“I don’t want the media hanging around,” she blurted. Then she cast her gaze back toward the patio. “I...I need to absorb what just happened. Tessa never hurt anyone, never had an enemy. Everyone loved her.” She whirled back to him. “I don’t want the media to harass her family and friends.”
Interesting. Or maybe she didn’t want the media delving into her personal life?
He stopped and tried again. “We’ve collected as much evidence as we can find for now so we’ll take this up again first thing tomorrow, but there’s still the matter of you finding another place to stay tonight.”
She glared at him, sniffed back tears she seemed to be trying hard to ignore. “I’ll go to a hotel.”
“Okay, then,” Blain said. “Get an overnight bag together and while you’re up there in your bedroom, make sure you double-check everything. Things such as valuable jewelry that might be missing or maybe some cash you left in a purse.”
She nodded. “Did you check the guest room? Tessa’s room?”
Blain could tell she was slipping fast. She was going to crash soon so he needed to get her out of here. “Yes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just your friend’s purse with the contents dumped on the bed and some clothes scattered around. Everything still intact.”
“Tessa is neat,” she said, her gaze slamming into his. “She would have put her clothes away. She’d never leave her purse that way.”
“Okay.” He wrote that down.
“We were going out tonight,” she said on a soft whisper. “Just for fun.”
Blain remembered fun. “I’m sorry you have to go through this,” he said on a low note. “Do you want me to come upstairs with you?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
He watched her up the stairs and then turned to take in the opulent design of the big town house. Did she decorate this one? Probably. A big pot with a healthy palm tree branching out around it sat by the ceiling-to-floor windows. A white leather couch and matching chair graced the spacious den. A modern-looking fireplace decorated in gold-and-white ornaments and shiny green foliage slashed across one wall and a bookshelf heavy with art and design books and a few novels filled the other wall. A vivid tropical-themed painting hung over the fireplace and a tall Christmas tree covered in silver-and-gold ornaments and ribbons stood in the corner by the fireplace.
So she’d been back in town long enough to get this place all gussied up for the holidays. Or maybe she’d hired someone to do it and they’d liked what they saw enough to try and rob the place. Maybe they’d sneaked inside the house, not knowing the other woman was here? Rikki had come home and surprised them? But why shoot the other woman?
Because she’d seen the intruder?
Now he had even more questions.
* * *
Rikki dreaded going into her bedroom. Knowing that a killer had gone through her house made her feel violated and ill at ease. She couldn’t even look at the guest room where Tessa’s things were scattered on the bed so she hurried up the hall to her room. She could see sparkling Christmas lights across the canal on another home’s upper balcony. The lights were pretty but a chill rushed across her shoulders, making Rikki shake.
Tessa. Dead.
What a nightmare? Had she been wrong to come back here? No, she had to see her mother before it was too late. Before she had even more regrets to add to the long list already in her head.
And yes, she’d needed some time away from Chad Presley. Because Chad could never replace the one man she’d loved and lost, and once he’d realized that, he’d turned nasty.
But she wouldn’t blame Chad. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t love him. Or that she’d never get over losing Drake.
Drake. Her sweet, young husband, Drake Allen.
We were so naive. So in love.
She missed him every day of her life but missing and wishing wouldn’t bring him back. Rikki went about grabbing clothes and gathering the essentials, her mind so numb with shock she could barely walk.
She’d lost Drake years ago. And now she’d lost Tessa. And both had died violently. She’d never get beyond the shadow of her family’s questionable legacy.
Staring at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror, Rikki wondered how she’d ever be able to open her heart to anyone again. It was all too much.
Being back in Millbrook was too much.
And once her family heard about this, her nightmare would continue. Unless she left again. She could do that. Just run away and start over in another place all together.
You should tell Detective Kent the truth.
Maybe she should do that, level with him and get it all over with. But she didn’t really know where to start. She didn’t think Chad had it in him to follow her here and kill Tessa. In spite of his veiled threats, he was too busy making more money for himself. He didn’t even know she’d left Tallahassee, anyway. Did he?
And her clients? While they all demanded discretion, none of them struck her as murderers. That left her powerful family. Could someone close to her actually want her dead?
No. Impossible. She’d been careful to stay out of trouble and to stay out of the limelight. None of this made sense. And like the detective, she wanted answers. Maybe they could work together on this if she leveled with him.
But right now, tonight, she didn’t have the energy for a long confession. The handsome detective would find out about her soon enough, anyway. And then, she probably would become a suspect.
* * *
Blain checked his watch again. And again, he walked around the downstairs rooms of the town house.
The kitchen and dining room were open to the den, all white and bright, with more green plants and vivid artwork. A set of open stairs decorated with garland crawled up the wall by the entryway. Swanky, as his mom would say.
An officer came in while Blain moved around the room once again, anything to help him figure out who’d been through here. They’d already dusted for prints and searched for hair and fabric fibers but Blain doubted they’d find either. The place looked as pristine as one of the ads in his mother’s many magazines. A professional job?
His gut burned toward that end but he still needed to pin her down on the ex-boyfriend. “What do you have, Wilson?” he asked the uniformed officer.
“Found some broken branches on the shrubbery near the back gate. The gate has a latch but no lock. Figure they left in a hurry headed that way once Miss Allen ran out screaming.” He pointed toward a thicket of woods that followed the far shore of the river. “Anybody could get lost in there, even this time of year. We don’t have a lot of bare trees in the winter around here.”
“I hear that,” Blain replied. A lot of pines and live oaks grew in that thicket. “Footprints? Shoe prints?”
“Yes, sir. Big ones. But only partials. A distinctive pattern, though.”
“Get pictures and measurements. Maybe a plaster form.”
“Already on it,” Wilson replied. “I think we’ve covered everything for now.”
“Okay. I’m waiting on Miss Allen,” Blain said. “We’re putting her in a hotel room for now. I’ll need a cruiser to give us a ride and a guard on her room tonight.”