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KIERA PULLED INTO HER garage, and her weariness evaporated.
Home Sweet Home.
She’d finish processing the images for Cecily on her desktop, take care of the contract for High Country Lifestyles, and officially start the new chapter in her life as Kiera O’Leary, photographer.
Chapter? Heck, no. This was a whole new book.
She hadn’t heard from HR yet. Had they even opened her email? She’d purposely sent it late on a Friday so even if they had opened it, they’d—she hoped—have put off dealing with it until Monday. As far as anyone but Liz knew, she was on vacation and wouldn’t be back until then.
Kiera put on a pot of coffee, changed into sweats, and went upstairs. She booted her computer. What first? The contract. After printing it, rereading it, filling it out, scanning it, and sending it, a glow of satisfaction washed over her. A feeling she thought would come with every new job, no matter how small.
Next, she called Cecily for any news about the investigation into Madelynn’s death, something there hadn’t been time to discuss during the photo shoot.
“Let me check,” Cecily said. “I’ll call you back.”
While she waited for Cecily to return her call, Kiera went to work on Cecily’s images, a task she enjoyed—and one that would generate income.
Cecily called back as Kiera was finalizing the last picture, the one of Javi interacting with Mohawk. Both subjects radiated affection.
“No real progress,” Cecily reported. “The State Patrol and the homicide squad in Denver are working on it, but they haven’t found any viable leads.”
Kiera sucked in a breath. “I might have one.”
“You have anything to back it up?” Cecily asked.
“A possible motive.”
“Let me put you through to Detective Markham.”
When the detective came on the line, Kiera suggested Stu’s name as a potential suspect. “If he thought Madelynn could hurt his career, he might have decided to keep her from passing along the information she had.”
Detective Markham seemed interested—at least he hadn’t blown her off as a crank caller—and took the information she provided. “I’ll pass this along to the investigative team in Denver.”
“I have records, too,” Kiera said. “I’ve already turned them in to the people who investigate unethical financial behavior, but I only did that yesterday, so I doubt he’s aware there could be an investigation starting up. Do you think I’m in danger?” She explained the candy, admitting she might be bordering on paranoia.
“Someone from the homicide squad in Denver will be in touch with you. Meanwhile, take sensible precautions.”
She thanked him and hung up. Sensible precautions? What did that mean? Not leave her house? Go to a motel instead? She’d had enough hiding. She sent the proofs to Cecily for her approval, made sure her doors were locked, and upped the sensitivity of her doorbell app.
The Denver homicide detective called the next morning. After introducing himself, he said, “Sorry to disturb your Sunday. Detective Markham said you have information about the Madelynn Snyder homicide.”
“I wouldn’t call it information, exactly.” Kiera repeated what she’d told Detective Markham. “I have nothing but a gut feeling, but I’d feel terrible if Stu was behind Madelynn’s death and got away with it.”
“Not a problem. Eliminating suspects is an important part of the investigative process. I appreciate you letting me know.”
“Do you need me to come in and make an official statement? Or do you come here?”
“That won’t be necessary at this time,” the detective said.
Had he taken her seriously? He hadn’t asked her to elaborate, and Kiera wondered if he’d believed anything she’d said.
~~
TUESDAY MORNING, KIERA dressed in a black skirt, gray turtleneck, and a black leather blazer, and made her way to the church for Madelynn’s funeral. She’d been tempted to put on a hat with a long black veil in case Stu showed up. Since the only hat she owned was her new cowboy hat which wasn’t appropriate, she went bare-headed. Besides, a hat and veil would make her more conspicuous, not less. Her one attempt at being less recognizable was wearing her hair in a tight bun at her nape.
A quick check in the mirror said she still looked exactly like Kiera. So much for a disguise.
Yesterday, she’d checked in with Liz. Stu still wasn’t giving any staff time off, although Liz said she’d already planned to take a personal day.
“Don’t sit with me,” Kiera had said. “Stu will know why you took the personal day. He’ll be looking for you—assuming he even bothers going—and I’d rather he not see me.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a big crowd,” Liz said. “He’s bound to spot you, assuming he’s even looking.”
“It’s a public place. A church. I’ll keep an eye out, but I can’t believe he’d do anything there. Have you heard from the compliance team?”
“No, and I’m sure Stu would have a meltdown if he was aware of it.”
Good. If Stu didn’t know he was being investigated, he’d have no reason to blame Kiera. Maybe he thought he’d eliminated the threat when he’d caused Madelynn’s accident.
There’s no proof he did.
Maybe not. The Denver homicide detective hadn’t called her with any updates. But Kiera’s gut hadn’t stopped insisting Stu was involved, if not responsible.
She lingered in her car until a small group gathered at the base of the church steps. Glancing around, seeing no sign of Stu, she got out and made her way to the cluster of women. No one she recognized. She inched her way among them. No one seemed to care. The conversation revolved around putting together a quilt in Madelynn’s memory and donating it to the church to display in the parish hall.
“We should go in,” one of the women said.
Kiera stayed with them as they entered the church, then found a seat in a pew close to the rear, on the far aisle near a side door where she’d be less visible and could make a quick retreat if needed.
She watched as people filed in. Liz was already inside, seated about halfway back next to Larry and Val from the office. They must be using personal time or sick days, too. No sign of Stu.
The service began. Kiera’s mind wandered as prayers and hymns filled the church. If Stu wasn’t guilty, would whoever had been responsible for Madelynn’s death be here? Not the same as returning to the scene of the crime, but didn’t killers go to their victims’ funerals? What about the homicide detective? Would he be here?
She was far enough back so she could see most of the mourners, but for the majority, only the backs of their heads.
You’re here to pay respects to Madelynn, not play detective.
Madelynn’s husband, whom Kiera had met once or twice at company gatherings pre-Stu, delivered his eulogy. Kiera’s throat clogged as he spoke of his love for Madelynn and the way she brightened the lives of everyone around her. Someone from the quilting group spoke, and to Kiera’s surprise, Liz got up to speak.
“I’ve known Madelynn for a few years, as a work colleague. She worked in an industry, finance, which often gets a bad rap, but she truly cared about her clients. Many days, she’d be the first to arrive and the last to leave. She made a point about being up-to-date on all the crazy fluctuations in the industry. She made sure she was doing the best job possible for her clients. It was as if she considered them family and wanted to provide for them. In the office, if someone had a birthday, she’d make sure there was cake. If there was a get-together, she’d make sure everyone was included.” She paused, raised her gaze. “We’re going to miss you, Madelynn. Things won’t be the same with you gone.”
Kiera’s eyes burned. How little she’d known about Madelynn, and she’d worked with her twice as long as Liz had.
When the service was over, Kiera changed her mind about not going to the cemetery. She owed it to Madelynn’s memory. She stood in line as people filed out by the coffin to pay their final respects. Not sure she could bear to see the shell that used to be Madelynn, Kiera quickened her pace as she walked by. The cloying aroma of the flower arrangements threatened to choke her. Outside, she paused to gulp the crisp, fall air. A clergyman approached.
“Are you all right, my child?” he asked.
Before she could register this wasn’t the pastor who’d officiated at the service, something hard pressed against the small of her back. Hot, alcohol-scented breath wafted over her. “Don’t say a word. Keep walking and nobody will get hurt.”
What a line from a bad movie.
“Scream and I’ll shoot you first, and then the others until I run out of bullets. This is a Glock nineteen, and it holds fifteen rounds, plus the one in the chamber. That’s a lot of people to weigh on your conscience.”
“Isn’t this where you say you just want to talk, Stu?” Kiera whispered.
“Shut up and come with me.”
Seeing the number of people still milling about, Kiera couldn’t risk Stu carrying out his threat. He had to know he wouldn’t get away with shooting her and fifteen others—assuming he was a good enough shot—in broad daylight, in a churchyard filled with witnesses. How did she know it was even a gun? He could have a piece of pipe shoved against her.
Was it worth the risk? Had he reached the point where he thought he had nothing to lose?
She’d think of something.
He poked her in the direction of the parking lot, his free hand gripping her forearm. “Slow and steady,” he whispered. “I’m a pastor comforting a mourner.”
Could she make a run for it? Twist away, head in another direction? There were several old pine trees at the edge of the parking lot. Would they provide cover? Or would Stu fire as soon as she made a move?
He might have nothing to lose, but she wasn’t ready to die. Especially not at the hands of Sleazeball Stu.
“The police will find you,” she said. “I already told them you were a suspect in Madelynn’s death.”
“I know. A detective showed up at my house. All friendly, saying he had a few routine questions. You and Madelynn were all buddy-buddy. It had to be you who tipped them off.”
They’d almost reached Stu’s car. He’d have to let go of her to open the door. He’d parked about twenty feet from one of the pine trees. If she could get behind it, she could shout for help.
How long would it take for someone to realize the pastor wasn’t a pastor? Until then, would they believe him over her? She didn’t know anyone here except Liz, Val, and Larry from the office.
If she got in the car with him, it would be all over.
“You don’t want to do that.” A familiar voice, but one with an edge she’d never heard. Frank? What was he doing here?
The next thing she knew, Stu was facedown on the ground.
“Call 911,” Frank said.
Hands shaking, Kiera fumbled in her purse for her phone. With trembling fingers, she punched in the three digits.