Dancing with Detective Danger Page 3

  “Sure. Tall and black.”

  The door shut behind Lacey, leaving Sterling alone.

  She didn’t know if she could bring herself to do an Internet search on her father to see if it revealed any connection to Jerry or Pamela — nonetheless, she turned her attention to her computer. But troubled feelings immediately distracted her and she let the silence soothe her as thoughts cascaded.

  The therapist, the little quirks, and the compulsive tendencies all pointed out that Lacey had made her way through a lot of pain. Sterling admired her sister for not giving up as their mother had.

  It would soon be two years since Lacey’s husband, Nicholas, had been killed while on duty as a policeman. An apparently simple traffic stop had turned ugly when the driver pulled out a gun and shot Nicholas. And just like their father’s murderer, the shooter had disappeared. A fatal flaw in the randomness of life and a cruel fact that had reverberated throughout Sterling’s life.

  It still scared her to think of how closely Lacey’s life paralleled their mother’s. Marrying a cop, becoming a mother, then becoming a widow.

  Sterling felt the familiar heaviness in her chest thinking of how their mother had never been the same after their dad died while on duty. Their mother had begun her retreat into depression the night the county coroner came to the door and told them her father had been shot in the head during a drug bust and the shooter had gotten away. With a single bullet from some unknown assailant’s gun, Sterling and Lacey had essentially lost both their parents. Although their mother still cared for them, the spark was gone.

  Sterling’s heart tightened, thinking of coming home from school and finding her mother still lying in bed or sitting on the couch, staring into space. Too overwhelmed in sorrow, her mother hadn’t noticed the piles of laundry. When the food ran out, it was Lacey who had restocked the refrigerator and the cupboards. Although their father’s insurance had provided for a moderate lifestyle, Sterling and her sister had lived in vigilance of a late utility bill or overdrawn checking account — details that escaped their mother’s attention.

  Propping up her feet on her desk, Sterling leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. The sounds of the streets below — traffic flowing through the downtown streets, construction workers putting finishing touches on a new facade for an art theater, and distant sirens announcing that someone was on the way to the emergency room — played in the background like a well-known song on the radio.

  Without much effort, Sterling could summon up the empty feeling that had pervaded after her father’s death. Although her mother would make an effort to go through the motions of as many of the day-to-day needs as she could muster energy for, little things were missing. There were no more impromptu trips to a sunny park to giggle under a shady tree while savoring deli sandwiches and mangos. No more afternoons at the art museum in tow of their mother, who had loved Impressionist paintings. Only a memory remained of huddling close to her as she spoke in hushed tones about Renoir and Monet.

  When everything had eventually come crashing down, their mother suffered a nervous breakdown and Lacey, being the oldest, had stepped in to take over as caretaker, surrendering her youthful years. Although Sterling had never sensed Lacey begrudged her obligation, it was clear her sister had lost precious years of kicking up her heels as most teenagers and young adults do.

  In time, their mother’s declining health forced Sterling and her sister to face the decision of placing her in an assisted living home. Sterling had closed the door to her mother, but Lacey remained by her side, insisting on top-notch care and making regular visits.

  Then Nicholas had stepped into her sister’s life. After all the loneliness and gloom of their young years, he had been like a breath of fresh of air for Lacey. Finally, she’d been able to enjoy a full and satisfying life filled with love.

  But again, the security and love had been taken away.

  When Lacey lost Nicholas to a bullet too, it had seemed like a cruel joke with their family as the brunt. But losing him hadn’t permanently crushed Lacey. She had rallied her resources and put all of herself into nurturing her little son. Tyler had been a scant four years old when his father was killed.

  Sterling smiled to herself, feeling proud of Lacey for taking classes in criminal justice and getting PI experience under Sterling’s license. Launching their partnership had really been a lifesaver for both of them during some rough times. Maybe it wasn’t as action packed as working on the force, but it occupied time and it paid the bills. And although Lacey remained Mrs. Nicholas Owen in her heart, she was all Aegar, going by the family name in her profession.

  Sterling tried to focus her attention back to the Rutherford case. The clipping, the business card with the agency number written on it — it didn’t make sense. It made her feel vulnerable and that was never a good space to be in. Agitation stood her to her feet and she paced the small office in controlled steps.

  Sterling felt comforted by how their office reflected their divergent personalities. Lacey liked colorful country curtains and Sterling preferred somber blinds. Lacey enjoyed pictures of barns and frolicking children adorning the walls, while Sterling could do without anything but modern art. Still, they’d managed to compromise. The walls of their two-room office were papered in a tiny blue and white check. Country blue and white sashes picked up the same check and complemented the slate blinds on the windows. Splashes of colors and geometric shapes in a modern art painting framed in rustic wood hung on the wall. The muted colors of a wildflower arrangement softened the angles of an exotic vase. Sterling got her clean lines with a white leather sofa and Lacey got her cozy look with accent pillows covered in mauve and heather blue hydrangeas.

  Lacey bustled in, the promise of delicious coffee from the coffee shop down the block leading her. Sterling marveled at how lost she’d become in her wayward thoughts — a little bit of Ben and she was easily thrown back through the past.

  “Tall. Black,” Lacey announced, setting the cup on Sterling’s desk. “Sorry to take so long. I got behind the cinnamon dolce latte and white chocolate mocha crowd.”

  “What did you get?” Sterling eyed her sister mischievously. She knew her sister enjoyed the drinks with some bells and whistles, too.

  Lacey sat back in her desk chair and sipped slowly from her cup before slanting a look at Sterling. “Espresso macchiato, double shot.”

  Sterling nodded appreciatively, but her thoughts refocused to the case. There would be an explanation for why Pamela Witt had written the Aegar Investigations phone number on her business card and maybe given it to Jerry, and she couldn’t wait to discover it. Meanwhile, she’d had enough of ruminating and pacing. Time to get to work.

  “I’m going to the bank to see what Jerry’s secretary has to say.” Sterling grabbed her coat and coffee and headed toward the door.

  “Do you want me to come with?” Lacey tilted her head in question but seemed pretty content where she sat.

  “No. We don’t want to seem like we’re storming the castle and put the woman on the defense, but thanks. You man the fort and enjoy your coffee.”

  Chapter Three

  Sterling stepped out into the spring day and breathed out a deep sigh. The bank where Jerry worked was only a few blocks away from her office. A brisk walk with the promise of a productive destination would put her thoughts where they belonged — on the case.

  Reaching the bank’s heavy glass doors, Sterling swung them open, marched through, and glanced around for a directory. With the office number in her head, she strode to the elevator, the sound of her heels striking the stone floor in the large lobby. She entered the elevator, pushed the button for the eighth floor, and focused her thoughts. Moments later, as she stepped out of the elevator, her breath caught. Ben.

  “Sterling. You following me?” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “Of course not.” A l
ittle unnerved, she shot him a dismissive glance as she attempted to brush past him, but his eyes pinned her gaze and slowed her steps.

  “Good luck with the secretary. There’s not much information there, though.” His eyes gleamed disarmingly as he entered the elevator.

  “Just doing my job,” she tossed over her shoulder and retrained her sight on Jerry’s office. When she heard the elevator door swoosh closed she dared a backward glance. Geez, stars were aligned or planets were colliding, she thought, her shoulders tightening. Ben’s inexplicable persistent appearance in her life troubled her. She didn’t need the added distraction.

  The young, attractive woman at the desk in Jerry’s outer office flashed a composed, glossy smile at Sterling. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Jerry Rutherford. Is he in?” It didn’t hurt to start with the most obvious question.

  The woman’s smile wilted a bit. “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Rutherford is out of town. Did you have an appointment? I’m sorry it wasn’t rescheduled.”

  “When do you expect him back?”

  “Umm, well, I’m not sure,” she stammered. “He left unexpectedly. What did you say your name is?”

  “Sterling Aegar. What’s yours?” Sterling had noted the absence of a nameplate when she’d approached the secretary’s desk.

  “Janice Martin. I’m Mr. Rutherford’s secretary, and as I said, he’s not here. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  The smile was still there, so Sterling pressed on. “I’m sorry to bother you but I have a few questions. I’m working on behalf of Mr. Rutherford’s wife.”

  The young woman’s eyes widened and the smile dropped. “What does that mean, you’re working on behalf of Mrs. Rutherford?”

  “I’m a private detective. As you can understand, Mrs. Rutherford is concerned and it’s her understanding that Mr. Rutherford is missing. That’s all she’s been told, can you believe it?”

  “Poor woman.”

  The young woman pursed her lips in dismay. This was what Sterling had hoped for. “I’m sure it’s just some kind of simple misunderstanding, but, Janice, if you could tell me when was the last time you spoke with him, I’m sure we can clear it up pretty quickly.”

  “I’ve already talked to a detective this afternoon. I’ll tell you what I told him. If you want any information you’ll have to talk to public relations.” The woman rose abruptly and looked like she was searching for a quick and quiet escape.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you, Janice. I don’t want you to reveal anything that would get you in trouble.” Sterling glanced over her left shoulder, her right shoulder, then leaned close. “I’ve heard a nasty rumor and I would like to spare Mrs. Rutherford and you and everyone else at the bank the embarrassment of it.”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped and she sighed heavily. “It is already that. It has been such an embarrassment for some time,” she said in low tones, shaking her head. “And I’ve kept it quiet because, well, I didn’t know quite what to do. Mrs. Rutherford deserves better. Better than what Mr. Rutherford has given her.”

  “By that you mean the other woman?” Bait and wait seemed to be working, Sterling thought, getting slightly giddy inside.

  “Of course. The two of them kept it pretty low key in the office, but it wasn’t much of a secret that Mr. Rutherford was spending lunches, shall we say, with Pamela. So clichéd.”

  “Clichéd? How so?”

  “The young ambitious bank executive and the older man. Pamela had him wrapped around her finger.” The woman’s voice fell to a stage whisper. “But the worst of it is the strange bookkeeping.”

  Sterling’s heart skipped. “Really? How awful.”

  Her eyes darted warily, but the young woman continued. “I don’t know anything about it but I overheard some executives discussing the problem with the account information in Mr. Rutherford’s computer files and they’re trying to keep it quiet. I’m sure you can understand. If this got out, well, it wouldn’t be good for our top-tiered customers, which would be bad for us all.”

  “So you haven’t had a chance to talk with Mr. Rutherford today?”

  The young woman bit her lip nervously. “He left me a voicemail this morning. He said he had a business trip to Chicago and he would be in touch later. That’s all I know. Although there is some rumor that his lady friend is missing too, so maybe they ran off together. I hate to speculate. But I do feel, as I said, that Mrs. Rutherford deserves better. That’s why I told her on the phone that Mr. Rutherford is not where he’s expected.”

  Sterling believed the woman didn’t know anything more, and didn’t even know Pamela had been killed. Apparently the bank’s executives hadn’t had time or concern enough to give all the employees the news. Hopefully they’d be told about the death before they heard it on the evening news. “Well, you’ve been very helpful, Janice, and I appreciate your concern about discretion.” Sterling handed her a business card and smiled. “If you have anything you’d like to talk about, please don’t hesitate to call me or stop by my office.”

  Janice nodded and sat back down, letting her attention fall to her paperwork on her desk.

  On her way back to her office, Sterling called her sister to let her know what she’d learned about Jerry, but she got her voicemail. She left a message just to keep her sister up to speed on what she’d learned at the bank. She glanced at the time and realized Lacey would have left to be home when her son got off school. It wouldn’t hurt for her to take off early herself, Sterling thought. She had files at home she could work on, but a good run before the day ended would help settle the nerves rattled by her day. She didn’t even bother to go upstairs to her office when she reached the parking lot and her car. With all that had happened, Sterling was struggling to stay present in one place.

  She climbed in behind the wheel and leaned back against the seat. Emotions stirred inside her heart and she closed her eyes to focus her breath. But her strength ebbed and Sterling couldn’t muster the will to hold back the memories that always sat just outside of view, demanding attention she refused to give. In the quiet and growing darkness, Sterling gave up the struggle and was back there again, the day she said goodbye to her dad.

  She’d stood in a slight drizzle crying around her and the crisp air. The cold dampness and the bleakness of it all seemed appropriate to her at twelve years old. Cold and bleak. That’s how she felt. She stood under the tent with her mother and sister, staring at her father’s casket, and struggled with her impulse to scream out in protest. This is all wrong. Her father coached her softball team, ran in marathons, and loved to dance. He couldn’t be cold and silent.

  Her mother’s sobs pierced the memories raging inside Sterling’s head, and again she faced the stark reality — Dad is gone.

  Sterling thought of the night the shift sergeant and county coroner sat in her living room explaining how her dad, Joshua Aegar, had gotten shot during a drug bust.

  “Your husband was taken by surprise, Mrs. Aegar. He was conducting a routine procedure. Unfortunately, someone must have been tipped off and was waiting for him. He was wearing a protective vest, but the shot went to his head. There was nothing we could do. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  That explained how her dad died, but it didn’t settle the question looming large in her mind — why? There was no just and fair reason to explain why her father’s life had been taken.

  When she’d first gotten hired at the department, she’d attempted to find an answer and tried to open her dad’s cold case investigation. Sterling’s stomach clenched, remembering the first leads she’d gotten, stuff that didn’t look good for the department because it pointed to an inside leak. She’d shared what she’d found with the chain of command, but mysteriously the fruits of her work had disappeared. No evidence, no case.

  Tears streamed down Sterling’s cheeks as
the memories cycled through her. She felt exhaustion take over and she grabbed for the anger that always saved her from the depths — unless she lost control, she thought, and angrily brushed away her tears. She turned the key in the ignition and directed her attention to getting home. A good run and a hot shower would do her wonders.

  • • •

  After an evening of playing games with Tyler and reading bedtime stories, Lacey stood at the kitchen sink, dreading the long hours of the night ahead.

  It seemed no matter how she filled her evenings — sitcom drivel, miles on the treadmill, hot chamomile tea — she always ended up staring into the darkness. Sleep would not grant her release from the terrible aloneness that lay like pale, cold frost on her heart.

  Lacey finished washing the dishes, switched off the kitchen light, and headed back to Tyler’s bedroom.

  A gentle glow shining from a nightlight warmed the darkness and lit her son’s sleeping face as Lacey placed a kiss on his cheek and snugged up the blankets. Even at six, her son was the spitting image of his father.

  Nearly two years had passed and still Tyler’s grief over his father’s death conjured up all too frequent nightmares calling for Lacey’s soothing in the night.

  It’s not fair he should suffer so. It’s not fair that my son’s foundation, his father and idol, should be taken away as though it means nothing.

  But right now she was grateful Tyler looked peaceful, and she tiptoed out, quietly closing the bedroom door and padding into her room.

  The clock on the mantle in the living room struck twelve midnight, echoing hollowly down the hall. If only sleep would come easy for once, she thought, as she climbed into the left side of the bed and pulled up the blankets. Two years and still she couldn’t remove Nick’s pillow, her only comfort from the empty spot beside her where he used to lie.

  “Two years tomorrow, Nicholas, since you went away,” Lacey breathed out loud, as if somehow he could hear her. “I miss you so much.”