Page 1 of Last Seen Alive
ONE
SIX NIGHTS EARLIER…
This was a bad idea. The warnings sounded in Amanda Steele’s head, but she was ignoring them, thinking only with other parts of her anatomy that shouldn’t have any say. But it had been so long since she’d let herself fall into the arms of a man, and it wasn’t like he was a stranger. He was comforting and familiar. He was a presence from her past, and she trusted him.
Logan was smiling as he fumbled with his key to open the front door. She wanted him to hurry before she got cold feet and changed her mind about this. As it was, she blamed her best friend, Becky Tulson, for things getting to this point. She’d filled Amanda’s head with nonsense about getting back into the world of dating and had dragged her out for more girls’ nights in the last three months than she’d had in the seven years prior. And that’s all tonight was supposed to be—a night for the girls at Tipsy Moose Alehouse in Woodbridge. But Logan had walked in, and the rest was history, as they say.
“There.” Logan smiled at her triumphantly, like he’d won an Olympic gold medal, not just claimed victory over a deadbolt. He moved in for his reward and planted a kiss on her that had her insides flushing hot in an instant and her toes curling.
It had been far too long…
Logan opened the door and gestured for her to go on ahead of him. She stepped inside. She was really doing this—spending the night with Logan. And while logic told her to call it a night and head home, she had needs. She’d also like to blame the small glass of wine she’d had for her lapse in judgment, but it had hardly been enough to make her drop her inhibitions. She missed being with a man and not just sexually, but the satisfying feeling of having a man’s large arms wrapped around her, preferably ones belonging to a man who knew her. She’d dated Logan for a few months last year and their relationship hadn’t progressed much further than being casual, but it had given her a small taste of what she had with her husband, Kevin, before he had died nearly seven years ago.
And why was she so wrapped up in her head right now? She deserved this indulgence. Just this once. And it was the right time. Zoe, her six-year-old daughter, was with Amanda’s sister Kristen and her family all night.
She spun, and Logan was right there—their chests pressed together. He put his hands on her arms, then swept them over her body. His cologne smelled like a campfire, the scent intoxicating and earthy. She made the first move and pawed urgently at his belt buckle with one hand while she wrapped her other arm around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
They kissed as they slipped out of their shoes and walked through the house, pieces of clothing being tossed as they moved. His shirt went first, and he fumbled with the buttons on hers before tugging it open. Buttons ripped from the fabric and pinged to the floor.
“Hey.” She drew back from him just long enough to say, “I would have you know this shirt cost me eighty bucks.”
“Forgive me.” He nuzzled into her neck, sending her mind into a tailspin, dizzy and euphoric.
They were about ten feet from his bedroom, and she caught the whiff of something above the notes of his cologne.
An odor she knew well.
She put her hands on Logan’s chest, panting. “Just…” The rest of her words were unsaid, but she was going to saystop.
“What the heck is that?” Logan asked, sniffing the air, his mouth turning down in disgust.
She held up a hand to him. “Stay there.”
“What is—”
“Stay.” Her cop instincts were at full alert. The smell was unmistakable, and she knew it heralded death.
Blood.
She stepped into Logan’s bedroom and saw a woman lying on top of the comforter, sprawled out and dressed in lingerie. There was no need to check for a pulse. Her right wrist dangled over the edge of the bed, and her face was turned toward the door. Her eyes were unseeing. At least one bullet had ripped through her chest and a pool of red stained the white silk and the bedding.
Amanda gripped the front of her shirt together to cover her chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable.Who the hell is the woman, and what is she doing here?She retreated from the room and ran into Logan. “Don’t—”
He lunged, and she tried to stop him by holding out an arm, but he pushed through. The force of his movement jarred her shoulder and had her crying out in pain.
“Claire!” he yelled, frozen inside the doorway, looking from the bed to Amanda and back, as if torn where to go.
“You need to leave her alone and get out of that room.” Her adrenaline and experience were kicking in. Amanda worked in Homicide for the Prince William County Police Department. Solving murders was what she did, but she’d never found herself in a situation like this one. Still, the basic principles applied. Touch nothing and call it in—immediately. She gathered her jeans off the hallway floor, pulled them on, and swiftly took out her cell phone from a pocket.
She called in direct to dispatch and as she made the report, she wished she’d had the common sense to listen to her intuition and go home instead of here. If only she could reverse the clock and tell Logan that their hooking up for even one night wasn’t a good idea. But, no, she’d had to forge ahead, full of hormones like a teenager on prom night.
“Police units will be here in a few minutes.” She made one more call before she stuffed her phone back into her pocket and did up her shirt’s remaining buttons. Thankfully, only two had popped off. She looked around quickly and spotted one, which she picked up. “We should wait outside.” Their presence alone could have contaminated the scene, but they could prevent more damage being done.
Logan was staring blankly at the floor.
“Logan,” she prompted.
His eyes were wet when they met hers. “This can’t be happening. She… she’s…”
