Obsession & Eyewitness. Carol Ericson

glanced at her watch and then shifted her gaze toward Columbella. Not much night left. “I’ll be fine. I have good, sturdy locks on my door and a phone by my bed.”

      “We’ll send a patrol car by a few times before dawn.” Jerry turned to his partner, a wide-eyed new recruit, and jerked his thumb toward the patrol car.

      Michelle watched as the fog gobbled up their taillights. “I guess they weren’t interested in another look at Columbella House.”

      “Are you?” Colin raised his eyebrows in question.

      “Sure.” Michelle licked her lips. “Are you and your gun going with me?”

      “Absolutely.” Colin unzipped his gun bag and slid his Glock into his pocket. “Do you have that flashlight handy?”

      Michelle flicked on the flashlight and waved it in front of her. They crossed the street together, and she clenched her hand at her side to keep from hooking on to Colin’s arm.

      He unlatched the gate and pushed it open, the rusty hinges squeaking in protest. The abandoned house peered at them through windows streaked with dirt and grime.

      With his hand in his pocket, Colin crept toward the sagging porch. He pointed down and Michelle followed with the flashlight, which illuminated steps of splintered wood. “Nobody’s been through this entrance for quite a while.”

      “I didn’t see the light from inside the house. It was somewhere in the side yard.”

      They shuffled through the dead leaves toward the side of the house, the shaky beam of the flashlight lighting the way.

      Colin tugged at the gate leading to the backyard of the sprawling house. “It’s locked, Michelle. This is probably as far as the police got. And if you saw a light, it couldn’t have come from the backyard. You never would’ve seen a light from back there.”

      Michelle rolled her stiff shoulders. “Maybe the light did come from the house.”

      “If it did, I’m not up to breaking and entering.”

      “Neither am I.” She slumped against the gate. “Maybe I imagined the light. Maybe it was just a reflection from the police lights on the street. Columbella House has been giving me the creeps for years.”

      “It’s a blight on the town. I wish some member of the St. Regis family would either sell the place or raze it.”

      “Were you still here when Kylie Grant’s mother hung herself from the balcony?” Michelle shivered and pushed off the cold chain link of the gate.

      “No, I wasn’t. She’d copied a previous suicide. When Mia St. Regis’s sister, Marissa, took off before her wedding, some said she’d killed herself, too.”

      “Yeah, but then both Mia and Marissa’s fiancé got those letters from Marissa explaining that she and Mia’s boyfriend had taken off together. I suppose the house is Mia’s now. Can’t blame her for not wanting to deal with it.” Michelle tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. “I felt sorry for her even though she’s not the type of woman who inspires pity. I guess Coral Cove Drive has seen its share of scandal.”

      Colin wedged a finger beneath her chin. “You had it tough in high school when your mom ran off with that senior at Coral Cove High.”

      Michelle blinked, afraid to meet the sympathy in his eyes. “I had it tough before that, since I was tall and skinny and wore glasses and braces.”

      He pinched her chin and grinned. “It didn’t help that you were a bookworm and as smart as all get-out—a total bully magnet. I’m surprised you didn’t escape Coral Cove like the St. Regis twins did.”

      “I had to take care of my dad. When Mom left with that boy, Dad collapsed.”

      “Do the kids still think this place is haunted?”

      “Not just the kids. In fact, it makes me uneasy just standing here even if you do have a gun in your pocket.” Michelle shifted away from Colin’s warm touch and the toe of her shoe lodged against a stepping stone buried beneath the mulch. She tripped and sprawled onto her hands and knees, the flashlight bouncing out of her hand.

      Colin dropped beside her. “Are you all right?”

      “I banged my knee on a cement stepping stone. I didn’t even see those before.” She sat back and rubbed her throbbing knee. You could dress up a klutz but she’d still be a klutz.

      Leaning across her body, Colin reached for the flashlight and cursed.

      “What’s wrong? Is it broken?”

      He stepped across her and kneeled on the ground, one hand now grasping the flashlight and the other picking through the dirt and leaves. He cursed again, his body tensing.

      “What did you find, Colin?” Michelle’s heart banged in her chest, her breath coming out in short spurts.

      He extended his hand toward her, cupping several rose petals in his palm.

      Michelle swallowed. He’d seemed unusually interested in a petal he’d picked up near Amanda’s body. What significance did a few rose petals have?

      “They’re rose petals.” Her words sounded stupid hanging between them. “L-like the one at the crime scene?”

      Colin jerked the beam from the flashlight across the tangled bushes bordering Columbella House. “Do you see any roses here, live ones?”

      Michelle squinted into the darkness. “No, but I’m sure the Vincents have some. Dorothy Vincent is always giving me tips on mine. Couldn’t the wind have blown the petals over here? What’s with the petals?”

      Colin hooked his arm beneath hers and pulled her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

      Colin charged through the front yard and this time Michelle clung unabashedly to his arm until they were through the rusty front gate.

      Opening his hand, Colin aimed the light at the delicate yellow petals. “Do the Vincents have yellow roses in their yard?”

      “I think so.”

      “And what about you? Are your roses yellow? The petal I found near the body was pink.”

      “I have both pink and yellow. Do you think the killer left the petals near Amanda’s body? Then what? He ran across the street to Columbella House and showered more petals there?”

      Michelle didn’t know a thing about murder investigations, but she was a mathematician and she knew logic. And this didn’t seem logical.

      Ignoring her questions, Colin dropped to his hands and knees just outside the crime scene tape. He trailed his fingers across the ground and peeled something from the asphalt.

      Holding it up to the light, he said, “It’s another petal, a pink one this time. I think Amanda’s murderer left the petals here and the Coral Cove P.D. didn’t see them, didn’t recognize them as being out of place.”

      Michelle folded her arms across her churning stomach. “You’re scaring me, Colin. What is all this about?”

      The coiled intensity of his frame relaxed and he tipped his head from side to side as if to relieve a kink in his neck. “I’m sorry, Michelle. Let’s go inside.”

      He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her body flush against his. His warmth seeped into her, but her teeth insisted on chattering, anyway. Colin had suspected a link between Tiffany Gunderson’s death and Amanda’s murder, and he’d just found it.

      After Michelle unlocked her front door, Colin propelled her to the couch, pressing his hand against the small of her back. “Sit.”

      She sank into the corner, curling her long legs beneath her. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

      Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he released a long breath,