Read Online Harrison Investigations 2 Ghost Walk by Heather Graham - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Graham
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been worried, and rightly so.
Andy had no longer been clad in the short sassy skirt and bandeau top she had been wearing when they celebrated. She had been in a New Orleans Saints shirt and nothing else.
Just as Nikki had seen her.
She had been found with a needle and other drug paraphernalia at her side. The only prints found in her place could be traced to her friends, and even those had been sparse. Many surfaces had been wiped clean. Nikki knew that some of the officers involved in the case believed that was because Andy had recently cleaned the apartment. Thankfully, Massey seemed to find it a bit suspicious.
But… other than that…
There had been no forced entry, nothing to show that anyone else had been with her that night. There was nothing…
Nothing. Nothing at all. Or, if the police did have anything, they weren't sharing.
Nikki didn't think any of her own friends believed her. They had tried, however, to help her cover any possible angle. They had all spent hours in the police station, trying to remember if they had seen anyone, anyone at all, looking at Andrea oddly or threateningly. Hard to decide, though they did remember the sandy-haired guy who might have been looking at Nikki herself. Admittedly, they had all been smashed.
Even Andy.
Oh, God, please let it be that she didn't feel fear and pain, Nikki thought.
Had Andy been followed home? By someone who had been watching her at the bar? Or by someone who had seen her on the streets as she walked home.
Were the others right, when they looked at her with sympathy, thinking that she just couldn't accept the fact that Andy had fallen back into using? God knew, it was easy enough to buy whatever drugs you might want.
No. There had been someone else, someone who had forced the drug on Andy.
Mrs. Montobello hadn't heard a thing, which wasn't surprising. She couldn't hear a bomb go off without her hearing aid, which she wouldn't have been wearing at four o'clock in the morning. She was here now, softly crying into an embroidered handkerchief. Andy had always been so good to her, checking up on her, bringing her gourmet treats and other little presents. Poor Mrs. Montobello was really going to miss Andy. But as to being much help when it came to the investigation… well, she wasn't any.
The account executive who lived above Andy had been in New York on business. The single mother of two next to him had taken her toddlers to her mother's house. So there had been no one in Andy's quaint Victorian manor who might have heard anything, or have any clue as to what had happened.
The police had posted an appeal in the newspaper seeking anyone who might have seen Andy that night. And people had come in, trying to be helpful with stories about any strange character they might have met.
In New Orleans, that could be practically anybody.
The police were at a loss. As far as Nikki knew, the crime scene investigation department had gone over Andy's apartment with the best forensics available. They hadn't found as much as a hair that might help unravel the mystery of her death. Not a single clue.
Naturally, Nikki had kept silent about her strange dream. She could barely remember it, anyway—other than the fact that Andy had been there at the foot of her bed. But she hadn't been there. She had been either dead or dying by that time.
She was pretty sure, though, that even as they went through the motions, the police believed that Andy's death had been self inflicted, even if accidentally so. Still, Massey had assured Nikki that, as tragic and frustrating as it was, finding a murderer could take a long time. Months or even years. Though Detective Massey didn't say it, she knew that far too often a killer was never discovered and walked away free.
That made her think that maybe she should mention her dream to someone. The only person she had told was Julian, and he had looked at her with such incredulity that she had immediately felt foolish.
Andy had no longer been clad in the short sassy skirt and bandeau top she had been wearing when they celebrated. She had been in a New Orleans Saints shirt and nothing else.
Just as Nikki had seen her.
She had been found with a needle and other drug paraphernalia at her side. The only prints found in her place could be traced to her friends, and even those had been sparse. Many surfaces had been wiped clean. Nikki knew that some of the officers involved in the case believed that was because Andy had recently cleaned the apartment. Thankfully, Massey seemed to find it a bit suspicious.
But… other than that…
There had been no forced entry, nothing to show that anyone else had been with her that night. There was nothing…
Nothing. Nothing at all. Or, if the police did have anything, they weren't sharing.
Nikki didn't think any of her own friends believed her. They had tried, however, to help her cover any possible angle. They had all spent hours in the police station, trying to remember if they had seen anyone, anyone at all, looking at Andrea oddly or threateningly. Hard to decide, though they did remember the sandy-haired guy who might have been looking at Nikki herself. Admittedly, they had all been smashed.
Even Andy.
Oh, God, please let it be that she didn't feel fear and pain, Nikki thought.
Had Andy been followed home? By someone who had been watching her at the bar? Or by someone who had seen her on the streets as she walked home.
Were the others right, when they looked at her with sympathy, thinking that she just couldn't accept the fact that Andy had fallen back into using? God knew, it was easy enough to buy whatever drugs you might want.
No. There had been someone else, someone who had forced the drug on Andy.
Mrs. Montobello hadn't heard a thing, which wasn't surprising. She couldn't hear a bomb go off without her hearing aid, which she wouldn't have been wearing at four o'clock in the morning. She was here now, softly crying into an embroidered handkerchief. Andy had always been so good to her, checking up on her, bringing her gourmet treats and other little presents. Poor Mrs. Montobello was really going to miss Andy. But as to being much help when it came to the investigation… well, she wasn't any.
The account executive who lived above Andy had been in New York on business. The single mother of two next to him had taken her toddlers to her mother's house. So there had been no one in Andy's quaint Victorian manor who might have heard anything, or have any clue as to what had happened.
The police had posted an appeal in the newspaper seeking anyone who might have seen Andy that night. And people had come in, trying to be helpful with stories about any strange character they might have met.
In New Orleans, that could be practically anybody.
The police were at a loss. As far as Nikki knew, the crime scene investigation department had gone over Andy's apartment with the best forensics available. They hadn't found as much as a hair that might help unravel the mystery of her death. Not a single clue.
Naturally, Nikki had kept silent about her strange dream. She could barely remember it, anyway—other than the fact that Andy had been there at the foot of her bed. But she hadn't been there. She had been either dead or dying by that time.
She was pretty sure, though, that even as they went through the motions, the police believed that Andy's death had been self inflicted, even if accidentally so. Still, Massey had assured Nikki that, as tragic and frustrating as it was, finding a murderer could take a long time. Months or even years. Though Detective Massey didn't say it, she knew that far too often a killer was never discovered and walked away free.
That made her think that maybe she should mention her dream to someone. The only person she had told was Julian, and he had looked at her with such incredulity that she had immediately felt foolish.
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