On Borrowed Crime

by Kate Young

  I got organized. I pulled out my messenger bag and filled it with essentials: my tablet and stylus. The computer was secured in its rightful place. I had a couple of legal pads and pens, just in case. Then I slid the Ziploc in the outer pocket. I’d searched the bag while on the phone and was sad to see Carol’s smartwatch. What I wondered, though, was if she’d gotten another phone. Perhaps on a completely separate account from the one she shared with her husband. Though she certainly could’ve bought a phone from the superstore so that no one would be able to track her, like the person who texted me. I’d attempted a trace and gotten nothing other than that the number was linked to a cellular device. She clearly didn’t want anyone to know where she was going. Leaving all her devices behind was a glaring clue.

  When I pulled up to the police station, the butterflies were building, and I made a conscious effort to slow down. I’d gone home and changed into something more flattering. I took care to enhance my cheekbones and curl my lashes. To make nice, I needed to look nice. I had to do whatever was necessary to find answers and right wrongs. I did wonder if I’d gone a little overboard to dress up as much as I had. Would Quinn see right through me? I couldn’t focus on that now. What was done was done.

  By the time I made my way up the steps and opened the door, I’d managed to tamp down some of the nerves and slow my breathing. I had my hand on the door when, to my astonishment, Ellen came waltzing out.

  Her eyes widened when she nearly ran me over. “L-Lyla,” she stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have an appointment with Quinn.” I smiled despite my lie.

  She smirked. “All gussied up too. Well, well.”

  I hefted my bag higher on my arm. “It’s business. What about you?”

  “I came to check on the case. Unlike you, Carol and Val were friendly to me. We had dinner on occasion, and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.” Was she serious? What could she possibly do to help out with the case?

  My skepticism must have shown on my face because she all but snarled.

  “You’re such a bitch. You always think you’re smarter than everyone else.” She threw up a hand. “I don’t have to stand here and take this.”

  “Ellen.” I frowned.

  She stormed past me and marched toward her car.

  Oh well.

  A woman in uniform sat at the front desk. She must have been new since I’d never seen her before. She scowled as I approached, but slid the panel window open.

  Not that I would allow her “stay-away” glare to deter me. I was a woman on a mission, an official private investigative mission. “Is this about the Carol Timms case? Everyone wants to talk about Carol Timms. Everybody has an opinion, a theory, and a suspect.”

  Yikes. I didn’t care for her tone. I smiled. “Hi, actually I’m here to speak to Chief Daniels. I’m Lyla Moody. Is he available?”

  The woman scratched her head with the back of her pen. She had her hair pulled back in a tight braid. “I’ll see.” She closed the window, and I realized it was soundproof and, I was betting, bulletproof.

  The door buzzed and she waved her hand for me to go through. Not a chatty gal. I walked past the two small metal desks in the large room with beige walls and ratty, green, threadbare carpet. Both desks were vacant. I rounded the water cooler and saw through the windows and the half-closed door with “Chief Daniels” stenciled on it. He sat at the desk, on the phone, his back toward me. I crept closer.

  “I took care of it. Yes,” I overheard him say. “There isn’t anything else that can be done at this point. If she comes by, rest assured, I’ll handle it. This squares us.”

  Something inside clenched for a moment. She? Ellen? Or someone else. I hesitated and almost turned back. He slammed his phone down, and I jumped. My heel caught on a worn spot in the carpet, and I stumbled, my bag hitting the door, opening it further.

  When he whirled around, I immediately lifted my hand in a friendly manner. His face flushed; his eyes roamed my body.

  “Sorry.” I tucked one of my long, wavy locks behind an ear. “The officer at the desk said I could come on back. If this is a bad time, I can reschedule.”

  “No, it isn’t a bad time. I told Officer Clarence to send you back.” Quinn stood and waved his hand swiftly. “Come in. Please.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” I slipped through the doorway. Perhaps he thought he’d be finished with his call before I made it to his office. “May I sit?”

  “Oh yes—yes, please.” He settled back in his chair as I took a seat in one of the armchairs with red padding.

  His office had wood paneling and an artificial plant in the corner. Other than that, it lacked any other descriptive pieces.

  I found the space depressing. “I saw Ellen leaving.”

  He pointed to the paper on his desk. “Shoring up her statement.”

  “Ah.” She said she’d come by to help. Ha!

  “You never called,” he said softly.

  “With circumstances being what they were, I didn’t feel comfortable.” I let the messenger bag slide from my shoulder to rest on the floor against my feet. “Quinn, Cousins Investigative Services has been retained by Judge Timms to look into his case. In the spirit of full disclosure and to show how invested we are in working with the police department, I have evidence to share.”

  Quinn raised his brows.

  I pulled the envelope containing the scarf, note, and camo hat and placed it on the desk. I gave him a detailed account of everything.

  “And you believe this scarf is linked to the Jane Doe case Carol was supposedly interested in?”

  I nodded.

  “And the note? Doesn’t make much sense.”

  “No. That one puzzles me too. The note being smudged doesn’t help things.” I’d spoken to Mrs. Ross after speaking with Chelsea, and she swore up and down the note was written exactly as she delivered it. I cleared my throat, “I also realized I’d behaved a little unfairly toward you.” I smiled. “You have a job to do, and my feelings shouldn’t be the focal point. It isn’t as if we’ve been close in years. I shouldn’t have expected you to come rushing to my side. It’s a ludicrous notion, to say the least. I apologize.”

  He folded his hands on his desk. “If I’m being honest here, I was sort of flattered you looked for me. I’ve often thought back to how we ended things. Sure, we were kids and all, but I wished we’d ended things better.”

  I nodded. “So here we are. Working together.”

  “Here we are.” He smiled. “What can I do for you?”

  “Judge Timms came by the office and updated me on the case, and with the coroner ruling the cause of death undetermined, he’s concerned.”

  He inclined his head. “Is that right? Did he also inform you that he, your father, and I had a long meeting when your father turned over Carol’s patient file.”

  I raised my eyebrows in question. “He mentioned having a discussion with my father and how he no longer believed there to be any impropriety.”

  He studied me. “Interesting. The court order came through before the cause of death.”

  Huh. I wondered if I could take a gander at those files. Judge Timms obviously had. Daddy kept audio files too. It would help me on this investigation to have a listen.

  “The day I came by your uncle’s office, I wanted to explain, in limited terms, of course. I know how disturbed you’ve been about losing your friend, not to mention finding her in that way.”

  “Of course.” I crossed my right leg over the left and folded and laced my fingers over my knee. “You still have no idea why they left her for me to find? It’s odd, you have to admit.”

  “It is odd. I’ve seen and studied a lot of stranger cases than that, though. One never knows what’s going on inside the head of a person on the verge of insanity. And Carol had some strenuous relationships.”

  “Like?”

  He gave his head a shake. “I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”
r />   “You’re still actively involved, then?”

  He nodded.

  “Will the case change directions with the discovery of new evidence?” I nodded toward his desk.

  “Could be. Have you received any more texts?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  I pulled my phone from my bag and showed him. His face tensed as he read the text, and I was sure the word “game” was what had him unnerved. No one wanted to even consider dealing with a serial killer playing a so-called game. He jotted the sender’s number down and pierced me with his gaze. “If you get another one of these texts or if you feel the least bit threatened by anyone, I want to know about it.”

  I nodded, surprised and pleased he was taking it seriously.

  “Tell me about Kevin.” He leaned forward; his eyes were intense. “His name has come up more than once. He would know about your past obsessions, and he and Carol had a dispute regarding an inheritance. Was your breakup amicable?”

  “Well, ‘amicable’ isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe it.” Needing something to do, I smoothed my skirt with my hands. “I thought so until he moved in by me. And …”

  “And?”

  “Well, it might be nothing, but when the first text came through, he was watching me through his front window.” I raised both hands. “It’s probably a coincidence, but he asked about Carol immediately after. And about how I found her. In light of the camo cap, I’m only divulging this so nothing is missed. Not accusing.”

  “Was he ever violent with you?” There was an edge to Quinn’s tone I didn’t care for, and I feared Kevin had just become his sole focus.

  I kept my expression blank. “No. He never became violent. He isn’t a mean person.”

  “He isn’t? He’s dating your cousin and moved in by you. That seems unkind to me.”

  I shrugged and removed my phone from his desk, clutching it in my lap. “Well, the breakup you and I went through would lead people to believe you weren’t the kindest person either.” He opened his mouth and I held up a hand. “All I’m saying is you can’t go solely on how people behave during a relational breakup.”

  “You can’t compare what we had to your fling with Kevin.” He sounded incredulous. “And I was never hateful to you. I’ve heard from others Kevin was nasty. And was livid when you broke up with him. It makes a lot of sense for him to want to make you pay.”

  I couldn’t hide the shock. My mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Getting rid of the evidence and forcing you to find the remains. Two birds, one stone.”

  Disliking the scenario he laid out, I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pressing you like this. Finding a deceased before decomposition is tragic in itself and enough to deal with.”

  I took the out he offered. “Yes …” My voice trailed off as my phone rang. I used it as an excuse to catch my breath and focus on why I was here. I recognized the number: Mr. GBI, Brad Jones. I couldn’t believe he was calling me back so soon.

  “From the look on your face, it’s someone important.”

  If I went running from the room to take the call, it would make Quinn keenly interested in who had called, and I’d either have to lie or explain my intention to hopefully bring this man in on Carol’s case. In light of the new evidence they possessed, thanks to yours truly, they’d probably be contacting the man themselves and might see my reaching out as interfering. I sent Mr. Jones to voicemail and hoped he would answer when I returned his call.

  “No. Just a number I didn’t recognize.” I slid the phone back into my bag and straightened. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion as my recovery might have come a little too quickly.

  “Don’t close yourself off. I’m here because the judge asked me to take a look into Carol’s whereabouts before she went missing, by looking at which cellular towers her phone pinged. He claimed your office has some sort of preliminary report. I would like a copy of it as well as the medical files.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I shared what I knew. Gave you information about Kevin and passed on valuable evidence.”

  He folded his arms and studied me intently, and I found him changed somehow. The years on this job had caused him to question everyone and everything. His scrutinizing gaze nearly had me fidgeting, and I felt certain he would turn me down.

  I did my best not to squirm as he continued to search my face. For what, I didn’t quite know.

  “Okay. If Judge Timms has given consent, which I’ll need in writing, of course, I’ll hand over what we have from the cell phone provider and the files your father provided us. It isn’t much and is probably not what you’re looking for. But, Lyla, this isn’t an open invitation to utilize this office for your personal investigations.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t be here if Judge Timms hadn’t sought our help.” I reached into my bag and retrieved the signed waiver, presenting it to Quinn.

  Quinn inclined his head, his piercing gaze holding mine captive as he took the form. “The judge is in his rights to seek out a private investigator if he so chooses. It isn’t as if I question your uncle’s abilities. I just really don’t see what he’ll find that we haven’t. He was smart to send you.” Reaching in his desk, he handed over an envelope labeled “Carol Timms” in my father’s handwriting. “I’ll have to get back to you on the phone records.”

  I let out a quiet exhale as I put the envelope into my bag. “He didn’t send me.” I rose. “Thanks for the cooperation and thank you for speaking with me.” I started for the door, eager to return Mr. Jones’s call.

  He hurried around the desk, his hand lightly brushing my arm, “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I turned to look into his luminous baby blues. “You didn’t.” I smiled.

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  I blinked in wonderment as I attempted to regain my composure. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I set out to make nice.

  His tone softened. “I know, I know—it’s out of left field and probably the worst timing on the planet. But I’m not seeing anyone, and, from what I heard from your mother, neither are you.” Oh, of course: Mother. “Just dinner to catch up on each other’s lives. I’ve hated how we’ve avoided each other for all these years. It’s childish, and neither one of us are children anymore.” That was true. “What do you say? Friday night? Around six?”

  “Well, …” My phone chimed with a voicemail alert. It was just dinner. I smiled. “Sure. Why not.” It could be beneficial to be on friendly terms with the local chief of police. And it would also be good not to have to avoid him like the plague any longer.

  He rocked back on his heels, and his face creased in a giant grin. It was a genuine smile that made its way up to his eyes. “Is there any place special you’d like to go? We could go into the city if you want.”

  “How about Trail Head Grill?”

  His grin still hadn’t faltered. “Sounds great to me.”

  I left the police station with a bounce in my step. Confidence that I could do this job successfully began to bloom. I darted across the parking lot and around the building toward my car. The sun had long set, and the air reflected the drop in temperature. Wind whipped my hair around my face, and something flapping on my windshield caught my attention. I snatched it off and unlocked the door. I could hardly see as I slid into the seat and started to put my bag beside me—and froze …

  The odor of death accosted me. Something was seeping into the back of my cotton dress and my steering wheel was covered in something dark red. Blood. A scream ripped from my throat as I struggled to free myself from the car. I slipped on the drenched leather seats, feeling the stickiness on my thighs. I fell to my knees hard, glancing around wildly. A figure came up from behind my car.

  I scrambled backward in the darkness, screaming bloody murder.

  The next thing I knew Quinn was i
n my face, gripping me tightly by the shoulders. “It’s me! It’s only me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I stood in the lady’s room in my bra and panties after scrubbing the blood from my body with paper napkins. Quinn had informed me during his questioning that a dead possum was found in my back seat, and the blood in the car came from it. Someone was sending me a harrowing message. At least now Quinn was taking this seriously. They’d canvased the area, asking everyone eating in the little restaurant in the neighboring lot if they’d seen anyone suspicious. The police department’s cameras hadn’t picked up anything, a fact I found highly suspect. Officer Taylor had warned me off, and now I wondered if he was somehow involved.

  I glanced up in the mirror and, with shaking hands, attempted to smooth out my long, frizzy hair. Nervous blue eyes stared back at me, and I exhaled a slow, controlled breath. How could this happen? In the parking lot of the police station! I began to have more concerns regarding whom to trust.

  Goose bumps erupted across my skin as I pulled on the gray sweatpants Quinn had given me. When I reached for the police-logoed sweatshirt, a crumpled piece of paper fell to the floor. I must have fisted the flyer on the windshield and brought it in with me. I smoothed out the blood-smeared paper and read, Game on, Lyla. Ready to play? Six little Jane Does started to pry; one’s heart gave out, and then there were five.

  I dropped the paper. My breath came in pants. In that moment it hit me. Carol tried to warn me. She hadn’t written before there are ro; she’d written before there are none. A reference to And Then There Were None, our book club pick. Terror gripped me. The killer somehow knew she’d referenced the book, and was now using it to play with me. Were all the Jane Does in danger? I’d have to warn them.

  * * *

  I sat in the parking lot in front of my building, on the phone with Mother, while I waited on Melanie to get home. Quinn had dropped me off at my parents’ house, where I borrowed Mother’s car. I’d avoided her completely, with no desire to explain my appearance, and had Gran sneak me her keys. I’d left another message with Mr. GBI, citing the urgency for a callback.