Beautiful Affliction(24)

"Smothered…you're sure? Because I noticed this brown spot on the carpet next to my desk, and I thought it could be blood."

"It wasn't. No, if we'd found blood, this whole investigation might've been a lot easier. As it is, with only finding the body a month after the murder…it's going to take a long time to unravel everything. But she was definitely smothered."

I feel like something is tapping at the back of my brain. "With what?"

"We don't know, but we're working on a warrant now so we can get into the house to look. Redmond's attorney is putting up quite the fight."

The thought at the back of my brain surges to the front, I begin to pick nervously at my cuticles, wondering if I should say what I'm thinking. I did sign an NDA, and I'd probably be breaking it, but on the other hand, a woman was murdered. That has to take precedence.

"There's this linen closet in the hallway just outside my bedroom. Jody was really well organized. Everything is laid out in rows so you can just grab what you need when you're doing laundry. It's the linens for the staff, not the rest of the house—those are a higher quality, and in the upstairs hall by the rest of the bedrooms." I look up to see them frowning at me and realize I'm rambling. "Anyway, it's probably nothing, but there's a pillow missing from the closet. I wouldn't have noticed, but there's always five of everything else, and only four pillows."

"Maybe someone likes to sit up in bed a little," Jaime says with a shrug.

"No. I do everyone's laundry, clean everyone's room. It's not in the house. And Whitney didn't take it to school—I asked. It's just…you said she was smothered."

Donohue leans back in his chair and looks at me with a smile. "I can see why you liked her, Sullivan." Jaime throws his partner an annoyed look. "I'm going to go call the D.A. Maybe that'll help with the warrant. "He gets up and heads to a desk across the room. Jaime leans over the desk toward me.

"You need someplace to stay while you're looking for a new job?" he asks quietly.

I shift in my seat. "Jaime, there aren't a lot of jobs out there right now. This was the only one my agency offered me."

"And now that you know someone was fucking murdered there, you've realized that it would be crazy for you to keep it."

"I don't think I'm in any danger."

"That's… that's beyond ridiculous. The last person who had your job is dead. Is this because of Grace?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you feel some lingering guilt over her, so now you're feeling protective over some dead woman you didn't even know."

"Now who's being ridiculous?"

"The second Grace died, you stopped caring about what happened to you. You think I don't see that?" I frown down at my hands. He's not wrong. He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. "Or maybe it's him. I can see the way he looks at you."

"Mr. Redmond is my boss. That's it."

"And yet you didn't even ask me who I was talking about." I bite my lip, feeling trapped.

"Come on, we'll give you a ride back," Donohue says as he walks back over. I stand abruptly, happy to get away from Jaime and the past.





Chapter Thirteen





I sit in the gazebo in the backyard, finding myself unable to get over Jaime's words. Is it crazy of me to keep working here? One of those six people…it just seems impossible to imagine one of them murdering someone. True, I don't know all, or most, of them well. Even Aaron, who I thought was so friendly and…dad-like, used to be some badass military-type guy. I wonder who else around here is hiding a secret or two. Well…there's me. Maybe that's why I feel a strange sense of belonging. I'm surrounded by a bunch of other people with something to hide.

I pull my fleece a little tighter around my neck. There's certainly a chill in the air, the winter digging in its claws before letting spring take over, but I don't want to go inside. I don't want to step foot back in my bedroom now, or ever again. . If she was smothered with that missing pillow, she might have actually been in my bed at the time. I don't believe in ghosts or lingering energies or anything, but that's still horrifying.

"Excuse me," I hear Mr. Redmond's voice behind me and turn. "Oh, Cora. You…I've never seen you out of uniform, and with your hair…I thought maybe you were a friend of Whitney's."

"It's my day off," I say, even though he knows that. He walks toward me, looking like a model in a J. Crew ad in his dark grey pea coat and navy khakis. I notice him glancing over me and self-consciously tuck my hair behind my ear as he sits across from me on the wood-slatted bench. We remain in silence for a moment, each looking over the other's shoulder at the lawn spreading out around us and the guest house looming on the right.