No One To Trust: Rockford Security Mystery Series

by Dobbs, L. A.

  Chase followed her across the short space to another door near the corner. Inside sat a guy with dark hair and broad shoulders, scowling at a wall full of monitors and looking completely bored by them all.

  Shelby knocked on the door then flashed her most endearing smile. “Hi, Owen. Got a minute?”

  The dude swiveled in his chair then stood, showing off the impressive height and good-looks all the Rockfords seemed blessed with. “For you Shelby? Always.” His warm brown gaze shifted to Chase and lit with surprise. “Chase Evans? How you doing, my man? So great to see you!”

  They shared a brief bro hug before stepping away again. “I’m really good. Thanks for asking. And thanks for giving me the job here at the casino, even if it didn’t work out.”

  Shelby gave Chase an irritated look and whispered under her breath, “Do you know everyone who works for Rockford Security?”

  Chase laughed. “Only the ones who are related.”

  “Which means, yeah,” Owen chimed in, helpful as always. “He does.”

  Shelby’s cheeks flushed a delightful shade of rose, and Chase couldn’t help pulling her close once more as Owen continued. “So Chase. Seems you got yourself in quite a pickle right out of the gate. What’s up with that, huh?” He turned to Shelby, his handsome face growing somber. “I’m truly sorry for what happened to your father. He was a good man.”

  “Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away.

  She trembled beneath Chase’s arm and seeing her so vulnerable tore him up inside. He gave her a tight squeeze for strength. “Um, you know the police seem to consider me a suspect, right?”

  “Yeah, Blake mentioned it. Saw something on the news too. But who believes anything they’ve got to say.” Owen chuckled.

  “Don’t let Laura hear you say that,” Chase warned. “She’ll kick your ass.”

  “I know, right?” Owen grinned. “So, why am I getting this visit?”

  “Well.” Chase tightened his grip on Shelby, more for his own moral support than hers. “I don't trust the police to do their job, so I'm looking for something to clear my name.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Shelby looked up then, her expression determined, all traces of sorrow gone. “We need to search Katherine’s condo, without being taped. Can you help us with that?”

  Chase smiled, pride welling within him. There was that backbone he admired so much.

  Owen took a step back, hands raised. “I did not hear you just ask me that, Shelby.” He inched closer to the camera control panel on the wall. “In fact, I didn’t see you two here at all tonight.” His shoulder bumped against one set of buttons, shutting them off. A label above them read Bryant Condo. “I’m, uh, going to take my usual fifteen-minute walk around the casino floor now and make sure Jan and Dino have everything they need. By the way, those cameras are not off now.” He nodded and winked. “They will not be back online in twenty minutes.”

  “Uh, thanks, man,” Chase said as Owen walked toward the exit. “I owe you one.”

  “You owe me dozens.” He grinned and waved to Shelby then disappeared out a nearby service entrance.

  “C’mon. Let’s go.” Shelby pulled him back to the elevators, and they rode up to the condo in record time. “Twenty minutes isn’t as long as it sounds.”

  Once inside, she headed straight for the table and drawer they’d seen that morning in the tapes. Shelby pulled her gloves back on and opened it. “Damn, nothing.”

  “Shit.” Chase reached into his pocket and pulled out another pair of latex gloves he’d stashed there earlier. “What about the phone? Maybe we can find the one she was using. Those SIM cards keep track of all kinds of data.”

  He riffled through drawer after drawer, but only found several iPhone cases. One of the other phones he’d seen her with on the tapes looked like a cheap Nokia with a flashy case, but he didn’t find anything like that.

  “Do you think Katherine has an accomplice?” Shelby straightened from her spot on the floor before a large mahogany credenza. “Bank statements might show something, if she made payments to them or suspicious withdrawals of cash.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Chase sighed. “She’s smart. If she is paying somebody, she’d most likely do it in small, untraceable amounts, over weeks or months, not days.”

  Shelby walked over and slumped onto the sofa. She scowled, then dug beneath the cushions. “Something’s poking me. What the…” She pulled out the burner Nokia phone he’d seen in the footage that morning. “Oh. Is this the device you were looking for?”

  He frowned recognizing the fake bling glued all over its hideous pink cover. “That’s it ... seems odd she would have it stuffed in the cushions.”

  “She's a ditz, it probably fell out of one of her Gucci bags and she couldn't find it.” Shelby clicked it on and scrolled through the screens while Chase took a seat beside her. “Now where is the call history?”

  “I’ll find it.” He snatched the phone from her hands before she could protest. “With those big old things covering your hands you couldn’t find anything.”

  “Hey, Mr. I’m-Going-To-Dress-Like-A-Bad-Guy-Stereotype. You’ve got no room to talk.”

  “Here it is.” He grinned as she flipped him off, then quickly frowned. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The whole history’s been wiped. No calls, no texts. The only number in here is named ‘My Boo <3’”.

  “Well,” Shelby reached for the phone again. “Let’s call it and find out who it is.”

  “Forget it.” His stomach swooped as he stared at the phone. “It’s my number.”

  How the hell had Katherine managed to get his new cell number? He’d barely had time to memorize the damned thing himself since he’d just gotten it at the store the day after his release.

  “Wait, so there really is something going on between you?” The sad betrayed look in Shelby's eyes pierced his heart.

  “No. I have no idea how she got my number.” Chase grabbed her hand. "You believe me don't you?"

  Her eyes softened and he felt like he'd won the lottery. She did believe him. But then the gravity of the situation hit him. "Shit. No wonder this was so easy to find. She wanted someone to find it. She's—"

  The sound of the elevator gears grinding interrupted him. They both turned in unison.

  “Crap. Someone’s coming,” Chase said.

  “Follow me.” Shelby grabbed his hand and pulled him over to a small coat closet near the front entrance, then tugged him in beside her. With the door closed, it was a tight squeeze at best. They were pressed against each other like sardines and his pulse pounded loud in his ears, obliterating everything except the dark and the warmth of Shelby’s body and his untimely overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  Bad idea. The adrenaline coursing through his veins drowned out the sound of whoever had entered the condo. He had to remain silent, lest he was caught violating curfew. He couldn’t see Shelby, only feel her. And if he was destined to find himself mired up Shit’s Creek anyway… He leaned down, finding Shelby’s mouth and swallowing her gasp.

  The door flew open and blinding light flashed into their small, private heaven. Chase squinted into the glare and did his best to hide Shelby.

  “Well, hello there,” Katherine said, her smile as smug as her tone.

  12

  Chase shifted position to ease the pressure off his aching butt. Once more, there he was, stuck in an uncomfortable metal chair in a dingy interrogation room at the Las Vegas PD. Dammit it all to hell and back. He should’ve known Katherine had set up that whole scene—taped herself putting the money in the drawer, stuffing that ugly ass burner phone between the couch cushions—knowing he and Shelby would come investigating when they saw the footage.

  He'd been so stupid.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. Apparently five years in the slammer had done nothing to improve his sleuthing skills whatsoever.

  The door behind him crea
ked open then closed with a resounding thwack. Detective Moore once more took a seat across from him. Her suit was different today—black, with a white shirt beneath—but her no-nonsense expression remained the same as always. She folded her hands atop the same manila file with his name and mug shot across the front and stared at him without blinking, her smile not reaching her ebony eyes.

  Well, this should be fun. Not.

  “Mr. Evans, we have Shelby in the other room. She’ll turn on you, sooner rather than later. Don’t kid yourself.”

  Chase crossed his arms and did his best to hide the tension knotted in his gut. “I doubt it. Why would she? We didn’t kill her father.”

  Besides, sweet little Shelby wouldn’t turn on me. Would she?

  “Murder or not, I have you both on trespassing charges and you, specifically, Mr. Evans for breaking curfew. That’s enough to send you back to jail.” Her smile increased, showing even white teeth bright against her dark skin. “Now, something tells me prison isn’t someplace you’d like to revisit.”

  He played along, flashing his own small grin. “You’re right, Detective. But tell the truth. You want me for the murder charge, not this crap. You want the big kahuna, the career-making, national-news-worthy indictment. Truth is, putting me away for those little things steals your thunder. Sorry, but I’m not biting.” He sat forward and mimicked her body language, a trick he learned in law school to gain another’s trust and support. “I didn’t do it.”

  Moore, apparently not buying into his psychological cues, sat back and reached into her pocket. “Explain this then, Mr. Evans.”

  She slid the burner phone across the table to him.

  He didn’t touch the hideous thing, just sat back himself, once more mirroring his interrogator. “Looks like a cheap, tacky piece of shit to me.”

  “It’s registered to Shelby Bryant.”

  “Huh.” Well, shit. Didn’t expect that tidbit of new information. He scrambled to come up with a credible lie. “It’s not hers. It’s mine.”

  “Yours, huh? Interesting.” Moore reached over and grabbed the sparkly fuchsia nightmare and clicked it on, then thumbed through several screens. “You always list your own cell number as ‘My Boo’?”

  “Sure.” He narrowed his gaze and gave a half smile. “As Whitney has always said, learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all, right?”

  “I see.” Moore’s tone suggested that she saw straight through his horseshit.

  Chase pushed to his feet and slid his chair back under the table. “Well, if there’s nothing else you need from me, Detective, I should really get home before my boss worries.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Evans.” The steel in her voice brooked no argument. “Leave now and I’ll book you on the trespassing charge so fast your damn fool head will spin right off.”

  He sat.

  “Let’s see.” Moore flipped open the file and pulled out several sheets of paper which she passed to him. “Have a look at those. Care to explain?”

  Sharp pain pounded against his temples as he stared at the papers. “I’ve never seen these before.”

  “Really? Seems to me a guy like you would remember a pretty girl like Shelby sending you e-mails in prison.”

  “What? No.” He scrunched his nose and thrust the sheets back at her. “Believe me, I would’ve known if someone like Shelby Bryant tried to contact me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I think too.” She gathered the e-mails and placed them back in the file. “So, tell me, Mr. Evans. Is this when you guys hatched your plan to murder Warren Bryant?”

  “Shit.” Chase pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. “I told you I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t kill Warren Bryant, nor did I make any plans with anyone to do him harm.”

  “Hmm.” Moore steepled her fingers and tapped them against her full lips. “These correspondences suggest otherwise. Perhaps your girlfriend Shelby was frustrated over her money troubles and her daddy refused to help.”

  Damn. He'd never gotten any emails in prison and he was positive Shelby never sent him any. She didn't even know him then and she wouldn't send shit like this—she couldn’t care less about money. But who then? Katherine? Maybe. She'd set them up in the condo, the emails were probably just one more layer of her evil plan.

  One thing was certain. Moore wouldn’t buy into his theory without proof, which she didn’t have. Not yet anyway. And continuing on this path would only dig his hole deeper, so he switched tactics. Always keep the opposition on their toes. Something else he learned in law school. He sat forward and clasped his hands atop the table. “Tell me, Detective. Did I ever answer any of these e-mails?”

  Moore didn’t answer, but her red-painted lips thinned slightly.

  Bingo.

  Chase resisted the urge to gloat over his small victory and instead charged forward while his momentum was good. “That’s what I thought. So, if Shelby sent them, then I guess I must’ve missed them. All what?” He squinted at the folder. “Twenty of them?”

  Seemingly undeterred, Moore pushed on. “I’m supposed to believe it’s a coincidence you two are friends now?”

  “Not a coincidence at all. In fact, you can thank my boss Blake Rockford for introducing us. He’s the one who gave me the Lucky Ace assignment, though I never got a chance to meet Warren Bryant, much less kill him.”

  Moore took a deep breath, a hard glint in her midnight dark eyes. “Wow. Interesting you’d start a new job, but never meet with your client?”

  “Nope. Never got the chance. He was Blakes’s client, I was just the hired help.”

  “Listen, I appreciate your inventiveness, Mr. Evans, but let’s cut through the bullshit, okay? We have proof you were in there, in Bryant’s office. If you confess now and tell us all about what happened, we’ll go easy. Promise.”

  Proof I was in Bryant’s office? No way. She had to be bluffing. Fishing just like she had been with those emails. He’d been careful. Both times. Still, he needed to find out what they did have if he had any hopes of figuring a way out of this mess. “Did Katherine take something else of mine while she was trying to seduce me?”

  Moore smiled, all cool confidence and pure menace. “I don’t think so. Not this, anyway.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t reveal that, Mr. Evans.”

  She wanted to play things that way, huh? Fine. He could play hardball too, when necessary. “It doesn’t matter, Detective. Everything you’ve got right now is purely circumstantial. It’ll take more than that for a conviction, especially murder. And whatever it is you think you found most likely could’ve been put there by anyone. I was never in Warren Bryant’s office on the day of the murder. Check your video surveillance feeds. I’m sure you’ll see I left the hotel before he was killed and didn’t return.”

  Moore stared him down across the expanse of the table. Her once stoic expression now looked decidedly annoyed, but Chase refused to say another word. If they brought him in again, he’d get an attorney and really screw up their plans.

  After several tense seconds, Detective Moore grabbed the file and left as abruptly as she’d come.

  Alone, finally, Chase exhaled and slumped into his seat. Goddamn. He’d been through this shit before but even so, this had been a tough session. He couldn’t imagine how poor Shelby was faring down the hall. The bastards probably had her in hysterics by now. And he didn’t believe the detective’s story for one second. Shelby wouldn’t turn on him, no matter what Moore insinuated. Then again, maybe he wasn’t such a great judge of character, he’d thought Shane wouldn’t turn on him either.

  The door behind him opened once more and Chase’s whole body went whipcord tight. For Christ’s sake, he couldn’t seem to catch a break today. Round One with Moore had been bad enough. Round Two without some time to recover might damn near make his head explode.

  Except when he looked up, it wasn’t the detective’s face he saw.

  “Get up,” Blake said, looking every inch
the ex-cop he was. “We’re going home.”

  “Uh, okay.” He stood. “They’re not arresting me for trespassing or violating parole?”

  Didn’t think he’d beat those charges, no matter what he’d told Moore. Still, he wasn’t about to question his freedom at this point.

  “No, they’re not.” Blake shoved him toward the door and out into the bustling hall beyond. “Because you weren’t violating parole. Or trespassing. You were on assignment for Rockford Securities at the Lucky Ace, understand? We had to call in additional people to cover the Jan Winters event. Part of that assignment is making sure the whole building is secure, including the condo.” Blake took Chase’s arm and dragged him through the station, his icy gaze locked on the entrance ahead and his expression granite tough. “Now get your ass moving. I had to call in a lot of favors to make this work.”

  They reached the exit in record time and walked out into the brisk night air. Chase took a deep breath and rubbed his sore bicep once Blake let him go. “Thanks, man.”

  “Thank me at home.” He continued on to his car, but Chase didn’t move.

  “Wait. What about Shelby? She’s still in there and—”

  “And nothing.” Blake punched the button on his key fob and the car’s lights blinked on and off as the doors clicked open. “There’s nothing we can do for her tonight. She’s still in an interrogation room.”

  “But I—”

  “But nothing.” Blake opened the driver’s side door then leaned his forearms atop the roof of the navy sedan, watching Chase with his lethal blue stare. “I think the two of you have gotten into enough trouble together this evening, don’t you? Now please stop being a pain in my ass and get in the car. Shelby will be fine. The detective questioning her is a friend and he’ll go easy on her. Besides, she’s tougher than she looks.”

  Resigned, Chase climbed into the passenger seat and secured his seat belt. Blake was right, about Shelby and about all the trouble they’d caused. Still, as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home to Summerlin, Chase couldn’t help running through his conversation with Moore. Clearly those e-mails were fake, but it didn’t fit. Why would Katherine imply a prior relationship between him and Shelby? There’s no way she could’ve known Blake planned to offer him that job once he got out. Hell, he hadn’t even known. And why would the police believe Shelby would randomly e-mail him in jail then be stupid enough to talk openly about killing her father?