by Freya Barker
“She can run up to your place after. Just let her know where to find everything.”
I’m glad she seems on board with that plan, at least I think she is since she wraps her hands around my neck and drags my mouth to hers.
“Be safe,” she softly says against my lips.
“I will. I’ll call.”
With a last hard kiss, I force myself to get up and walk out.
“WHERE’S LUNA?” JASPER leans down and whispers in my ear.
I wave him to sit down next to me and bend toward him. “She’s running an errand. She’ll be here shortly.”
I watch as Boris, Ella, and James take a seat around the table, and the last to walk into the boardroom are Blackfoot and Browns. My eyes skim over the others in the room, trying to pick up any kind of reaction. If someone had a hand in the murder of Sinclair, they would be sitting on hot coals right now. The only one who has a visible reaction, more than perhaps a general mild curiosity at Blackfoot bringing along his forensics guy, is Boris Parnak. Not all that surprising, since normally he and Keith work in tandem on major investigations, and I know for a fact, Keith’s been avoiding him the last few days.
“Okay,” James starts. “A brief recap then have updates first. There are a few loose ends I think need to be addressed. We have two boxes with valuable books shipped from The Gilded Feather. Right now, both boxes are missing. One of them held a shipment of stolen manuscripts that we suspect ended up at Kerry’s Korner. Jasper, you were looking into Willoughs? I received confirmation from the IT team that the second box was shipped from The Gilded Feather warehouse to the post office box you discovered.” He hands Jasper a sheet of paper. “That’s the UPS tracking number.”
“Matches what I have. The box was picked up a month ago by Willoughs himself,” Jasper informs him.
“All right, so it’s about time to bring Mr. Willoughs in and ask him some questions. Gomez?” He focuses on me.
“On it.”
“Keith, any luck finding the box that disappeared from Ms. Emerson’s car?”
“I had a team scouring the side of the mountain. They came up with nothing,” he answers James.
“It can’t just be gone,” Boris pipes up. “Are we sure the store owner is telling the truth? She may have been lying.”
I’m halfway out of my chair already when Jas grabs my waistband and sharply yanks me back down. A few eyebrows are raised, most obviously by James, who lightly shakes his head.
Keith saves my ass. “Unlikely, Boris. She didn’t conjure up the pickup that almost knocked her off the side of the mountain since it was witnessed by the truck driver. That reminds me; did you find anything on the missing pickup truck yet?” He bounces the ball right back into Parnak’s court, who’s been assigned recovery of the hit-and-run truck.
“Nope. I have a few teams out on it, and it’s like the damn thing’s disappeared.”
“Funny how that can happen, right?” Keith fires right back.
“All right, that’s enough.” James looks sternly between the two local lawmen. “Moving on. Any news on the woman that went missing?”
“Actually,” I jump in. “She was found, Keith’s got some info on that.”
As agreed, Keith details the circumstances of Marya’s discovery and those of her disappearance. He fills them in on the discovery of the tracker on Kerry’s car, the listening devices and camera inside Kerry’s house, and the ones found in the store. When he announces the equipment looked to be government- issue, I scan the room for reactions. James is staring right at me, his eyebrow slightly lifted. He knows we kept this close to our chest for a reason.
“Is she going to be okay?” James asks, deflecting the focus.
“She will be,” Keith answers with conviction. “Especially since the man who did that to her was found dead in the cemetery, apparently with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Trevor Simms...or Troy Sinclair, he apparently answered to both.”
That bit of news gets a round of raised eyebrows and exclamations of disbelief.
“No shit?” James says questioningly.
“His body is with the coroner, which is where Browns and I are heading after,” Keith fills him in. “There are some questions around the circumstances leading to his death.”
“Interesting,” Ella speaks up. “Especially now that we know Willoughs was likely the intended recipient of the stolen goods. It’s reasonable to assume he would’ve been in contact with Sinclair. Would’ve wanted some restitution for the money I’m sure he had to fork out for those manuscripts. He may have been fed up.”
“You might have a point,” Keith says, his eyes sharp on Ella. “Browns just confirmed this morning that, despite the fact the cell phone that was found on Sinclair’s body was a burner, it had one text message that seems to point a finger at the millionaire. It’s the only one remaining on the phone, everything else was deleted. The message simply stated: NW corner cemetery 1 hr. BW.”
“Bruce Willoughs?” Parnak asks.
“Would seem so,” Keith responds. “After the meeting, Browns will see if he can get anything else off the phone.”
“I’m coming,” Boris announces, and Keith’s about to protest when James pipes up.
“Good idea. See what two sharp minds can come up with,” he says, giving both men a meaningful glare.
After that, the meeting quickly breaks up. Boris tags along with Browns and Blackfoot to the lab, and Ella announces she’s heading back to her hotel room to brief her superior. James stays behind.
Once Jasper leaves the boardroom, he turns to me. “Is she safe?” he asks, and I don’t have to guess who he’s talking about.
“Yes,” I simply state.
“Good. Keep it that way.” He picks up a pen from the table and starts twirling it between his fingers. I wait for what I know is coming. “I know you wouldn’t normally drag your ass on reporting information important to an investigation. Given the nature of the information, I can understand why, in this case, you chose to do just that, but I have to tell you it doesn’t sit right with me. I thought after the many years we’ve known each other, worked together, you’d be able to trust me with your suspicions.”
Fuck.
“You thought right,” I start. “All I can say is I’ve never been in love before.” James’ signature eyebrow lifts and a smile tugs at his mouth. “It appears to trump years of trust and loyalty. Especially when the woman I’ve fallen for is up to her eyeballs in the investigation. I just couldn’t take the chance.”
“I hear you. But if I’d known where your head was at, if I’d been kept in the loop, I might’ve conducted this meeting a little differently. With everything out in the open, we’ve given out all the cards. I might also have reminded you that with the kind of money Willoughs has, there is little in the world that can’t be bought. Not even government-issue electronics.”
“Blackfoot’s guy checked with the manufacturer. These gadgets are made for government agencies exclusively and produced in exact quantities as per agency purchase orders,” I point out.
James takes a minute before he repeats, “With the right kind of money, there’s little that can’t be bought.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Jasper slams the door wide.
“It’s Luna...”
“I’M FINE!”
I just get out of the car when I hear Luna’s angry voice. She’s sitting on the porch steps of Kerry’s house and is batting away Blackfoot’s hands from her head. I’m not sure how he got here so fast.
“I was barely out,” Luna snaps angrily when Keith persists examining her head. She’s got some blood in her hair.
“The neighbor called 911 because she couldn’t wake you. There’s blood on your head, Luna. Dammit.” He parts her hair and a nice cut becomes visible. “Good thing I was around the corner, or you would’ve walked off without medical care. I know you.”
I’m surprised at the familiarity between the two. “ER, Luna,” I order. “Right after you tel
l us what happened.”
“Fine,” she grumbles.
“Why can’t you be that agreeable with me?” Keith asks and is rewarded with a ball-shriveling glare. “Never mind.” I hear him say under his breath.
“I stopped at the bookstore, like you asked,” she says to me. “Forwarded the phone, picked up the mail and a few messages, and was just hanging up a sign on the door when the guy from the hardware store walked in the back. About gave me a heart attack, and probably vice versa, since he barely got a foot inside the door before he was staring down the barrel of my gun. Anyway, I explained Kerry had been called away on a family emergency, and I was making sure the shop was properly closed off. I could tell he wasn’t buying it, but it helped when I showed him my badge. Still, he said he’d keep an eye on the place, make sure the mail doesn’t pile up and stuff, just like he’d been doing. I told him sure and was about to lock up when the old man mentioned a large SUV he’d seen do a slow drive-by a few times in the past couple of days.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I should’ve paid better attention, because when I pulled into Kerry’s driveway, I noticed a dark brown Suburban parked in front of the house. It looked familiar, which is maybe why I wasn’t as cautious as I should’ve been. Or maybe because I didn’t want to be running errands when an important meeting was taking place.” The last she directs at me. I just shrug it off. She can be irritated all she wants, but she fucked up when she let down her guard. “Next thing I know I’m on the ground, feeling like my head was just caved in. The last thing I remember was watching a pair of argyle socks in Ferragamos walking away and thinking that didn’t look exactly like mountain attire.”
Blackfoot is faster than me and is already barking instructions to send a few units to Willough’s place into his phone. Apparently he’d come to the same conclusion I had.
Only one man in La Plata County who’d be vain enough to traipse through the mountains in those ugly-ass designer shoes.
CHAPTER 22
Kerry
“I’m heading out!”
Bella is hollering up from the bottom of the stairs. She has a full day of orientation at Mercy today before she starts her first shift on Monday.
“Have a great day!” I yell back.
Damian already left for work about an hour ago. I’d barely seen him in the last week. Since Luna got hit over the head and was ordered to take sick leave, he’d been shorthanded. According to Damian, she was knocked unconscious by Bruce Willoughs. I still can’t believe the immaculate millionaire, with a penchant for pretty things, would risk getting his hands dirty like that. I’d like to know what the hell he was doing ransacking my house, but he’s been in the wind ever since.
Frustrating—especially since I’d hoped with Sinclair out of the way, I’d be safe to get back to my house and shop. Not that I don’t love it here, because I do. It’s gorgeous, and it doesn’t hurt that despite his busy days, Damian always ends up curved around me at night. But I miss my stuff, my store, and my customers. Besides, without Marya to back me up, I was forced to keep the store closed. She had a long recovery ahead of her. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. I spoke to her a few times on the phone and know her mother and aunt brought her boys back to town and are looking after her. Last time we talked, she mentioned she was thinking about heading up to stay with her aunt in Silverton for a while. I told her that might be a good idea and that her job would still be there when she came back. How exactly, I don’t know, since every day the store’s doors stay closed, I lose income. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to tough it out.
So when it came to going back to work, I argued hard, but now that Willoughs was out there somewhere, Damian felt it better to hold off on returning to business as usual for a bit. He’d even contacted Malachi, my friend Kim’s husband, to see if he could keep his ear to the ground on Willoughs’ whereabouts. Of course, that resulted in Kim blowing up my phone until I finally caved and answered it. Needless to say, she was pissed the hell off that I’d been keeping some things from her and insisted she was packing up Asher and driving out here right away. Luckily Mal had been there and intervened, but it had gotten a little ugly.
Damian had brought back my laptop, and I kept myself busy updating my web store and managing emails and messages that were coming in from customers who were concerned when they found the store closed. A lot of work, but little to show for it in revenue.
The one financial highlight was the recovery of the box of first edition American classics I had dropped five grand on. It was found in Willoughs’ home office. Even though it was being kept as evidence for now, chances were good I’ll get them back, provided there were no stolen items in there. Keeping my fingers crossed.
It’s pretty clear the box that disappeared from my car had held the missing stolen works. Hearing Damian tell it, the estimated total value is in excess of twenty-five or so million dollars. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I heard that, to think I was toting around more money in the back of my ratty old wagon than I’d likely ever see in my lifetime.
I’m just on my way downstairs to refresh my coffee when my phone rings. Now that I’m basically camping out in Damian’s bed every night, he suggested I use the spare room as an office. I left my phone on the small desk in there and rush back in before it stops ringing.
“Hello?” I answer a bit out of breath.
“Gypsy,” Damian’s familiar rumble comes over the line. “Did you reset the alarm when Bella left?”
Shit. Totally forgot his very specific instructions.
“Just about to do that,” I lie through my teeth. “How did you know she just left anyway?” He just chuckles. “You made her promise to call, didn’t you? Dammit, Damian. If I didn’t like you a whole bunch, I’d be really—”
“I like you a whole bunch, too, honey.” I can hear the smile in his voice when he interrupts me. Every time I get worked up about something, he finds a way to disarm me. Sometimes it’s the things he says, and sometimes it’s just the way he touches me or looks at me. Funny how I don’t seem to question his integrity anymore. I’m not ready to admit it, it’s too soon and things are too chaotic now, but I think I’m in love. And the kicker is I think he feels the same way about me.
“Kerry? I’ll be home at around six. Be ready to go grab a bite in town. I’ve made reservations at the Mahogany Grill for seven thirty.”
My inner teenager jumps up and down. Perhaps a case of putting the cart before the horse, but the prospect of dressing up and going out on a proper date with him is making me giddy.
“Isn’t that at the Strater Hotel?”
“Sure is. It’s their upscale restaurant. Why?”
“Well...” I hesitate, not wanting to insult him. “Do you think I could still dress up if we went to the Diamond Belle?” The sound of his laugh makes me smile.
“You want saloon fare over fine dining?” he teases. “You know you’re near perfect, right?”
“Near?” I sputter, mock insulted.
“Perfection is boring, but near perfection? There isn’t a thing more intriguing, more tantalizing, more beautiful than that. See you at six, honey.”
The phone has gone dead against my ear, but I barely notice since, once again, his words leave me mute and feeling all quivery inside.
The moment clarity hits me, I move like someone lit a fire under my feet. I have nothing to wear. It takes me all of two minutes to empty out the bags I’ve been living out of the last couple of days. All clothes selected for comfort, and therefore, none suitable for a date. I look at the pile of discarded items on the spare bed to see if anything salvageable jumps out at me. What I wouldn’t give for my little black dress to have found its way into one of my bags. All I have to work with are two pairs of jeans, some leggings, yoga pants, a collection of oversized shirts, a few tunics, and my bright floral kimono. Well, hell.
Resigned to go on my first real date with Damian wearing my ratty old jeans, I grab my discarded coffee cup and head
downstairs for that almost-forgotten refill. I remember to reset the alarm on the way to the kitchen. On the counter, by the coffee pot, is a note from Bella with her cell phone number and instructions to call her if there’s anything I need from town.
A light bulb goes off and I rush back upstairs to grab my phone.
“Bella?”
“Kerry? Everything okay?” she answers with a worried edge to her voice.
“Fine, it’s fine. Look, I’m sorry to bother you but I have a quick question.”
“Shoot,” she prompts me.
“Damian’s taking me out to dinner tonight and I don’t—”
“Have anything to wear,” she finishes my sentence on a giggle.
“Bingo,” I sigh.
“No worries. What size shoes?”
“Eight.”
“Mmmm, I’m a seven-and-a-half, but feel free to go through my closet,” she giggles again. “I bring my entire closet with me when I travel. Damian almost had a heart attack when he offered to bring in my bag and ended up hoisting a bag and two suitcases from the trunk of my little car.” I smile at the visual. “Anything in my closet is yours, but I suggest the little black stretchy number. Best purchase I ever made. Almost a one-size-fits-all because of the material. Try it,” she urges.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Oh my God. The moment I pull the stretchy number over my body and check it out in the full-length mirror in Bella’s closet, I’m the one about to have a heart attack. There is not one thing on my body hidden under this material. How Bella manages to pull off this dress with her voluptuous curves, I have no idea. Nothing but a full body corset would be enough for it to look good on me. Like a second skin, the material clings to every damn lump and roll. Dejected, I plop down on her bed when my eye catches sight of a pair of multicolored sling-back wedges of manageable height in the bottom of the closet. It gives me an idea.
With the wedges in hand, still wearing the little black number, I rush to the pile on my bed.