Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [12]
“Was it Derek?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” He sounded confused. “The number came up as Derek’s cell, but there was no one on the line. I could hear something, like . . . some sound. Rustling. Weird. I couldn’t place it. I said his name over and over, but he didn’t answer.”
“Look, let’s hang up. Maybe he’s trying to call you. Maybe his phone battery is low. Maybe he’s had a flat or some kind of car trouble, and he’s trying to call home. You know how unmechanical Derek is.”
“Wouldn’t know a chain saw from a jigsaw,” Clark agreed. “I’ll tell him to come home, that you said tomorrow is soon enough. And thanks, Manda. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Clark. I love you both.” Amanda added softly, “Welcome home.”
An uneasy feeling swept over Amanda as she walked to the front door and peered out. Nothing but darkness all around. The lights on the neighbors’ homes had long gone out. Not unusual. Broeder pretty much closed down by ten every night. She opened the front door, stepped onto the small porch, looked out into the pitch-black midnight sky, and thought about what she’d say to Derek over breakfast the next day.
CHAPTER
THREE
“Manda? You have to come. . . . Oh, my God. Please,” Clark sobbed into the phone at eight the next morning.
“Clark, what is it? What’s happened?” A chill ran up Amanda’s spine. “Have you heard from Derek?”
His reply was unintelligible.
“Clark? What’s happened?”
“He’s dead, Manda. Someone shot him,” Clark whispered hoarsely. “Oh, God, someone’s killed Derek.”
“What?!” She dropped into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Derek is dead. He’s been shot. The police found him in his car—”
“Dear God.”
“He’s dead. Just like that. He’s gone.”
“Clark, is anyone with you?”
“The police . . . the police . . .” He hiccupped. “Please come. Please.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this. It can’t be real. . . .
This can’t be happening. How could Derek be dead?
She tried to stand on shaking legs, but finding she could not, sat back down and began to weep great wracking sobs of disbelief. Then, without realizing she was doing so, she gathered her keys and walked out the door, got into her car, and drove. A half-hour later, she was almost startled to find herself parked outside of the house Derek and Clark had shared for several years. She had no recollection of driving.
Still crying, she got out of the car and ran to the front door, barely noticing the police cars that were parked nearby.
“Clark,” she called as she let herself in.
“Manda, thank God you’re here!” Clark fairly flew from the living room to embrace her, then dissolved into tears all over again. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do . . . ?”
“You’re the business partner?” A tall, dark-haired police officer stood as she entered the living room, her shaking arm draped over Clark’s shoulder.
“Yes.” She sat on the edge of the sofa and guided Clark onto the cushion beside her. “Amanda Crosby.”
“Chief Mercer. Broeder Police.”
“Of course.” She nodded. She’d thought he looked familiar. She’d seen him around town, but she’d had no dealings with him. He’d only been in the job for several months. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“Mr. Lehmann called early this morning to report that Mr. England had gone out last night around eleven. He was on his way to your home, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Clark picked up a needlepoint pillow and crushed it to his narrow chest, seemingly oblivious to the conversation around him.
“Was he in the habit of visiting you at that hour, Ms. Crosby?”
“Generally, no. But he and Clark had been away—”
“Vacationing in Europe.”
“Yes, and they just returned yesterday.”
“I expect he’d have been tired after that long flight home. Jet lag, and all that. Why would he have wanted to pay a visit so late at night, after such a long, tiring trip? What was so important that it couldn’t have waited until this morning?”
“We had some business to discuss.”
“Business that couldn’t have waited until this morning?”
“He’d been gone for two weeks. We had a lot to catch up on.” Amanda searched her