Pineapple Pack III

by Amy Vansant

  “Wait, wait, you’re crushing me,” she said, laughing.

  He straightened and held her at arm’s length to stare deep into her eyes.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “I really need you to go talk to Stephanie.”

  Chapter Ten

  Declan sat at the plastic picnic table waiting, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He’d never been in a prison before. It wasn’t something on his bucket list. Around him, boyfriends, fathers, husbands and kids sat chatting with women wearing orange jumpsuits.

  Though some of the women were pretty frightening, they didn’t scare Declan. Nor did the visiting family members, some of whom were pretty shocking to look at as well. Not even the guy two tables over with embedded-fishhook tattoos all over his arm.

  That one fascinated him.

  Did the guy get a tattoo for every fish he hooked? And if so, why did he keep fishing?

  He’d made some dubious choices, but Fishhook Guy didn’t scare Declan either. The person who had his knee bouncing with anxiety was walking through the door now, wrapped in her very own orange jumpsuit.

  Stephanie.

  Charlotte had begged him to go talk to his ex. She thought Stephanie might be more inclined to share important information with him than with her—the girl who could testify she’d discovered Stephanie next to the body of a dead assistant district attorney.

  She was probably right.

  There was no love lost between Charlotte and Stephanie, and because he and Stephanie had been childhood friends long before they dated, she tended to share more with him than probably anyone else in her life. He knew her past. He knew she’d been a mercenary after working for the government in a shadow ops assignment.

  He knew killing people didn’t cause her to lose a moment of sleep.

  He’d been in the shadow program too, but he’d left. For him, the training had been a way to focus the free-floating rage left behind by his father’s abandonment and mother’s disappearance. He’d been a troubled kid and his uncle Seamus had thought the program might be a way to channel his anger into something useful. It was. But when it became clear to him the program had an agenda far darker than he ever imagined, he’d left.

  Stephanie had stayed and let her bloodlust run wild. She’d also had a tough childhood, but he suspected her more violent tendencies were inherited from her mother. When Jamie abandoned her as a baby and left her with a neglectful foster mother only interested in regular payments—it didn’t help Stephanie’s overall demeanor.

  Smart and ruthless, Stephanie had been a perfect team asset. When she’d finally quit and returned to Florida he’d tried to help her, tried to set her straight, but he’d known from the start it was a losing battle.

  They’d clung to each other during their darkest times as adolescents, but he’d grown up and found a way out of his shadows.

  She had not.

  In his heart he knew he wasn’t really scared of Stephanie. He was scared of the person he’d been when he was with her.

  Stephanie scanned the room and Declan remembered to start breathing again. She walked to the table and slid into the bench seat across from him. She seemed almost awkward, walking in flat slip-on shoes instead of stilting-it over in her trademark high heels.

  He smiled. “You look good in orange.”

  She raised her middle finger in his direction.

  “Making friends?”

  Stephanie scoffed. “Oh sure. I had to break one girl’s nose. I’m sure I’ll be on her Christmas list forever. Mom sent you?”

  “In a roundabout sort of way, yes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means your mother kidnapped Charlotte’s friends and told her if she didn’t find a way to get you out of jail, the kidnappings would turn into murders.”

  Stephanie’s eyes grew wide. “She’s putting my fate in goody-two-shoe’s hands?”

  “Backed with a good dose of threats. She isn’t counting on Charlotte’s good nature.”

  Stephanie’s lip curled. “Well, we all know what a good nature sweet Charlotte has.”

  Declan crossed his arms against his chest. “Not being a psychopath doesn’t make her a goody-two-shoes. If your mother hurts anyone, I promise you’ll see another side of Charlotte.”

  Stephanie raised her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Ooooh. Angry Charlotte. Scary.”

  Declan sighed. “Look, I’ve got places to be—”

  “Oh me too. By all means, get to the reason you’re here so I can get back and play another round of Shower Before They Find You.”

  “I’m here to pull everything you can remember out of your head. We need to know everything if we’re going to prove you didn’t kill the Assistant D.A.”

  “Let me start by telling you I didn’t kill Jason. I swear.”

  “You didn’t kill him? Or you don’t remember killing him?”

  Stephanie frowned, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe a little of both. I lost some time between arriving at the warehouse and waking up. But, I know I didn’t have any intention of killing him. I was trying to decide whether to blackmail him or report him. Execution was never on the table.”

  “He was making life difficult for you, wasn’t he? Sabotaging your cases?”

  “Sabotaging cases that could have gotten me killed. It’s not like I represent people unwilling to take their frustrations out on me.”

  “So that’s a great reason to kill him.”

  “Maybe, but I’d already had Charlotte follow him. She had proof he was tampering with my witnesses. I didn’t need to kill him. He was going down anyway. And—”

  Stephanie fell silent.

  “And what?”

  She looked away and then turned back to him. “And I’d told you I was going to be a better person. I meant it.”

  “So you shifted from murder to blackmail? Wow. Big leap.”

  “It is, actually.” Stephanie sighed. “Anyway, he was the one breaking the law. I was just trying to survive.”

  “Fine. Fine. What else? Why were you in the warehouse?”

  “He texted me. Said to meet him there.”

  “And you brought a gun?”

  “I always have a gun. But yes. I also have a policy of packing when I show up at abandoned warehouses.”

  “Did you tell him you had evidence of him breaking the law?”

  Stephanie closed her eyes. “No. He was already sitting in that chair when I got there. Already still and...he didn’t look right.”

  “But maybe he knew. Maybe he pulled a gun on you and you shot him in self-defense?”

  Stephanie dipped her head to rub her temple. “It’s possible. But, I did see something. A gun. And it was near him but I swear Declan—I don’t think it was his hand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was like someone was hiding behind him. They raised the gun to make it look like it was Jason but...”

  “But it wasn’t. You think someone else was there?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, good. That’s something. Who?”

  Stephanie tilted her face to the ceiling. “You think I haven’t been trying to remember? I feel like it’s in my head but I just can’t get it out.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “I think just a hand, an arm? There was a beam of light shining on something.”

  “Like a flashlight?”

  “No. There were holes in the ceiling. Rust spots or whatever. The sun came through in beams.”

  “And then what?”

  She sighed. “I saw the gun and I grabbed mine as I was diving out of the way. There was gunfire.”

  “Whose? The mystery gun or yours?”

  “The mystery gun. No, both. I shot back. Once.”

  “You’re sure, once?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

  “What happened next?”

  “My head. I hit my head on something.”

 
“What?”

  Stephanie squinted. “A carpet?”

  “You knocked yourself cold on a carpet?”

  “Yes…no? I know it doesn’t make any sense. But that’s what was there when I woke up.”

  “And that’s when you realized Jason was dead?”

  “Yes. And then your girlfriend walked in and...” She trailed off.

  “And you tried to kill her.”

  “I was a little out of my head at that point.”

  “Sure. We’ll go with that. Totally out of character for you.”

  Stephanie chuckled. “Do you know you’re the only person in the world I can be myself around?”

  Declan sighed. “I’m the only one who knew you as a kid.”

  She nodded. “Before the world corrupted me.”

  “I’m not sure it was all the world’s fault.”

  She giggled.

  Declan leaned back in his chair. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you really laugh.”

  Stephanie sniffed. “Yeah, well, I tried to go straight and ended up in jail. If you can’t laugh at the irony of that, what can you laugh at?”

  Declan nodded, trying to remember if there was anything else he’d been instructed to ask. He straightened. “Oh, Charlotte said she’d like to look around your office.”

  “Why?”

  “If someone set you up they might have gotten in there at some point. You might have a client who was up to no good. She thought she should at least look around.”

  Stephanie hooked her mouth to the right. “If she’s going to root through my office looking for information about dirtbags, she’s got a long weekend ahead of her. I’ve got drawers and drawers of dirtbags.”

  “Anyone you think might hold a grudge?”

  “Maybe. But I thought Jamie knew the person who framed me. Isn’t he really after her?”

  “Seems like it, but it bears asking.”

  Stephanie traced a figure-eight on the table with her index finger. “I don’t think so. I’ve been lucky so far. Haven’t lost any major cases. My clients are happy in their miserable little lives.”

  “Okay. Where’s the key to your office?”

  Stephanie thought for a moment. “In my purse. Which was in my car. Which I imagine the police have now.”

  “Do you have a spare?”

  “I do. Under the flowerpot in the front. Dig through the sand there about five inches down.”

  “Good. How about your apartment?”

  “My what?”

  “How do we get into your house if we need to look around there?”

  Stephanie sighed. “I live in the office.”

  “What?”

  “In the back. I live in the office.”

  “There’s an apartment there?”

  “There is now.”

  “Is that even legal?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just get an apartment?”

  “I work weird hours.” Stephanie huffed. “What do you care? I told you how to get in.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Stephanie crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin on her forearms. She looked tired.

  “I should tell you I have the whole place wired with cameras. There’s a false wall in my room that goes into office space next door. You’ll find all the surveillance equipment in there.”

  Declan squinted at her. “You have a secret command center hidden in your office?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “You know you’re starting to sound more and more like Batman, right?”

  Stephanie laughed and lifted her head. “He was crazy, right?”

  She rapped on the table with her knuckles and stood. Declan followed suit.

  “Well, see you,” she said. “I’d shake your hand, but no touching in the visitors’ room. And it would be weird anyway.”

  “Agreed.”

  Stephanie winced as if she were in pain.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Tell your girlfriend thank you for this. Even if Mom’s making her do it.”

  Stephanie’s seemingly genuine appreciation struck Declan as so unusual his head jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “It’s nice of you to recognize she really will do all she can for you.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry I tried to kill her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

  “And tell her if she doesn’t get me out of here, next time I won’t just try.”

  Declan rolled his eyes. “There she is. The Stephanie we all know and love.”

  Stephanie offered him a little wave, her hand hovering by her hip, before wandering back toward the guard watching the door leading back to the cells. Out of questions and feeling dismissed, Declan was nearly to the exit when he heard her call out behind him.

  “Declan!”

  He turned as the other prisoners and their guests looked up in unison. Stephanie stood in the doorway, flanked by a guard, straining to keep the door open as the guard dragged her from the room.

  “There’s a bouncing betty under the key,” she yelled.

  “What?”

  The door shut and he could see her through the glass pantomiming an explosion as the guard jerked her down the hall.

  Chapter Eleven

  “See this hole?”

  Charlotte stood behind the abandoned carpet warehouse where she’d found Stephanie near the body of the dead A.D.A. A small, perfect circle had been punched through the back wall of the building. She pointed at it so Mariska and Darla could see. The pair had wanted to help her with her investigation, so she thought she’d let them try and locate Stephanie’s missing bullet. Stephanie had admitted to firing once, and when Charlotte checked in with Frank, he reported the bullet had yet to be located. If they could find Stephanie’s bullet in the pine forest behind the warehouse, they could clear her of shooting and killing Jason Walsh.

  “Flimsy walls,” muttered Darla.

  “That’s probably why they abandoned it. The carpets were getting wet,” suggested Mariska.

  “Or the critters were getting in and eating the fluff.”

  “I think the building was in better shape when they were actually in here,” said Charlotte.

  Darla shrugged. “You can’t stop critters when they want that fluff.”

  Mariska gasped. “Oh, that reminds me. We have to keep an eye out for the coyotes while we’re out here.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Coyotes?”

  “Didn’t you get the Port o’ Call?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. She had received Pineapple Port’s newsletter, the Port o’ Call, in her mailbox, but she hadn’t taken the time to read whose daughter was getting a promotion at work and who was trying to sell broken exercise equipment or used medical paraphernalia.

  “I’ve been a little busy. I must have missed it.”

  Mariska pursed her lips. “Oh you can’t do that. It’s very important.”

  “She was kidnapped and found the time to read it,” mumbled Darla as she put her finger through the hole in the wall.

  Mariska nodded. “Exactly. If you’d read it, you’d know we’re being overrun with coyotes.”

  Charlotte wrapped her fingers around Darla’s wrist and pulled her finger out of the hole. “Don’t touch anything. Who’s being overrun?”

  “Pineapple Port. Maybe all of Charity, I’m not sure.”

  “So you’re not personally being overrun by coyotes.”

  “No.” Mariska’s gaze drifted. “I don’t think so...”

  “How did this happen? I’ve never heard of coyotes around here before.”

  “They think there are a couple of jackasses feeding them,” said Darla.

  Charlotte scowled. “In the neighborhood?”

  “Yes. They probably think they’re wild dogs. But now they’re packing up.”

  “The neighbors are leaving?”


  “No the coyotes. They’re roaming in packs.”

  “They’re attacking small children,” added Mariska.

  “Really?”

  “No, but they could. That’s the point. When they pack up like that they can take down an elephant.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “Has anyone warned the elephants?”

  Mariska ignored her and continued, the tone of her voice growing increasingly urgent. “The Port o’ Call said to carry a bag of rocks whenever you’re out walking so you can throw them at the coyotes.”

  “You’re going to fend off a pack of elephant-eating coyotes with a bag of rocks?”

  “You bet your life. I’m worried about Miss Izzy when we take our walks. She doesn’t do well with stress.”

  “Shouldn’t Izzy be protecting you from the coyotes? Did you get her a bag of rocks to wear around her collar?”

  Mariska shook her head, appearing saddened by her own dog’s anxiety levels. “She’s tough with the cartoon birds on the television, but Izzy freezes when she sees the Sandhill cranes. She gets one look at those giant birds and shoots between my legs and won’t come out. I have to turn around or drag her past them.”

  “So you don’t think she’ll rise to the challenge of wild coyotes.”

  “No. Not a chance.”

  Charlotte could feel a fit of giggles coming on and covered her mouth with one hand. “Sorry. I’m imagining you, standing there with Izzy between your legs, throwing rocks...” She snorted a laugh.

  Mariska huffed. “It’s not funny. Some of the locals are terrible at throwing things. What are they going to do? The rocks are no help if you have bursitis in your shoulder.”

  Charlotte raised her other hand to help the first hold back her amusement.

  Darla pretended to shoot from her hip, clicking her middle digit on the imaginary trigger. “I’ve been taking Frank’s gun with me when I walk Turbo.”

  Mariska’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Darla. You’re going to shoot them?”

  “If it’s me or them, yes. If they have me cornered—”

  Charlotte snorted another laugh.

  “It isn’t funny,” said Mariska.

  Charlotte sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Come on. It’s pretty funny. You two are talking about Pineapple Port like you live in the forests of Transylvania.”

  “Well you can laugh all you want, but remember when we had that feral cat problem?”