Her Holiday Protector
“I won’t.”
“Stay on the phone with me,” Blain said. “I’m leaving right now.” He glanced around and saw Pebble the cat staring at him from the end of his bed. He’d found the cat by the back door of her place, meowing and scared. The mostly black-and-white long-haired calico did look like a pile of pebbles.
So now he had custody of a cat. He’d worry about Pebble later. He hurried out the door of his apartment and hoped Rikki Alvanetti would stay put until he could get to her.
She did as he asked and by the time Blain made it to the hotel, he’d gotten more information out of her. She’d been awake, unable to sleep, when she’d heard someone outside her door. Then the door handle had jiggled. She’d screamed out and threatened to call 911.
But she’d called him instead. Blain radioed in while he kept her on the phone. When he pulled up, two units were parked in the drive-through in front of the bright lobby. But he didn’t see the other cruiser or Rikki, either.
“I’m here,” he said into his cell. “Come out of the bathroom, Rikki.”
“Okay.”
He ended the call, furious that someone had tried to get to her in spite of their efforts. But this attack supported his suspicions. Someone was after Rikki Allen.
“Where’s our man?” he asked one of the uniformed officers as he slammed out of his unmarked sedan.
“He was knocked out in the bushes but on his way to the ER right now,” one of the patrolmen said. “He’ll be okay.”
The man they’d put on Rikki had gotten out of his patrol car to stretch his legs and chat with the pretty front-desk clerk. When he’d returned to his car, he’d been hit on the head and knocked out. Another officer had taken him to the hospital in his patrol car.
Sometimes, small-town police officers did things in a backward kind of way but Blain knew his fellow officers were all hardworking men. He was just glad everyone was okay.
Especially the woman emerging pale and sleep-tousled out of the bathroom. She looked at Blain and walked straight toward him, wearing a dark red zipped jacket and matching pants that his mother would call lounge wear.
He called it nice-looking wear right now but he kept his mind focused on the task and not the way that combo fit Rikki. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yes.” She glanced around, not looking so okay. “Did you find anyone out there?”
“Not yet. My men are searching every nook. We’ll double-check the area around your door, but I’m guessing whoever found you knew to wear gloves and not leave any clues.”
She nodded and pushed at all that tumbling hair. “Now we know, Detective.”
“Know what?” He didn’t like the gleam of acceptance in her eyes.
“That they were after me.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right on that,” Blain replied. “But they could have been after both of you.” At the look of horror on her face, he said, “Listen, you’re gonna have to tell me where your mother lives. You can’t stay here alone.”
“I can’t have them in her house, either.”
“But you’ll be with someone and...I’ll make sure no one bothers either of you.”
“And what are you, a one-man type of superhero?”
“No, but I think I can patrol a home and keep intruders out.”
“He’s a former marine, ma’am,” a passing officer said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He can take care of you.”
She quirked a dark eyebrow and took a calming breath. “A marine? So that should make me feel safe, I suppose.”
“One of the best,” the young patrolman said before Blain could reply. “An MP at that. Only, he don’t like to brag.”
Blain shook his head. “Look, I can watch over you tonight.”
She stared at him with a new regard, her dark gaze sweeping over him and making him squirm. “I don’t want to go to my mother’s house.”
Blain took her by the arm and tugged her off to the side where no one could hear him. “Your place isn’t safe. This hotel isn’t safe even though we had a uniformed patrol on site. I can’t take you to my place. Unless you have somewhere you can go that you can assure me is okay, then you’d better tell me the truth, Miss Allen. All of it. Or I’ll have to take you to the station and put you in a cell just to make sure you are safe until morning.”
“I don’t know the truth,” she said, her voice weakening. “I’ve told you everything I can.” Then she shook her head. “I keep thinking of Chad—my ex. But he couldn’t be this stupid. He’s threatened me but...I can’t believe he’d do this. He has too much at stake.”
Blain held his lips tightly together to keep from shouting at her. “And it never occurred to you to give me these details when you mentioned him earlier?”
“I didn’t think he’d find me at the town house. I never told him that my family—that I own it.”
“Well, maybe he followed you and...tried to kill you.” Blain pulled out his notebook. “What’s his address?”
She hesitated and then gave him Chad’s workplace and home addresses.
“And when did you last see Chad Presley?”
“About a week ago, down in Miami.”
Blain got a description of Chad and his vehicle and put out a BOLO over the radio that would go statewide. Be On the Lookout for a possible killer.
“There. We’ll see what that turns up. Does this Chad know where your mother lives?”
She thought about last spring when she’d brought him here for a wedding. That hadn’t gone over very well.
“He’s been here before but only once.”
“Okay, then, let’s go. Either you tell me where to take you or...you can spend the night in jail.”
“You can’t do that—force me into jail.”
“I can if it’s for your own good.”
He didn’t like playing bad cop with her, but the woman was too stubborn to see that someone was after her. And a nasty ex-boyfriend would be a prime suspect. Surely she wasn’t one of those women who kept forgiving over and over until it was too late.
Blain would find out everything about her before this was over, but right now he wanted to get her out of here. They were too exposed at this location now.
She finally nodded. “I need to get my things.”
After he escorted her to her room, he put her in his car and turned to stare at her. “Where to, princess?”
She swallowed, dropped her head and stared at her hands in her lap. “The Bay Road.”
Bay Road? Blain whistled. Real estate out there was way over his pay-scale. “Okay, then.”
Pricey estates out there. A scenic highway surrounding where the big bay met up with Millbrook Lake.
When they were underway and out past the city, he turned off and followed the dark water. “Which address?”
She finally looked over at him, a solid defiance in her voice. “2200 First Bay Lane.”
Blain blinked, thinking he hadn’t heard right. “Hey, that’s—”
“The Alvanetti estate,” she finished for him. “Sonia Alvanetti is my mother.”
Blain held tightly to the steering wheel as realization settled around him. “And...Franco Alvanetti is your father.”
“Yes.” She nodded and looked out the window.
And suddenly, Blain understood so much more about what was going on with Rikki Allen. No wonder she’d been so closemouthed and evasive. No wonder he couldn’t trust her.
She was an Alvanetti.
FOUR
Old Florida.
A wrought-iron gate swung open after Rikki gave him a security code to punch in on the big electronic switch pad.
Blain eased the unmarked police sedan along the winding lane and took in his surroundings as the first rays of the sun shone like a spotlight through the trees.
Swaying palm trees and palmetto bushes, massive live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Scattered orange and lemon trees that would be lush with fruit come next summer. Winter-white camellias blooming on deeply rooted bushes. Wild magnolia trees shooting up through the oaks, their fat, waxy leaves hanging heavy and dark green along the winding garden paths on either side of the private gravel-and-shell-covered drive.
And what looked like a big white barn and stables surrounded by a white board fence off in the distance.
The wild abandonment of this tropical landscape didn’t fool Blain. This kind of exotic display spoke of money as old as the camellia bushes. Dirty money.
The sparkling sunrise brought the light of dawn peeking through the heavy foliage like a diamond hidden in the forest. And then, the stark stucco mansion came into view, all creamy planes and angles and glass against rich brown teakwood trim aged with a shimmering patina that shone in the early morning light.
Blain pulled the sedan up to the six-car garage and turned off the engine. Still in shock, he pivoted in his seat toward Rikki. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie,” she said, her gaze slamming him with an unapologetic attitude. “I...I don’t associate with my family very much since I left. I only keep in touch with my mother.”
“You could have told me that.” He studied the house. “Or at least who your mother really is.”
“And you would have immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
She was correct there. He would have jumped to the only conclusion and it wasn’t a good one. “I want the truth,” he snapped. “Now I doubt I’ll ever get it from you.”
“I gave you the truth,” she retorted. “I told you everything I knew, even about my ex-boyfriend. I was so afraid he’d done this I couldn’t bring myself to mention him at first. But I should have. If it’s him, I have to get out of here.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know. Could he be the one? I can’t let him get away with killing my best friend.”
Blain could see the fear and concern in her dark eyes. He understood how abused women could spin a situation to justify why they always returned but he couldn’t understand why she hadn’t leveled with him to begin with since her best friend had been murdered. There was no returning to that.
He’d have to think this one through but right now, he had to make sure Rikki was safe. Keeping her alive meant he had to deal with the entire situation, whether he liked it or not.
Blain lifted his hand in the air. “He can’t hurt anyone inside the gates to this compound. I saw the cameras and I spotted an armed guard with a dog, too.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “If Chad shows up here, they’ll probably kill him and then I’ll have that death on my hands, too.”
Blain grabbed her wrist. “What do you mean, too? Do you think your family killed Tessa?”
“No.” She gave him an imploring stare. “I was married once when I was around twenty. His last name was Allen. Drake Allen. But he died six months after we eloped.”
Blain let that tidbit of information sink in. That explained the last name she used. “How did he die?”
“An accident.” Lowering her head, she added, “Up on the road.”
“But you think your family took care of him?”
“I didn’t say that.” She opened the door and got out of the car, her attitude like a solid wall against him. She might have cut all ties to her powerful family, but blood always ran thicker than water. She wouldn’t rat anybody out.
Blain got out of the car and came around to meet her, some of his justified anger simmering into a slow boil. She didn’t have to say what had happened to her husband. He could see it all over her face. “So you blame yourself?”
“Yes.” She whirled and opened the back car door to get her stuff. “But my mother is innocent. She thinks Drake died in a car crash and he did. I’ve never been able to prove otherwise.”
Shoving one of the bags at him, she said, “So if you insist on going inside with me, you’d better keep quiet about what I just told you. As far as I know, over the last few years, my father has changed. He’s not the same man he used to be. He’s legitimate now.”
“Yeah, because he’s turned things over to your brothers.”
“I can’t speak to that since I don’t keep up with them. One is here, running the business and the other one in Europe. I told you I walked away a long time ago. I only came here to get away from Chad for a while and to be with my mother.” She stared up at the massive glass doors of the house where two evergreen wreaths hung side by side. “It is Christmas, after all.”
Blain couldn’t force her to tell him everything. Not yet, anyway. But now that he knew who she really was, things had taken on a whole new meaning. “I’ll get you safely inside to see your mother, but I strongly suggest you stay here. Don’t go anywhere, understand? I have to do some digging on Chad Presley and I want to go back over the details of your friend’s death. That means I might be back to ask you some more questions.”
“I’ll be right here,” she said. “I do have a few clients to meet with this week but I can do video conferences for now and change those appointments to later.”
“Much later,” Blain retorted. “Like after we find out who killed Tessa.”
“Then you’d better get to it.” She hurried toward the portico door on the side of the big house near the garage. Turning, she gave him a conflicted stare. “I’m not like them, Blain. I got away and created my own life, on my own terms.”
Blain saw the defiant expression behind that sincere statement. Maybe he should cut her some slack. But he wouldn’t do her any favors. He refused to look the other way like his dad had done all those years. “I sure hope that’s true. I’ll have someone bring your car out here once I think it’s safe to move it. Remember, don’t go anywhere for the next few days.”
She nodded, one hand on the brass door handle. “Thank you.” Then she glanced around and back into his eyes. “I appreciate all your help.”
“Doing my job,” he said. Then he took his time scoping the entire place before he got in his car and left.
* * *
Rikki entered the side door that opened into the butler’s pantry leading to the massive gourmet kitchen where her mother used to cook and entertain on a weekly basis. Those days were few and far between now that her mother had gotten sick. Her parents were probably lonely, but no one wanted to acknowledge that. Nor did anyone want to admit that soon they wouldn’t be able to live here alone. They both had failing health these days, according to Peggy’s reports to Rikki.
The last big event held here had been Rikki’s cousin Beatrice’s wedding back in the spring. Rikki had come home for the wedding but she’d gotten here a few minutes before the ceremony and even though her mother had begged her to stay, she’d left about thirty minutes into the reception. She and Chad had been fighting. Again.
That had been the last time she’d seen her mother happy and laughing. Sonia had always loved having people in her home. Her mother had left that afternoon for a European vacation.
A few days later, Rikki had received a call that her mother had taken ill while on a Mediterranean cruise and was sent to a hospital in Italy where her brother Victor was staying at the time. Rikki had gone over to see her mother, but Victor had already left the hospital. He obviously was too busy to even sit with his mother.
Rikki had stayed there until her mother was able to make the flight home to Florida, where Franco had met her with a private ambulance and an equally private nurse.
Now Rikki took her time walking through the long, spacious kitchen with the dark cabinets and the white marble countertops. The kitchen opened to a big dining area and a spacious den, complete with a fire in the enormous fireplace and comfy leather sofas and chairs scattered all around. High, wide windows looked out over a prime spot where Millbrook Lake met up with the big bay that would take boaters all the way out to the Gulf.
Rikki glanced out at the sloping yard down to the lake where a boathouse and her father’s yacht—the Sonia—sat moored to the big private dock. The pool glistened in the early morning light, the sun hitting the water with a brilliant clarity that Rikki could only pray she had. When she heard footsteps shuffling up the long central hallway that led to her mother and father’s private suite in the back of the house, she whirled, expecting to see Peggy. The always-positive red-haired nurse had been with her mother since Sonia had come home a few months ago. But Peggy had worked for her family for as long as Rikki could remember, helping to raise children and take care of sick relatives.
Her mother adored Peggy and Peggy adored her mother.
But Peggy wasn’t standing there in the archway near the stairs to the second floor. Franco Alvanetti stopped to stare at his only daughter. “Well, I see you have arrived, at last.”
Rikki hated the tremble inside her heart. “Yes, Father. I got here yesterday but—”
“But you had to give the locals a report on the woman they found shot to death on your townhome patio.”
His bloodshot eyes moved over her with a steady gaze that left most people quaking. Rikki had long ago learned to stop the quaking but she had to take a few calming breaths to make it work today. “So you know.”
“Of course I know,” he said as he moved toward her in a stooped, aged gait. “I still have friends around this town.”
Her father wore a plaid robe over old silk pajamas. His slippers were Italian leather, worn in spots but still expensive-looking. Even in his night clothes with his salt-and-pepper hair scattered around his olive-skinned face, he still commanded a certain respect.
Rikki reluctantly gave him that respect. “I didn’t want to upset Mother.”
“She is sleeping. Peggy will be out soon to give the morning report.”
He glanced toward the kitchen. “Coffee, Regina?”
“Yes, Papa, but I’ll make it.”
“Good.” He waved a hand toward the industrial-sized coffee machine. “And then we can sit down and talk about this latest scandal in your life.”
Rikki went to the cabinet and found the coffee, steeling herself against one of Franco’s soft-spoken interrogations. They used to have several servants in the house but lately, it was just her parents and a maid who cleaned and cooked, along with a day nurse. Her parents didn’t require much in the way of food or drink. Peggy and the day nurse made sure they both had nutritious food to eat.
When had her parents become so frail?
Feeling guilty for not checking on them more, Rikki blinked away her tears and her fatigue. “Would you like some breakfast, Papa?”
Her father glanced up from where he’d perched on a bar stool in the way he’d done on countless mornings. “You know, I miss your mother’s cooking. She used to make the best omelets.”
Rikki closed her eyes, the smell of breakfast wafting out as if her mother were standing at the big stove cooking and laughing and talking about her plans for the day. Sonia always had her days planned out for months, down to the pumps and jewelry she’d wear that day.
“Of course, I’ll make you an omelet,” Rikki said. Once she had the coffee brewing, Rikki pulled out eggs, cream, cheese and vegetables.
“Throw in some bacon,” her father said.
When she nodded and glanced back at him, he had his head in his hands, his face down. His once-dark hair was salt-and-pepper now and his always-meaty hands were puffy with excess fluid. She’d noticed the deep bags underneath his eyes, too. Had he stopped taking care of himself?
Rikki turned back to her work, wishing she could say something to him but then she’d never understood her brooding, distant father. Only Sonia could bring out his jovial, loving side. Her mother shone like a star in all of their lives and Sonia’s strong faith held them all together.
“I’ll pray you through it,” her mother always said, no matter what they were dealing with. “God has blessed us in spite of it all. He’ll continue to bless us.”
I’ll pray you through it.
Maybe it was Rikki’s turn to pray them through the latest tragedy, to pray for Blain and the local police, to pray for Tessa’s brother who didn’t even know she was dead yet. And to pray for herself and her family, no matter what.
But right now, she’d cook for her father. For a few minutes, she could forget about her rift with this man, forget about her mother’s illness and her own failures in life, and maybe for just this little while, she could forget about Tessa’s vacant, lifeless eyes staring up at her from a pool of blood.
Maybe she could even forget about the way Blain Kent’s expression had changed when he’d realized who she really was, too. Because she knew the good-looking detective would hound her until he figured out what kind of trouble she’d brought back to Millbrook with her.
Rikki intended to find out the answer to that question herself, with or without Blain’s help.
Putting all of that aside, she flipped the omelet onto a plate and brought it over to her father with a steaming cup of black coffee. “Here you go, Papa.”
Franco Alvanetti looked up at her with misty eyes. “This is a good moment,” he said. “Too bad about your friend.”
Rikki couldn’t decide if her father was being sincere or not, but she felt that trembling in her heart again.
Was it raw emotion? Or was it a warning to be aware?
FIVE
Blain sat at his desk in the back corner of the Millbrook Police Department, scrolling through some old news articles about the Alvanetti family. He’d read up on their philanthropic endeavors, their weddings, births, deaths and celebrations plus a few articles questioning certain tactics they used in their so-called import-export business located in a huge warehouse just outside of town.
But nothing much on their only daughter’s brief marriage to Drake Allen. Nothing much about his fatal car crash but the accident report told the tale. High rate of speed and alcohol.
End of report. Could it be possible that Rikki just needed someone to blame so her grief wouldn’t cut so deep?
“Kent, what’ve you got on the Tessa Jones case?”
Blain glanced up to find his chubby, mustached police chief, Raymond Ferrier, staring down at him like a curious bulldog. The chief trusted Blain but he was antsy about this high-profile murder, especially now that he knew it had happened at a place owned by an Alvanetti.
“Not much, sir.” That was true. He hadn’t found a whole lot on the Jones woman. “She lived in Tallahassee so I’ve got a couple of detectives there casing out friends and family. I had one of my contacts there who’s tracking down the boyfriend. He’s supposed to get back to me after he talks to the boyfriend and finds out where he was yesterday.”
“Not good, right here at the holidays,” the chief said. “I feel for Miss Alvanetti but I can’t have a bunch of nervous-Nellie citizens suggesting we call off the Christmas parade or cancel the cantata at Millbrook Lake Church because they think a killer is on the loose.”
“Not gonna let that happen, Chief,” Blain replied, wishing the chief would quit breathing down his neck so he could get back to work. “I’m researching articles right now, trying to put things together.” He shuffled through the report. “Besides, I don’t think anything can get in the way of the Christmas parade.”
Chief Ferrier shook his head, the red lines along his neck turning crimson. “Just keep at it. I sure don’t need Old Man Alvanetti demanding justice. We all know how that’ll turn out.”
“I’ll handle that,” Blain replied. The chief had never caved underneath the Alvanetti juggernaut but he wasn’t too thrilled to have to stand in the way of that juggernaut either. Up until now, things had been pretty quiet on that front. “I’m going back out to the house to question Regina Alvanetti later today.”
The chief scrubbed a hand down his always-a-day-behind-beard stubble. “Be careful about that. You know how things tend to go out at that place.”
“I’m always careful,” Blain said. And he wasn’t afraid of the Alvanetti clan. Rikki owed him and he intended to cash in on that debt. Plus, he had one furry, demanding cat to deliver.
Chief Ferrier grunted at that confident retort. “Careful is one thing, son. But being smart is important, too.”