What's Done in Darkness (7 page)

Shawde had wanted to keep Jennifer on track, so she'd asked,
How did you interact with her on a day-to-day basis? Outside of whatever she made you do as a pledge?

Shawde remembered Jennifer laughing at the question.
Interact with her? We were beneath her. If you were a pledge, she didn't see you as an equal. She saw you as a nobody. Some girls kissed her ass to try to get her approval, but I wasn't about to do that. My mom was a legacy in that sorority—three generations of my mom's family were Alpha Sigma Pis—and Katrina acted as though that didn't matter. In fact, I think she gave me a harder time because of it. I had to drop out of the sorority because Katrina made my experience there unbearable.

Shawde underlined the word “unbearable.” Should she have asked Jennifer to elaborate? Should she call her back and ask for more details?

Frowning, Shawde decided against doing that—the same conclusion she had come to before. The sense she'd gotten from Jennifer was that she was bitter about a negative sorority experience. Yes, Katrina had been a bitch, but she hadn't hurt Jennifer. She had left the sorority because she couldn't stand Katrina, not because she was afraid.

Unlike Angelina Wright.

Shawde knew that Angelina had left the sorority house under a cloud of suspicion. Apparently, she'd been attacked—just a couple of months before Shemar's murder—and she'd left the University at Buffalo. But while people knew that Angelina had been attacked, no one had been able to tell Shawde whether or not her attacker had been caught.

Some suspected the Bike Path Rapist, a rapist and killer who had terrorized students at UB for years and remained uncaptured until just about five years ago. However, Shawde hadn't found any information connecting an attack on Angelina to the Bike Path Rapist.

One way or another, Shawde had to track Angelina down. In Shawde's heart she believed that Angelina had answers.

Answers that would help Shawde prove Katrina was guilty of murder.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning when I got out of bed, I found Katrina and Christian in the kitchen. Their backs were to me, Christian standing behind Katrina, his hands on her hips as she filled the coffee carafe with water. They certainly looked like a loving couple. Not one that had been ready to kill each other the night before.

Christian nuzzled his nose in her neck and lowered his hands to the hem of the oversized T-shirt Katrina had no doubt worn to bed. “Babe,” Katrina said, feigning protest, “you're not helping me get ready.”

“You're the boss.” Christian's hand smoothed over the skin of her bare thigh. “Who says we can't sneak in a quickie before you open up shop?”

Katrina lowered the carafe and splayed her hands on Christian's legs. He was wearing only white boxers, and I was seeing far more of his skinny legs than I cared to. They were covered with too much dark hair to be considered attractive. But Katrina clearly didn't seem to mind, because she stroked them lovingly with her fingers.

When her hand went higher, heading for his groin, I loudly cleared my throat. Katrina quickly threw her head over her shoulder. Seeing me, she gave me a sheepish look. Then she straightened and said, “Oh. Hey.”

“Good morning,” I said.

Stepping away from Katrina, but staying behind the breakfast counter, Christian turned to look at me. “Morning.”

Again I was struck by just how much of a mismatch they seemed to be as a couple. All that pale white skin looked even paler because of Christian's mass of curly black hair. Glasses capped off what I would describe as a nerdy look. And while I hadn't asked how old he was, if the gray at his temples was any indication he was nearing forty—which made him about a decade older than Katrina. Too old for her, in my opinion. Katrina was young, and even without any makeup on she was stunning. What was it about Christian that she'd fallen for him?

I thought of Wesley and his good looks and how that made him attractive to practically every woman out there. Wasn't I smart enough to know that looks weren't everything?

Maybe Katrina wanted a guy she could trust to be faithful. One who was more mature and ready to settle down. Maybe Christian was that guy.

“Did you sleep well?” Christian asked.

Was that his way of asking if I'd heard them? I nodded. “Yeah. Pretty good.” Then, facing Katrina, I said, “I smell hazelnut-flavored java.”

She held up the open container of coffee grinds. “Oh yeah. I always make coffee upstairs. I know I could just as easily have some in the shop, but I need that first cup to get me going.”

Especially if she'd spent most of the night fighting … and then making up. I felt the dull ache from a fatigue headache, so I knew Katrina had to be tired. “Makes sense.”

“I'm gonna shower,” Christian announced, then gave Katrina a peck on her forehead. He quickly exited the kitchen area on the far side—away from me—and I guessed that he was trying to hide a hard-on.

“Make it a cold one!” Katrina called after him.

I grinned as I stepped into the kitchen. Whatever had brought these two together, they seemed to have a healthy sexual appetite for each other. Had their ugly fight last night simply been a one-off?

A look of understanding flashed in Katrina's eyes as she met my gaze. Clearly reading my mind, she said in a lowered voice, “You probably heard us last night.”

“Yeah,” I told her, my voice barely above a whisper. I was glad she was willing to address what had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“We just had a fight,” she explained. “It got a bit heated, yes, but we'd both been drinking. Everything's fine between us now. I'm sorry if you were worried.”

My shoulders drooped with relief. “I
was
worried, yes. But I didn't know if I should bring up the subject, so I'm glad you did.”

“I can only imagine what you thought. And your first night here.”

“I was definitely startled.”

She made a face, as though embarrassed. “Gosh, I really am sorry.”

“It's okay.” It sounded like it was one night of crazy behavior, and for that I was glad. I was worried that I'd moved into a home with two people who were emotionally unpredictable.

But my relief came to a screeching halt when Katrina began to fill the coffeemaker with water and I noticed a bruise on the back of her arm. Just how rough had things gotten between them last night?

“Hey,” I said, deciding not to pretend I hadn't seen her arm. “Your arm.”

Turning, Katrina looked at me. Then, seeing where I was looking, she craned her neck over her shoulder to look down at the back of her arm.

“Shit. Didn't notice that.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” I asked.

Katrina turned the coffee machine on. “Yeah. I told you, it was a stupid spat. That's all.”

I eyed the bruise, making out what appeared to be the shape of fingers. I wasn't convinced.

“Did Christian come from England to be with you here?” I asked. “Or did you meet him here?”

“Actually, I met him here.”

“You did?” I was surprised. I figured for sure they'd met via online dating.

“He was down here in January to run the Key West half marathon.”

“You're a runner?”

“Me? God no. I met Christian when he came in here and we got to talking.” Katrina's lips curled in a smile. “He was really sweet, and he'd recently lost his brother to suicide. I could relate, because I'd lost my parents. He went back home, we stayed in touch, and things bloomed.”

I nodded. “And how long has he been here?”

“A few weeks.”

Katrina certainly seemed happy, and at least she and Christian had actually met in person. I could see why they'd connected, but for him to be living with her already? It was one thing to get to know someone on the phone and online, but living with a person in the real world wasn't always the same.

“How well do you know him?” I asked. “I mean, look at your arm.”

“That was…” Katrina smiled sheepishly. “That was from … after the argument. Sometimes we like it a bit rough.”

My face flamed. Now I felt stupid. “Oh. Um…”

Katrina chuckled. “Sorry. I'm sure you heard more than our argument. I think we'd better lay off the tequila from now on.”

I said nothing. I was too embarrassed.

“What about you?” Katrina asked. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Me? Um … I guess so, yeah.”

Katrina narrowed her eyes. “You don't sound too confident.”

“We're sort of taking a break,” I told her. Then I explained how Wesley had moved to Seattle and that he'd suggested we take a break for a year.

“You love him,” Katrina said, and I almost detected pity in her voice.

I shrugged, my chest tightening. “Yeah.”

“It's good you're here,” she told me, then opened a kitchen cupboard that housed mugs and plates. “There are a lot of guys down here. If you need a distraction, I'm sure you'll easily find one.”

“I…” My voice trailed off. I didn't know what to say. I got the sense that if I told her I wanted to wait for Wesley she would tell me I was naïve.

The carafe now filled with hot coffee, Katrina poured herself a cup. “Want some?”

“Yes, definitely,” I told her. Some days, I was amazed that there had been a time when I'd hated coffee. Four years of college and I had come to depend on my daily dose of it.

“Milk and cream's in the fridge,” Katrina said as she took down two more mugs. “Sugar's on the counter. By the way, I know we haven't discussed this yet, but you need to provide your own food. I've cleared out some space in the fridge for you. I'm not big on cooking. I usually grab something from the café.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Coffee, however, you can have as much as you like.”

“That's a major bonus.”

She smiled. “A woman after my own heart. The last girl who worked here hated coffee. Imagine that? It wasn't a good fit.”

I opened the fridge and took out the creamer. “I used to. Before college. Hard to believe, I can't start the day without it now.”

“Well, I've got all sorts of flavors. Light roast to espresso. Whatever your heart desires.”

I found a spoon from a drawer and began to stir my coffee. “That sounds like heaven.”

Katrina started out of the kitchen. “I'm gonna grab a quick shower. I open at eight.”

I glanced at the wall clock. That was in thirty-two minutes. “Oh, yikes. That doesn't give me too much time to get ready.”

“Take as much time as you need. Christian and I will get things started downstairs.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened. Christian appeared, a towel wrapped around his waist. His legs looked like twigs beneath the towel. Physically, he and Katrina were a definite odd pair.

Good grief,
I told myself.
Stop being so judgmental.
What did looks matter when you connected with someone on an emotional level?

I took my coffee mug and went to my bedroom, where I rummaged through my suitcase for clean underwear and something to change into. It struck me that I hadn't asked Katrina if there was a specific dress code, but I noticed that the staff yesterday had each been wearing dark pants and a T-shirt, so I opted for a similar look. My clothes in hand, I headed to the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, I was in the shower. As the warm water sluiced over my body, Wesley popped into my mind. When I'd gotten up, I'd checked my cell phone and seen that he hadn't responded to me. Which only made me feel stupid for having texted him. He wanted space, and it was becoming clearer to me that if I wanted things to work out between us I needed to give him that.

Then I thought of Michelle, her betrayal of our friendship, and the whole ugly incident at grad. My stomach tightened as I began to feel angry. Why couldn't I just turn off my feelings for Wesley and forget him once and for all?

If only I could wash him from my heart the way I was washing the grime from my body. But I knew that was wishful thinking.

I took my time in the shower, washing my hair and generally luxuriating beneath the warm stream of water. So when I exited, I figured that I had to be alone in the apartment.

Until I thought I heard the sound of a voice.

I eased closer to the bathroom door. “No, no. It has to be sooner than that.”

That was Christian. Were he and Katrina still in the apartment?

“Are you kidding me? Why would it possibly take that long?”

I didn't hear anyone else speaking and assumed that Christian was on the phone.

“Unacceptable,” he said after a moment. “I've already told you, this needs to be taken care of. Now.” Pause. “You don't need to be concerned. You just need to do it.”

Silence ensued, and I kept my ear to the door, listening for more of Christian's conversation. Instead, about a minute later, I heard the distinct sound of a door closing.

I waited a beat, then opened the bathroom door and peeked my head out. I looked around, saw no one. Christian was gone.

I slipped out of the bathroom and headed to my room, wondering whom Christian had been talking to.

And I also wondered why I had the feeling that I couldn't trust him.

*   *   *

Downstairs, I was pretty much thrown into work with minimal instruction. Katrina told me that I should take orders and she would help me put them into the computer. This wasn't the kind of coffee shop where people went to the counter to place their orders and pay there. It was more of a sit-down café and restaurant, because she also had a liquor license. Patrons sitting inside could go up to the counter and pay if they wished, but not those sitting outside.

I was surprised at how many people were already here at nine in the morning. Most were sitting out on the patio, friends and family members soaking up the morning sun. Those with laptops were inside, headphones on and lost in their own world as they did their work and got their java fix. I imagined some were working on the next Great American Novel.