mother was in a coma, fighting for her life. Val was in trouble and needed her.
And someone wanted her dead.
“I keep a duffel bag with a change of clothes in my car,” Liam said. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
“Of course not. I’ll start some coffee, then shower after you.”
She snagged a pair of sweats from the chair in the corner, pulled them on, then headed to the kitchen. While he retrieved his duffel bag, she filled the coffee carafe with water and coffee and pressed Start.
She waited until he was in the shower, then stuffed her feet into her sneakers and left the apartment. She jogged up the hill and across the property toward the gardens. Birds chirped and twittered their morning songs, and the wind lifted dried leaves from the ground and sent them swirling across the land. More storm clouds filled the horizon, rolling across the sky in a blurry gray.
She scanned the property as she passed the central building housing the patio. Grateful the residents hadn’t yet ventured outside, she wove through the rows of flowers to the rose garden.
Anxious to find whatever her sister left before Liam realized she was gone, she dropped to her knees and raked her hand along the ground beneath the bench. A second later, her finger brushed over a slight section where the ground was raised in a small mound.
Val had buried something here. She’d always liked scavenger hunts and enjoyed hiding things from Peyton.
She used her hands to dig away the dirt and found an envelope. Fingers shaking, she ripped it open. Val had left a note.
I know what happened the night Gloria Inman died. You can’t trust anyone at the Gardens. We have to meet somewhere private, off the property. I’ll be in touch.
Peyton’s pulse jumped. How would Val know what happened to Mrs. Inman?
* * *
LIAM DRESSED IN clean clothes, then went to tell Peyton it was her turn to shower.
Time to get back to work.
The odor of strong coffee wafted toward him, and he found a pot brewed in the kitchen. Peyton wasn’t in the room though, or the living area. The sound of the sliding glass doors opening echoed from the doorway, and he glanced up to see her entering.
He went still, alarm bells clanging in his head. “Where have you been?”
She lifted her brows at his tone, and he realized he’d sounded harsher than he intended. Maybe even a little possessive.
He couldn’t help himself. He was damn worried about her.
“I went for a short run,” she said. “I usually jog in the morning and thought it would help with my anxiety.” She rolled her shoulders as if to prove her point.
“It’s dangerous for you to be alone,” he said. “I thought you understood that. That’s the reason I stayed last night.”
Hurt flickered in her eyes. “I know that. But it was just a short run and it’s daylight.”
He gritted his teeth as she crossed the room, removed two mugs from the cabinet and poured them both coffee. “Don’t do it again,” he said, softening his tone. “I don’t want you to go out alone until we solve this case and make an arrest.”
She stirred honey into her coffee. “Yes, sir.”
He took a deep breath. “I mean it. You have to listen to me, Peyton, or I can’t do my job. You’re in danger.”
“I know that.” Her gaze met his, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. Last night he’d made love to her, had felt close to her.
This morning she seemed distant. As if she was erecting walls.
“I’m going to shower.” Spinning away from him, she took her coffee and disappeared into the bedroom.
He heard the shower water kick on and felt as if he’d just made a big mistake with her. But he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done wrong. He just wanted to protect her, dammit.
His phone buzzed. The ME, Dr. Hammerhead. “Agent Maverick.”
“I have the autopsy report on Leon Brittles. Cause of death was cardiac arrest due to an opioid overdose.”
Similar to Gloria Inman. “Did he have a history of taking opioids?”
“No evidence that he did from the autopsy,” Dr. Hammerhead said. “And the only medication listed on his medical records was blood pressure medication.”
“Did you pinpoint the drug that killed him?”
“Heroin,” the ME said. “And more than four times the amount a first timer would use.”
Which meant Leon Brittles had been murdered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liam drummed his fingers on his thigh. What motive would anyone have