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Amanda dropped onto the lounger in her backyard. Freshly cut grass and fragrant summer blooms traveled over the fence from her neighbors’ gardens and were intoxicating. The sky was a rich blue, and the sun was a blazing yellow orb. Dumfries, Virginia, was the picture of perfection on this summer day, and even the birds were singing their approval. She lowered her sunglasses over her eyes.
Given all the sunshine and heat she’d had in Orlando, Florida, last week one might think she’d have had enough. Not even close. And despite the incredible weather, there wasn’t much downtime between Disney World, Universal Studios, water parks, miniature golf, and on it went. But it was awesome being able to treat her adopted daughter to such a vacation to mark her eighth birthday. Seeing Zoe’s eyes light up and hear her laughter was more than enough reward.
Zoe delighted in the costumed characters in the theme parks, never passing up a chance to hug one. Amanda had been on guard, wary of strangers touching her child, even in that context. The negativity was an occupational hazard of her job in homicide with the Prince William County Police Department. With all she’d seen, darkness lurked everywhere, even when all seemed light and innocent—especially then.
But that wasn’t her issue right now. She had five more days of vacation to enjoy before work on Monday, and currently had the house all to herself. Zoe was with Amanda’s sister Kristen and her daughter, Ava. They had a pool and, as Amanda had discovered this summer, Zoe was part dolphin, though she preferred to be called a mermaid.
Logan Hunter, who had moved in with Amanda and Zoe at the start of summer, had also been on the Florida trip. The way their relationship had bloomed couldn’t have been planned any better. They just fit. Today, he was off golfing with friends.
That left her with all the time in the world to relax. Thinking, thinking, thinking. And B-O-R-E-D.
Between her job and personal life, she didn’t have the luxury of much downtime. Because of this, she had zero hobbies and hadn’t read a book for fun in… She couldn’t remember how many years. It might be time to crack the spine on one of the two novels on the table next to her. They’d already endured the trip south without a single word being read.
Why not give it a go…?
She grabbed one, and taking her lemonade with her, she moved to the patio table and cranked up the umbrella. With her light, freckled skin, inherited from the Irish in her blood, she burned easily. She leaned back in a chair, lifted her legs, and rested her feet on the table.
She opened the cover of the paperback. Then looked up. Her mind wandering at just the thought of dipping into a fictional world. Why did the concept of having time to herself sound wonderful, while the execution, not so much? In place of endless possibilities was an endless void of nothingness. But, no, she had to learn to just be. Even Logan had told her that.
She took in her modest-size yard. At the back fence line was a children’s play set with a climbing frame, swings, and a slide. Kevin, her late husband, had built it for their daughter, Lindsey. It was hard to believe last month had marked eight years since she’d lost them in a car accident. The sorrow and sense of loss still lingered, but mostly, it lay dormant in her heart. She came to think of her grief as a symbiote, like from the sci-fi enterprise Stargate, of which Kevin had been a fan. Just like how the alien lived within a host’s body, bringing it benefits, so did her grief. It made her ever aware of how precious and fragile life was, how things could change in the blink of an eye. This made her more conscious of how and with whom she spent her minutes and hours.
And she certainly didn’t want to sit here caught up in memories. She had Logan and Zoe in her life now—not that they could ever replace the family she’d lost—but they had made her life whole again.
Amanda took a deep breath. Be, she coached herself. Logan had told her that meant existing within the present moment. She was trying, but clearly failing.
She tossed the novel onto the table and pulled out her cell phone, checking for new messages. None. And she’d been in touch with everyone since they got home yesterday. There was no one else to call. Except…
She had received a voicemail yesterday during the flight home. After landing, she’d listened to it with the intention of calling the person back. That just hadn’t happened yet. But she suspected how the conversation would go.
The caller had been Felicity Kelley, a local mystery writer, who Amanda had met during a previous murder investigation. Amanda had told Felicity that if she had police procedural questions, she’d be willing to help. It would seem the time had come to make good on her offer.
Amanda would call her now, answer what questions she might have, and then call her best friend, Becky Tulson, and see if she could meet up for lunch. She’d be working but might find time to take a break. Becky was also in law enforcement as a uniformed police officer with the Dumfries Police Department, a smaller PD than where Amanda worked.
She hit Felicity’s number and listened as it rang and rang and—
“Detective Steele?” A man’s voice. “Why are you calling this number?”
She removed her feet from the table, her brows pressed down in confusion. “Who is this? How do you know who I am?”
“This is Detective Hudson.” Spoken off-the-cuff, as if he were insulted that she hadn’t recognized his voice. But it was also about context. Why would she expect him to be answering Felicity’s phone?
Why is he answering it?
Fred Hudson was another detective in the Homicide Unit with the PWCPD. His being on the other end of the line couldn’t be a good sign. Goosebumps rose on her arms, the hot, light breeze doing nothing to warm her now.
“In answer to your other question,” Fred said, “your name came up on caller ID. How do you know Felicity Kelley?”
She’d choose to ignore the judgment in his tone and focus on the more urgent matter. “Why are you answering Felicity’s phone? Is she okay?” The question dangled, vulnerable, as she wished for an innocent explanation. Felicity is just in the other room. He is a friend or a relative or…
“Felicity Kelley has been murdered.”
That couldn’t be right. She’d just called Amanda yesterday. She was alive… yesterday. And there it was again, things changing in the blink of an eye.
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m—” Her job was dealing with murder, but that was the last thing she’d expected to come at her today. Her mind must still be in vacation mode. Normally she was far sharper, ready to go, not stuttering and floundering in shock. “Murdered? Are you sure?”
Fred let out an exasperated sigh.
