CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the scene in front of me to disappear. I take a few more deep breaths, hoping to gain better control of my body, which is shaking uncontrollably. This can’t be happening again. Not to me. It just isn’t fair! I never asked for this. I don’t want to be the girl who’s always finding dead bodies. The police think I’m a complete nutjob, and now that I’m dating Brody, they’re going to rib him mercilessly about it.

Wait. No one else knows about this, besides the killer of course, so what would be the harm in simply turning around and walking away, leaving the body for some other unlucky sap to find and report to the police? Although the lucky sap would end up being Becca, and she’d kill me if she figured out I’d done that to her.

No, I have to deal with this. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. Maybe I should call Brody first, instead of nine-one-one. Eyes still shut, I turn my back on the body so I can make my call.

“Hey, did you get off work a little early?” he says when he answers my call.

“No,” I reply, my voice warbling.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone suddenly sharp.

“I…um…” Tears spring to my eyes, and I choke out, “I found…a…dead body.”

He hesitates for a moment. “At the funeral home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you making a joke?” he asks uncertainly.

“No! He’s seriously dead!”

“Are you sure?”

Knowing the slightest glance will further sear this horrific image deeper into my brain, I reluctantly take a quick look over my shoulder. The man is lying in a pool of blood with a temporary grave marker (basically a long metal stake with a plaque on the end) sticking out of his chest. “Yes.” My eyes travel to the man’s face.

“I’m on my way—”

“Holy shit!” I exclaim when I realize who it is.

“What?”

“It’s Jed Stewart,” I breathe, suddenly cold all over.

“Stay put. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

Stay put? Hell no! I dash back upstairs, lock myself inside Becca’s office, and begin pacing frantically. I’m freaking out big time here. Jed had to have died between the time Becca finished working on her old lady and when I went downstairs to lock up. Becca would have discovered him earlier if he’d been there.

That means the killer was in the funeral home at some point tonight, maybe even in the short time I’ve been here alone. Another shiver shakes my body, and I stop pacing. After that realization, I’ve totally given up on trying to calm down. At this point, I’m only trying to keep from hyperventilating.

My phone rings, nearly startling me into peeing my pants. It’s Brody.

After my shaking hands drop the phone twice, I finally answer, “Hello?”

“I can’t get in. Can you unlock the front door?” he says.

“Be right there.”

Hesitantly, I get up and head to the front door, still watching over my shoulder so no one sneaks up and tries to get me. When I let Brody in, he immediately sweeps me into his arms and holds me tight.

In his arms, my hammering heart is beginning to slow its pace, and my incessant shaking quiets considerably. It’s amazing how safe he makes me feel.

I raise my head from his chest and whine, “I don’t want to go through all this again.”

“I know,” he replies, stroking my hair. “I hate to have to say this, but I need you to tell me you didn’t kill anyone today.”

I push back from him and cry, “Of course I didn’t kill anyone today, Brody! I would think you’d at least know me well enough to know that!”

“I do.” Noting my obvious anger, he says, “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset. I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I had to ask only because it’s my job. Can you tell me where to find the body? I need to go make sure the area is clear.”

I point to the door to the stairs. “Down the stairs. You’ll see it. And please be careful.”

He smiles. “You, too. Go lock yourself in a closet or something.”

“I’ll be in the office.”

After locking myself in Becca’s office again, I collapse in her chair. I’m sure this entire block will be crawling with everything from emergency vehicles to gawkers to news vans in under five minutes. I can hear sirens approaching quickly, so that means the circus is starting. This is going to be a monumentally long night.

A few minutes later, Brody knocks on the office door. When I let him in, he gives me another crushing hug. “I’m going to pass this case off to someone else because of our relationship. I don’t want anything getting between us.” He brushes a lock of hair back from my face. “I’m going to be here for you. Okay?”

I nod, my eyes prickling with the threat of tears. “Brody,” I begin, my shaky voice barely above a whisper. “The guy down there…Jed Stewart, you know, we saw him the other night…he was the one who was with Lydia at Vibe.”

“I know.”

The sirens are even louder now, probably turning into the parking lot.

“So can you arrest her now?”

“For what?” he asks.

I sigh. It’s obvious to me what’s going on. Jed’s body was left here for me to stumble upon. The timing was laser perfect as well—I was the only Weber Funeral Home employee on site during the time of the murder. More importantly, I’m the only person who should have had access to that part of the funeral home during that time frame. Lydia is trying to get me arrested because she knows I’m on to her.

He gives me a squeeze. “Don’t sigh at me. CSU will sweep the place, and I’m sure they’ll find something. When we know who the killer is, we’ll arrest him.”

“Or her.”

Brody chuckles and steers me toward the front door. “I’ll have to brief the other detectives when they get here. Will you be okay by yourself for a little while?”

“Yeah, I guess…” I reply, sounding more sure than I actually am.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

A police car pulls up in the parking lot, and Brody gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before he goes over to meet his fellow officers. I sigh again and sink down on the front steps. I’m so freaking sick of dead bodies. Sitting here even feels too close to the situation inside, so I head around the building and plop down on the grass in the side lawn. It’s opposite the parking lot and the basement door, so at least I can’t see anything that’s going on. I enjoy the relative quiet while I can.

I put my head in my hands and try not to think about all of the shit I’m about to go through. There will be police interviews, police interrogations, police statements to sign, gossipy neighbors asking questions, news hounds asking questions (and Sloane will probably force me to give Blake an exclusive, which I would have anyway, but I hate being in the spotlight), and at some point, someone is going to have to clean up all the bloody mess in the funeral home. Becca had better not ask me to do that.

And so the circus begins, as several more cop cars show up, plus the coroner’s van. Thanks to the deafening noise, the funeral home’s neighbors are out in force. Normally the area around the funeral home is quiet since it’s a residential area. Not tonight. Above the din, I hear my name being called frantically.

“Lizzie!” I look up to see Blake sprinting around the corner. What’s he doing here? And why is he calling me “Lizzie” again? He’s running toward me, and he grabs me up off the ground, wrapping his arms around me so tightly I think he might snap my body in two.

“Blake,” I complain. “What’s gotten into you?”

He doesn’t let go, but explains breathlessly, “I heard on the police scanner that there was a…death, and they gave the funeral home’s address. I knew you were working tonight and assumed you’d be here alone after everyone else left. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

My phone. Hmm. I think I may have set it down in Becca’s office, but I don’t remember picking it back up. “Sorry. I must have left it inside.”

“Lizzie, I was so worried about you.” He loosens his hold a bit, just enough that he can look at me, and asks, “You aren’t hurt are you?”

I smile, touched at his concern. “I’m fine. Really. Just a little shaken up from…finding another dead body.”

Blake exhales sharply. “That’s a relief.”

“What do you mean it’s a relief? I said I found a dead body!”

“All I care about is that the dead body isn’t you.”

“Oh,” I say, unsure how to respond.

He continues earnestly, “You don’t know how many scenes played through my head on the way over here. I haven’t been this scared in my life, including the other two times I thought you’d nearly gotten yourself killed. You’re going to be the death of me.”

It seems like he still cares, and quite a bit. I smile up at him. “Thanks for checking up on me. Do you need to sit down? You don’t look so good.”

He frowns playfully at me. “You should talk. You’re as white as a sheet.” Sobering, he asks, “What happened in there? Who’s dead?”

“That’s actually rather interesting—” I begin, but am interrupted.

“You can take your hands off of her now,” Brody growls, staring Blake down.

Blake is still holding me and doesn’t budge. Bad move, Blake. I’m willing to bet that a ginormous pissing contest is in my near future.

I jump in, “Brody, it’s okay. He heard on the scanner there was an incident here and thought the worst. He’s just congratulating me for not being dead, right Blake?” I look at him meaningfully and gently push him away from me.

“Right,” he responds, flicking his eyes toward Brody. Oh, here we go. I’m having a weird déjà vu moment reminiscent of the infamous Blake and Lee arguments from right before Blake and I broke up. Only in this matchup, Brody is a much tougher opponent than Lee, and he has a gun. And Blake is still his same arrogant self, so there’s that.

Trying to lighten the mood, I laugh nervously, “I guess I should introduce you two.” Gesturing to each in turn, I say, “Brody Callahan. Blake Morgan.”

Neither of the boys moves to shake hands, both of them standing with arms crossed and biceps flexed. Ah, testosterone. Gotta love it.

Brody breaks the stony silence first. “So you’re the one who made her cry last week.”

Blake narrows his eyes, responding, “And you’re the one who had his tongue down her throat the next morning.”

Slapping my forehead with my hand, I exclaim, “And I’m the one who’s uncomfortable here. Both of you shut the hell up.” They both turn to me with wounded expressions and sad, puppy dog eyes. “Hey, too bad, boys. I have zero patience left.”

“Hey, Callahan,” calls the coroner, beckoning Brody to join him around the corner of the building.

Brody turns to me. “They’ll want your statement soon. I’ll be back to get you.” He casts one more wary glance at Blake and jogs over to meet the coroner.

“Are you sure about him?” Blake asks. “He doesn’t seem like your type.”

Does he ever give it a rest? “Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”

“He’s arrogant and domineering.”

I raise one eyebrow at him.

“Ha, ha. You know what I mean.”

I sink back down on the ground. Blake sits down next to me. I begin, “I guess you’re going to ask me for an exclusive…”

He frowns. “I didn’t come here for the story.”

Wow. It’s a big deal for him to put me before the story of a murder. “And I appreciate that.” We sit in silence for a moment, and then I say, “But I know you’re dying to know some details.”

“You know me so well,” he replies, his eyes holding mine.

I shift the topic of conversation away from us. “I never got a chance to tell you who died.”

Taking my cue, he jokes, “Let me guess…Lydia saw the error of her ways and decided to end it all.”

I smile. “Nope. Try again. I’ll give you a hint. It’s a man.”

Blake pretends to be deep in thought. “Hmm. Sloane. He secretly loves you, and when he found out he couldn’t have you, he decided to end it all.”

“Again, funny, but no. And this is a murder, not a suicide. And it’s one I don’t think you’re going to be particularly sad about.”

“Well, that’s certainly intriguing, but it doesn’t necessarily narrow down the field very much.”

“This could really tie everything together for us.”

“Out with it, woman!”

“Jed Stewart.”

Blake’s mouth drops open. “No way!”

“Yes way. And don’t forget he was on a date with Lydia a few days ago.”

I can see the wheels start turning in Blake’s head. He asks, “Are you sure it was a murder?”

I nod, trying to keep the image out of my head.

“What time do you think the murder occurred?”

“Well, I found him in the basement a few minutes ago, when I was locking up. It had to have happened in the last couple of hours, because if not, Becca would have noticed him when she was down there earlier.”

Blake’s eyes darken, and he becomes very serious. “So the killer was in the building when you were, possibly even when you were there by yourself.”

I nod, my stomach twisting in knots.

“Do you think someone wants this pinned on you? I mean, you found Stewart in an area that should only be accessed by employees, right?”

“Right. And I was by myself for a good thirty minutes before I discovered the body. Lydia could have been watching me and known that.”

“I don’t like this.”

Running my hands through my hair, I groan, “Neither do I.”

“Do you think Stewart was killed here or dumped?”

“Definitely killed here.” I shudder.

Blake says kindly, “If you don’t feel like talking about it, that’s fine.” His eyes, however, are sparkling with anticipation.

I sigh. I’m going to have to tell this story over and over again tonight, so I might as well tell it to a friend first. “He was lying on the floor with a…” I wince at the mental image that overtakes my thoughts. “…a metal grave marker sticking out of his chest. There was a lot of blood.” I stop and massage my temples, trying to get the image out of my brain.

Laying his hand gently on my back, Blake begins to rub soothing circles. “You don’t have to go on, really.”

Looking at him seriously, I admit, “I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to go back and work there again.”

Brody approaches, staring daggers at Blake, and says, “Lizzie, you need to meet with Detective Johnson now.” He holds out his hand to help me up. “Ready?”

“I’ll catch up in just a second, okay?” I reply.

Brody looks from me to Blake, slightly perturbed, but disappears around the front of the building.

Hauling myself up off the ground, I say to Blake, “Thanks for being here for me. I would have been a basket case without you.”

Hopping up and taking my hands, Blake replies, “I’m just extremely glad you’re not dead.”

I smile. “Aw, thanks. I’m glad I’m not dead, either. I better go. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Of course you’ll see me tomorrow. I’ll have to interview you for real. I’ll stick around for a while, in case you need me. Goodnight, Lizzie.” He squeezes my hands before letting go.

“Goodnight.”

I close my eyes for a moment and ready myself for a chat with the police. Luckily for me, my chat is going to be with my longtime friend, William Johnson. He worked the Sarah Rodgers case, and he helped out on the Detective Sanchez case as well, so he knows my history inside and out. Plus, he’s extremely kind and patient, especially with me. I’d much rather be interrogated by him than Brody, even when Brody’s trying to be nice.