Page 73 of Deadly Designs

Christian shook his head. “They didn’t do it.”

“And the man who tried to kidnap Aja Blue?” Kayneasked.

“They deny knowing about him too.”

“What about Pastor Chet?” Presley questioned. “Hemight’ve pulled the trigger himself.”

“Very possible.”

“Let me guess,” Kayne said. “He bailed out andfled.”

“Right in one.”

“What does that mean?” Aja Blue wanted to know.

“The cops can’t find him. He’s likely guilty, butthey can’t question him because he and his lawyer havedisappeared.”

“So, what, they get away with it?” Aja Bluecried.

“No.” Christian shook his head. “They will be broughtto justice, but it might be delayed. The local authorities areworking on tracking him down. I’ll notify my office, and I have nodoubt they’ll be able to locate him.”

She believed him, but a cynical part of her wonderedif the murderer would get away with it. What if they couldn’t findhim? He might change his name and vanish. When she’d met Christian,he had told her about the case he was working on. A cult leader haddisappeared and reinvented himself. He had almost gotten away withit.

She’d hoped they could lay Jay to rest in peace withhis killers behind bars, but that didn’t look like it wouldhappen.

Her phone rang, and she checked the display. EleanorSinclair.Green grass big mouth bass.With all that hadhappened last week, she hadn’t thought about the pool house. Mrs.Sinclair paid a sizable retainer to Aja Blue, expecting her tofulfill the contract for which she had been hired. It was badbusiness practice to ignore the client.

With a pang of dread, she answered. “Mrs. Sinclair.How are you?”

“I’m fine, dear. It’s good to hear from you.”

Funny, considering the woman had called her.

“How are the plans for the pool house comingalong?”

“We’re working on them.” Lie. She’d barely thoughtabout them.

“Good. Good. Listen, I’m calling to invite you to ourannual Sinclair Family Fundraiser. It’s tomorrow night on ouryacht. Dozens of movers, shakers, local politicians,philanthropists, and VIPs will attend with open checkbooks. We’lltake a sunset cruise around the bay.”

Aja Blue was heavily involved with charitable workbut didn’t feel like socializing. It was the last thing she wantedto do. “Thank you for the offer, but I must decline. My assistant,Jay Guitterez, whom I brought to your house last week, wasmurdered.”

“Yes, dear, I heard about that. That’s why I’mcalling to invite you to the event. I know it’s last minute, but Irespect you and wanted to show my support. I’ve established ascholarship for underprivileged youth in Mr. Guitterez’s name.”

The generous gesture floored Aja Blue. A ball ofemotion lodged in her throat, and tears stung her eyes. Thesocialite had only met him once, but the impact of what she wasdoing would be monumental. It would honor Jay’s life in ameaningful, significant way—much more than anything Aja Blue coulddo for him.

“Aja Blue? Are you there?”

She cleared her throat, but her voice was husky whenshe said, “Yes. Sorry. Your thoughtfulness is humbling. I acceptyour invitation.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. With your permission, I willuse your name in a publicity push.”

She didn’t think that would draw the moneyed crowd,but anything to help with Jay’s legacy. “Absolutely.”

“Wonderful. I’ll text an invitation for you and aguest. Use it to board the yacht. It is a black-tie event. See youtomorrow.”

Aja Blue stared at the phone, fighting back theemotions that threatened to overwhelm her. As always, Christiansensed when she was in crisis, and he grasped her hand, giving herstrength.

“That was Mrs. Sinclair. She invited us to her annualcharity fundraiser on her yacht tomorrow night.”

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