Page 22 of Witness To Murder
Rather than allow her to fixate on that troubling detail, Owen opted for making conversation. “Tell me about when you met Isla.”
Leah glanced at him. Her brown eyes reflected the increasing worry haunting her. She had beautiful eyes—deep brown, and such a generous oval shape. She was a very attractive woman. Her quiet nature made him curious, knowing her history as he did. Those painful years after the Chris Painter situation hadchanged her, it seemed. He wondered if she would ever allow her adventurous spirit to slip past all those tight restraints put into place in an attempt at self-preservation. It was a shame that a single incident stole so much of what made her who she was. Maturity and wisdom were always valuable, but one’s true spirit should always have a place inside the normal course of development.
“She had just finished her first year of medical school, and I was deep into my undergrad work.” She stared forward. “I felt so far behind before I even started. Most people start college right after high school. Here I was, more than four years later.” She sighed. “Once I arrived in Chicago, the first order of business was to find a place to live, and truthfully, I was drowning in uncertainty. The only good thing was that my student loan had come through, so I was okay with the education costs. I had decided I might just survive. The first couple of years, I managed by the skin of my teeth and the bit of extra allowance in my student loans. Eventually, I landed the position at the library, and I was in heaven. Isla and one of her friends were there one night for a workshop, and that was the beginning.”
“You said Isla was already in the apartment you share now.”
“Yes, she’d been there awhile. Later, I learned she hadn’t really needed a roommate, but she wanted to help me and decided to make the offer.” She fell silent a moment. “Not long after I moved in, Maya—Isla’s friend, and mine, too, eventually—made some remark about Isla always taking on projects. I was offended at first, but in time we worked it out.”
“This Maya,” he glanced at Leah, “never apologized or elaborated?”
“No.” She laughed dryly. “Maya does not apologize for anything. She has a rich daddy and an even richer new boyfriend. She has her master’s in journalism. She works for oneof the major networks now. She is utterly unrepentant. But she is Isla’s friend, so I have to like her.”
“You and Isla became friends quickly.” From all Leah had said so far, their relationship evolved swiftly and deeply.
“Over the fall,” Leah explained. “By Christmas, I was moving in, and we were like sisters.”
“What about Isla’s dating habits? Does she date frequently? Different people, or was there anyone who lasted longer than the others? Maybe someone who left her upset?”
“Unlike me,” Leah said, “Isla is very social. That said, she’s as happy with a group of girlfriends as she is with a guy. In the time I’ve known her, she has not dated anyone seriously or for any length of time. There were a few who got past the third date but none who lasted more than a month or so. She is thoroughly focused on the future. I mean, totally dedicated to a singular goal. She has this plan and is determined that nothing will stop her or get in the way. I’ve tried really hard to do the same. She’s helped me a lot with moving forward and not looking back.”
“The man, Chris Painter …” Owen braked for a traffic light and spent a moment studying her. “Were you in love with him?”
Though she had been young, her heart could still be broken. Sometimes an old wound like that one was difficult to heal.
She leaned against the headrest. “I was as in love with him as a naive eighteen-year-old, incredibly overprotected girl could be. I was devastated when he just vanished. I searched for him. Confronted his friends and a few of his enemies. Had the bejesus scared out of me more than once and ended up in the ER with a black eye, busted lip and fractured rib.” She met his gaze. “There are some bears one shouldn’t poke.”
He could see the fearless girl-woman storming into the presence of dangerous thugs and demanding answers. She was lucky she hadn’t gotten herself killed.
“At that point I stopped trying to force the truth out of the people he’d surrounded himself with. I went home with my tail between my legs and told myself falling for a guy like Chris would never happen again. And it hasn’t. But it took time and distance to put it behind me. I changed myself and my life over and over until I realized that it wasn’t my physical being that needed to change—it was my mental self. My attitude and personal boundaries. I’m still a work in progress.”
“I think you’re doing great.” He checked the rearview mirror once more. Their tail kept his distance but remained vigilant.
“Well…” She drew in a big breath and released it slowly. “If I don’t end up charged with murder, maybe I’ll be able to keep moving forward.” She fell silent for a time. “But I have to tell you, Owen, I’m worried. The trouble just keeps stacking up, and every time something new is discovered, it points to me.”
“That is the way a good setup works,” he told her with a sidelong look to punctuate it. “Which is why I believe whatever we’re wading into was well planned, perhaps for a considerable period of time.”
“But how do I prove my innocence when I have noproof? No one besides Isla and Raymond know when I first met him. No one but those two know Saturday night was our first and only date—not that it was an actual date. And until Mrs. Morris told me that Isla claimed I went to the lake house with her occasionally, I was certain she was as much a victim as me—maybe more so since she’s missing. But now I don’t know. Nothing we learn makes sense. Nothing Lambert throws our way makes sense—like that insurance policy.”
“We will find the right answers,” he promised. “I’m very good at my work, Leah. You can count on that.”
She turned toward him fully, her expression steeped in concern. “I am counting on that. I mean,reallycounting on it.”
Gerard/Morris Apartment
Chestnut Street, 5:15 p.m.
“KEEP YOUR ATTENTION FORWARD,” Owen said when he shut off the engine. “Don’t look at him. Just ignore him completely. We’ll go inside and have a look around. Then when we head for the safe house, we’ll lose him.”
Leah nodded. When they’d reached Chicago proper, Owen decided to let the guy in the sedan follow them to the apartment. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know where it was. Brilliantly, Owen had called a fellow Colby investigator and asked him to do a drive-by and snag the guy’s license plate number. Leah was impressed with the idea. The sooner they found out who the guy was, the better. She assumed he was a hired spy or maybe even an assassin working for the bad guys. The problem was, who were the bad guys? And why was Leah their target? Or at least one of their targets, it seemed.
Was the bad guy the person who’d dragged Raymond out of the kitchen, dead or unconscious? Or the best friend she had come to think of as a sister?
The mere thought had more of those knots twisting in Leah’s belly.
She and Owen opened their doors and exited the car. Leah fixated on the sweltering heat and the drooping flowers in the pots on the steps that led to the entrance of her building. This really had been a very hot summer. Sadly, it just wasn’t getting any better. All sorts of little fires were cropping up around her as her life fell apart one piece at a time.
She entered the code and Owen opened the main entrance door. They walked together to the stairs and climbed up to the second floor. Thinking back on their conversation in the car, she was surprised at how easy talking to him was. Usually, she had a difficult time discussing personal relationships or detailswith others—especially strangers. And he was a stranger. No matter that he was so comfortable to be around…to talk to. Honestly, he didn’t feel like a stranger at all. He somehow made sharing comfortable. Then again, she supposed it was part of his job to know how to mine cooperation from a subject. But the way their conversations developed, they never felt anything but completely natural and well-intentioned.
