the hall and she tried to race by him. He lunged for her and caught her around the waist. Their momentum carried them to the floor. Somehow, he twisted in midair and took the brunt of the blow when they landed. She was ready to fight for her life when she looked into the man’s face and saw Daniel Stillwater. She went limp.
He said nothing.
In the quiet, she heard the 911 operator calling.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Scrambling away from Daniel, she yelled. “What’s the matter with you?”
He slowly got to his feet and offered his hand. “Are you all right?”
She took it and stood. “No.”
“Ma’am,” the operator called.
She could chew him out later, but now she needed to tell the operator she was okay. She looked around in the hallway for the phone.
“Ma’am,” the operator again called.
“Where is it?” Elena said, frantically scanning the hall. She stepped back into the bedroom. There between the mattress and a drawer lay her phone. Snatching it up, she said, “Uh—I’m sorry.”
“Are you all right?” the operator asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Are you being held against your will?” the woman questioned.
Color filled Elena’s face. “No, no. It’s just that I thought the intruder was—”
Daniel motioned for her to give him the phone. She did. He quickly explained the situation to the 911 operator, gave his police ID number and told her to notify the units on the way that he was with Ms. Jackson. He also asked for an evidence team to be dispatched to this address. He disconnected and handed the phone back to Elena. “Let’s go and greet the officers.”
She dropped the phone into her purse and followed him to the door. Outrage and mortification had replaced fear in her brain. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. You’re lucky I didn’t use the move my father taught me when he knew I was going to New York City.”
His brow arched. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you as an intruder.”
That gave her pause.
“What are you doing here?” He was all business.
“The medical examiner released Joyce’s body. I told Mom I’d get something for the funeral home to dress Joyce in.” She looked into the bedroom. “But someone had decided to destroy the place before I got here.”
“So it was this way when you entered?”
She frowned at him. “Yes, it was. Do you think I did this?”
He said nothing.
“I got here about five minutes ago. I was so stunned that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had just decided to call 911 when you appeared in the doorway and we did that little thing.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
His lips twitched.
When they arrived at the front door, the patrol units were already there.
Reaching for the doorknob, Daniel said, “I’ll have to commend patrol division on their quick response time.”
Elena frowned. That wasn’t exactly her first thought.
He called out to the patrolmen, then slowly appeared in the open door. The patrolmen holstered their weapons and walked to the front door. Elena recognized them. They were the same ones who responded to Joyce’s murder.
“Stillwater.” Icenhour nodded to the house. “What are you doing here?”
“Our murder vic from yesterday, this is her house. I wanted to let you know that Ms. Jackson and I were inside and the robbery call-in was a misunderstanding. No use having you shoot me.”
Icenhour nodded. “It would be hard to explain how I shot a Santa Fe Police Detective.”
Daniel pointed over his shoulder. “Someone has systematically destroyed the house. I want to see if we can get usable fingerprints. Also, I want you to look around the property and see what you come up with.”
The two patrolmen nodded and walked away. Daniel turned to Elena. “Do you still want to get a dress for Joyce?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes.”
He nodded and indicated for her to go back inside. “Why is your family handling the burial?
Why doesn’t Joyce’s family take care of those arrangements?”
“Her parents disowned her and wanted nothing to do with her after her time in prison. Apparently, she never mentioned them again.”
He studied her, then nodded. “Follow me.” They walked into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom. He stepped into the closet. “Pick out something.”
Crowding into the closet by him, she tried to focus on a dress. Suddenly, the grief, fear and uncertainty swamped her. She didn’t want to cry. She wouldn’t cry. All the clothes blurred, and tears ran down her cheeks. The harder she tried not to cry, the more she did.
“Are you all right?” he softly asked, his lips close to her ear.
She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.
When he touched her shoulder, the dam broke and the tears flowed unchecked. Unseeing, she turned into his chest. All the turbulent emotions she’d bottled up poured out of her.
She didn’t know how long she bawled. A minute or eternity, but when the storm had passed, she stepped back. On his shirt was a big, wet spot.
She motioned to the spot. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes held a wealth of understanding and the gentle smile curving his lips eased her embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it. At least you didn’t throw up on me as my daughter has after a crying spell.” He handed her his handkerchief.
She laughed in spite of herself. “At least there’s that.”
Noise from the outer room startled them.
Daniel stepped out of the closet and said something to the patrolman. She used the time to gather her wits and dry her face.
When he came back, he said, “The patrolmen found the back door open. Our perpetrator came in that way.”
She nodded and then turned her attention to picking out a dress. She grabbed a soft blue one with a matching belt and a wide lace collar, pulled it out and showed it to Daniel.
“Let’s take it downstairs where I can note what you took and then you can deliver it to the funeral home.”
It was quickly done, the garment’s pockets checked for anything. When nothing was found, he allowed her to leave. As she drove away, fear clutched her heart. Just what had Joyce been involved in that someone would search and trash her home with such violence?
But that wasn’t the only worry slithering around her brain. She didn’t know what it was, but it was there. “Lord, help. Give me Your guidance and protection.”
He watched from his car as she drove away. The cops quickly left the scene after her. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel as anger shot through him. This was the second time she barged into the place he was searching. The woman was becoming a complication he couldn’t afford. Joyce had uncovered the truth and threatened him with it. He wanted that proof destroyed.
He would find it, no matter what it took. He wouldn’t go to prison. Not again.
Daniel finished taking down the last license plate from the cars parked on the road beside the grave, then slipped the small spiral notebook into the inside pocket of his sport jacket. He’d run checks on cars and their owners when he got back to the office, then compare notes with what his partner turned up. Hopefully, Raul had tracked down Joyce’s family.
He walked over the sand and stones to the grave site and joined the mourners. There were only a handful of people. Elena and her mother, Preston Jones, Cam McGinnis, Carolyn Ellis from the homeless shelter, and Susan and Jeff Marks, owners of Mama Rose’s Cantina.
“Lord,” the minister began, “accept the spirit of our sister and comfort those who grieve for her, we pray. Amen.”
Each person held a rose and as they filed by the coffin, they put a rose on the closed lid. When Elena looked up, she stopped.
“Detective Stillwater.”
Before he could respond, Cam McGinnis moved behind Elena. His expression and the set of his body signaled the coming flare-up.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
The words exploded in the silence of the overcast morning.
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Leann Harris
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Her own father had killed her mother. Afterward, Elena Segura Jackson had been adopted by a loving Santa Fe family. For years she′d tried to focus only on the present and future–not the past. But now another murder, in her family′s antique shop, brings the old memories rushing back.Detective Daniel Stillwater, widowed father of a little girl, vows to find the killer. In Daniel′s presence, Elena dares feel safe. Yet the killer keeps coming back, wreaking havoc in the shop, looking for…something. Like a moment when the good detective isn′t by Elena′s side.