No One To Trust: Rockford Security Mystery Series

by Dobbs, L. A.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Chase. We have your DNA on file. We can place you in the casino at the time of the murder. Possibly even in Warren Bryant’s office.”

  Shit. He’d been careful when he’d went there earlier, but perhaps not careful enough. The police had obviously been there once already, considering almost everything in Bryant’s office had been removed, but what if they’d gone back a second time? What if his crazy attraction to Bryant’s daughter had made him reckless? He eyed Moore and kept his mouth shut.

  And what if Moore was baiting him? He might’ve dropped out of law school, but he still remembered the tricks of the trade.

  Silent seconds ticked by like centuries. In the distance he heard muffled conversations and the smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted through the air. Moore scooted her seat back and stood, the scrape of metal screeching against the linoleum floor. “Fine, Mr. Evans. If that’s the way you want to play this, I’ll just tell the District Attorney you aren’t cooperating.”

  So much for not getting on her bad side.

  He hung his head. “I was at the Lucky Ace on legitimate business. You can ask my boss.”

  She arched a speculative brow. “Sleeping with the client is a part of your legitimate business?”

  Jaw tense, he struggled to keep his tone even. “I did not sleep with Katherine Bryant.”

  “Then why was your hair on her pillow? What about your belt? It was covered with fingerprints and trace skin cells from both of you.”

  Chase scrubbed his hands over his face, praying the Rockfords would have his back in more than word only. “Look, she came on to me, all right? But I didn’t want any part of her. I got out of there as fast as I could. Ask Blake about that too, if you want.”

  “How do you explain the vaginal fluids on the sheets? Someone had sex in that bed.”

  Thinking about Katherine Bryant and her fluids damned near made him ill at this point, but his lawyerly instincts kicked in as well. No one cared more about proving his innocence than him. It was high time he started planning his defense. “It’s her bed. She could have had intercourse with anyone. Did you find any of my semen? My DNA, other than my hair?” He met Moore’s dark gaze direct. “No. You didn’t. Because I didn’t have sex with her.”

  The detective shrugged. “Maybe you were extra careful. Used a condom. Cleaned up well afterward.”

  “And left the sheets behind? I’m an ex-con, but I’m not stupid.” He took a deep breath. “Trust me, I wouldn’t go near that woman with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Trust you, huh?” Moore’s tone remained as flat as her expression. “That’s a pretty tall order coming from a man with your past.” She stepped a bit closer to the table and leaned in slightly. “Let’s talk about Bryant’s murder. Quite a coincidence she came on to you right before her husband ends up dead, don’t you think?”

  “Coincidence? Yes. But that will never stand up in court.”

  “Right.” She flipped open the folder again. “You were in law school weren’t you? Before your incarceration.”

  Chase did his best not to cringe, but couldn’t hide his reaction. He glanced up and caught Moore watching him closely.

  “It’s just a coincidence too then, I suppose, that Warren Bryant happened to be killed with an overdose of the same unique brand of heroin you went to prison for selling, right?”

  His blood froze and the room around him seemed to tilt on a wonky axis before thudding back into place. The same brand of heroin? What the almighty hell?

  Had Katherine been planning this to frame him all along? How would that even be possible? There was no way she could have known Chase would be assigned as bodyguard ahead of time.

  Moore sat again. “Listen. Here’s what I think took place, Mr. Evans. I think Katherine Bryant told you she would leave her husband for you, but when it came time for her to do it, she got cold feet. Therefore, having you kill Warren seemed like the best solution to her problem.”

  Chase forced himself to remain calm despite the turmoil roiling inside him. “Yeah? And when exactly would this alleged affair have occurred, Detective Moore? I’ve been out of prison for less than a week. I might’ve been a ladies’ man back in the day, but even Channing Tatum couldn’t work that fast. Never mind the fact I just met the woman for the first time the other day.”

  “Hey, if it’s the right person, sometimes it only takes once.” She flashed a small, frigid smile. “Plus, one time is enough for her to offer you a cut of her substantial inheritance if you did the deed.”

  He sat back and shook his head. “Still an awful big leap for two people who’d never met before.” Chase crossed his arms, feeling a smidge more hopeful now that the police were at least suspecting some involvement on Katherine’s part. Still not ideal by any means, but perhaps he could find more evidence to connect her to the death of her husband. “And an awful big risk on her part. You know, trusting an ex-con and all. Besides, you left out the most important fact, Detective Moore.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded, her expression stoic. “Where were you yesterday afternoon around three?”

  “Is that the time of death?”

  Moore blinked at him, unmoving.

  “Blake Rockford’s house. I’m living there temporarily until I find a place of my own.”

  “Right.” She pulled a pen from the pocket of her light gray blazer and jotted some notes in the file. “Anyone who can corroborate your whereabouts?”

  Damn. He’d been alone the whole afternoon until Blake came home. “No. But you have that time-stamped video, you can see when I went into the Bryant's condo and when I left the Lucky Ace, and I'm sure it will prove I couldn't have killed Warren Bryant.” Hadn’t Bryant’s daughter mentioned something about that. Funny, now the video that had gotten him into trouble might just be the thing that cleared him.

  “How do you know that? Do you know when he was killed.”

  "No, but I know I didn't do it. I wasn't even in the casino for more than an hour." Hopefully it wasn't the same hour within which Bryant was killed.

  "I see." Her tone indicated what she saw was his flimsy alibi and a metric ton of bullshit between where they were now with the case and the ultimate truth. She scribbled a few more things in the folder then stood. “All right, Mr. Evans. You are free to go, but do not leave the city limits. This is still an active investigation and you are still a person of interest in the case. We may need to bring you back in for additional questioning at a later time.”

  Chase gave a curt nod and waited until the door closed behind her before slumping in his seat. They didn't have enough on him to arrest him, that was good. But they'd keep looking and what if they found some stupid thing that incriminated him even if he didn't do it? His record as an ex-con wasn't going to help him. Eyes closed, he dropped his head back and wondered if he’d ever be allowed to move beyond his past and have a shot at a decent future.

  * * *

  Shelby sat in an arm chair in the corner of her stepmother’s condo a few hours later, wishing she were anywhere but there and feeling decidedly out of place. It was bad enough her dad had spent his last days tied to a woman who saw him as nothing more than a paycheck.

  Now, she had to listen to Katherine’s totally fake sobs and carrying on. God, what she wouldn’t give to be back at her shelter, caring for her stray animals. At least they gave her unconditional love and affection. No one else in her life ever had, that was for damned sure.

  Even Dad, much as she’d loved him, had strings attached to his love.

  Dad. Her chest pinched with sorrow. I miss you so much.

  “All right, let’s get started.” The two detectives stepped into the center of the spacious living room and glanced between Shelby and Katherine, who sat in the middle of the long, white-leather sectional sofa. The female officer, Detective Moore, seemed to be running the show while the other cop—Detective Troy Atkins, he’d said—hovered
in the background. Both wore badges that proclaimed they worked for the Homicide Division. Shelby still shuddered at the reminder of her dad’s murder.

  “Miss Bryant,” Detective Moore said. “We’ll start with you. Can you tell me if you noticed your father acting any differently in the days before his death?”

  Shelby flinched. Her dad dealt with rather unsavory figures on a daily basis, which meant what was normal for most people would’ve been unusual for Warren Bryant. Still, he hadn’t acted out of character, not that she was aware of anyway. “No.”

  “Okay. What about enemies? Anyone you know of who might want to cause your father harm?”

  Other than the entire criminal underbelly of Las Vegas? Shelby bit back the snarky response before it emerged. She’d never approved of her dad’s nefarious dealings, but he’d always kept her safe and provided well for her. She owed him respect for that. “Other than the transactions I’m sure you found in his business records? No.”

  “Yes.” Moore said, her voice monotone. “We are following up on some…questionable accounts on his hard drive that was taken into evidence. Now, about your father’s will. You stood to inherit a substantial sum after his death.”

  Dad’s will? Shelby’s stomach lurched. “Y-yes, but I never wanted it. His attorney’s made me sign that paperwork and promised me they’d speak to Dad about having it changed, but then—”

  “Oh, please.” Katherine scoffed from the sofa, making a show of dabbing her eyes with her hankie. “Don’t lie to the officers, Shelby. You knew. You knew that my Warren was having the will changed later this week. He was writing you out of it. But you couldn’t have that, could you?” She broke into a fresh round of tears. “It was on his calendar, his appointment with the attorney. He’d drafted up a new will and was going to show it to me that night, except he never got the chance.”

  Katherine dissolved into sobs once more and it took every ounce of Shelby’s strength not to roll her eyes. Or punch her out. Moore stared at her stepmother with cool indifference while Detective Atkins gave Shelby a quick, amused glance. The guy was attractive, in a slick, cover model sort of way, but she’d always preferred men who looked a bit rougher, a more world-weary edge. Guys like…

  Images of her unexpected meeting with Chase Evans earlier that day flooded her mind before she shoved them away. Hell. No. He was most definitely off-limits. For so many reasons she couldn’t even list them all.

  Moore interrupted Shelby’s train of thought and Katherine’s grief show with more questions. “Ms. Bryant, you said your husband was having the will changed. How so?”

  “I don’t know.” Katherine twisted her hankie between her fingers. “Like I said, I never got to see it and now it’s missing. But I can tell you he never approved of Shelby’s lifestyle. Never. In fact, they argued about it numerous times. He felt the money and the casino would be safer in my hands. Shelby knew he was going to leave most of it to me now even though I begged him not to. All I wanted was his love, not his money. But I guess Shelby wasn’t happy with the new arrangement and she…she…”

  Outraged, Shelby pushed to her feet. “Wait a damned minute. What are you implying exactly? That I had something to do with Dad’s death? Because that’s insane. I couldn’t care less if he signed everything over to the next person who walked into the Lucky Ace. Money means nothing to me. Nothing. All I cared about was Dad and now he’s gone and I—I—l"

  Her throat constricted, severing her speech as hot tears stung her eyes. A comforting hand landed on her shoulder and Shelby found Detective Atkins by her side, his expression sympathetic. At least someone in this room seemed decent and human.

  “Don’t care about money, huh?” Katherine stared daggers at Shelby from her place on the sofa before transferring her attention back to Detective Moore. “Have you seen how this girl lives? One look at her apartment and you’ll know exactly why she wanted to get her grubby little hands on her daddy’s money.”

  Shelby pulled away from Atkins and stepped closer to Katherine, rage pulsing off of her in waves. “I live exactly how I want. By my terms, by my merit. No one else’s. Unlike some other people.” Trembling with fury, she pulled a business card from her back pocket and handed it to Detective Moore. “Here. I can’t deal with this anymore. If you have more questions for me, please stop by the shelter. The address is on the card. I need to get back to work.”

  She ignored their stares as she rushed from the room. Leaving now wouldn’t help her case with the police, but she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Katherine one second more. All she wanted was to bury herself in her work until the world righted itself again. The elevator dinged and she climbed aboard then jammed the button until the doors closed and the car descended. Too bad her world would never be right again, not now that Dad was dead.

  Shelby squeezed her eyes shut and leaned heavily against the wall.

  Katherine was responsible. She felt it deep in her bones.

  And somehow, someway, she’d prove it.

  No matter what she had to do, no matter how far she had to go, she’d get justice for her dad. No matter what the cost.

  6

  Chase rolled over and stared at the alarm clock. 4:30 a.m. He’d gone to bed early the night before, despite Blake wanting him to stay up and watch the UNLV tourney basketball game. Not because of how exhausted he was—sleep was a rare occurrence in his life these days—but because he knew Laura’s newspaper article was supposed to publish today.

  On edge, he showered and shaved quickly, then pulled on the brand new pair of khaki pants and dress shirt Blake had brought home for him the night before. He’d kept a tab in his head of how much he was going to owe the guy once he was back on his feet. In truth, he knew it was a debt he’d never be able to repay, but still, he was determined to try.

  Dressed and eager, he jogged downstairs and started some coffee, then walked down the hall to the foyer and cracked open the door enough to grab the morning Chronicle from the porch. This early in the morning it was only about fifty degrees out even in Las Vegas. The late-autumn air felt cold and crisp and he shivered slightly before stepping back inside and locking the door.

  Taking the paper back into the kitchen, he was careful not to make too much noise and wake up Blake. He quietly fixed a mug of caffeine then took a seat on one of the stools at the center island and opened the newspaper to the front page. Sure enough, there was the story. Except, instead of Laura’s picture and byline by the article, there was some guy by the last name of Davis. Plus, the more he read, the clearer it became this was not the story Laura had hoped to write. This Davis guy must have gotten the assignment instead of her. Just another piece of bad luck for Chase.

  This story twisted the facts and pointed the finger directly at Chase as Warren Bryant’s murderer, not Katherine.

  Crap.

  He rubbed his eyes and stood.

  Air. He needed fresh air and space to figure out his next move after this shitty bombshell of an article hit the airwaves. Time for more damage control. Hell, he should have those words tattooed across his forehead these days, since that’s all he’d really gotten done for the last five years. And even then it seemed he’d only ended up screwing himself in the process.

  After going upstairs to grab his jacket and phone from the guest room Blake had given him to stay in, Chase headed back downstairs. He stopped at the closet in the foyer and scrounged around until he found a black baseball cap, which he pulled on to help his disguise, then exited into the pre-dawn gloom. He walked the short distance to the nearby bus stop and waited for the first morning shuttle of the day to take him to Fremont Street.

  His first foray to Warren Bryant’s office had been interrupted by Shelby. Now, he needed the place all to himself to do some serious digging. He knew the cops didn't have anything solid, otherwise he'd be in jail right now, but what if they found something? He couldn't depend on the timeline of the video proving he was nowhere near Warren's office when he died. He wasn't eve
n sure when Warren had died and Katherine was sneaky, she could have planted something or tampered with the video.

  He couldn't rely on news articles or surveillance tapes to clear his name. He had to catch the real killer himself. A sharp pang of guilt shot through him as he thought of Warren Bryant dead in his office. If Chase had been doing his job, Bryant would still be alive. Finding his killer would be one way to ease the guilt. Not to mention that it would keep him from going to prison for it.

  He couldn't take another stint in prison.

  Minutes later he put his money in the bus meter then found a seat near the back, tugging his collar higher to avoid being recognized. Like the words weren’t bad enough, that damned article had splashed his former mug shots all over the place too. Nothing like a bit of unwanted publicity to crap on his already shitty parade.

  As he settled onto the hard plastic bench seat, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and scowled at the message onscreen from Laura Rockford:

  So sorry about the article.

  Definitely NOT what I wrote.

  Dog Turd Davis rides again.

  Chase wasn’t sure who Dog Turd Davis was, but if he was even remotely related to the asshole who’d written those lies in the paper this morning, then he couldn’t agree more. He stowed his phone away and stared out the window at the passing scenery. God, he was such an idiot. He knew the rules. Had learned them the hard way. Never trust another to do what you should do for yourself.

  The bus rumbled into downtown Las Vegas and soon stopped near the corner of Fremont Street and Tower. He ducked out the back door and tugged his hat lower. Tourists still swarmed the area, so he decided to use the side alley to enter the Lucky Ace rather than the front or back entrance he’d used the day before. Head down, he started down the darkened street, then stopped at the sound of voices ahead. Quickly hiding behind a nearby dumpster, Chase peeked around the side in time to see two figures near the side employee entrance beneath a lone street light. One of them handed the other what appeared to be a wad of cash.