The Winter Wedding Page 12

  She had not run-in to Zeke again. And she wasn’t thinking about what had happened last night, because she was too busy thinking about the rose she’d found in her car almost an hour ago. She wondered if she should call Lt. Sinclair to tell him about both roses and the things Zeke and Fiona had said to her, but she did not make that call.

  Cheyna remembered the last time she’d seen Lt. Sinclair. It had been during the meeting her lawyer had scheduled with him a couple days after he’d called Cheyna about Liam’s death.

  “Thank you for providing answers to my questions,” he’d said from the chair beside her. “I don’t want you to feel as if you’re being singled out here. We’re questioning everyone who was at the party with Liam the night of his murder, in addition to the people he worked with. I wanted to get your answers first to rule you out as a suspect.”

  Cheyna had sat with her legs crossed wearing brown dress pants, a beige blouse and matching cardigan. Her attorney, Tamara Manning, a solo practitioner Cheyna had met via a previous client’s wedding, had advised she dress business casual for the meeting.

  “My client is happy to cooperate,” Tamara told Lt. Sinclair from where she sat behind her desk.

  He had acknowledged her comments with a nod but continued to look at Cheyna. She knew he was searching for any sign that she was not telling the truth, any hint that there was something more to her declaration that she had not seen or heard from Liam since the day before her settlement agreement with him and Zeke was finalized.

  “As I told you before, if you remember something after this meeting or if anyone involved in your case contacts you about anything, call me and let me know.”

  “I have not spoken to or seen Zeke Volker or Liam Edison in the last two years, Lt. Sinclair,” she’d replied.

  He’d held her gaze for a few moments after that and Tamara finally stood saying, “This meeting is over.”

  The lieutenant stood as well and so did Cheyna.

  “Thank you both for your time,” he’d said and left the office.

  “Do not speak to the police again without me being present,” Tamara had immediately advised Cheyna. “Just because he says you have been ruled out as a suspect doesn’t mean they still won’t try to get statements from you. Your alibi is on record. You have receipts from the taco place you went to on that Friday night, two people in your building corroborated your story of going into your apartment at seven forty-five on the evening of Friday, the nineteenth. The coroner’s report marks Liam Edison’s time of death between two and three-thirty on the morning of Saturday, the twentieth. At two ten on the morning of the twentieth you were logged onto QVC where you purchased a South Shore City Life bookcase and a set of three illuminated porcelain urns. Now, I had my IT guy provide proof that your IP address was running from a laptop that was located in your apartment at the time of those purchases, but that doesn’t necessarily prove that you were the one on that laptop at that time. Still, it’s enough to keep them out of your face until they can provide stronger evidence than a two year-old restraining order and settlement agreement.”

  Cheyna had left Tamara’s office feeling reasonably assured that Liam was dead and she’d never have to hear about him, what he did to her, or his death again. But she’d been wrong. Still, none of that meant the roses were connected. Neither Liam nor Zeke had ever bought her anything. The things they wanted from her both men thought they deserved just because they were born white and pissed standing up. And red roses had no particular meaning to her, other than it being a flower that a lot of brides used in their wedding bouquets. Yet one had been delivered to her office and another left in her car.

  Cheyna now parked in her usual spot in the garage of her office building and took the elevator to her floor. She walked into her office at a little after nine in the morning. Sarah was sitting at the front desk her radio tuned to the morning show she listened to everyday. She was laughing at something the comedian on air said before lifting her head to greet Cheyna.

  “Mornin’, Lovely. Coffee’s already on and there were three messages on voicemail. I handled the call about our stationery and put the other two messages from the dress shop on 20th Street and Boyd on your desk.”

  “Thanks, Sarah,” Cheyna replied. “Is Evan in yet? I want him to start contacting DJs for the Lakefield wedding.”

  “I thought she was going with the four piece jazz ensemble,” Sarah responded.

  “The groom wants a DJ as well. They’ll play after dinner and through to the end of the reception.”

  “Oh, I see. Evan called to say he was making a stop and then he’d be in. I’ll tell him to get on it as soon as he arrives.”

  “Thanks,” Cheyna yelled to her as she entered her office.

  She removed her coat, hung it on the rack behind the French doors and carried her bag over to her desk. She looked at the two messages while waiting for her computer to boot up and then sat in her chair. She would check her email before returning any calls, besides, Boyd was not a morning person. It was best to call him around ten or eleven which would provide time for him to get at least a pot of coffee into his system before he was expected to be coherent. Cheyna had learned that by working on a morning wedding with him, and his minor grumbling when she’d contacted him about the Lakefield engagement photo shoot. Of course he’d shown up for that and done a phenomenal job, but not without complaining that he needed his fresh brewed French coffee as opposed to that corner store crap that Sarah and Evan had provided at the gallery. Hence his invitation for her to join him for coffee. An invitation which Logan had heard her decline.

  Cheyna thought back to that day now. She recalled Logan bringing up her involvement with Boyd as he’d made his case for them to act on the growing attraction they shared. She’d shot him down insisting that she and Boyd had only ever been friends. That was true, but Cheyna knew she could no longer say the same about her and Logan. Not only had their interlude in the gallery forever changed that status, but the fact that she’d actually slept in the bed with him last night sort of sealed the deal. She and Logan were now officially more than friends. The jury was still out on how that actually made her feel, even though the sex they’d shared could be recalled fondly in her mind.

  She was thinking in more detail about that and when they might possibly get the chance to explore each other on a physical level again as she turned slowly in her swivel office chair.

  “Good morning!” Evan sang cheerfully as he entered her office. “I noticed some petals on the floor in here yesterday so I figured this old arrangement was about to take a nose dive. Thought I’d provide a fresh bundle for you to enjoy.”

  By the time Cheyna focused her attention on Evan he was across the room, his back turned to her.

  “Oh, hey. Good morning. You didn’t have to do that, Evan. But thank you.” She’d meant to come into the office and toss the entire arrangement after what she’d found in her car this morning. But she’d wanted to get right down to business and…for the second time today Cheyna went completely still.

  Evan had turned around. He was wearing his long gray wool coat and cranberry colored scarf. His brown hair was styled to perfection and standing stiffly on top of his head thanks to the hair products he used. The gold link bracelet he always wore winked from his wrist where his coat sleeve had pushed back and the bouquet of fresh red roses sat in a crystal vase on the table beside him.

  “What did you do?” she asked as she stood slowly from her chair.

  “I stopped by Elainey’s on my way in this morning and picked up fresh flowers. What did you want me to do?”

  Evan’s voice sounded different. He wasn’t being his usual sarcastic self. Instead he seemed calm, almost eerily so. Cheyna walked across the room staring directly at him and avoiding the flowers all together. Her heart pounded against her chest as she approached him.

  “Why did you buy these particular flowers?”

  “Because they were pretty and in perfect bloom. Look at the plump peta
ls and that rich color. You know I’m all about colors that pop. Well, this blood red certainly does that,” Evan told her.

  He’d tilted his head as he watched her watching him. His brow furrowed and the eyes that Cheyna normally thought were quite lovely, looked a little on the edgy side this morning.

  “I never buy only roses,” she stated. “I don’t like the monotony of only one type of flower in an arrangement.”

  “Cheyna, girl, chill. It’s only flowers. I can put them on my desk if they’re bothering you that much.”

  This was said as Evan shook his head and carried the older flower arrangement out to the reception area where Cheyna knew he would eventually take them down the hall to the trash closet.

  She was standing at the table now and she reached out to touch one of the rose petals. He’d called the color blood red. A chill slivered down her spine.

  “Take these out of here,” she snapped when he walked back into her office. “Take them out right now!”

  “Okay,” he replied and moved hastily to grab the vase.

  “And I want to be alone. I have calls to make and things to do. I do not want to be disturbed.”

  Cheyna did not look at Evan again. Her hands were shaking as she rubbed them together and headed back to her desk.

  “Close my door on your way out.”

  Evan did not say another word. The next thing Cheyna heard just before she sat back in her chair was the low click of the door closing. She grabbed her bag and pulled out her lavender and yellow striped notebook. It was one of her favorites and barely had any clean pages left. After flipping through those pages Cheyna found what she was looking for. When Lt. Sinclair had met her at her office that Monday night after Liam’s body was found, he’d given her his business card when she suggested he speak to her lawyer. Cheyna had used the card to give Tamara his contact information so that her lawyer could set up the meeting they’d subsequently had. After that, Cheyna kept the card and now held it in her hand. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was going to find out before her name became further twisted into a mess that was not of her own doing.

  * * *

  By seven o’clock on Wednesday evening Cheyna was through sitting in her office. She’d remained behind closed doors until one o’clock when she had to go out for a site visit and to grab lunch. Upon her attorney’s request, she’d made a stop at her office to tell her what was going on and to admit that she’d wanted to call the police. Tamara insisted she would handle it and warned Cheyna again not to talk to the police without her attorney present.

  “You pay me to protect you. Let me do my job,” Tamara had insisted.

  Cheyna recognized those words as something similar she said to her clients all the time. So she’d returned to her office, determined to get her work done without worrying about flowers, ex-bosses or dead perverted scumbags. Upon returning to the office she’d apologized to Evan and Sarah for acting so weird and went back into her office to work behind closed doors. For some reason she’d felt safer that way.

  Now, she knew it was time for her to go home because she was tired of sitting in front of the computer and her stomach was growling. She packed up and locked the office before leaving. Once in her car she checked her phone for the billionth time and was disappointed to see there had been no more text messages from Logan. The last time they’d talked via text was at nine-thirty this morning when he’d told her he was going into a meeting and would call her when he finished. Cheyna had become so engrossed in what was going on in her office and then later when she saw her lawyer again that she hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in a while.

  Acting purely on instinct Cheyna drove into the city to Logan’s apartment. She’d sent him a text asking if he were busy for dinner and hoped he’d answer before she made it there, but he hadn’t. She sat in her car for at least fifteen minutes contemplating whether or not she should go up to his apartment or turn around and go home. He wasn’t her man. He didn’t owe her any explanations for why he hadn’t called as he said he would, or why he wasn’t answering her now. They were not in a relationship. They’d had sex. Really good, totally hot sex. And she’d confided something in him that she’d never shared with another human being before. But that still didn’t mean he owed her anything.

  Deciding she was being ridiculous, Cheyna finally got out of the car and headed to Logan’s apartment. She’d just stepped off the elevator and was on her way down the hall when the door to his apartment opened. A woman came out. She was a little shorter than Cheyna with her black hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her jeans were cuffed just above the low-heeled black leather booties she wore. Her army green jacket was big on her otherwise small frame and she looked young and pretty.

  Cheyna’s stomach churned, but not with hunger this time. Feeling foolish, she was about to turn and walk back to the elevator when the woman’s voice stopped her.

  “Hello? Were you on your way to see Logan?”

  There were four other apartments on this end of the floor, but Cheyna noted she’d already passed the door for each of them. Logan’s corner apartment was ahead of her at the end.

  “Yes. But I can come back later if he’s not home,” she responded because lying would have been painfully obvious.

  “You’re Cheyna, right?”

  Cheyna tried not to appear as surprised as she felt that this woman knew her name.

  “Yes. I am.”

  The woman smiled and headed straight toward her at that moment. Her hand was already extended as she said, “Hi. I’m Cassie. It’s so nice to meet you. I was at Perry’s place last night and he told me all about you. Well, he told me what he knew, which wasn’t much. I came by tonight to pick Logan for details but he wasn’t here. But now you are, so that’s great. Come on inside and sit down.”

  Cheyna’s head whirled at all the woman had said, but she shook her hand and managed a nervous smile. Perry was the older brother and Cassie was the youngest sister. She had that straight in her head but as for the invite into Logan’s apartment, Cheyna wasn’t so sure.

  “Ah, really, I can come back. Or I can just call Logan tomorrow. It’s not a big deal,” she said as Cassie released her hand.

  “It certainly is a big deal. Logan catching a woman in his arms and bringing her back to his place is a huge deal.”

  Cassie chatted amiably as she started back to Logan’s door. She jingled a ring full of keys until finding the one that slipped into Logan’s door. Cheyna wasn’t surprised she had a key since Logan had told her last night that his sisters stayed in his guest room frequently.

  “Logan doesn’t bring women here,” Cassie was saying as she pushed the door open and waited for Cheyna to follow her inside.

  “He doesn’t?”

  Cheyna didn’t want to talk to Logan’s sister about Logan’s love life. But after Cassie closed the door and took her jacket off, Cheyna knew that’s exactly what she was about to do.

  “Nope. This is his sanctuary. He said the only women allowed to invade this sacred space were me and Maxie, because we’d been invading his space all our lives.”

  Cassie laughed as she reached for Cheyna’s coat. Cheyna took her coat off but insisted on hanging it in the closet herself. She moved past Cassie and did that as if she’d been in this apartment many times before.

  “I sort of asked him to bring me here last night. He may have felt a bit cornered since neither of us were sure if I’d pass out again.”

  Cheyna’s words seemed light because she wasn’t ready to accept Cassie’s presumption that Logan bringing her here was a big deal.

  Cassie walked further into the apartment and plopped down onto the couch. Cheyna followed her.

  “So are you sick? Or pregnant?”

  Whoa. Cheyna blinked and then blinked again at that word, that assumption.

  “No. No. I’m not pregnant. Why would you say that?”

  “Because I am. And the first few weeks I felt really
lightheaded and thought I was going to pass out in the hallway at school one day. That’s what made me finally go to the doctor. That’s when I found out I was pregnant.”

  Cheyna’s gaze fell to Cassie’s stomach.

  “Oh, I’m only fourteen weeks. There’s a little bump but I’m not busting out of my pants yet and this top is pretty loose.”

  She’d rubbed a hand over her stomach where Cheyna suspected the little bump was.

  “Congratulations.” There was a light in Cassie’s eyes as she touched her stomach.

  “Thank you. So you’re not pregnant. Does that mean you’re sick? I’ll apologize for my bluntness, but it probably won’t stop. It’s a habit. I was born that way. My mother said it’s not an excuse, it’s in my DNA.”

  Cheyna smiled at that because at one time she’d really wanted to know what was in her DNA. Now, not so much. But if it had just been discovering something like being extremely blunt, she may not have minded so much.

  “It’s okay,” Cheyna told her. “I’m fine with answering questions. No. I’m not sick. I just had a long day yesterday and I was dehydrated. Logan brought me here, fed me pizza and wine and I fell asleep. Today I feel a lot better.”

  “After you spent the night with Logan?”

  Cassie grinned and Cheyna decided that she liked this woman. She was not only blunt, but disarmingly honest. And she was Logan’s sister. Cheyna could see a resemblance around the eyes and definitely in the smile. Logan smiled a lot and Cassie did too. They were happy siblings, most likely from a happy family. A part of Cheyna envied that with a passion.

  “We didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cheyna offered.