eyes found his.
“Andrea,” she whispered.
And closed her eyes.
THREE
Naomi had never seen someone die before.
Even when her mother had died, she and her sisters had been forced to stay home with Aunt Becca while her father went to the hospital alone. Mom had been killed instantly by the drunk driver, and Dad hadn’t wanted them to see her.
Aunt Becca rubbed Naomi’s arms and patted her cheeks now, as she had done that night. “It’s all right, Naomi.”
“No, it’s not all right.” Naomi had to speak around her chattering teeth. She wore two of the spa bathrobes and still felt as if she’d taken an arctic swim. “Poor Jessica. I’ve been massaging her for years. And now she’s gone.” Her voice cracked.
Jessica had always been friendly, if a little ditzy. Always said something to make her laugh. Had such a sweet, airy smile when explaining why she had to stay in the room longer than she was scheduled for. Jessica had been self-centered, but pleasant about it so that Naomi almost didn’t mind that her client was trying to get away with something.
“How are we going to tell Dad? This is going to make him determined to come to the spa, despite his condition.”
Becca gave her a little shake. “Even though your father’s a stubborn old cuss, your sister Monica is even worse than he is, under all her sweet demeanor. She won’t let him do anything that would hurt himself.” A twinkle appeared in her eye. “Besides, he’s not cleared to drive yet, and I’m pretty sure Monica hid his car keys.”
Speaking of sisters…“Where’s Rachel?”
“She’s still in her lab. She’s in the middle of an experiment—you know how she gets—and she wouldn’t be much use here, so I told her to stay.”
“The detective isn’t going to want to speak to her?”
“Why should he? Even though she’s one of the owner’s daughters, she didn’t see anything because she was in the laboratory in back all morning.”
And Rachel’s rather spacey way of stating the bare, honest truth might get them in trouble somehow.
Aunt Becca pinched her elbow. “Calm down.”
She jerked her arm away. “I am calm.”
“You’re as calm as a wet cat. I thought you’d bite the detective’s head off earlier when he asked if the massage room was yours or not. You didn’t need to tell him he could expect to find your prints all over the room in quite the tone you used.”
Well, that might have been true. “He just seemed so…stern.”
“But he had kind eyes.” Becca smiled a bit dreamily at the thought of the detective.
Naomi didn’t see Detective Carter in such a rosy light. Earlier, he’d only asked her about the massage room, but she’d been blubbering in shock, so Aunt Becca had asked him to come back later. In fact, Devon had kindly stepped in and offered to be interviewed first. Detective Carter would be interviewing her next, she was sure.
Naomi’s attention was drawn to Dr. Knightley, standing with the detective near the receptionists’ desk. Poor man seemed really upset—and why not? He’d come to see Jessica.
And she’d been found dying.
A shadow settled over her. Why had he needed to see Jessica so insistently? She wished she were close enough to overhear his interview with the detective.
Maybe she could arrange to get close enough.
She started making her way toward the receptionists’ desk. Devon’s mouth stretched tight and his words seemed clipped.
A bony hand clawed at her arm. “What are you doing?” Aunt Becca hissed.
She pulled away. “I want to know why Devon Knightley wanted to see Jessica.”
“Leave them alone.” Her aunt’s hand clamped around her elbow this time.
Naomi turned to glare at her. “One of our clients was killed in my massage room. I intend to find out exactly why I found her only minutes after he appeared asking for her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Devon Knightley didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“How in the world would you know that?”
“I know him and I know his family. I’ve worked with his mother on many different charity events. Devon Knightley would never do anything so violent.”
“People do unexpected things all the time in the heat of a moment.”
“I know Devon Knightley. Besides, I’m a very good judge of character.”
Naomi pressed her mouth closed, because she couldn’t really argue when Aunt Becca’s track record on who and who not to hire for the spa had been one hundred percent so far. What if she was right about Devon?
Naomi shook her head. “I can’t just stand here waiting.”
“You’re going to get in trouble.”
“I’m the acting manager of the spa. I can go wherever I please, which includes near the receptionists’ desk.”
Aunt Becca sighed and released her elbow. “You were never this stubborn when you were just head massage therapist.”
“I didn’t have to be this stubborn before Dad had a stroke and put me in charge.”
With that parting shot, Naomi tried to nonchalantly make her way toward the receptionists’ desk. It was a massive marble affair, but hopefully she could stand at one end and still overhear the conversation at the other end.
Detective Carter glanced her way as she approached, but she nodded professionally and then bent her head to fiddle with the appointments computer at the far end of the desk. He turned back to Dr. Knightley without hesitation, so he must not have been upset at her being nearby.
Good.
Except she couldn’t hear a thing.
She stared at the computer screen intently, as if that would make her ears work better. All she could make out were a few random words: “Jessica,” “talk,” “known.” Devon’s voice was louder than the detective’s, so she mostly heard his answers to questions.
How could she get closer without attracting notice?
“I didn’t like her, but I didn’t kill her!”
Devon’s exclamation made her jump. Her hand knocked the computer mouse askew.
Which gave her an idea…
She glanced at Devon and Detective Carter, but neither seemed to notice. Devon’s face had turned a motley shade of red, while the detective coolly surveyed his notebook.
She casually knocked her hand into a holder of pens and sent them scattering across the desk. Immediately she bent to pick up the one pen that fell onto the floor.
She slowly slid her hand with the pen toward her left, closer to the two men. If anyone saw her slithering along on the floor, she could show the pen as her excuse, and the pens strewn across the desk would explain the rest.
She inched her body closer to them and strained her ears. The voices sounded even more muffled because of the desk. Why hadn’t she thought of that? If she got closer…
If she got caught…
Her heart pounded, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. This wasn’t a smart move, but she didn’t care. She had to find out why Devon had so conveniently showed up, asking for a woman who was already bleeding to death in her massage room.
She crawled as quietly as she could toward the other end of the