She nodded. “And if the victim was in an abusive relationship, odds are even higher that’s who killed her. Some women try and get out, but that’s when they’re in the most danger. These guys don’t exactly take rejection well.”
“So you step into the middle. You have any idea how reckless that is?”
“Not reckless,” she said. “Carefully calculated. My clients follow my advice, they get free.”
“So what happened with Melanie?”
She looked away. “I’m not sure. I thought she understood the danger of coming back here. I can’t figure out why she did.”
“Where do these women hear about you?”
She forked up a bite of pancakes. Chewed thoughtfully. Washed it down with a sip of juice. “Here and there.”
“Meaning?”
“Courtney was a referral. A friend of a friend. Some of them I get through a shelter, I think. I’m pretty sure someone at one of the places in town has my number.”
Perfect. Someone was sending Alex these people. Parking trouble right on her doorstep, over and over again.
“Melanie get you through a shelter?”
“She never went to one,” Alex said. “She was too scared.”
Nathan didn’t comment. He wasn’t sure fear was what had kept Melanie away from any shelters. He still had his doubts about Coghan’s wife. Alex had been way too eager to accept her story at face value. Nathan knew some of his reservations stemmed from his relationship with Coghan, but another part was experience. He’d learned that most things were much more complicated than they seemed. And people—particularly desperate ones—lied like rugs.
“These are great.” Alex nodded at his plate. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”
He frowned down at his breakfast. Stabbed a link of sausage.
“How’d you get into what you do?” she asked. “You’ve got a lot of crap cases yourself. Can’t be the pay.”
She seemed to like throwing his words back at him.
“I wanted to be a cop since I was a kid.”
“Why?”
He watched her for a moment. She looked genuinely interested, not like someone making small talk.
“My family ran a bar in the French Quarter,” he said. “My dad was always getting called out of bed to go meet the cops, hear about how some punk had busted into our place, looking for money or booze. When I got old enough, he started letting me come along.”
“So cops were your heroes.”
He shrugged. He’d never really thought of it that way, but Alex would. She was an idealist.
“How’d you get into PI work?” He scooped up a bite of pancakes and watched her.
“I always liked computers,” she said, as if that explained it. “I tried working for other people, but I do better on my own.”
“Problems with authority?”
“I like to call my own shots.”
More interesting than what she’d said was all the stuff she’d left out. Nathan had looked into her background—not that he’d ever tell her that. She’d grown up in Urbana, Illinois, the daughter of two university professors. She’d gone through her freshman year of college there, receiving what had to have been a nice break on tuition at U of I, where her parents worked. But then she’d dropped out. Three years later, she’d founded Lovell Solutions in her hometown. Then she’d taken the show on the road, apparently, moving herself and her company to Chicago, San Francisco, and most recently, Austin.
She was just twenty-nine. She’d been here two years, and it looked like she planned to stay. Unless she got itchy feet again.
“What?” Alex said now, and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. He’d been staring.
“Nothing.” He glanced down at his plate, which he’d somehow managed to clear, despite all the distractions. Alex had cleared hers, too.
She downed a sip of coffee and checked her watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got an appointment over in West Campus. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“The date of your last payment from Melanie.”
“October fourth. The day after she hired me.”
“That was it?”
“Yep.”
Shit, she’d let the woman walk all over her.
“That about covers it, then,” he said. “I’ll do some more digging today, see what I can find out.”
“Whatever you do, be discreet. I don’t want this getting back to Coghan.” She tried to pass him some money, but he waved it off.
“My treat,” he said.
“No, mine.” She slid out of the booth and tucked the bills under her coffee mug. “You’re spending time on this case for me. I feel like I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything yet. I haven’t done jack.”
She smiled down at him. “Yeah, but you will.”
Sophie twisted the last screw into the shelving unit with the little metal tool and stepped back to admire her work. Not bad. And this one had taken only half as long as the one she’d built yesterday. The main challenge had been deciphering the instructions that had come in the bag with all the different-size screws.
Someone knocked on the glass, and she whirled around.
A visitor. Her first visitor, and she was on her knees surrounded by files. She jumped to her feet and smoothed her skirt down as she walked over to the door. Alex hadn’t shown her how to buzz someone in from her desk. Sophie added that to her mental list of questions as she pulled open the door.
A tall man loomed on the sidewalk. He looked at least six-two, but it was hard to tell because of the cowboy hat.
“May I help you?” she asked crisply.
“I’m here to see Alexandra Lovell.” He stepped forward, and Sophie caught a whiff of tobacco.
“Ms. Lovell isn’t in right now.” She leaned back against the door and ushered him inside. “Would you like to leave her a message?”
He hesitated a moment, then stepped into the office and removed his hat to reveal a shock of white hair. His gaze roamed over the mess and then paused on the open door to Alex’s office.
“May I get your name?”
“Scoffield. Bill Scoffield.”
His voice had an east Texas drawl to it. Sophie was an expert on voices. She could place almost anything and sometimes made a game out of it.
“You know when she’ll be back?” he asked.
“Anytime now, I expect,” Sophie said, although she had no idea when Alex was coming back. She was doing some sort of surveillance, and it was taking much longer than she’d originally said. Sophie stepped over a stack of files and opened the drawer she’d organized this morning. She found a pink message pad and jotted down the man’s name.
“Anything you’d like me to tell her, Mr. Scoffield?” She glanced up, and he stood right by Alex’s door, peering into the office. Sophie stepped into his line of sight and pulled the door shut. “A message, maybe?”
“Just tell her I dropped by.” He gazed at her a moment, then he settled the hat back on his head and walked out.
Sophie watched him go, feeling uneasy. She didn’t like his interest in Alex’s office. She didn’t like something else about him, either, but she couldn’t quite place it.
She got down on her knees and resumed her shelving. Another knock, and she turned around, expecting the cowboy again.
But it was someone else.
No walk-ins for two days, and now they were flooded. Sophie hurried to the door and pulled it open.
“May I help you?” she asked, trying not to flinch when she saw his face.
“I’m looking for Alex.” He sauntered into the office and turned around. “She in?”
The man had a friendly voice. Southern. Louisiana or Arkansas would be Sophie’s guess.
“I’m sorry, she’s out right now.”
He ambled around the room, taking in everything, it seemed, despite the injury to his left eye. “You expect her back soon?”
“I don’t really know.”
“And who
are you?” he asked, pausing beside the desk she’d just organized.
“I’m Sophie. Alex’s assistant.”
He nodded, then glanced down and thumbed through the Rolodex.
Annoyance overcame her intimidation, and she rushed over. “And you are?” She picked up the Rolodex and slid it into a drawer.
“A friend of Alex’s.”
Friend, as in boyfriend? Doubtful. He looked too scruffy, even for Alex Lovell. The navy blazer and gray slacks were probably meant to make him seem civilized, but they didn’t quite do the job. Maybe he was a loan shark. Or some angry husband whose wife’s PI had caught fooling around, and now he was out for revenge on Alex—
“Place is looking good.” He stepped over to Alex’s office door and stood there listening, as if wanting to confirm that no one was behind it.
Sophie crossed her arms. “May I take a message for you?”
But the man was more interested in checking out the reception room. His gaze drifted over the results of Sophie’s last two days of work: the two bookcases, which she’d unpacked and assembled from the dusty Ikea boxes leaning against the wall; the newly organized file cabinet, which now doubled as a table for the coffeepot.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Yes, well…”
He smiled, which went a long way toward calming her nerves. He had a nice smile. “Relax,” he told her.
“Excuse me?”
“You seem kinda jumpy.”
“I’m not, really. I just—”
“I bet she’s a tough boss, huh?” He stepped closer. “She’s good, though. At what she does. You’re lucky she hired you. She’s a pretty quick judge of character, so you must have made a good impression.”
Sophie felt herself smile, even though something told her she should stay on her guard.
“Listen,” he said smoothly, “I really need to find Alex, and she’s not answering her cell. Where is she, exactly?”
“I’m not sure.” Sophie perched on the desk and took a sip of coffee, then casually placed the cup on top of the note she’d made earlier. “But I’ll be happy to get her a message.”
He plunked his hands on his hips, revealing a gold shield clipped to his belt. “You know where she is, but you don’t want to say. Is that right?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose—”
“Honey, I’m a cop. And I need to talk to Alex. You can tell me.”
She gazed up at him, warmed by a sudden wave of trust. “She’s doing surveillance all day,” she told him. “That’s all I can tell you. But I’ll be happy to get her a message for you, if you like.”
“Thanks.” He smiled again, a flash of perfect white teeth. “Just tell her I stopped by.”
And then he was across the office, pulling open the door. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Good luck with the new job.”
Sophie smiled as the door whisked shut. He was cute. Sexy, even, if you overlooked the dings.
A thought struck her.
“Wait!” she rushed to catch him. “You never told me your name!”
She pulled the door open and poked her head out, but he was already gone.
CHAPTER SIX
Alex had never ruptured a disk in her back before. But she was pretty sure that if she had, she wouldn’t be eager to heft a kayak eight feet in the air.
“Lying liars who lie,” she murmured, zooming in on her subject. This was well worth the thirty-plus hours she’d sat roasting in a car, waiting for this guy to emerge from his girlfriend’s apartment. Standing on the running board of his Nissan XTerra, the subject centered the kayak on the luggage rack. He pulled a bungee cord from his pocket and tossed it down to his pretty female helper. Together, they started securing the boat.
Alex zoomed in closer, making sure she got a shot of his smiling face as he reached over the roof to hook the cord. What a faker. He hopped down and went back inside the apartment. Five minutes later, he returned with a huge cooler. Alex got a shot of his carefree grin as he loaded the ice chest into the cargo space. When the XTerra pulled away, Alex followed.
A little sunset kayaking? The SUV turned south, toward Town Lake, and her suspicions were confirmed.
Alex hung back discreetly, excitement fluttering in her belly. She had him, finally, after days and days of nothing. This was just the footage she needed to wrap up this project and get paid. Then, at last, she could give Melanie her undivided attention.
The subject pulled into a lot near a lakefront boat ramp and slid into a handicapped parking space. Alex double-parked on the opposite end of the lot and fumbled for her camcorder. This was too good to be true.
The passenger door jerked open. Alex dropped the camera in her lap as Nathan ducked his head in.
“Hey! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He smiled. “Making a movie?”
She muted the sound on the camera. “Get in,” she said. “And don’t slam the door.”
He obediently slid in and eased the door shut. “This a company car?”
“It is now.” She lifted the camera and zoomed out for a wide shot of the couple unfastening the boat. The woman wore cutoffs and a T-shirt with Greek letters emblazoned across the front.
Alex glanced at Nathan. “How’d you find me?”
“Tailed you over here from West Campus.”
“Bullshit.”
“‘Fraid not.”
Alex bit her lip. She would have noticed a tail. She should have, but maybe she’d been distracted. She needed to be more careful.
She returned her attention to the subject of her surveillance. A few more seconds of him, and then she zoomed in on the license plate to underscore his identity for the insurance company that was paying his claim. Some collegiate-looking people wandered over from a nearby picnic table and exchanged greetings. Soon they were unloading the cooler, stowing it beneath the picnic table, and putting a pair of boats into the water.
Alex grabbed her tote bag from the backseat. She pulled out a khaki baseball cap—her quickie disguise of choice—and tugged it down over her unruly hair. “You coming or not?” she asked.
“I don’t know. What are you doing?”
“My job.” She rummaged through the tote for her black Astros cap. “Here, wear this.” She handed it to him. “That eye’s a little too conspicuous.”
Alex found an empty park bench facing the water. She placed her bag beside her and arranged the camcorder within it so that the lens peeked through the custom-made hole in the bag’s side.
Nathan sat down next to her.
“So what’d you want to tell me?” she asked.
He gazed out at the shimmering water where Alex’s subject was kayaking with his friends, practically guaranteeing a big paycheck in Alex’s future. But she couldn’t have cared less at the moment. Nathan had something to say, and she could tell from his suddenly grim expression that she wasn’t going to like it.
“I checked out Coghan today,” Nathan said. “It was real interesting.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little. They hadn’t found a body, thank God. “And what did you come up with?”
He stretched an arm out over the back of the bench. “Well, for starters, he just received a commendation from the chief of police. He got promoted last fall to head up the anti–drug task force—no small achievement—and he’s got a pristine record.” He paused, as if wanting this to sink in. “I checked with Human Resources, too. Not a single complaint about him in fifteen years of service.”
Alex’s mouth dropped open. “You checked with Human Resources?” Of all the places to check…
“I also checked police reports. Coghan’s got nothing linked to him about domestic abuse. No calls from Melanie or the neighbors, nothing. Not even a noise complaint.”
“You don’t believe me.” Alex’s breath caught. “After everything I told you, you still don’t believe me.”
“Melanie Coghan never reported any kind of abuse. Not once.” He rested his elbo
ws on his knees and gazed at the lake. “But that’s not to say APD hasn’t heard of her. Your client’s got an interesting reputation, did you know that?”
She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. He didn’t believe her.
“Rumor is, Melanie Coghan’s a nutcase,” Nathan said. “She actually showed up at the station once, shitfaced drunk, and got into it with her husband, right there in the parking lot. She cursed him out. Told him she was leaving him. I talked to a patrol officer who says he saw the whole thing.”
“What are you trying to say?” Alex asked.
“I’m saying, all that doesn’t jell with your helpless, battered wife running away from her husband.”
“I can’t believe you.” Alex snatched up her tote bag and stalked back toward the parking lot.
Nathan followed. “What can’t you believe? That I checked into some facts before tossing around accusations?”
“I asked you to do this quietly.” She shook her head. “Human Resources is the gossip mill of any office. Don’t you know that? You’re going to tip him off! He’s probably out right now, getting rid of evidence!”
“Alex.” Nathan took her by the arm. “Listen to yourself. You’re not making sense.”
“I’m not making sense?”
“No.” He gazed down at her. She actually caught a flicker of concern in his expression, but she didn’t care. She was too mad.
“I understand that you’re worried about your client,” he said. “But you’ve got to get some perspective here. All you have is one woman’s story. And no evidence. And you’re accusing a veteran police officer of murder.”
She looked down at her feet and swallowed the lump of frustration in her throat. He didn’t believe her. And worse, he’d betrayed her trust.
“Let me ask you this.” His gentle tone made her chest hurt.
“What?”
“Does Melanie owe you money?”
“A little.” A lot, actually. Alex had paid the security deposit on her Orlando apartment out of her personal bank account. Ditto her utility deposits.
“You think it’s possible she’s avoiding you because she doesn’t want to pay?”
Alex looked away. It was possible. But she didn’t believe it.
A Tracers Trilogy Page 6