Outside, Gary’s backyard was shrouded in shadows, with streetlights out front providing the only illumination. She listened. Nothing but a few crickets and a distant roar of traffic.
She’d mentally rehearsed how she could enter Gary’s residence a hundred times in her head. She knew which window she’d break, confident the shattering glass was far enough away that it wouldn’t alert another neighbor. Gary didn’t have an alarm system—obviously he didn’t want the police to respond to a break-in and find his stash—so she could just climb in undetected.
She’d make sure she got in and out in less than sixty minutes.
This would be an illegal search. Nothing she found would have any evidentiary value. She wouldn’t take anything, but hoped to find a clue, stumble across something that would lead to admissible evidence.
If she found Danny’s ring, she’d leave it and return later with a warrant.
Her heart hammered inside her chest as she approached the window she’d selected. Moisture from damp grass seeped into her shoes. Could she—should she—do this? If she entered Gary’s home without his permission or knowledge, she’d be crossing a line no one should ever breach. Much less a cop. If she got caught, she would end her career.
Worse, she’d become one of the bad guys. She’d be as corrupt as the criminals she’d sworn to hunt down. Breaking and entering was a felony.
But so was murder.
She reached for the hammer in her pocket, gripped the smooth wooden shaft and hesitated. Was she out for justice or revenge? Had she become some rogue vigilante who was willing to do anything to achieve her own ends?
No, that’s not me.
She lowered the hammer and backed away from the window. What the hell am I doing?
Making another bad decision, that’s what, one that could destroy her life forever. B and E was worse than anything her mother had ever done or didn’t do.
Lana couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t become a criminal in order to punish one. Talk about bad choices.
She’d have to find another way.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, Lana pushed open the glass doors of South Miami Fitness and entered a large open space with a dozen ceiling fans circling overhead. She winced at the distinctive sound of a heavy weight colliding with the floor.
She moved toward the reception desk, where a young, fit female clerk, with her blond hair tied back in a ponytail, spoke on the phone. Her name tag read Heather.
Heather smiled at Lana and raised a finger as a signal to wait.
Lana nodded and surveyed the room, finding a clientele both old and young, both male and female. The facility contained a dizzying abundance of step machines, treadmills, stationary bicycles and gleaming stainless steel apparatuses with varying weights for strength training.
But the patrons on this equipment weren’t who she needed to talk to.
She needed to locate the hard-core gym rats, men and some women with oversize biceps looking to make their muscles even larger. Stronger. Every gym had them. In her experience, they clustered around the free weights.
She focused on the far side of the huge room, where the walls were covered with mirrors. Sure enough, a multitude of weights were racked against the wall. That was where she’d find Gary’s friends.
And his customers.
“May I help you?” Heather inquired.
“Yes, thank you,” Lana said. “My name is Karen, and I’m interested in your free week membership to check out this gym.”
“Certainly. Let me arrange for a tour for you, Karen.”
The clerk summoned an equally fit young man of about twenty-eight named Glenn. Maintaining a steady sales pitch about the wonders of South Miami Fitness, Glenn led Lana around the facility and demonstrated how to use the various strength machines. Lana kept shifting her gaze toward the free-weight zone but knew Gary wasn’t pumping iron today. When she’d left home, his car had been in his driveway. He hadn’t returned home by the time she’d finally fallen asleep last night, so most likely he’d had a late night.
“Do you prefer free weights?” Glenn asked, following her focus. “I can tell you already work out.”
Lana shrugged. “When I have time.” Which isn’t often with my new shift.
After the tour, Glenn paused outside the women’s locker room and motioned for her to go inside. “You’ll find showers and lockers, a sauna and steam room for women only. Continue on back and you’ll find our four-lane lap pool and a hot tub. Those are coed.”
“Sounds great,” Lana said.
“We have aquatic aerobics three days a week. On your way out, be sure to pick up a schedule of all our classes. We have over ten a day.”
The guy was a great pitchman, and despite the fact she had access to a free police gym, Lana found herself intrigued by all this fitness center had to offer. Certainly a much larger variety of equipment than the police facility.
“Do you want to begin your free week today?” Glenn asked.
“Yeah, I thought I would.”
“Great.” Glenn handed her his business card and shook her hand. “Come see me when you make a decision. Enjoy your workout.”
Lana wandered over to the free-weight section and immediately felt out of place amid the giants and their pumped-up muscles. Only one other woman used this section—and, wow, she had some serious biceps—but Lana refused to feel intimidated. She had every right to be here.
She picked up a ten-pound weight, lifted it overhead and initiated a lift for her triceps, pretending to observe her form in the mirror, but actually surveilling the other patrons.
The musclemen ignored her. These guys weren’t here to hook up like the patrons in other sections of the gym. During her tour she’d felt like a slab of new meat on display as men checked her out. But here the guys were serious about bodybuilding. Some looked as if they could be genuine competitors in a Mr. Whoever contest and resented an obvious wimp like her invading their testosterone-laced territory.
But did these guys use anabolic steroids to achieve their muscle-mag-cover-worthy bodies. And did they purchase their goodies from her neighbor? That was what she was here to find out.
She didn’t smile at anyone, didn’t make eye contact and didn’t initiate any conversation while she went through an upper-body routine, wanting to project the appearance of a serious athlete. Her new schedule would allow her to visit this gym every day before her shift. She’d do a lower-body workout tomorrow.
Considering Gary’s late nights, she doubted he worked out in the mornings. But if he did, so much the better. She’d watch how he interacted with the bodybuilders. See if he negotiated any business.
Detective Clark had said she needed better evidence of dealing, and what better place to find it than right here?
She’d dismissed Chip’s worry about Gary thinking it strange if she showed up at his gym. Gary knew she was looking for a place to work out, and this gym was the closest to their address.
But she’d wait until the end of her trial period to ask any questions. Let the regulars get used to her face and body, and then she’d inquire if anyone knew where she could purchase something to speed up the process.
If her inquiries directed her to Gary, then she’d have the evidence Detective Clark required. Yeah, Gary might be shocked, but so what? In his eyes, she’d just morph into another paying customer, looking to get jacked.
He didn’t know she was a cop. Not yet, anyway.
* * *
AFTER CLASS ON MONDAY, as he’d done every day since his father’s heart attack, Chip visited his father in the hospital and then drove to his parents’ home to help prepare for Dad’s homecoming. A huge medical-supply delivery truck rumbled away as he parked in the driveway. Chip entered the house and stared inside the bedroom he’d slept in for most of his life.
With an adjustable hospital bed, oxygen tank and bedside table, this once-familiar space now resembled a bleak medical center.
Over the past week, he’d picked through his childhood mementos and youthful belongings. Everything was now stored in the garage, in his car or in a pile for delivery to a charity for the homeless. Or the garbage.
Chip shut the door. He had no use for nostalgia. He needed to shake off this ridiculous sense of loss, the sense that he no longer belonged in this house.
His father was coming home. His old man had survived open-heart triple-bypass surgery. He regained more strength every day. If Dad put in the work at rehab—and Chip knew he would—he’d make a full recovery. That was all that mattered right now.
Chip went in search of his sister. Maybe this was no longer his home, but so what? He had a new place to lay his head at night. His thoughts drifted to Lana, and he immediately pulled them back. No point in going there.
He found Jan in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
“Mom just called,” she said. “Dad’s in the wheelchair and they’re on their way.”
Chip nodded. “Everything is ready here.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea for Dad to convalesce at home?” Jan asked as she chopped green peppers for a salad.
“There’ll be nurses here 24/7,” Chip said. “We’ve rented all the equipment that would be in a room at a rehab center.”
“But what if there’s an emergency?”
“Like what?”
Jan shot him a look. “Another heart attack.”
“That won’t happen.”
“How do you know?”
“If it does, we’ll call 911. That’s what they’d do at the rehab center.”
Jan shook her head, but remained silent as she sliced a tomato.
“What are you really worried about?” Chip asked.
Jan sighed. “I guess I’m worried it’ll be too much for Mom. She hasn’t left the hospital since he was admitted.”
“Recovering at home was her idea.”
“I know.” Jan cleaned her hands on a paper towel and faced Chip. “I’m going to get over here as much as I can to relieve her, encourage her to get out of the house. You need to do the same.”
“Okay, but why? We’re paying for professional caregivers,” Chip said.
“She won’t trust them to watch over Dad. Remember how she didn’t trust the nurses in the hospital?”
“But you think she’d trust one of us?”
“Family, yes. Look, I understand you have a rough schedule, so I’m going to ask Lana to come over one day a week to help Mom.”
Chip sucked in a quick breath. “Lana isn’t family.”
Jan smiled. “Oh, I think she qualifies. You guys are living together and we’ve known her forever.”
“She’s my roommate,” Chip said. “That’s all.”
“Yeah, right,” Jan said, shaking her head.
“And she’s already got a job,” Chip said. “Lana is searching for a murderer. She’s not interested in nursing Dad or babysitting Mom.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Jan said as she tossed her salad. “I remember Lana well. She was a sweet kid who wanted to save every injured creature in the neighborhood.”
“Not anymore. She’s a cop now.”
Jan rolled her eyes. “I know she’s a police officer.”
“And she’s got a rough schedule, too.”
“When I spoke to her at the hospital, she offered to help however she could. She told me she doesn’t go on duty until three, so she’s available in the mornings.”
“I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
Jan whirled to face him. “And why not?”
Chip blinked. Why not indeed?
“Mom is on board,” Jan continued. “She’s looking forward to getting reacquainted with Lana. Before Dad got sick, she asked me several times if it was too soon to have you guys over for a family dinner.”
Chip swallowed. Mom wanted to ask Lana over for a meal? Man, was his mother going to be disappointed. Great.
His parents’ home had become a refuge during the past week, a haven away from Lana, where he didn’t have to think about her dangerous activities and his insane need to protect a trained cop who didn’t need or want his protection.
But how was he supposed to stop worrying about her? He loved her. He’d loved her since that funeral for her parakeet in the fourth grade. Of course he didn’t want anything to happen to her.
He needed to forget about her, but if she came here to help out—and he had no doubt Lana would be happy to do whatever she could—his emotional ties to her would dig in that much deeper, would be that much harder to sever. She was like a benign virus he couldn’t get rid of.
Jeez. Apparently his entire family believed that he and Lana would be announcing their engagement any day now. Jan had likely already started planning a wedding shower. Or maybe even the wedding. He couldn’t burst their bubble in the middle of a much more serious family crisis. The Peterson clan needed good news, not bad.
“I guess it would be okay,” Chip muttered.
“Good.” Jan turned back to her salad. “Maybe Tuesdays would work out. I know she’s off Monday, so she wouldn’t be up late working the night before.”
At a noise in the front room, Jan said, “Oh, there’s Brian and the girls.” She checked the time. “Mom and Dad should arrive any minute. You can set the table.”
Chip reached into the cabinet for plates but withdrew his arm. “Should I set a place for Dad?”
His gaze locked with his sister. She bit her bottom lip.
“I guess not,” Jan said softly, her voice catching. “He’ll be too weak to sit at the table.”
Chip hurried over to hug her. “We’ll get through this.”
“I know,” Jan said as her daughters rushed into the kitchen, demanding something cold to drink.
When his nieces stampeded out of the kitchen with their mother, Chip selected tableware and moved to the dining room to set the table. He ought to be grateful that Lana was on duty tonight so Jan couldn’t invite her over for dinner.
He couldn’t disappoint his family right now. When his father had recovered, he’d announce something glib like, hey, it just hadn’t worked out with Lana. She’d have moved back to her apartment by then.
If she hadn’t already.
Her cold case was going nowhere, but she’d never give up. He admired her determination even if that bulldog attitude meant they had no future together. She’d chosen her investigation over him.
Every time he entered their home, he expected to find a note and her clothing gone. Sooner or later he would.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE NEXT SUNDAY, the last day of her free trial at South Miami Fitness, Lana replaced the weights on the rack and stretched her triceps. She winced at the soreness as she searched in the mirror for Fritz, a bulked-up trainer who’d helped with her workout several times, correcting her body mechanics, demonstrating better methods. He also spent a lot of time trying to convince her to hire him. She’d shown interest because if anyone in this gym used steroids, Fritz was her man.
She hadn’t run into Gary once all week, but from eavesdropping had learned he worked out in the evenings after work. Although the resident gym pusher could be another Gary.
Yeah, right. Another Gary who worked out in this gym was the go-to source for something to get jacked quicker? They even called him “The Shotman.” How sick was that?
Fritz approached wearing his usual huge grin. Lana returned his smile. No question Fritz was a good-looking dude, but the size of his overworked biceps turned her off. She preferred the muscles in Chip’s arms and shoulders.
But then she liked everything about Chip. Well, almost everything.
She’d barely spoken to him in a
week because of the time he spent with his family, which of course was where he should be. She missed him, wished she could really talk to him, ask how his dad was doing, how he was doing. But their conversation would inevitably circle back to Dan’s murder. He’d ask if she’d given up her investigation, and of course she hadn’t. She couldn’t. Not yet.
What would he say if he knew she’d joined the gym?
He’d go ballistic, that’s what. How could she love a man who issued demands? A man like her father. And her brother.
“Hey, pretty lady,” Fritz said. “How’s it going?”
Lana shook her head in disgust and flexed her right biceps. “I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere.”
“You say the word, and Fritz will train you right.”
“What do you recommend?” Lana asked.
“We’d start with three sessions a week for the first month, then drop it to one session to keep you motivated and moving forward.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like that will take forever.”
He laughed. “You’ve only been at it a week or two. The body you want takes time.”
“I’ve heard there’s other ways.” Lana looked around the area as if checking to see if anyone listened. She lowered her voice. “Quicker ways.”
“Quicker ways?” Fritz repeated with a frown.
“Yeah,” Lana said. “I heard some of the guys talk about somebody named Gary who has a product that achieves faster results.”
Remaining silent, Fritz folded his beefy arms and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Do you know this Gary?” she prompted.
“Gary S.” Fritz nodded. “The Shotman. Yeah, I know him.”
“Does he come here?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Lana glanced around again, pretending to search. “Is he here? What’s he look like?”
“He only comes at night.”
“Oh,” Lana said. “I work at night.”
“Too bad,” Fritz said.
“Can you hook me up?”
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