A MATCH MADE IN MURDER (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 5) Read online

  “Slaughter!” He heard a man call out from the field as he approached the woods.

  “Back here, Lieutenant!”

  Sterling shot Kitty a look that told her things would sort out, but the grimace on his face betrayed him. No one had any reason to believe this would sort out. This was the killer’s third murder. He’d gotten away Scot free in the prior two. There hadn’t been so much as a trace of evidence left behind.

  Sterling balled his hands into fists, which made it difficult to shake his lieutenant’s hand.

  Lieutenant Matt Harrison had been on the force for nearly forty years and his slow climb to the middle had never once bothered him. He wasn’t the most in-shape officer of the law, but once upon a time he had been. And his arms and legs still retained their athletic musculature, though he’d developed quite a belly and sported the shadow of a second chin beneath the one God gave him.

  Harrison was as much a comfort to Sterling as any member of his family. He’d known the man nearly all his life, though the age disparity was nearly as wide as Sterling was old. Throughout the years, he’d been a solid mentor and had never steered Sterling wrong, though Harrison tended to rule with an iron fist and was often brutally blunt in his choice of words.

  “Kitty’s cousin, you said?”

  “In from New Zealand,” Sterling supplied then leaned in close. “It’s all the same. The necklace, the pose, the fact that she’s in the woods.”

  “This girl close to you?” Harrison asked. He was familiar with Sterling’s history.

  “Not at all. Just met her last night.”

  “Then he’s getting senile and sloppy,” the lieutenant concluded.

  “Take a closer look,” he suggested.

  When Harrison did, kneeling beside Layla’s head so he could study her face, he got it. His gaze snapped up to Sterling.

  “Looks just like your fiancée.” Harrison rose to his feet with a grunt then asked, “You have any idea the significance of that necklace?”

  “All I know is that it should’ve been locked up in evidence.”

  Harrison breathed heavily as though it went hand in hand with serious thinking.

  “They archive,” he stated.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means when a case goes cold—I mean stone cold for nearly a decade—the department moves the evidence into a storage facility off Route 12, our archives.”

  “A commercial facility?” Sterling was shocked.

  Harrison confirmed with a shamed frown.

  “Where security is run by college kids who are probably stoned or asleep?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  Sterling snorted.

  “This is unbelievable.”

  “Or it narrows it down,” Harrison said, thinking out loud. “You’ve never faced the fact that this guy knows you. He’s in your life and has been for a good long while.”

  “I’m a loner. No one’s in my life except for a handful of people.” He’d meant to dismiss Harrison’s logic, but he’d only confirmed it.

  “And now you know he understands how our evidence room works, our process of archiving. That should narrow it down even more.”

  Sterling took a deep breath.

  “Who would be that close to me, but stupid enough to confuse Layla for Kitty?”

  “Someone who never met Kitty? Someone who only met her once or a handful of times or only saw a photo of her?”

  Sterling felt eyes on him and glanced over his shoulder. Kitty was staring, eavesdropping no doubt. So Sterling took Harrison by the shoulder and led him deeper into the forest.

  “I had a break in yesterday at the house,” he confided.

  “You call it in?”

  Sterling shook his head and expected Harrison to rip him a new one. He didn’t.

  “I came home and the front door was unlocked. Kitty and I always lock it, though we don’t do the best job of keeping the windows shut. Our kitchen window is a bit sticky whenever the weather warms up. Someone had forced it all the way up, which caused the glass to crack. I put two and two together. But nothing was missing in the house. Everything looked in place.”

  “The killer was casing it, checking out the rooms, the floor plan.”

  “I’d say dust the windowsill for prints, the door, hell dust the whole house.” He’d never ordered his lieutenant before. Harrison didn’t seem to appreciate the directive. “The only thing that doesn’t add up is the fact that Layla was sleeping on the couch. It’s a pull out bed. The killer would have to have known she wasn’t Kitty. Why would Kitty be sleeping on the couch?”

  “Did he walk in the front door?” Harrison challenged.

  Sterling didn’t want to have to include Kitty, but now it was imperative. He waved her over.

  “Did you lock the front door after you let Layla in? Or before you went to bed?”

  Kitty thought hard then remembered. “Yes.”

  Sterling locked eyes with Harrison.

  The lieutenant was the one to state what had happened. “He knocked on the door. He grabbed the woman who answered. He had every reason to believe it was who he was after.”

  Sterling felt like he could spit.

  “No signs of a struggle,” Harrison commented, glancing back at the body.

  “It’s the necklace that killed her.”

  Then Kitty had a question. “Why would Layla let a stranger put a necklace around her neck especially if the guy came in the middle of the night? That makes no sense.”

  “Be honest, sweetheart,” said Harrison. “What type of girl was she?”

  Kitty turned cross taking immediate offense. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Kitty, please,” Sterling said to calm her before she could explode. “He knows what he’s doing. You gotta trust that Harrison’s questions are crucial.”

  “If you’re insinuating that my cousin was some kind of lady of the night who throws caution to the wind and gets herself killed, you’ve got some nerve!”

  “What if he knocked on the door,” Sterling offered. “Placed the necklace down and hid. She sees it, puts it on. Drops dead—” with a glance at Kitty he added, “Sorry. Then he simply closes the door and drags her off into the woods.”

  “He didn’t close the door,” Kitty interjected. “But that sounds possible.”

  Harrison scrutinized her as though he could read in her eyes whether or not she liked the scenario because it made her cousin more a victim and less an imbecile.

  “The gravel near the door is stripped away and disheveled,” she went on, giving reasons why Sterling’s suggestion lined up.

  Sterling heard men's voices from the clearing, which Kitty had also noticed, turning to face the field.

  A few officers stalked up. Behind them were Sterling’s dad, Steve, and his Uncle Grady. It was the sight of his family that had Sterling suddenly caving under his emotions. Kitty grabbed his arm then wrapped it around her shoulder so he could lean on her. It was embarrassing, but if he kept his reaction purely physical he might be able to hide from Harrison the tears that stung his eyes.

  “I’m gonna give it to you straight, Kid,” said Harrison. “You can’t work this case. Period. You also can’t stay in that house. It’s a crime scene as far as I’m concerned.”

  Sterling swallowed hard, but didn’t argue.

  “Go on,” his lieutenant ordered. “Pack a few bags. Check into a hotel. We’ll take it from here.”

  “I have to call my parents,” Kitty stated, supporting Harrison’s reasons that they ought to shuffle off. “And my poor aunt,” she added with shrill and sudden horror. “Oh God.”

  Sterling’s legs felt less like rubber so he straightened up and started toward Steve and Grady with Kitty beside him.

  Harrison had one last thing to say. “Wrack your brain, Slaughter. And call me if you’ve got any names worth looking into.”

  Sterling shot the man a sharp glare, but nodded and continued on to his family.

  W
hen he reached his dad he stated in a weak voice, “It happened again.”

  Steve turned to stone, though his cheeks flushed red with fiery rage.

  “How long ago?” he demanded.

  Grady tried to soften his brother by placing his hand on his shoulder.

  “The police can handle this, Steve.”

  “Shut up!” he barked then reiterated the question to his son. His tone was steady, but Sterling caught the anger broiling in each word.

  “Not long,” he answered. “Not a half hour.”

  Kitty added, “She felt warm.”

  That was all Steve needed to hear. He started for the woods.

  “The bastard couldn’t have gotten far,” he snarled. “Grady!”

  Grady lingered to offer Kitty a shred of comfort. His eyes looked panicked for her, and also scared, nervous.

  Clearly, everyone had the same concern. The wrong woman had been killed. And Kitty wouldn’t be safe until the murderer was found and brought to justice. Sterling only hoped it would be the legal kind.

  It was a very long walk to the house.

  When Sterling entered the bedroom he was at a complete loss for what to pack. He didn’t even have the good sense to get a duffel bag from the closet. He was so overwhelmed, he couldn’t think straight. All he could do was sit on the bed and hold his head in his hands.

  He felt Kitty’s warm hand on his back then she sat close.

  She didn’t say anything. There was no way to make sense of this. Together, they remained in a puzzled, silent state.

  After awhile, Sterling said the only thing he could think to say. “If anything happens to you it’ll be the end of me.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she whispered, but he could tell by her tone she wasn’t sure. Her voice told him she was terrified. She was as good as dead.

  Being the incredibly strong woman that she was, Kitty gathered their toothbrushes and toothpaste from the bathroom then took to pulling articles of clothing from the closet, stuffing their belongings into a suitcase, while Sterling stared off into space.

  He felt crippled.

  Harrison’s command circulated his racing mind.

  The killer knew Sterling. The killer had a vendetta with him. He hated him. He wanted him miserable and had taken out every woman in his life to keep Sterling in a lonely sea of darkness.

  But Sterling could not comprehend that anyone in his life would do this to him. And by God, there weren’t even that many people in his life. He could count them on his right hand if he had to.

  His father, Steve Slaughter.

  Steve would never have killed his wife. It was inconceivable.

  His uncle, Grady Slaughter.

  The greatest man to walk the earth besides his own dad. No way.

  Matt Harrison, his superior officer of the last twenty years.

  Not a chance in hell.

  And Kitty, the woman closest to him, the person most precious to him. Obviously, it hadn’t been her.

  The list was that short.

  “Babe?” Kitty said from the doorway. “Might as well head out.”

  Sterling was slow to his feet.

  “My cell’s dead,” she mentioned, as they made their way out to his Jeep. “I’m sure the Delamar’s booked thanks to our wedding, so let’s try the Harbor Inn.”

  Sterling nodded, because it seemed like that was what she was after, but he hadn’t really heard her.

  She took the keys from his hand, but he couldn’t respect himself if he was so torn up he couldn’t drive when the fact of the matter was that it had been Kitty who had lost a loved one, not him.

  “You sure?” she asked when he took back the keys.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

  The Harbor Inn looked far less menacing than Kitty had described it on the drive over. Her impressions had obviously been tainted by the Margie McAlister fiasco. To Sterling’s eye, the inn appeared sunny and quaint from the outside and just as homey within.

  As a precaution, Sterling had only told his lieutenant that he and Kitty would be staying at the Harbor Inn for the time being, though it didn’t sit right with him to keep his dad and uncle in the dark, but Harrison’s advice had never steered him wrong. It was in his best interest to listen and obey, though in general those two tactics went entirely against his maverick nature.

  “This is nice,” Kitty said, trying to sound optimistic. She was as intent on convincing Sterling, as she was herself.

  Kitty made a beeline for an outlet near one of the nightstands that flanked the queen-sized bed, plugged in her cell’s AC adapter and got her phone charging as Sterling set the suitcase on the bed and opened it.

  “I have to call my folks,” Kitty mumbled dreadfully.

  It seemed she was relieved her phone had died. She wasn’t looking forward to these calls and he could read in her eyes her greatest fear. Her parents would beg her to put off the wedding, something neither she nor Sterling wanted.

  Sterling gazed out the window at the harbor that looked smooth as glass. Such peace in a world full of hidden chaos, he thought. It wasn’t Goddamn fair.

  Kitty’s phone beeped then beeped again and again like a distress cry that lasted nearly ten seconds.

  “I have a ton of missed calls,” she noted, brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the log.

  Sterling joined her and stared at the device over her shoulder from where they sat on the side of the bed.

  “Restricted?” he observed.

  “I missed fifteen calls from restricted? Who would restrict their number to call me?” Kitty wracked her brain and mumbled something about the DJ, but that didn’t seem likely.

  “When did the calls come in?” he demanded, stealing the phone.

  “Last night.”

  Then her phone vibrated as one long beep sounded.

  “That’s a voicemail message,” she stated. “Give it here.”

  “Put it on speaker.”

  She did as instructed then got the message to play.

  A voice came on, but it was distorted as though the caller had placed a scrambling devise on the mouthpiece.

  “I’m coming for you, Kitty,” said the caller. “I’ll not stop until Sterling Slaughter is destroyed.”

  Chapter Five

  “Like hell I’ll postpone my wedding! Over my dead body!” Kitty exclaimed into her cell phone then cringed at her poor choice of words. She had no choice but to listen to Penny’s ranting objections, while she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Never!”

  Kitty hung up and chucked the phone toward the wall, but Sterling caught it in his fist like an outfield hero.

  “Kitty, you have to consider postponing,” he yelled. “This is crazy! There’s a killer out there who wants you dead! We need protection until he’s found! You can’t be running around town making arrangements and then trapped in a sea of guests on a secluded yacht where there’s no escape and an entire harbor to drown in!”

  “How dare you!”

  “Please listen to reason!”

  “It’s not reasonable! I’ll not be terrorized by this man!”

  Sterling sighed and planted his hands on his hips.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” She was breathing hard and took a moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. “Bottom line, he kills with that necklace, which is now in evidence, right?”

  Sterling was loath to agree.

  “So his hands are tied.”

  “No, he’s going to get desperate and aggressive. We won’t know what to expect. We won’t see it coming. Neither of us is leaving this room until Harrison’s security detail gets here.”

  “So we’re prisoners?”

  “You’re looking at this the wrong way.”

  “How many murders have we solved in the past year?” she challenged. “Hmm?”

  “Four,” he admitted.

  “How is this any different?”

  She knew that look. It was the look Ste
rling got when he felt astonished he’d fallen in love with a stubborn woman.

  “This is different, Kitty, because your life is on the line, and I’m scared. I’m not objective. And, quite frankly, I can’t think straight. I doubt you can either.”

  “Oh, I’m thinking very clearly,” she said, getting organized and a little insane about the possible tactics they could employ to flush the monster out. “We bait him!”

  “Let me guess, you’re the bait in this brilliant idea?”

  “So you think it’s brilliant,” she pointed out, completely missing his sarcasm and subsequent snort at having to deal with her when she gets like this.

  “Look, Doll,” he said, taking her hands and guiding her to the couch in front of the window where the fresh harbor air breezed in. “Harrison made a worthwhile point. The killer is someone very close to me.”

  “Ok,” she said in an even tone, completely trusting that Sterling was finally getting down to business. They’d devise a plan. They’d nail this sucker to the wall.

  “So we have to stay calm, keep cool, and let Homicide do its job.”

  “And what will we do?” she asked eagerly. She wished she had her note pad. She didn’t want to forget a thing.

  “We trust them.”

  “And?”

  “And stay put.”

  She threw his hand off hers then shoved him.

  “Wake up!”

  “I’m not risking your life!”

  “Fine!” she shouted then took it down a notch. “Fine. We’ll stay here. We can investigate from the safety of these walls. There are still three days until the wedding—”

  “Kitty—”

  “Hear me out!” She grabbed his hands as if she didn’t know what the hell she wanted, and then marched through her idea. “Who do you trust more than anyone in this world?”

  “If you want me to say you, this isn’t the best time to argue that point.”

  “No! Not me! Your dad!”

  “I can get on board with that.”

  “Let’s get him here. We’ll talk to him. He has to remember who was in his life at the time your mom was killed. Maybe he had suspicions but didn’t let anyone know because it was ruled as heart failure? Maybe he’ll have something to say that we can look into.”

  “Maybe.”

  As if Kitty’s intensity and determination had conjured the very idea into existence, the inn phone on the nightstand rang loudly, rattling against its cradle.