“Of course.”
He stared into his glass of wine a moment. Maybe she’d said something that had upset him.
“I will be careful, Edward. I hope you won’t worry too much.”
He lifted his gaze to hers, offered a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you won’t forget that you may call upon me for help in any way ... as long as it’s legal.”
She laughed. Couldn’t help herself. The idea of Edward doing something illegal was preposterous. “I’ll be sure not to call you for the illegal parts.” Her cell vibrated. “Excuse me.” CJ straightened, slid the phone from her pocket to check the screen.
Carter Cost.
She didn’t want to talk to him right now. He could leave a voicemail. She tucked the phone away and smiled for her host. “I know it’s still early, but I’m exhausted.”
“Of course you are.” Edward stood. “Have some more wine and retire to your room. I have reading to catch up on. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” He hesitated. “I took the liberty of picking up a few things you might need. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You do too much for me, Edward, but thank you.” CJ pushed to her feet. She felt achy and wholly spent. “Good night.”
He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and said his good night. She watched him leave before going to the sideboard he used as a liquor cabinet. The bottle of wine waited on the counter. Another glass was a very good idea. Maybe she would manage a few hours’ sleep without waking.
When she’d filled her glass, she wandered into the entry hall. Each time she visited his home she was astonished all over again. The magnificent house had been built in the early eighteen hundreds, one of the first true mansions in the Huntsville area. No expense had been spared in designing and decorating the twelve-thousand-square-foot home. Marble and limestone floors were interspersed with gleaming hardwoods. The opulent Persian rugs alone were masterpieces. Soaring ceilings and massive fireplaces were in most every room. And the staircase.
She paused at the newel post, surveying the sweeping stairs as if for the first time. Imported, piece by piece, from Italy. Every brick, every stone, every timber and finish piece of the prestigious residence was a work of art.
But her favorite room was the library. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books. Decorated and furnished like a den or study, complete with fireplace. It was amazing. She and Edward shared a love of books.
She climbed the stairs and found the guest room she always used when visiting him. She set her glass on the bedside table and ventured to the chair by the window where three—no, four—bags waited. Slacks, blouses, sandals, even underthings. All in her size and in her preferred colors. The price tags had been removed, but the designer labels told her he had spared no expense. She fingered the delicate lacy panties. Exactly the styles she loved. She would have to thank him again in the morning.
For now, the wine was calling. She climbed amid the mountain of pillows on the massive four-poster bed. It felt so good. Safe and quiet. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed the silence until just now.
Her phone vibrated, reminding her that she had a voicemail. She should see what Cost wanted. Not that he likely had anything important to say. There was always the possibility that he’d remembered or heard something about Shelley. Only one way to find out.
He didn’t mention what he wanted, only that she should call him. Very clever. Now she had no choice. She couldn’t totally ignore contact from anyone who had known her sister.
Her fingers entered the necessary keys, then reached for her wine. He answered on the first ring.
“Carter, it’s CJ.” He asked about the autopsy. She filled him in on what she had learned from the autopsy report. He, too, was puzzled by the lab results versus what the ME had found. He agreed with CJ that labs made mistakes at times.
Then the real motive behind his call became apparent. He wanted CJ to have dinner with him tomorrow night. This was the third time he’d asked. Maybe he was hoping it would be the charm. He claimed this would be a business dinner to discuss her continued work at the clinic. She knew better.
Same old Carter.
“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I already have plans.” With Tyrone Nash, if she was lucky. “Of course I’m committed to helping at the clinic for a while longer.” Why was he suddenly worried about her rushing back to Baltimore? “Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I won’t leave you or Juanita high and dry.” He made one last attempt to entice her into saying yes to dinner. She declined once more and ended the call. She stared at the phone and shook her head.
Funny, she never would have imagined that she would be working with those twoever, in any capacity.
Then again, she wouldn’t have imagined her sister being murdered either.
Pain tightened her chest.
Dammit. She missed that wild, unpredictable girl.
As long as she was involved in the investigation, she didn’t dwell on her sister’s death.
Maybe that was the reason she couldn’t let it go.
To put it behind her meant that Shelley would no longer be a part of her life. She sipped her wine, considered that thought.
She would go back to Baltimore and there would be no reason to come back here. To be a part of her past.
