“Why do you think she regretted it?”
“I got the impression he was controlling, or maybe clingy is a better word. When he left her, it was hard on her at first. But once she moved home and rebuilt her life, she was happy.”
“And she never remarried?”
“Holly was her entire world. She didn’t feel the need to find love again.”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Is Lenny a suspect?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’m still trying to track him down.”
“Start in Sedona, since that’s where they met.”
I paused, thinking of what direction to go in next. “Holly believed someone was following her in the week before her death.”
Roxy shared an uncomfortable glance with Wyatt. “About that, there’s something we should tell you. About a month before Celia died, Lenny showed up at her house.”
“Who else is aware he was here?”
“Just us, as far as we know. She didn’t say anything to Chelle, because … well, I’m sure Chelle told you how she feels about him. If she would have seen him, there’s no saying what she’d do. When Chelle’s temper flares up, you want to be as far away from her as you can be.”
“What was the reason for Lenny’s visit?”
“Celia said he apologized for the way he left things, and he wondered how she was doing after all these years. He wanted to apologize to Holly too, but Celia asked him to leave her alone. As far as we know, he did. But now …”
“How long was Lenny in town?”
“A couple of days,” Wyatt said, glancing at his watch. “It’s about time I head to the office.”
I rose.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” I said.
Wyatt escorted me to the door, and as I stepped out, he said, “Holly was one of the sweetest young women I’ve ever known. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, so she can rest in peace.”
“When it comes to cases like this, I always do.”
As I walked back toward my car, my thoughts turned toward Lenny, and what I’d just been told about his recent visit with Celia.
Perhaps Holly was being followed—followed by him.
8
I reached the office a little before eight the next day, the morning’s fog hovering in the air like a dull-gray sheet. I stepped out of the car, breathing in the scent of fresh-baked bread coming from the bakery across the street, a little shop beside the local surf shack. Luka trotted by my side to the door, then curled up under my desk as I sat down, his nose on his paws.
Simone arrived at the office next, which was surprising given she almost always arrived last. A few years earlier she’d married my brother, and she made the perfect addition to our eclectic family.
She entered the office with a burst of energy, her phone in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. Today she was wearing a Bon Jovi shirt beneath a fitted black blazer, dark jeans, and black Converse shoes.
She set the cup of coffee on my desk, dropped her bag on the table, and slid into a chair. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m guessing you were thinking about the case. How bad is it?”
“Bad enough,” I said.
“I figured.” She leaned back, draping one arm over the chair. “I did an internet search on Holly last night. What happened to her, it was brutal.”
Before I had a chance to say anything more, Hunter slipped in, quiet as a whisper, wearing brown corduroy pants and an oversized sweater in shades of moss and rust, with fringe along the hem. Her long, auburn hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder. She lifted a hand in greeting and joined us.
“Morning,” she said.
