Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery) Read online

  His eyes clouded. “I’m sorry. It was a bad choice of words, but I feel like I didn’t stress how important it was.”

  “You made your stance on going to the hospital very clear, and I made mine clear as well. I’m feeling better, and the bruises hurt a lot less.”

  The tension between us thickened, and I could tell that Brady was worried he’d say the wrong thing again. I brushed my teeth, put on a pair of pajamas Belinda had sent me, and then climbed back into bed, lying on my side.

  Brady climbed in next to me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear.

  It was hard staying angry with him when he was trying to be so considerate. I rolled over to face him. “I’m sorry too.”

  He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly against mine. “You can stay here as long as you’d like, but I hope it’s for a very long time.”

  I didn’t answer, still unsure of what I was going to do. I had much bigger issues to deal with than my love life.

  Chapter 6

  I was startled awake by a ringing cell phone.

  “Bennett,” Brady’s voice barked in the darkness. He listened for several long seconds before saying, “I’ll be right there.” He sat up and pushed back the covers.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, still groggy from sleep.

  “I got called in to handle a case.” He hesitated and then leaned over me. “I know you’re supposed to work for Ava Milton today, but ask her if you can put it off.”

  I sat up, feeling anxious as I faced him in the darkness. “Why?”

  “This case I’m headed to . . . I’d just feel better if you were locked up in my apartment.”

  “Is there something I should know?”

  He paused. “No.”

  “Like I told you, Brady, I’m not weak. I can handle whatever you tell me.”

  “I know, but after everything you’ve been through . . . just hang out here today.”

  “What’s going on? First you asked me to stay away from Bill James. Now you want me to spend the day in your apartment. You owe me some kind of explanation.”

  “Just trust me.”

  “That might have worked with all your previous girlfriends, but it won’t fly with me. While your concern is sweet, I’m a big girl and can handle myself.” I gave him a slight shove. “Now go do your job. We’ll talk about this later.”

  He looked torn. “Will you check in with me when you leave? And a couple of times throughout the day?”

  “Brady, what happened? What kind of case are you headed to?”

  “I can’t tell you, but if you won’t stay here all day, please promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise. Now go.”

  Brady got out of bed and headed into his bathroom. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, only to realize I’d left it in my purse.

  Moving in here, staying with him, it had made me stupid. So had my desire to pretend that my world was anything less than a nightmare. I needed to move out, but if Brady’s case had him spooked, it had me even more spooked.

  I was in the living room, looking for my purse, when Brady emerged from the bedroom wearing a frown.

  “I’m sorry I woke you. It’s four, so you still have a chance to get a few hours’ sleep.”

  “I’ll go back to bed, but I realized I never charged my phone.” I offered him a smile as I dug it out of my purse. “It needs to be charged if you want me to check in with you. And don’t apologize for going to do your job. It’s important.”

  “Full disclosure,” he said, stepping in front of me, “this happens more often than you might like.”

  “I can live with it. Now go.”

  He gave me a kiss and headed for the door. “Lock the deadbolt after I leave and call me on my cell if you come across anything suspicious today. Anything at all.”

  I closed the door behind him and locked the doorknob and the deadbolt before lifting my phone with a shaky hand. There was a text waiting for me on the home screen. My legs gave out and I collapsed onto the floor when I read the message from a blocked number—a text that had been sent about an hour before by my stalker.

  You’ve been a very bad girl, Magnolia.

  What did that mean? It took several tries to send a response.

  I haven’t told anyone.

  I was surprised when he answered back within seconds.

  Not even your boyfriend?

  I sucked in a breath as tears flooded my eyes. I considered protesting that Brady wasn’t my boyfriend, but that was a minor issue.

  I haven’t told ANYONE.

  I didn’t wait long for a response.

  Keep it that way. I left you a present to help you remember.

  Terrified, I started to cry as I called my mother.

  “Magnolia?” she asked, sounding like I’d woken her from a deep sleep. “Is everything okay?”

  I took a breath to pull myself together. How did I explain this call? I suspected there was no way to hide my tear-filled voice, so I decided to go with a semi-truthful explanation. “I had a nightmare that something happened to you,” I said, surprised when a sob followed. She might be okay now, but very soon she would be gone, one way or the other. “I just got you back, Momma. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Oh, Magnolia,” she said softly. “I’ll always be with you.”

  I leaned over my legs as a new sob stole my breath. “It’s not the same.”

  “I know, but it’s the best we have.”

  I tried to get control of my emotions. My mother was the one who was dying, and I was crying like a baby.

  “Why don’t we go out to lunch this afternoon?” she asked.

  My surprise at her request ebbed my tears. “Really?”

  “Does it seem that crazy of an idea?”

  “No. It’s just that we haven’t done anything just the two of us since I came back.”

  “That’s my fault,” she said. “But I want to fix things. Before it’s too late.”

  “I want to fix things too.”

  “So lunch today,” she said, sounding hopeful. “How about we go to Puckett’s? We can meet and then walk to the catering kitchen together.”

  “Yeah. I’d like that,” I said. I knew Ava had plans for me, but I’d tell her I was leaving at lunchtime. If she didn’t like it, I’d quit and move out of the apartment. I wasn’t sure where I’d go, but I’d figure out something. “I’m sorry I called and woke you.”

  “I’m glad you did. It’s nice to know you still need me.”

  She hung up and it was a stark reminder that I’d still need her even after she was gone.

  Momma might be safe, but I still needed to check on Belinda. It was way too early to call her, so I sent a text.

  I know it’s the middle of the night, but I felt a powerful need to check on you. Text me when you can.

  After I sent the message, I worried that my brother would see it and punish Belinda. I should have waited to text her, but the week before, my stalker had sent me a photo of her—paired with a threat. What if he’d hurt Belinda to punish me?

  Then someone else came to mind—someone the stalker might target. If he knew I was staying with Brady, he probably knew about Colt. I liked to think that Colt could take care of himself, but what if he was caught off guard?

  When you get this, please let me know you got it. I’ll explain later.

  I had no idea what excuse I’d give him for texting, but I was too worried to care. I’d think of something later.

  I made a cup of tea since I was way too keyed up to go back to sleep. What had my stalker meant by his threat? The last time he’d decided to send me a reminder, I’d found a dead cat on my doorstep, carved with the same mark he’d left on my leg. Would he escalate this time? I was worried about Belinda, but as much as I detested my brother, I had to believe he wouldn’t let anything happen to his wife in the middle of the night.

  Lack of sleep didn’t keep me from circling around the problem again and again, questioning every
thing I thought I knew. Was it too dangerous for me to continue seeing Brady, or should I take a chance and tell him about my stalker? About what I’d seen all those years ago? But could he protect the people I cared about?

  Taking my tea to the sofa, I grabbed my laptop and pulled the afghan over me like I had the day before. Brady had interrupted me last time, but now I had hours before I needed to meet Belinda for breakfast.

  I decided to do a search for the failed land development project. Jackson Project was an outdoor shopping mall and condominium complex that had been intended for a location in northeast downtown Nashville. The project had faced opposition from the start because it planned to clear out everything and build fresh, destroying several historical homes in the process. Winterhaven, the corporation in charge, had gotten approval to bulldoze the homes, but it soon emerged they’d only obtained permission through bribery. The project halted before anything had been built, and all the investors’ money had been used for legal expenses.

  Next I did a search for Winterhaven and discovered that Max Goodwin had been a board member, and Walter Frey had been the CFO, but I saw no mention of my father’s name.

  Wasn’t it enough that he’d been involved in selling shares?

  I’d started to look up more about Winterhaven when my phone dinged with a text from Belinda.

  I’m fine. Still on for breakfast?

  I closed my eyes, dizzy with relief. She was okay. I composed myself and texted back.

  Yes. See you then.

  I glanced at the time on my phone—5:30. I still had an hour before I needed to get ready to leave. And I wouldn’t expect to hear from Colt for another couple of hours.

  I stood up and stretched the cramping muscles in my back. I’d just spent an hour looking up a corporation with a failed land investment nearly twenty years ago. Was I wasting my time? But I couldn’t ignore the fact that my father had ties to a lot of dead men—too many for it to be a coincidence.

  I continued searching, discovering that Winterhaven had dissolved after the land project, and even though the company had shown a profit, they’d paid off their board of directors, filed for bankruptcy, and closed. Multiple lawsuits had been filed and settled out of court.

  I shifted my focus to Neil Fulton. He’d been in his early sixties at the time of his murder, with a long history of representing recording studios. At the end of his career, he’d helped Max Goodwin win multiple lawsuits filed by disgruntled clients. I suspected whatever trouble Daddy had been mixed up in dated back to the Jackson Project.

  How was I going to dig into that?

  Chapter 7

  Belinda was already sitting at a table when I arrived at the restaurant, and she greeted me with a weary smile. She looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but then again, neither had I. Despite her obvious fatigue, she still looked better put together than most women I knew. She wore a pale aqua dress, and her hair was held back from her face with pearl-encrusted pins.

  She rose when she saw me and pulled me into a hug.

  The waitress stopped at our table, took our drink and breakfast orders, and then headed back to the kitchen.

  “Have you seen your momma in the last few days?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, surprised it was the first thing she brought up. “I’ve talked to her a few times, but haven’t seen her since I went to Brady’s.”

  Belinda frowned. “She’s not looking that great, Magnolia. I’m really worried about her.”

  I was sure the stress of my recent attack hadn’t helped with her health issues. “Has she been to the doctor?”

  “No, Tilly says she refuses to go.”

  Did she think the end was coming sooner rather than later? Was that why she wanted to meet for lunch? A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

  Guilt flashed in Belinda’s eyes. Then she leaned forward and asked in a quiet voice, “How are you doing? I know it has to hurt that there are rumors floating around about your father again.”

  I wasn’t surprised she’d asked. Only a week ago, she’d heard me tell Colt I was sure my father hadn’t run off with Shannon Morrissey and her husband’s money, like everyone had believed—that he had been murdered instead. “I’m not content to leave things where they are,” I said. “I’m still digging.”

  She looked startled. “Digging into what?”

  “I found out that Daddy had a connection to Max Goodwin and Neil Fulton.”

  “Your father was a financial planner who dealt with very wealthy clients. It’s not surprising he knew them.”

  Her comment gave me pause. Belinda and Amy had been friends, so I’d expected her to react differently to this piece of news. I’d thought she would be eager for the chance to clear her friend’s name. “Don’t you think it’s the slightest bit weird? Maybe this means Amy didn’t kill them.”

  Belinda fingered the handle of her fork. “Of course she killed them. She wrote a note.”

  “But don’t you think there could be a link between—”

  Her gaze jerked up, and I was surprised by the cold look in her eyes. “Amy killed them.”

  We stared at each other for a couple of seconds before her expression softened and tears filled her eyes. “Trust me, it’s hard for me to believe she did it, but there’s no point in chasing windmills, Magnolia. Besides, delving into your father’s disappearance nearly got you killed. You need to trust the police on this.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She offered me a wavering smile. “No, I’m sorry. I understand your need to find answers, but you have to accept that Amy killed them.”

  This did not bode well for my plan to ask her for a copy of the guest list to Luke Powell’s party, not to mention asking her again about the man hiding in the shadows who looked like my brother.

  “But there’s more,” I said. “I also found out that he had a bunch of clients who invested in a failed land development project in north Nashville. There were lawsuits filed against him.”

  “That’s why he had liability insurance,” she said, her gaze holding mine, as though she was trying to hypnotize me into letting this go.

  “How do you know so much about it?” I asked.

  “Roy. He’s practically taken over your father’s job.”

  Yes, he had, which meant . . .

  “Is Roy into something crooked too?”

  The color washed out of her face. “Magnolia, you need to leave this alone.”

  I’d asked as an offhanded comment. I’d never expected her to confirm it. But it made so much sense—Roy’s attempts to drive me out of town, including the fifty-thousand-dollar bribe he’d offered me, and his violent rampage at my apartment after Brady had gone to his office asking questions about the past.

  “Do you know how hard I’ve had to work to be taken seriously at my firm?” he’d asked. “I had to practically beg Bill to hire me, and I’ve had to work my ass off to get him to trust me. Three years, Magnolia, three fucking years I’ve kissed that man’s ass.”

  In response to my suggestion that he find another job, he’d said, “I don’t want to work anywhere else. I want to work at JS Investments, and you are ruining everything, Magnolia. Just like you’ve always ruined everything.”

  Somehow Roy had convinced Bill James to let him step into Daddy’s shoes. But more horrifying than that was the fact that sweet Belinda seemed to know all about it—worse, she was protecting him.

  Belinda clasped my hand, her fingers digging in. “Promise me you’ll leave this alone.”

  Only a few days ago, I’d gotten angry with her for staying with my brother despite his obvious abuse. Holy crap. How had I not seen it? Roy wouldn’t let her go because she could destroy him. “If you know that Roy is doing illegal things, you could go to prison too,” I said. “But if he’s questioned by police, they can’t make you testify.”

  Her eyes filled with panic.

  I squeezed her hand. “I can help you, Belinda. Brady’s a police officer. We’ll
get you away from Roy and keep you safe.”

  “No!” she said, jerking her hand from mine. “I’m exactly where I want to be. I told you I have an exit plan. I asked you to trust me, and you told me you would. Has that changed?”

  She’d said as much to me last week, after I’d confronted her about my brother’s obvious abuse. I had to wonder about her exit strategy. Was she collecting evidence to use against Roy? “No,” I said. “I still trust you.” But that only meant I wouldn’t hound her to leave Roy. I had no plans to stop investigating—if anything, it strengthened my resolution to keep going.

  Relief washed over her and she reached over and squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

  “But if you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  I had to force myself to smile. Belinda was one of the few friends I had here in Franklin, and in the short time I’d known her, I’d become very attached. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

  “What a lovely necklace,” she said. “Is it new? I don’t remember seeing you wear it.”

  “Brady gave it to me last night.”

  She was surprisingly quiet.

  “Do you have a wedding this weekend?” I asked.

  “On Friday,” she said, looking grateful for the change in subject. “But I’m going to a masquerade ball on Saturday.”

  “In Nashville?”

  “No. Here in Franklin. It’s a fundraiser for Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity. They raise money to help lower income children. The guest list is impressive.”

  “Oh,” I said, recognizing the name of the charity. “The Belles are catering that event. I didn’t realize it was a masquerade ball. In April? Aren’t those usually in October?”

  “They have masquerade balls in New Orleans during Mardi Gras,” she said, picking up her cup of coffee. “So why not?”

  When we walked outside the restaurant, Belinda pulled me into a tight hug. “Why don’t you take some time off? Maybe go visit a friend for a long weekend? What about your friend traveling with Wicked? Isn’t she in Minneapolis right now?”