When Darkness Ends (Moments in Boston #3) - Marni Mann Page 0,10

a heat that moved through me as fast as a shower would cover my skin.

A few more study sessions would help me tremendously, but spending time alone with him would get me in serious trouble.

I felt all three sets of eyes on me while I focused on Dylan’s and answered, “I don’t date.”

“You don’t drink,” Dylan replied, his brows furrowed to the point of a wrinkle. “And you don’t date. What do you do, Pearl?”

“I study.” As I took a breath, there was a quiver in the back of my throat—a reminder that I was nothing like the students I went to school with.

High school had been much of the same. I’d accepted that a long time ago, but moments like this made it hard—moments when the differences were voiced and I had to acknowledge them.

I turned my stare to Ashe, the disappointment so present in his eyes. “And that’s what I have to go do now. Good night, guys.”

I rushed down the sidewalk, feeling his gaze on me with every step until I turned at the cross street, where the freezing air found its way back to my skin.

Eight

After

Ashe

A few hours after my conversation with the captain, her words still fresh in my head, I stood in Lisa Mitchell’s living room, scanning the remaining photos on her mantel. In each of the shots, along with the ones I’d already looked at in her bedroom and office, she was facing the camera, and so were the other people she posed with. None of the other women were staring at her, like the ones she had of her and Simpson.

After a bit more digging, I learned that she and Simpson had met over ten years ago at a charity event. It appeared that the women had traveled together multiple times and worn matching pajamas when celebrating a friend’s bachelorette party. Simpson had even shared photos of Mitchell on Facebook when it was her birthday, and Mitchell had done the same with Simpson. And during their entire friendship, Simpson had been married. Keith, an estate attorney, ran in similar circles as Mitchell and attended the same college—although a few years apart—and only three streets separated their brownstones.

But something nagged at me, and it was the lack of evidence. A side-eye glare in a couple of photos and a hunch from the captain weren’t enough.

I needed proof.

There was only one place I was going to find that in this house.

I rushed back up the stairs to Mitchell’s bedroom and entered her massive walk-in closet. Standing in the doorway, I observed the four walls of clothing. An area in the corner housed all her furs. The large island built into the center had clear drawers, showing her rows of jewelry and watches.

She had been a successful woman. Her business was one of the highest-earning marketing companies in New England, and the initial reports I’d pulled showed she didn’t have much debt.

Money clearly wasn’t an issue. She already had status.

The only thing missing—from what I could tell—had been love.

Is love what got Lisa Mitchell murdered?

She had attended a fundraiser the night she was killed. The Boston Globe had been present and snapped a photograph of her in a long gold gown, a black fur coat over it. Both were on hangers, dangling on a hook on the right side of the closet, waiting for the housekeeper to get them cleaned. When Mitchell had been shot, she had been wearing a silk negligee and robe, telling me that she’d had time to come home and change.

I slipped on a pair of exam gloves and ran my hands over the dress. I could feel the silky material through the nitrile, making it easy to check for pockets or any foreign objects. When I detected nothing out of the ordinary, I moved the dress and began the same process on the coat. This was much heavier than the gown, the hairs of the fur so smooth. I found nothing on the outside and unzipped the jacket, locating a breast pocket. My hand dropped to the bottom, where I felt a light brush of a sharp corner. Had I not extended my fingers all the way down, I wouldn’t have found it.

I slowly pulled out the tiny, wrinkled piece of paper, unfolding each side.

You look stunning tonight.

My limo is parked out back. Meet me in ten.

I reached into the pocket of my suit and pulled out an evidence bag, dropping the note inside, before I took out my phone