Page 37 of Accidental Murder
Peter stepped in and clasped her in a bear hug. “I’ve been calling and calling.”
Kayla drew away and closed the door. She leaned against it, trying to look casual, though she could barely breathe.
“I wanted to let you know I got an earlier flight, but cell coverage in San Francisco sucks.” He moved in to kiss her.
“Peter, now isn’t a good?—”
The door blocked her escape. When his lips met hers, electricity ripped through her. Her knees trembled. Alarm signals went off in her head.
“Peter. Stop.” She pushed him away. “We need to talk.” Telling him the truth was not an option. He would crumble if he knew Ashley was the one who was dead.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s talk.” While removing his parka, Peter looked down the hall. “I have to admit, I was afraid you wouldn’t let me in. I—” He balked. His eyes narrowed.
Kayla tensed. Had he caught sight of the thumb drives and computer on the bed? She slid her arm around him and steered him into the living room. “Sit.”
Peter draped his parka over the back of the sofa and perched on the sofa’s arm. Ashley would’ve been fussy about his casualness, so Kayla nudged him off. Peter shrugged, slid onto the cushion, and reached a hand to Kayla like he wanted her to join him.
She remained standing. “You said you were afraid I wouldn’t let you in. Why?”
“Because of our fight. Before I left. You . . . You were so . . .” He paused. “I didn’t think you really wanted us to break up, but I accepted your decision.”
They broke up? Kayla couldn’t believe it. When had Ashley broken it off with Peter? Monday night? After dinner? Why?
“But now, given the way you kissed me?—”
“You kissed me.”
“Right. I’m sorry. I . . .” He ran his fingers through his messy hair, the move languid and sexy. “Look, I know I came on strong saying I wanted to move in with you when I got back from France. I get that you need your space.”
Kayla couldn’t find the words to speak. Right before she’d gone to meet her blind date, she had asked Ashley about her future plans with Peter. She’d dodged the question.
“Oh, man. What a jerk I am,” Peter went on. “I got so caught up in resolving things between us I didn’t say I’m sorry about Kayla. I can’t believe it.” He stood. “Dead? Murdered? It’s horrible. How are you? Dad said she was strangled.”
Kayla drew the robe tighter.The scarf.She would never forget how Ashley had asked Peter for the very thing the killer had used to strangle her. Had Peter really been in France? Of course he had.He’d had a showing, an important opening, and the initial telephone call’s origin had come from France.
So why had he returned if they had broken up?
“Have the police got a suspect?” Peter asked.
“Yes. He’s in custody.” Kayla crossed to the window. The glow of streetlamps unnerved her as a troublesome notion hit her. Ashley had rejected Peter. What if he hadn’t left San Francisco after all? What if he’d paid someone to route the call through France? What if he’d tracked Ashley down at Kayla’s place, and?—
Peter tapped Kayla on the shoulder. “I almost forgot.”
She spun as if he had scalded her.
He pulled a thin silver package from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll admit it’s weird giving you this because, well, you’ll see, and I’ll understand if you want to burn it. I was going to ship it, but?—”
Kayla lifted the lid off the box. Beneath the tissue was a Hermes scarf. Peacock blue. Ashley’s favorite color. She let out the breath she’d been holding. The scarf used to kill her sister hadn’t been Peter’s gift. “It’s lovely.”
“Listen, I’m sorry I missed the memorial this morning. Dad said it was special.”
Kayla hadn’t seen his father at the service, but there had been so many people.
Peter offered a cautious smile. “Geez, Kayla could make me laugh. She knew the funniest jokes, and yet she was so intense. An enigma, that’s what she was.” He brushed her shoulder with his fingertips.
Kayla flinched. The unexpected desire coursing through her was wrong. She needed distance. She set the gift on the coffee table. “How did your exhibit in Paris go?”
“It’s tomorrow.”
