Page 7 of Little Empty Promises

Or two, and what seemed more logical, Cordelia had been attacked, shot, and left for dead.

“If someone else is responsible for what happened here tonight, this is a crime scene,” I said.“We need to be careful not to touch anything until the police get here.”

“Well, of course someone shot her.What other explanation could there be?”

My mother sprang to a standing position.“I’m going to check the bathroom, see if there’s a first aid kit.”

“Mom, let me look around the place first.If she was attacked, whoever did this to her might still be here.”

My mother reached into her handbag, pulling out a pistol.“Don’t you worry about me.I’ve been going to the gun range for a few years now.If the person who did this to her is still around, he’ll wish he wasn’t.Get Foley on the horn.He needs to be here.”

Foley was the next call on my list.He was the chief of police for San Luis Obispo County, and he was also married to my sister.

He answered on the second ring, saying, “It’s not like you to call this late.Everything okay?”

“It’s not.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m at the local library with my mother.”

“Hasn’t it closed by now?”

“Her neighbor just started volunteering here, and she’s been shot.”

“Shot?Is she dead or alive?”

“She’s breathing, but it’s faint.I’ll explain more when you get here.”

“Hold tight.I’ll call Whitlock, and we’ll be right there.”

The call ended, and I glanced down at Cordelia.Her eyes flashed open.She looked at me and whispered, “Marlon, my darling, you’re here.I knew you’d come.”

“It’s not Marlon.It’s Georgiana Germaine, Darlene’s daughter.Can you tell me what happened to you?”

She seemed to have not heard me at all—or was ignoring the question.“We’re together now, Marlon.Together forever, just like I always knew we would be.”

As my mother raced back to my side, first aid kit in hand, Cordelia’s eyes closed, and what little life she had left closed along with her.

“Is she … she’s not … she’s going to be okay, right?”my mother asked.“We can fix this … we can make it better.”

I bent down, checking Cordelia’s pulse a second time, and then I glanced up at my mother.“I’m sorry.It’s too late, Mom.We’re too late.She’s … she’s dead.”

4

While I waited for everyone to arrive, I did a quick scan of a few sections of the library.I found nothing, and no one.Foley pulled to a screeching stop, and he and Whitlock got out.I walked over to meet them.

Amos Whitlock was a detective for the county, working under Foley.He’d worked alongside my father in his younger years.Bored in retirement, he’d jumped at the chance to return to detective work when a position opened, and given I was a private investigator, our paths often crossed when my agency was hired to investigate homicide cases.

Whitlock ran a hand through his sleek, silver hair and gave me a nod.“Evening, Georgiana.Nice to see you … well, itisnice to see you, just not under these circumstances.”

“Nice to see you too.”

Though the hour was late, he was still looking fashionable in a light blue shirt and fitted black slacks.He was wearing his signature dress shoes, which were buffed to a shine—I was sure I could see my reflection in them if I tried.

Foley, on the other hand, looked a little worse for wear.

He noticed me eyeing him and said, “I … ahh, I was in my pajamas, watching a movie with your sister when you called.”

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