didn’t you answer your door earlier?” Trevor asked.
Now cool, masked eyes turned to him. “I never answer my door to strangers. I live alone.”
Jocelyn bought that.
“I haven’t seen Erica in years,” Caressa said.
“A friend of hers said she came to see you two days before her murder. Would you tell us about that?” She hadn’t told Trevor that piece she’d gotten from the PI. Maybe she wanted to punish him at least a little bit for turning last night into a one-night, scandalous affair. She’d thought for sure they’d see each other for a while. She hadn’t expected anything from him other than to explore where such great sex would lead. She felt him glance over.
“I refused to talk to her.” Caressa averted her gaze a moment. “I turned my back on her.”
Erica had come to see her and she’d ignored the knock or doorbell. What had caused their falling-out? “You were friends, right? How did you know her?” Erica had never mentioned her. But then, Jocelyn had always felt closer to Erica’s mother.
“She was a friend of my sister’s. We started out fine. Great, in fact. We had a lot in common. She was always so nice and talkative. A good person...or so I thought.” Caressa lowered her head and seconds passed while she went into her own world. Guilt. Regret.
Jocelyn wondered if this woman was ever happy. She didn’t have many laugh lines around her eyes. And while anyone would feel bad about an old friend being murdered, Caressa seemed to exaggerate her reaction, or maybe some other reason warranted that extreme. Or maybe guilt over rejecting her friend’s attempt to see her made her seem flighty.
She stole a glance at Trevor, who hid his analysis of Caressa’s reaction to them questioning her. He must have noticed, though.
He caught her look and winked, a playful reassurance that tickled her feminine side, especially when a gentle breeze ruffled his dark hair.
Why did he do that? Preserving a work relationship? Keeping the peace? Or was he taken by her and couldn’t control his actions?
“Am I a suspect?”
Caressa put her back in check. In an instant, Trevor could stir her senses, take her right out of a moment, even one as important as this.
“We’re trying to piece together her last days,” Trevor said. “You were one of the last people to see her alive.”
Caressa scoffed. “I saw her through the window beside my front door, a small window.” She covered her mouth, choked up with emotion. “My sister tried to call me and I didn’t answer because I thought she was going to argue with me over it. I didn’t know Erica was murdered until...until I finally answered one of her calls.” She breathed through a threatening sob and moisture glistened in her eyes. “I didn’t know.”
Clearly, Erica’s death had devastated her. She’d known she was one of the last to see her estranged friend alive and the estrangement could give her motive to kill. She’d feared that.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Jocelyn said.
“Why were you estranged from Erica?” Trevor asked before she could. And the way he asked impressed her, so unassuming...and yet right to the point.
Caressa’s face sagged with hurt. “She had an affair with my husband. My marriage was in trouble, I admit that. It gets hard to keep the relationship together if you aren’t made for each other. You don’t realize these things until you can look back, get out of the stagnant routine and see the big picture. But I just could not believe my closest friend would betray me.”
Jocelyn didn’t know. Stagnant routine? What was that? She supposed people got complacent with their life situation, lulled by false security. No change felt safer. Caressa probably knew in her heart things weren’t right between her and her husband, she just hadn’t faced it until she was forced to. Jocelyn never wanted to live like that, settling for mediocre. But she could definitely understand the betrayal.
A car drove by at a slow speed, turning at the end of the parking lot lane just as a couple emerged from the market. Caressa turned to look as Trevor took out a picture of Regina Willard, their prime suspect in the case.
Trevor held the picture in front of her. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Caressa looked at the photo and then shook her head. “No. Who is she?”
She didn’t know Regina. Or recognize her. Jocelyn had hoped she would.
“Did Erica ever mention anyone named Regina Willard?” she asked on a long shot.
Caressa shook her head.
Jocelyn nodded to conceal her disappointment. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. She never told me about anyone named Regina.” She looked down at the photo and asked again, “Who is she?”
“If you’ve watched the news, you’ve likely heard of the Alphabet Killer,” Trevor said. “One of the victims positively identified Regina Willard before she died. While we have no evidence to prove it yet, we believe Erica was one of her victims.”
Caressa drew her head back in something of a flinch. “But...that can’t be. Erica didn’t know anyone named Regina Willard. You have to be wrong.”
“We don’t believe so,” Jocelyn said.
“What about Josie Colton? Isn’t she the one you should be looking for?”
“Josie Colton is innocent,” Trevor said.
“The perfect cover for murder.”
“Josie Colton is Agent Colton’s sister,” Jocelyn said. When Caressa gave her a blank look, she glanced over at Trevor. “Him.”
Caressa’s eyes widened and she faced Trevor. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect to you, it’s just, all the talk around town and...”
Trevor held up his hand. “No need to apologize. But it’s Regina Willard we’re after. Most of the victims appear to have encountered her in a restaurant. We believe she works as a waitress under false identities.”
Caressa absorbed that a moment and then said, “You have no idea how upset I am over her death.” Ravaging sorrow drew her mouth down.
Jocelyn reached over and touched her arm. “You had no way of knowing. She tried to contact you. That means she wanted to try to earn your forgiveness. She cared.”
“Yes.” She struggled to subdue a sob. “But she died believing I wouldn’t forgive her.”
Jocelyn lowered her hand. Caressa would have to work through her regrets on her own. What the living thought or felt regarding the dead no longer mattered. They were dead.
“Is there anyone else Erica might have talked to about Regina?” Trevor asked, getting the conversation back on track. “Your sister, perhaps?”
“No. I would remember that.” She paused as though something dawned on her. “My sister did mention
