The Art of Eavesdropping

by Christy Barritt

  “But what about the information you heard about the crime scene? If Flash is right-handed and the killer was left-handed . . . something doesn’t add up.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about that. So I did some research, and it turns out that his manager, Bernard, could have made it back to Flash’s condo in time for the crime.

  “But he was in Baltimore.”

  “It’s less than a two-hour drive from Baltimore to this area. What if Flash suspected Sarah was going to try to blackmail him? Maybe he called Bernard, who told him to keep her occupied until he could get there. He could’ve done the dirty work.”

  “Wait, are you saying that Bernard is left-handed?”

  “I thought I’d mentioned that to you earlier. Sorry.” I glanced around again, suddenly anxious to get inside. I felt entirely too isolated out here right now. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You’re doing good work, Elliot. But maybe you should get out of there now. I don’t want to put you in a place where you’re in danger. You’ve already had enough of that.”

  “I think I’m ready to go. I just wanted to tell you what I’ve learned and make sure I was okay to leave.”

  “I’d definitely say you are. Oscar will be pleased that he got his money’s worth. I’ll try to come in tomorrow morning so we can talk about our next steps. Okay?”

  “That sounds good. Thanks, Michael.”

  I didn’t realize just how much I missed having him with me tonight. The brief few days that I’d been working this job, I’d learned to depend on Michael’s wisdom and advice.

  Just as I ended my call, I heard a step behind me.

  Before I could turn to see who it was, an arm snaked around me and something sharp pressed into my throat. A deep voice said, “Don’t say a word.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I froze. Having a gun thrust into my skull was one thing. But feeling the prick of a knife against my skin was a whole different level of scary.

  Whoever was behind me, I couldn’t see his face. It wasn’t Emily. I was sure about that.

  But this man was left-handed, based on how he held the knife.

  I felt the blood drain from my face at the realization.

  The man nudged me into the shadows and out of sight of anybody who might be close by. The darker it grew around me, the more my hope faded.

  Quickly, I glanced down. I saw his shoes.

  They weren’t a dressy type that someone would wear to an event like this. Instead, they were black loafers. He also wore dark jeans.

  I could rule out Jono or Hunter—not that they’d been suspects.

  Details helped me stay focused. Maybe they would even save my life. I just needed to pick up on the right details.

  A wave of fear crashed over me, making my head spin.

  “What do you want from me?” My voice cracked as I asked the question.

  “I need you to drop this investigation.”

  “Why would I do that?” Stupid question, Elliot.

  “Because you don’t want to end up like Sarah Vance,” the man growled.

  My blood went cold at his words. No, I did not want to end up like Sarah. Was this what her final moments were like?

  “How did you find me here?” My voice trembled.

  “I know what you’re up to. I’ve been watching you. You’re getting too close.”

  “I can only assume you’re the person who really killed Sarah Vance. But Flash has been charged with this crime. Why are you risking exposing yourself?”

  “Because there’s somebody else involved. Someone who needs to be caught before he acts again.”

  I froze, trying to let his words sink in. “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re looking in the wrong direction. The real bad guy is still out there.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t kill Sarah Vance?”

  The man said nothing for a moment before blurting. “Flash Slivinski is the most amazing golfer to ever walk this earth. I can’t let him go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. But I can’t let someone ruin him either, and that’s what is going to happen.”

  I glanced around, looking for a way out of this. I saw nothing but shadows.

  The thought made my head spin.

  “It sounds like we’re on the same side.” My voice trembled. “I’m trying to prove he’s innocent also.”

  He said nothing.

  “Did you kill Sarah Vance?” I finally asked.

  He still remained quiet. I could only hear his breathing in my ear. I took that as a yes.

  “You killed Sarah because she was a threat. She was planning to expose Flash,” I finally said. “And you were protecting him when you eliminated Sarah.”

  “Exactly.” Understanding—and maybe relief—rolled through his voice. “I had to stop her. But I never intended for Flash to be blamed. I just didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t have enough time. So I did the cowardly thing. I ran. And now it’s too late.”

  “You could step forward and admit that you’re guilty.”

  “But if I did that, I’d expose Flash for . . .”

  “The hit-and-run,” I finished.

  “Exactly. I can’t do that. I don’t know what to do.” Frustration rose in his voice.

  I needed to talk this man down from the ledge before he did something he’d regret. Maybe I could even convince him to confess, let him know that was the right thing.

  As the thought raced through my head, the man pressed the knife harder into my skin.

  I wasn’t out of danger. Not yet.

  I swallowed hard, sweat spreading across my skin. “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here tonight.”

  I heard people murmuring in the background.

  If I screamed, would help come?

  Most likely, it would be too late. All he had to do was move his arm and my throat would be—

  I flinched. I couldn’t finish the thought.

  Though I’d had a moment of bravado last night, this situation was different. Death seemed closer. I was more isolated.

  Plus, last night, my instincts had told me that I was going to be okay if I took matters into my own hands.

  My instincts right now told me that my life would be over if I made any sudden moves. If this man had killed Sarah, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me too.

  This man had found me out here. I was a definite target.

  Last night, I’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I’d triggered that man who wanted revenge on Oscar. This was different.

  I wasn’t sure this man wanted to kill me. He wanted to scare me, though. Maybe he even wanted someone to talk to.

  “Sarah was working with someone,” he said. “Find him. And remember, Flash paid the medical bills of that man he hit. Flash made amends. He doesn’t deserve this. None of this was supposed to work out this way.”

  What did that mean? Did Flash truly not have anything to do with Sarah’s death?

  Before I could say anything else, someone yelled, “Hey!”

  The person behind me turned toward the sound. As he did, I glanced back.

  Detective Hunter sprinted toward us.

  As soon as the killer saw him, he released me and took off at a run.

  Detective Hunter went after him, only pausing beside me for a moment. “Are you okay?”

  I touched my throat, still feeling the prick of the knife there. It had barely cut me. “I’m fine. Go get him.”

  The detective raced after him. I prayed Hunter would be able to catch this man, despite his head start.

  Until then, all I could do was wait and thank God I was alive.

  Five minutes later, Detective Hunter returned alone, rubbing his head.

  I didn’t know what happened, but it didn’t look good.

  “He got away,” he announced with a scowl. He slid his phone back into his pocket. “He had a car waiting in the distance, but I couldn’t make out the plates. Backup is on th
eir way.”

  “Are you okay?” I stared at him as he continued to rub his head.

  He pulled his hand down as if the action had been at a subconscious level. “Yes, I’m fine. The man was hiding behind the carriage house, and he hit me over the head with something. It’s the only way he was able to get away. The good news is that his arm hit something back there, and he cut himself. It will make him easier to identify later. Maybe we’ll even get a hit off his DNA.”

  I frowned as I looked at Hunter. His handsome face was pulled taut with anger, maybe even some pain. Yet he still remained upright and almost regal.

  “Maybe you should have your head checked out,” I said. “Those kind of injuries can be serious . . .”

  “I’ll be fine.” He scowled. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  I shivered, trying to collect my thoughts. As I did, Hunter pulled off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders. The warmth instantly made me feel better—as did the soothing scent of pine.

  I shared what had happened out here on the patio. At this point, I didn’t need to hold things back. It would only draw this out and make it more painful.

  “Why did that man track you down here?” Hunter studied my face carefully.

  “He’s panicking. He’s afraid we’re going to find him and turn him in. And, if we do, then he’ll have to share what he knows about Flash.”

  “Which is . . . ?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. I hated to break Emily’s trust, but I had no choice except to share what my client had done. “Flash Slivinski was involved in a hit-and-run accident after he’d been drinking. Even though the victim didn’t die, the man was injured and ended up in ICU. Somebody saw it happen and planned on holding that information over Flash’s head in order to get money from him.”

  The detective’s eyes widened. “Was that person Sarah Vance?”

  “That’s my best guess.”

  “So it makes sense that Flash killed Sarah. He does have motive.”

  “Not really. Because Flash isn’t left-handed.”

  The detective tilted his head and stared at me. “How did you know the killer was left-handed?”

  I realized I’d just given away some of the information I’d learned while eavesdropping at the police station. “Would you believe me if I said I observed that looking at the crime scene?”

  “No.” He crossed his arms.

  “Besides, that man who accosted me tonight was too tall to be Flash.”

  “Then who do you think held that knife to your throat tonight?”

  “My best guess right now is Bernard Sutherland.”

  “Bernard has an alibi.”

  I glanced around and saw that a crowd had gathered in the distance, watching us. Two security guards strode our way, so I knew I didn’t have much time.

  I needed to make this quick. “True. But if you look at the timeline, you’ll realize that Bernard could have gotten here from Baltimore just in time to do the deed.”

  Hunter blinked, almost like my words surprised him. “But what sense would that make? Why would he want to set up his client?”

  “He did testify about his character, didn’t he?”

  Hunter narrowed his eyes again. “No comment.”

  I took that as a yes.

  “You really should leave all of this to the police,” Hunter said.

  “A girl’s got to make a living.”

  He stared at me another moment, saying nothing. But I felt like his eyes could see into my soul, and I braced myself for whatever thought he was forming.

  I wondered what Hunter’s life was like now. How hard it must have been when that woman from the photo with him had died at the hands of the Beltway Killer. How was he dealing with that loss?

  Was that the reason why he seemed so distant, even to the people he worked with at the station? Or had the man always been like this?

  “Isn’t there something else that you could do?” he finally said. “Something that would keep you out of the kind of trouble that Oscar Driscoll is certain to get you in?”

  “I did work insurance, but I was miserable. Miserable and safe or happy and in danger? It’s a tough choice.”

  He gave me that silent stare again, the one I couldn’t read. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was an idiot or a potential comrade.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he finally said. “I just don’t want to see you get mixed up with this guy.”

  “I appreciate your concern. But shouldn’t you be out there looking for this guy?”

  “I already put out an APB. More units are coming here. And it looks like I need to talk to Emily Riviera.”

  I frowned.

  “What’s that look for?” Hunter stared at me.

  “Apparently, in exchange for her silence, Flash is going to help finance her new boutique.”

  Hunter raked a hand through his hair. “The lengths these people will go to in order to get what they want never fails to astound me.”

  “I told her I wouldn’t tell you.” Guilt nagged at me.

  “But you did.”

  I shrugged. “Honestly, all I want to do is the right thing. I just never thought it would be this difficult to figure out what the right thing was.”

  Shouldn’t it be black-and-white? I felt like the answers should be clearer, but they weren’t. Or maybe I just wasn’t listening to the still, quiet voice in my head. Maybe I was becoming complacent, arriving at a place where truth and lies were adjacent.

  There I went rhyming again . . .

  “That’s a question that we’ve all had to ask ourselves in this line of work at one point or another. I hope you’re able to grapple with the question and find a solution you can live with.”

  “Me too.” I swallowed hard, hating how attracted I felt to this man.

  He nodded toward the distance. “I should go.”

  I took off his coat, immediately missing the warmth, and handed it back to him. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  With that, Detective Hunter walked toward the security guards, flashed his badge, and began telling them what was going on.

  A few minutes later, I headed to the valet to pick up my car. As I waited for it to pull up, I saw someone sitting in their vehicle in the driveway.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Was that Flash Slivinski? What was he doing here?

  As soon as he saw me notice him, he zoomed away.

  But the eerie feeling in my gut wouldn’t leave.

  What I really wanted was to go straight home. But I knew my mom would be waiting up for me, would see me in this outfit, and would ask entirely too many questions. With that in mind, I headed back to the office to change.

  As I stood under the bright lights of the bathroom, my reflection caught my eyes.

  For the first time in a long time, I had a light in my gaze. When we had moved here, then my dad had died, all my joy disappeared. I felt like life was just a matter of going through the motions.

  Something about this job was stirring up something inside me—some kind of purpose, a reason to look forward to getting up every morning. Even though I had yet to figure out the moral implications of finding the answers in the situations, I had felt a new sense of purpose when it came to helping innocent people find answers.

  Even if they were innocent people like Flash Slivinski, who might be innocent yet dirty at the same time.

  I took off the earrings and the necklace, and I placed them back into the boxes they’d come in. Then I changed back into my favorite jeans and a black sweatshirt. I let my hair down from the clip that held it back and washed the makeup off my face.

  The woman who stared back at me looked like a whole different person.

  I was a whole different person now. As much as I wanted to hold onto parts of my old life, the hope was foolish. I was starting over again in the States. My life here would never be anything like it was in Yerba. The culture was different, and, like it or not, the culture was
bound to change me in some ways.

  The key was to not let it change me in negative ways. I could still be community minded and hospitable. I could still enjoy the simple things of life. I could still stop myself before I got caught up in this rat race.

  But I could also embrace this new side of me. The side that operated in the fast lane, that was bolder and less subtle. My introvert meter might even move from 65 percent to 50 percent with a little work.

  I could prove to my dad that I was more like him than we ever thought.

  At my age, I thought I was beyond having to figure these things out. But, apparently, I wasn’t. I was starting over and having to rediscover myself.

  I tucked my outfit in a bag that I stashed under my desk, sprayed myself with my Lysol so I’d smell like I’d been cleaning, and then I started home.

  I needed to figure out when I was going to come clean to my mom.

  But as I climbed into my car, that feeling filled me again.

  The feeling of being watched.

  I hit the locks on my car doors and glanced behind me.

  I saw no one.

  But I needed to get home.

  Now.

  Be vigilant.

  Yes, I needed desperately to be on guard.

  Now more than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I hadn’t been able to sleep much last night. I had too much on my mind. Mostly, I kept thinking about everything that happened at the fundraising gala. I remembered Emily’s revelation. I remembered the man who’d put a knife to my throat. I remembered my conversation with Detective Hunter, and the dinner invitation from Jono.

  As I lay in bed with early morning sunlight trickling in through my window, I kept going back to the man who’d cornered me last night.

  Had it been Bernard? He seemed like an easy conclusion, but, based on the look Detective Hunter gave me, Bernard wasn’t guilty. I didn’t know what Hunter knew that I didn’t, but my gut told me I needed to keep looking.

  And then there was that note that had been left on the car windshield, warning us to drop the investigation.