Chapter 1
Olivia and Brad left their seats in Section 24 of Boston’s Fenway Park and followed the people streaming out of the stands to exit the ballpark. The Prudential building rose up in the distance against the dark night sky and music blared from the speakers to celebrate the team’s win.
Olivia held her boyfriend’s hand and a wide grin spread over her face. “That was awesome.”
“Best thing I’ve been to in a long time,” Brad agreed. “My ears are buzzing from all the cheering.”
Olivia’s blue eyes were bright. “I know. It was crazy.” She leaned over and kissed Brad. “I’m happy,” she told him, her eyes sparkling.
Brad touched the side of Olivia’s face and beamed at her. “We’re really lucky that Ynes gave us those tickets.”
Olivia had met Ynes Clinton at university and they’d become friends during their senior year of studies when a difficult incident welded a strong and special bond between them. Ynes, Olivia, and some others had discovered a gruesome murder scene at an off-campus apartment during the fall of their last year of college and the group of friends worked together to help discover the killer.
Ynes, close in age to Olivia, was bright, funny, and athletic. Her long, straight, ebony hair complemented her light olive skin and dark brown eyes. Ynes spent the first five years of her life in the Boston area before moving to London with her stepfather and stepbrother. She recently had been studying for her master’s degree at Oxford University, and from June through September, had worked in Washington, D.C. doing research. Visiting Massachusetts for two weeks, she planned to stay with a friend on Cape Cod for two days before going to Boston to see her aunt and then meeting up with Olivia.
Ynes’s aunt had won two tickets to the Red Sox game along with five nights accommodation at a Boston hotel. The aunt offered the tickets to Ynes explaining that she would rather die than attend a loud, boring Boston sporting event. Ynes had no interest in baseball and offered the tickets and hotel to Olivia who gladly accepted.
“How about a drink at the Cask and Flagon?” Brad asked.
Olivia smiled, but shook her head. “We’ll never get in, too crowded.”
“You’re probably right,” he said, “but, let’s go see anyway. If we can’t get in, we’ll go someplace else.” As they joined the throng of people heading out to the street, a text came in to Olivia’s phone, but she didn’t hear it over the noise in the stadium.
Brad and Olivia strolled hand in hand, weaving and dodging around the mass of fans and then turned right onto Brookline Avenue.
“Oh, no,” Brad said when he saw the line of patrons waiting to get into the bar.
“Plan B?” Olivia asked. A light breeze ruffled her long, light brown hair.
“How about we walk up to Boylston Street? Maybe there will be less people up that way.”
Olivia nodded. As they walked along Lansdowne, Olivia pulled out her phone to check her messages and she halted in her tracks, a flash of anxiety rushing through her body.
Brad turned to see why she’d stopped.
Olivia held up her phone’s screen so Brad could read the text message.
I need your help I’ll explain later
“It’s from Ynes.” Olivia’s forehead pinched with worry. Her fingers flew over the phone’s screen to reply to the message.
“What could be wrong?” Brad asked.
Olivia shrugged. “That’s what I asked her.”
“Maybe her train broke down,” Brad said. Ynes was supposed to be on the train back to Boston from her visit to Cape Cod.
Brad had to return home to Ogunquit, Maine in the morning, but Olivia was staying in the city for two more days so that she and Ynes could spend time together, go to lunch, and tour some museums.
Olivia said, “I hope she’s not stuck in a broken-down train somewhere.” Crossing Massachusetts Ave, she and Brad continued up Boylston Street.
“Why doesn’t she answer my text?” Olivia checked her phone for the third time.
“Maybe call her,” Brad suggested.
Olivia pressed some buttons on the screen and held the phone to her ear. After several seconds, she raised her eyes to Brad and shook her head. “She isn’t picking up.”
“Maybe she was able to reach someone else and got the help she needed?” Brad said. “Or maybe the train is stuck some place that has no cell service.”
“Maybe.” Olivia’s face was lined with concern.
“She must be okay, otherwise she’d try you again.” Brad put his arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “Our team just won a great game. We need to celebrate.”
“You’re right. Ynes must be fine or she’d text me again. Let’s go.” Olivia reached over and squeezed Brad’s hand as they headed up the sidewalk, the lights of the city shimmering around them.
* * *
When Olivia woke, she reached for her phone on the bedside table. There were still no messages from Ynes. Brad was curled up under the blanket, so Olivia decided to shower and let him sleep a bit longer.
When she stepped out of the bathroom and saw that her boyfriend was still snoozing, Olivia dressed quietly and left to go down to the restaurant for some breakfast to bring back up to their room. Fifteen minutes later she opened their hotel room door carrying the take-out containers.
Brad stirred in the bed. “What’s this?” He yawned and stretched. “Smells delicious. You’re up early.”
Olivia placed the bag of food on the round table next to the windows and sat down next to Brad on the bed to kiss him.
“I woke up early. I thought I’d grab some breakfast for us so we could eat here. I hope you’re hungry because I bought a lot.” She smiled as she ran her fingers through his mussed hair.
Brad grabbed her hand and kissed each one of her fingers. “I’m starving.”
“Come on then.” Olivia went to the table and removed the boxes of food from the bag. “There are eggs and bacon. Pancakes and berries. I got two blueberry scones with butter and coffee and tea.” She looked over at Brad with an impish grin. “That should be enough for me. What are you going to eat?”
“Very funny.” Brad pulled on his sweatpants and sat down in one of the plush chairs next to the table laden with the breakfast items. “Looks like a beautiful day,” he said looking out the window which provided a lovely view of the Boston skyline. “I wish I could stay, but it’s probably for the best that I need to head home. You haven’t seen Ynes for a year. You’ve got some catching up to do.”
“I really can’t wait to see her.” Olivia placed eggs and bacon in front of Brad. She lifted one of the pancakes and some of the berries onto his plate along with a scone, and then put his coffee and some creamers next to his plate. “That ought to hold you for a while.” With a smile, she sat down in the matching chair to dig into the pancakes with berries and a cup of tea.
“There still isn’t a text from Ynes.” Olivia lifted her tea cup to her lips.
Brad looked up from his breakfast. “She must be at her aunt’s house.”
“I don’t know.” Worry lines creased Olivia’s forehead. “She was supposed to text me this morning about where to meet her for lunch.”
“It’s early. There’s still time to hear from her. Did you text her when you got up?”
“I will right now.” Olivia lifted her phone and sent off a short message.
When Brad finished eating, he took a shower while Olivia read the news on his laptop. Brad stepped from the bathroom toweling his hair.
“There’s still no reply from Ynes.” Olivia’s eyes were on the laptop screen.
“Do you know her aunt’s address?” Brad dressed and combed his hair.
“I know her name. Ynes said she lived on Beacon Hill.”
“Do a search on the aunt’s name. See if an address comes up,” Brad said.
“What are you thinking?” Olivia asked. “You think I should go to the house if I don’t hear from her?” She tapped the laptop keys to search Ynes’s aunt’s name.
“I doubt the aunt would mind if you showed up on her doorstep.”
“Here it is,” Olivia said. “A phone number, too. I’ll call.” She punched the number into her phone and while she listened to it ring, she wrote the woman’s address on a small pad of paper that was on the desk.
Olivia raised her eyes to Brad. “It’s gone to voicemail. What should I do?”
Brad buttoned up his shirt and pulled a sweater over his head. “They could have gone out shopping or for breakfast. You wanted to take a walk anyway. Why don’t we head over to Beacon Hill before I have to leave and stop by the house? See if they’ve come back.”
With anxiety pricking at her, Olivia agreed. They gathered up their jackets and headed to the elevator.
Stepping outside into the bright October sunshine, Olivia and Brad strolled up Newbury Street, stopped to browse in a few stores, and then entered the Public Garden. Following the paths that wound around the pond, the two walked past Weeping Willow trees and garden plots full of colorful chrysanthemums.
People pushed baby strollers, walked dogs, and jogged through the park. Olivia and Brad held hands as they passed the bronze Make Way for Ducklings statues. They waited on the corner, crossed Beacon Street, headed down Chestnut, and into the Beacon Hill area of Boston.
Olivia used a map on her phone to find where Ynes’s aunt’s street was located. “We should turn right up ahead, follow that street to the top, then turn left. The building should be right there,” she said.
Climbing the hill, they found Ynes’s aunt’s brownstone. Flower boxes sat at the base of each of the windows filled with tiny pumpkins, mums, and greens. Two bronze planters spilling over with greens and flowers stood at each side of the front landing at the top of the granite steps.
“This is it,” Brad said. “It’s a beautiful building.”
They walked up the steps to the glossy, black, front door with a brass knocker set in the middle. Olivia pressed the doorbell to the left of the entrance.
“Brad, look. The door isn’t shut all the way.” Olivia’s voice began to tremble. The massive door was open a crack.
Brad glanced down and grabbed Olivia’s elbow. “What’s that?”
Olivia followed his gaze to the door’s threshold and her heart jumped into her throat. “Blood?” she gasped.
Olivia put her hand against the door and pushed it open. Bloody footprints smeared the foyer’s white marble floor.
“Look at the floor.” Olivia lifted her foot to enter the home. “Ynes?”
“Liv, no.” Brad pulled her back. “Don’t go inside.”
Olivia leaned forward from the front landing, her eyes flashing about the foyer. A dark wooden staircase stood to the right and a fully lit cut-glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. An ornately carved wooden side table was placed on the left wall of the foyer with a mirror on the wall above it. A glass vase was set on the middle of the table filled with an array of large stem, dark-orange gladiolus.
A white box wrapped with a red ribbon lay on the floor just inside the entrance as if someone had dropped it or threw it there. Gold letters were embossed in the upper left corner of the box with a return address: Linden Leather Goods, Boston, MA. In the center of the box was a label printed with the name: Abigail Millett and the address of the brownstone.
“Brad, what’s happened?” Olivia croaked. “Ynes!”
Brad pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and punched in “911.”
After standing together on the front landing for five minutes, they heard a car’s engine and turned to see a Boston Police car pulling up to the curb.
“There’s blood in the foyer!” Olivia shouted to them. “Hurry!”
Two officers emerged from their vehicle, their hands on their weapons. “Step away from the door,” one officer ordered. “Keep your hands where we can see them.”
“There’s blood inside the front entry,” Olivia told them again.
She and Brad raised their hands and moved down the steps to the sidewalk.
“We just got here,” Brad said. “We rang the bell. The door was ajar. We could see the blood on the threshold and on the foyer floor.”
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