by Amy Vansant
She eyed the waterspout, trying to remember the exact place Corentine would have gripped it and where her fingers would have touched. It took a few tries, dusting up and down the spout before she spotted two perfect fingerprints.
“Bingo!”
She found the tape for lifting the prints and gathered them. Replacing the box’s lid to use it as a table, she pressed the tape to the provided white paper and the prints appeared as if they’d been printed there.
Charlotte grinned.
“Not bad for a toy.”
Tossing everything back into the box, she strode back to the car.
“Done. Home Jeeves.”
Declan shifted into drive. “You are way too perky for a woman whose house just burned down.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte stood behind Declan as he opened his front door. The early morning sun had lost its wrestling match with the heavy cloud cover and officially given up. The hurricane would be on them by the end of the day, and the early bands of the storm stretched across the ominous sky above him.
Abby pushed past Declan to run around his house, sniffing every corner as if she’d never been there before.
Declan dodged to avoid being knocked over as the Wheaten ran past. “Don’t worry. I haven’t been cheating on you with other dogs,” he called after her.
Charlotte stretched her neck and then let her head hang behind her like a sweatshirt hood. “I’m going to hit the wall soon and I haven’t figured out anything,” she grumbled. Her eyelids had suddenly been weighted by sandbags.
Declan flipped on a light. “On the upside, you didn’t die in a fire.”
“There’s that.”
Charlotte put the fingerprint book on Declan’s kitchen counter and sat on a bar stool preparing to flip through it.
“You’re going to compare the prints now? Why don’t you get some sleep?”
She shook her head. “Someone gave this print to Frank for a reason. I have to figure out why before they try to burn down your house.”
Declan frowned. “That reminds me. I have a few things to set up too.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s call it a firebug early detection system. But first, how about I make some coffee?”
Charlotte rubbed her eyes. “That sounds like a brilliant idea.”
As Declan filled his carafe with water, Charlotte pulled out Frank’s anonymously delivered fingerprint and began turning pages, comparing the images.
“Policework must have been a nightmare before computers,” she said. Her eyes kept crossing, as if they were made of steel and she had a magnet on the bridge of her nose.
As the coffee percolated, Declan disappeared into the back and reappeared ten minutes later, clean and wearing clothes not covered in soot.
Charlotte whistled.
“Thank you. I feel much better,” said Declan, heading for the coffee.
“Not you. I think I found it. Take a look.”
Declan leaned across the counter to see.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“That looks like it.”
She pointed to the initials in the lower right corner. “C.F.”
“And those initials represent the witness’s real name? Or new name?”
“Real, supposedly, but Corentine Flores has me wondering.”
“That’s the name that woman is using now, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But let’s see.”
She opened the fingerprinting kit and retrieved the sheet with the transferred rain spout print.
The two of them compared all three prints in silence.
“They match,” said Declan.
“They do.”
“So, Corentine Flores is in the witness protection program?”
“I guess so.”
“But she didn’t change her name?”
“Maybe she kept the same initials.”
“Good way to avoid replacing her monogrammed luggage.”
Charlotte laughed. “I’m sure that was big on her mind as she left her family and everything she knew forever.” She pulled her lip, thinking. “So why was she threatening Jack?”
He handed her a mug. “Who’s Jack again?”
“Thank you. Ted’s neighbor. The one who tried to close the door on us.”
“Right. Who’s Ted again?”
“The guy who fell off a ladder.” She raised her hands to curve air-quotes around the last four words.
“Got it. If you’d just call them Jerkface and Ladder Guy that would help me out. I’m terrible with names.”
“Will do. Can I borrow your car?”
Declan scowled. “What don’t you get about me not letting you out of my sight? Someone is trying to kill you.”
“You too, probably.”
“All the more reason we should stick together.”
“But I need to confront Corentine—” Charlotte gasped.
“What?”
“I’ve got an idea. Must be the coffee. Corentine doesn’t know you.”
“So?”
“You’re so square-looking.”
Declan put a hand on his chest. “Ouch. That came out of nowhere.”
“No, I mean you’re so clean-cut and square-jawed. You could easily be a marshal.”
“You want me to go to Corentine’s and pretend to be a federal agent?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine that’s illegal.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Misdemeanor at best.”
“How will we find her?”
“She works for Sunny Day Cleaning Company. I saw the logo on her car. And we have her alias. We can probably look her up on the Internet.”
Charlotte felt her pockets and then groaned. “I can’t believe I left my phone at the house. I feel naked.”
“You are wearing pajamas.”
“Where’s your laptop?”
“On the sofa.”
Charlotte moved to get the laptop, but didn’t sit on the sofa. She still needed a shower and she could feel Declan’s eyes on her. “Don’t worry, I won’t sit on your nice clean sofa.”
She brought the laptop back to the counter and did a search for Corentine.
“Hm. I can’t find an address for her. Not even a Facebook page.”
“She’s in witness protection. Why would she be all over social media?”
“Great point.”
Charlotte shifted gears and looked up the cleaning company website.
“I need your phone.”
Declan handed it over and she dialed. A woman with a Hispanic accent answered.
“Sunny Day Cleaning. How can I help you?”
“Hieee...” Charlotte adopted her best vocal-fry voice. “Can I speak to Corentine?”
“This is Corentine.”
Charlotte put her hand over the phone and mouthed the words it’s her to Declan.
He gave her two thumbs up—a little sarcastically, she thought.
She returned her attention to the call. “Oh purrfect. A friend of a friend said you’re the best.”
“That’s good to hear. How can I help you?”
“Uh...” Charlotte’s mind raced, trying to divine a logical reason why someone would need an emergency cleaning, hours before a hurricane. She spotted a flyer on Declan’s counter announcing Uncle Seamus’ Hurricane party at his new bar.
Aha! That’ll do.
“We’re having a hurricane party and I need the house cleaned like, yesterday.”
She heard Corentine sigh on the other side of the line. “How big is the house?”
“Oh, no clue. Sweetums, how big is the house?”
Declan cocked an eyebrow at her. “About eighteen hundred square feet.”
“About eighteen hundred,” she repeated into the phone. “Could you do it today? It’s not super bad. It just needs a good once-over and I don’t have the time.”
Another sigh from Corentine. “I’ve let my staff go for the storm, but I could swing by. It has to be now though. I
need to get home, too.”
“OMG, you’re, like, a goddess. Thank you.” Charlotte rattled off Declan’s address. “See you soon.”
Charlotte disconnected and smiled at Declan. “That was easy.”
“Never let that voice come out of your face again. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.”
“Totes. I’m going to get a shower.”
“Please.”
She motioned to him. “She’s on her way. Put on something a little more preppy.”
“What? Why? You still want me to play Marshal?”
She nodded. “She might recognize me, so I need you to let her in and try and get her to admit who she is.”
“Oh that should be easy. People love bragging about how they’re in witness protection.”
“I know, but you’re so clever.”
He smirked. “Don’t sweet talk me.”
“I wouldn’t dream—”
“And don’t forget admitting she’s in witness protection doesn’t mean she’s responsible for any of the murders... or your fire.”
“No. That will be phase two. She saw me with Frank. I can come in and arrest her.”
Declan barked a laugh. “You’re going to burst out of the shower and scream Freeze?”
“I’ll be dressed by then.”
“You’re missing the important part. You aren’t a cop.”
“But, I can pretend to be.” She thought for a moment. “Do you have handcuffs?”
“So your plan is to add false imprisonment to our impersonating law enforcement charges. Why do I feel like this plan isn’t well thought out?”
Charlotte rubbed her face. “Fine. Fair enough. I’ll work it out in the shower. I think better there.”
She turned to head for the bathroom.
“Wait.”
She turned, hopeful he’d already come up with a better plan, suspecting her own sleepy brain was way too fuzzy to come up with anything better, shower or not.
“When we confront her...”
Declan paused.
“Yes?”
“Can I wait until after she’s cleaned the house?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Declan changed into his most-square pair of khakis and a black polo. Short of wearing a badge, he thought he looked as official and bland as possible. He wished he’d thought to bring some of the fake badges he’d seen in the pawn shop’s secret weapons room.
He paused, remembering the small cardboard box of badges.
I assume they’re fake...
Knowing Seamus, they probably weren’t.
Charlotte appeared wearing one of his t-shirts draping lower than her shorts, giving her the illusion of being pantless.
“Are you wearing shorts?” he asked.
She lifted the shirt to reveal a pair of his running shorts, tied extra tight so they puckered around her waist.
Declan chuckled. “I don’t think she’ll buy you’re a federal officer. You look like a hobo.”
“Thank you.”
There was a knock on the door and Charlotte took off in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll be hiding back here.”
Declan heard a thunk as Abby jumped off his bed. The dog skittered out of the bedroom and Charlotte grabbed her collar as she tried to pass on her way to the front door. “I’ll take her with me.”
“Good call.”
Charlotte disappeared into the back, dragging the vexed Wheaten with her.
Declan cleared his throat and opened the door.
“You called a cleaning service?” asked a short, caramel-colored woman with black hair and a thick Hispanic accent.
“Hi, yes. You must be Corentine. My wife said you’d be here soon. Come on in.”
Corentine’s shoulders seemed to release and her serious expression softened. She entered carrying a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Setting down the bucket, she scanned the room.
“It looks very clean already.”
Declan smiled. He wasn’t so deep undercover he couldn’t take a compliment. In truth, he’d been a little hurt Charlotte even implied his house needed to be cleaned. He’d worked on perfecting it for their hurricane vacation together.
“Thank you.”
Corentine looked nervously down the hall. “Did I hear a dog?”
“She’s locked in the bedroom. We’ll move her to another room when you get back there.”
She nodded. “Do you have a broom, mop, vacuum? I have some in the car.”
“I have all that. I also have something I need to talk to you about.”
Corentine scowled. “Yes?”
“My name is Marshal Bingham. I’m here to replace Jamie Moriarty.”
Declan grimaced.
I really wish I had a badge to flash right now.
He didn’t know why she’d believe a word without a badge, but he held his breath and waited for her response.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her accent seemed to grow even thicker.
Declan thought about his options. He could be the heavy. He could threaten...
Let’s try reassuring first.
Declan held up his palms. “It’s okay. You haven’t been compromised.”
“Mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about but I think I should go.” Corentine grabbed her bucket and bolted for the door. Declan sidestepped to block her way.
And here’s where the false imprisonment starts.
“Please, don’t make this more difficult. The office wants to move you, but I thought I’d come here and ask you if you wanted a new location.”
He wasn’t sure how the idea had come to him, but Corentine’s demeanor changed. She relaxed and put down the bucket, an air of resignation settling over her as if she’d made a decision.
“I don’t want to move.”
She sounded tired. She also no longer sounded Hispanic.
Interesting.
He took it as a sign that his gamble had paid off and she’d resigned herself to the idea he knew exactly who she was.
He motioned to the sofa. “Please sit.”
She nodded and walked to the sofa to sit, crossing her hands in her lap.
He took a seat in the chair across from her, confident he could leap up and block her if she tried to run again.
“Now before we get into this, I have to ask you about—” the word Jerkface jumped to mind.
Shoot that isn’t his name. What was his name? Ah—
“Jack.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know about him?”
Time to look smug.
“I know everything. I don’t think I have to remind you that waving guns at people violates your terms.”
Declan sat, holding his smug expression, worried he’d said too much. Charlotte told him she thought she saw a gun in her hand.
Corentine grimaced. “I think he’s setting me up.”
She spoke with a new accent Declan couldn’t place.
“Setting you up, how?” he asked.
“Someone called me out to that house where the man was dead at the ladder. They wanted me to be there. Then someone called me to the golf house. Same thing. And he was both places. I thought it had to be him.”
“Why would someone do that?”
She looked at him as if he were stupid. “You know.”
Declan pretended to pull a fuzzy from his khakis, stalling for time as he thought.
Something from her past. Something in her records I should know. How can I explain why don’t I know? Ah, when in doubt, blame Jamie.
“Jamie didn’t leave us with the best notes.”
Corentine nodded. “No. I know. That’s what the other guy said on the phone.”
Declan nodded, pretending to know what she meant. He guessed the U.S. Marshals had already been in contact.
He decided to shift back to his original ploy in order to gain her trust. She’d made it clear staying in Charity was important to her.
“He wanted to m
ove you. I stepped in to stop that.”
She frowned. “He promised me I wouldn’t lose my business and I could stay here. He swore on it.”
Declan caught how she said on like awn and pegged her from the Philadelphia or Baltimore area.
He nodded, trying to look as empathetic as possible. “I’ll be honest with you, that’s why I stepped in. You’ve built a life for yourself here.”
“I learned Spanish,” she said, her voice stressed to convey to him how hard that had been. “I’m not even Hispanic. I’m half black. I thought it would take me deeper uncover, you know?”
“I know. Very smart. We wish all witnesses were as, uh, dedicated as you. You’ve done great.”
She hung her head. “I’m exhausted. You have to help me. I’ve paid with my whole life to be here.”
Declan felt confident he had her trust. Now he could start getting the answers they needed.
“Do you know Jack?”
She head snapped up. “No. But how could he know about my thing except from you guys?”
Declan remained silent, lost again. Before he could panic, Corentine continued.
“Oh right. You might not know about that part.” She took a deep breath. “I killed three people. A thing to do with my childhood. I dunno. I’m still in therapy, but I’m doing really well.”
Declan’s jaw started to creak open and he closed it.
“Okay...”
“I had them give me immunity for the natural disaster killings when I made my deal to flip.”
“Natural disaster killings?”
She nodded. “During big storms. One tornado. People don’t look into murders that look like storm accidents.”
Declan heard a gasp behind him and grimaced.
Charlotte.
Corentine’s head swiveled in the direction of the hall. “Who’s there?”
She stood and Declan reached out to grab her wrist to keep her from running.
“Come out, Char.”
Charlotte stepped into the room.
“You,” said Corentine. She jerked her hand from Declan’s grasp. “What is this? Who are you two?”
Charlotte held up her palms, as if trying to quiet a skittish horse.
“It’s okay. We just need to know some things.”
Corentine gaped at Declan. “You’re not a marshal, are you?”
“No. But we’re looking in to who killed Ladder Guy.”
Corentine slapped crossed hands to her chest. “It wasn’t me. Someone is trying to set me up, I told you.”