Knock, knock... Read online

  ***

  Roman left the office early. He needed to be in his own space for a bit. Even if he was only going to his studio for an extended lunch – it all helped.

  He shut the door and strode across the expanse of studio floor to the windows on the far side. Unbuckling the latches, he propped the large glass window wide, giving thanks that he had a place to breathe so deeply. Creativity required space, and as a messy painter, he needed more space than most. Still, he cleaned his studio himself, not trusting his housecleaning service to do it properly in this room.

  He rolled up his sleeves as he surveyed the gray Portland sky around him. He had just enough time to pack up a couple paintings for the new show and see if Roger, the gallery owner, had a preference in style. Normally Roman was very private about his art, and this showing was going to push him out of his comfort zone like nothing else. He handled big business and employees easily, but his painting was...private, personal. He didn't have the same hard edge for that part of his life that he did for business.

  In the beginning, he'd never signed his creations. Then, after gaining some experience, he started using a different name. Now, after some modest success, he signed the pieces with his own name. Progress came with appreciation. Only no one here on the West Coast really knew about him – except his family. Back East his art was better known.

  He knew that would change soon. Not that he expected to be an overnight success. He just hoped his show didn't bomb.

  And he hoped to hell that no one recognized his model.

  Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Shay would think of his latest works. He hadn't planned on this collection, but after Bernice had sent those headshots of Shay, he hadn't been able to help himself. He called the collection, Complicated.

  Like she was.

  And she'd been the inspiration that fired up his imagination.

  Thankfully he'd not painted her face on the nudes.

  But he'd used her body.

  ***

  "Stefan. I could use some help."

  "Always. What's up?" For all the willingness in his voice, Shay could never really forget that Stefan pushed himself too hard and for too long, too often. Whether it was helping someone, offering his services to someone in law enforcement, or creating his artwork. And right now, it was obvious that fatigue held his voice up, giving his words form.

  "You need a keeper," she said abruptly.

  That surprised a laugh out of him.

  "I'm serious." And she was. But that had nothing to do with what she wanted to talk to him about.

  "Are you volunteering for the job?" Amusement slid through the phone. "Although Alex’s ghostly sister, Lissa, hangs around enough, certainly filling in that position."

  "Good. Someone needs to. Especially if your so-called future partner has any of your abilities and knows about them. She's liable to kick my ass down the road for not doing a better job."

  This time he laughed aloud. "I'm glad you called, Shay. I needed the laugh. My particular future partner doesn't have any idea about me, and that's probably a good thing."

  "I don't know. It's going to take time for a woman to figure you out. Then there's that whole needing-to-accept-you stage," she admonished. "You're not an easy person to get along with."

  "Really?" He added in a slow thoughtful tone, "And here, I thought I was a model friend."

  ""You are, but..." She bit her lip, then sighed heavily. "Actually I'm wondering if you can tell me something." She explained about David's death. "There aren't any signs of foul play. An autopsy is scheduled, but should the results come back with nothing definitive, the police aren't going to think it was anything but a simple heart attack."

  "But you're not sure?"

  "Right. There was this one black spot on one chakra. It was abnormal – perfectly round. It felt like a marker planted there for some purpose." She sighed. "The thing is, I don't know what that means."

  "Or if it means anything. Could be just his wife's subconscious way of checking on her husband's health."

  She frowned. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Sometimes appearances can be deceptive," Stefan reminded her. "What else did you see?"

  "Not much," she admitted. "The energy in the building is extensive, as the place swarms with customers all day long. There are kids, parents, staff – and that's just for starters. You know how confusing it gets when these people add in all their stuff."

  "Love how you use that term – stuff."

  "It's true. You know that. Everyone has garbage they haul around with them throughout their day. For me to work through all of that is distracting and tiring."

  "And you care about this, why?"

  She sighed. "That's the crux of the matter. I just want to make sure this incident has nothing to do with the money we've funneled into the Center. Another payment is due to go out next week. If there's any sign of this being more than a heart attack, I don't want to send the check. And..." She paused, then continued painfully. "I want to make sure that I didn't miss something."

  "Ah." He left that last bit alone for the moment. "How big a payment?"

  "It's big." Happy to focus on the business aspect, she added, "They’re planning to purchase a building and renovate it to make a larger facility so they can do more. The purchase price is the bulk of the payout."

  "Hmmm. So if this person did die of natural causes, what would happen to the plans and the payout?"

  "If they have a chain of command in place, and the business manager continues following the same proposal and building purchase plan, then we'd send the funds. However, if they change things, there would be a hold on the money until we were sure the Center, under new administration, is managed properly."

  "So killing this person would actually hurt the Center. It could cause the Center to close. Is that what you're saying?" Stefan's voice sharpened. "I'm looking for motivation to help me figure out if foul play is involved."

  "Money? Maybe? It's a large check I'm cutting for them. Someone might want to step up and take control of receiving the funds and the project to have access to the money for another purpose – or to steal them. Or someone within the Center could have a personal grudge against the Center and want to close it." Shay knew there were other possibilities – if David had been murdered – but at this point those possibilities were all moot. No one had declared it a murder.

  "Hmmm. We've seen murders done for a lot less." His voice cooled. "And you didn't see any other pathways, darkness, anything in the auras of the other people?"

  "No."

  "And did you look?"

  She winced. "I tried to. Look, I know I'm having trust issues that come into play when I interpret people's energy. But if something had popped, I like to think I'd have taken a second look."

  "Yes, you would have. You just need to regain your self-confidence. Don't let Darren’s deception make you doubt everything..." His voice trailed off.

  "If I can't see the truth, then what's the point of looking? I'm just afraid I’ll make the same mistake again." She wanted to hit her head in frustration. After the death of her fiancé, and the doubts about all she’d thought they were to each other, this questioning of herself and her abilities to recognize good and evil had been a familiar feeling. The doubts about her abilities, and what she'd missed had overwhelmed her.

  "And I tell you again, Darren was one in a million. The chances of there being a second one are almost nonexistent."

  "And yet it feels like..." She hesitated.

  "What?" he prompted.

  "What if Darren had family I didn't know about?" She bit her bottom lip gently. "What if other family members could also do what he did?"

  Stefan's voice sharpened. "I thought you said he was alone in the world?"

  "Sure, but what if that's just what he wanted me to think?" She groaned. "Nothing else he said was true, so why would I believe the stuff he told me about his family?"

  "Shay, this guy was a man. Not a god. Not some ki
nd of magician. You didn't fail in not seeing him for who he was. He was powerful and carefully kept things hidden from you."

  "So why does it feel like I failed?" Not giving Stefan a chance to argue, she hung up the phone.

  If a lasting impression of a frowning Stefan lingered in her mind, she ignored it.

  Still, his voice whispered through her consciousness. You might ignore me, but running away isn't the answer.

  ***

  In spite of the constant headache from the ongoing renovations at Chadworth School, Headmaster Robert Dander couldn’t stop smiling – and not because of the school’s impressive trophies he was staring at in the school’s front entrance. In three weeks, he’d lost twenty-one pounds. Lisa had lost seventeen. They’d even gone dancing over the weekend, something they hadn’t done for a long time. Shaking their still substantial booties and enjoying every moment.

  Life was good.

  The door opened behind him, and he turned to see the UPS driver hurrying in with a parcel. Robert stepped toward him.

  "Do you need a signature?" Robert glanced down at the return address on the label. Another order of books. Good. The school needed them – and so much more.

  "Not today." The deliveryman touched his hand to his cap and said, "Have a good day."

  Robert glanced up at him. The deliveryman's eyes had darkened to a midnight black. Robert frowned. "Hey, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine." Only the man's eyes had gone completely black as in no white showed…at all.

  While Robert stood in shock, trying to understand, the deliveryman turned to leave. Friendly. Normal.

  Except something flashed from the man's body and stabbed into Robert. He gasped and fell back a step, his hand's slamming to his chest.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not now. Not when he was getting better and taking care of himself. Not when he was starting to live again.

  The pain sharpened, and he opened his mouth to cry for help, and the pain intensified. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He tried to speak again and a nasty, hushed groan of pain and terror came out. A gurgle.

  The deliveryman turned, frowned and took a step forward. "Sir, are you all right?"

  Robert tried to answer and held out his hand. The parcel fell from his numb fingers, hitting the floor with a loud bang. Robert fell to his knees, dimly aware of Bill calling for help.

  Footsteps raced down the hallway toward them.

  Robert tried to speak, tried to tell them to call 911. Then the beautiful old tile of the entranceway rushed up to meet him.

  A harsh whisper sounded close by, almost inside his head. But his own thoughts drowned it out. Please not a heart attack! I’m not ready to die.

  Chapter 6

  Monday afternoon…

  The afternoon sped by. There'd been too much damn paperwork to allow Shay to leave work early – not to mention the scheduled meetings with other staff.

  She'd hoped to slip down to the Children's Hospital, one of the Foundation projects, and see how the new wing was coming along. She’d heard it was almost done. In fact, several children had already been moved in. Those kids were part of the reason she wanted to visit this afternoon. They tugged at her heartstrings, made her grateful to be able to help in some small way. Only, her schedule wasn't looking good at the moment. Maybe in an hour. She'd see.

  Her phone rang. It was her favorite detective – Ronin. "Hey, surprised to hear from you so fast."

  "It's not necessarily a good thing, either," he said, his voice serious.

  "True enough." She waited for him to continue. When he took his time, she had an inkling she wasn't going to like what he would say next. She struggled to hide the sinking feeling in her stomach, so it didn’t show in her voice. "What's up?"

  "Do you have anything to do with the school on Bernard Street?"

  She frowned. "Chadworth School? Yes, it's one of ours. Why?"

  "The headmaster, Robert Dander, collapsed by the front door a couple hours ago. He’s dead."

  She gasped, her stomach bottoming out and filling with dread. "I don't understand. The headmaster is a great guy. He couldn't be more than sixty, maybe sixty-two, years old."

  "He's sixty-one."

  "Is it on the news?" she asked. "Normally I'd be notified of something like this." Like she had been about Westside Dental Center.

  "The police are still on site. No details have been released at this time. It's the school’s connection to the Foundation that has me calling. I thought it was one of your projects."

  "The old building needed upgrades to bring it up to code," she confirmed, bringing up the file on the computer. "They're due to get their second payment next week."

  "And would a death like this stop the payment of that check?"

  She leaned back and thought about that. "Normally not. At least not for long. We don't give the person the money; we give the project the funding. There is, of course, due diligence before we send out the money so we know how the money is going to be handled. We've been helping this school for years now. Robert wasn't the only person we've dealt with there. And they wouldn't get all the money in one lump sum anyway. It's handed out in stages."

  She thought about what Ronin had said and what he hadn't said. "Was Robert murdered?" she asked, and couldn't stop her voice from showing her dismay.

  "There are no signs of foul play. There were witnesses, but apparently he just keeled over where he stood. An autopsy will be performed. I'll let you know if there is anything odd."

  "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

  Shay hung up the phone and stared blindly at the computer monitor. She wasn't a big believer in coincidence, but what was the chance that two of the people running projects her foundation worked with, who were each set to manage a large chunk of Foundation money, would both die of heart attacks within twenty-four hours of each other?

  She tried to remember the last time she'd been at the school. It had been several weeks ago. Shay took time, at least once a month, to visit each of the Foundation's pet projects. Other people could perform the checks, but she preferred to do them herself, knowing she would see more than other people might.

  The last time she’d visited, the old structure had pleased her greatly. She loved knowing that the school would be able to stay open and that the graceful old lady of a building would continue to stand. Once she’d made that decision, she had no trouble convincing the others on the board about the importance of keeping the school open.

  Also, as she thought back on the project and how her foundation came to be involved, she thought Bernice might have had a hand in that project coming to Shay.

  Normally she would have picked up the phone and called Bernice to ask her about the school and Robert. Only now Bernice was in the morgue, ready to be buried.

  Cold brushed up against her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

  Too many people connected to her were dying.

  Why?

  ***

  The next day, Shay walked up the steps to Chadworth School and opened the door. The school was busy – full of life, full of kids. The way a school should be.

  Being there reassured her. That life continued. Kids still attended the school. It was still open and operating. Then again, why wouldn't it be? The death of the headmaster from natural causes was heartbreaking but not something that should stop the day-to-day operations of a project this size.

  According to Ronin, nothing suspicious had been found on site. The autopsy should be done by now, but she hadn't heard the results. She'd made the trip to gauge the energy of the school.

  She knew everything had energy, including the old building. Part of the reason she'd been willing to help fund the renovations was that this old building, with its tired energy, had been through so much already. She stood here and felt the contradictions you’d find in any building like this: the years of good living, the abuse and neglect, the kids' screams of joy and the fights and rage that had flared up th
rough the decades. Still the old girl had withstood it with a grace and serenity that muted the storms going on around and through her.

  With many good years early on, the energy of the building had warmed, grown and balanced itself with every additional successful year.

  With time, the energy of the building had shifted slightly. The attitude of each generation of kids had affected the balance; the fight for funding affected the teachers; and the desperation of the parents added yet another element.

  The building had maintained a healthy, measured calm. Shay knew its early years had to have been impressive indeed to withstand the ongoing negativity from this least decade. She saw these next years as promising a boon of new, happier and healthier energy as the renovations happened, as teachers, kids and parents realized the school was going to stay open and that children would continue to go there.