by Marlie May
“Is it okay if I use your bathroom?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ve got to go too, though.” I’d had three sodas and they’d run through me. “You use the upstairs.”
“You afraid of a little stair activity?”
“I’m not that bad off.” I growled, stomping toward the half bath on this floor while he took the stairs two at a time.
He laughed.
Not long after Sean left, Manuel stopped by the house to take me to get a new phone.
He stood in the doorway while I tied my sneakers.
“That plate number?” The frown on his face made my fingers still on my laces. “Very interesting.”
I finished tying fast and straightened. “Who owns the car?”
“Mr. Somerfield’s got friends in high places—including the CIA.”
I blinked. “Wow. What was the CIA doing at his house?”
“I wish we’d heard what they said in the parlor.”
“CIA. Government.” I tapped my chin, thinking. Where had I seen…yes! Scooting around Manuel, I strode to Dad’s office. Those letters he’d written, the ones I’d found while looking through his desk. Some were addressed to the government. I’d snitched them and tucked them between two books in the bookcase.
I sat in Dad’s chair and dropped them on the desk surface, shuffling through them until I found the copy of the letter Dad had sent to the government. But it hadn’t been sent to just any old branch of the government, as I’d assumed. The one I remembered was addressed to Mr. Jason Colfield, Special Agent of the CIA. I skimmed it, and my mouth dropped open.
“What?” Manuel asked, standing.
“This could be a big clue. Listen to this.” I read aloud, “While I believe it’s possible, I’m not sure it should be done. The danger is tremendous, not just to the agent, but to people in the surrounding area…Completing this project could threaten thousands of lives…I realize my partner assured you we could do it, but I’m not willing to be involved.”
I gaped up at Manuel. “This could be why Dad drew up papers to end his partnership with Mr. Somerfield. Dad wanted out of building an app and Mr. Somerfield didn’t.” Glancing down, I reread the letter, but there didn’t seem to be any more clues. “I wish we had more information about this project he’s talking about.” Pawing through the folder, I wasn’t able to find anything else that might give us more clues. The other papers involved jobs Dad had been working on for various businesses. Vague correspondence with some woman in Italy, but that definitely couldn’t be involved with this.
I returned the folder to the bookcase.
“This gets more interesting by the minute,” Manuel said.
I headed for the foyer with him following. “We can talk about it while we get a phone.”
While driving to the store, we rehashed the letter but didn’t have enough information to draw conclusions.
“Is it worth breaking into his office again?” Manuel asked.
“I believe I looked through everything.”
“I’ll see if I can find out any information online about the owner of the car.”
“Okay,” I said. “Because, if Mr. Somerfield is involved in something that could endanger thousands of lives and Dad had wanted to back out of the deal, this could tie it all together.”
While we were out, we decided to look at Dad’s car.
He pulled into the lot behind the garage, parking next to what was left of it.
I gaped, shocked I’d survived this wreck. A crumpled heap, it had a smashed-in hood with fluid leaking like blood in a pool on the ground. Only gaping holes remained in what used to be the windshield and front windows.
The biggest gut punch was the loss of one more connection to my parents. My heart pressed against my ribs, and I couldn’t draw in a breath.
It was only a car. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see it this way.
“You need something inside?” Manuel said softly, studying my face. “I’ll get it for you.”
I popped open my door. “I want to get out.” I needed to see Dad’s car one more time. Touch it. There was next to nothing inside anyway, just a jacket in the back. A paperback I’d been reading. Loose change, maybe.
I’d brought my spare key, and I opened the trunk. Only a few odds and ends back there, including a tote with an old bottle of sunscreen and a half-filled jug of water Mom must’ve left behind.
The back door on the driver’s side was unlocked. Kneeling down, I located my book underneath the seat and my jacket on the floor.
While I peered around to make sure I wasn’t missing anything important, Manuel strolled around to the front. He stalled and whistled low. “You’re damn lucky.”
There was that word again. Lucky. While I was fortunate to be alive, I had to wonder if my luck could get much worse.
I straightened and glanced over at where he stood in front of the car.
“This looks bad.” He stooped down to get a closer look. Head tilted, he peered at the crumpled hood while I stared into the empty hole where the driver’s window used to be. The airbag lay across the wheel like a broken balloon. Glass covered the seat and floor.
Rising, Manuel walked toward the passenger’s side, where he bent over again. He grunted.
I reached out, tentative, and touched the roof of the car.
My breath caught.
“Mom, Dad,” I whispered, lungs pressing into my throat. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful. Paid attention to my driving, like you told me to.”
“Actually,” Manuel said. “You need to come see something.”
Standing on tip-toe, I peered over the top of the car but he waved for me to join him.
I sniffed and wiped my eyes while walking around the back. I’d be just fine if I never saw a full view of the front, actually. Reaching the passenger side, I squatted down beside Manuel.
“See right here?” He pointed to a black rubber tube behind the tire. “This is your brake line.”
“Okay.”
He stood and pulled me up to stand with him.
Horror filled his face. “Your brake lines were cut.”
21
My limbs went liquid. I slumped against my car, and Manuel caught me before I fell, easing me onto the ground.
“Take some deep breaths,” he said, dropping down beside me. “It’s okay. I’ve gotcha.” He stroked my hair while I gulped in air.
The world kept spinning.
“Someone wants me dead,” I said. “Why would anyone do something like this?” Not that I needed to ask. I’d been warned more than once, but I blew it off. “It’s because I’ve been looking into my parents’ murder.”
“I’d say so.”
“Someone will do anything to keep me from finding out the truth.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “We need to go to the police with this. It’s evidence.”
“You think they’ll help?” I appreciated that he still had some confidence in his father, despite the man being a jerk, but I didn’t share the same feeling. The police didn’t appear to be jumping all over this investigation, and Manuel’s dad hadn’t sounded like he found Mr. Somerfield’s actions suspicious.
Mr. Somerfield, who we’d seen in the driveway before we left the party.
Manuel sighed. “My father’s…He doesn’t inspire confidence in small doses but he takes his job seriously. We can trust him.”
I’d reserve judgment. “All right. We go to the police.”
“All the way to the top.”
Chief Sancini.
We sat in the Chief’s office, waiting for him to return from getting coffee.
He strode into the room and rounded the desk to take his chair, a stained mug in his hand that said, World’s Best Dad. A gift from Manuel or his sister?
Seeing it made me ache all over again, because I’d given my dad something similar for Father’s Day when I was a kid and he’d proudly used it.
“To what do I o
we this pleasure?” he asked Manuel, although his eyes glided across me. “You’ve stopped by to visit twice in one week, son, which is two more times than you have in the past year. Outside of when you got charged and fingerprinted for assaulting Senator Riker, because that wasn’t exactly a social visit. Let’s hope today’s not—”
Time to nip this behavior off before he got started. I leaned forward. “Someone cut my brake lines.”
Officer Sancini pressed back in his chair and frowned. “Just now?”
“On Saturday night after I left a party. You may have seen the accident report. I slammed into a telephone pole. Totaled my Dad’s car.”
“And you think this means your brake lines were cut?” From the narrowing of his brow, I suspected he didn’t believe us. Not much new there. “Back up here. Party, you said. Had you been drinking?”
“Not a drop. I was the DD.”
“Were you tired? Distracted?”
I couldn’t meet his eyes nor keep my face neutral. I’d only looked away from the road for a second, to read that text. But I hadn’t been on my phone when I pushed to make the yellow light.
“I see,” he said.
No, he didn’t, and that was the problem.
“You don’t,” Manuel said, stealing my thought. “We went to her car to pick up her things. I saw the cut in the brake lines myself. This wasn’t an accident.”
Officer Sancini straightened and scooted his chair forward. “Go on.”
“Just before the accident,” I said. “Someone sent me a text.” I repeated it.
He held out his hand. “Can I have your phone?”
“It was destroyed in the crash.” I held up my new one. “I replaced it this afternoon.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Officer Sancini said. “And convenient.”
“Christ, Dad,” Manuel said. “She’s not the one on trial here. She didn’t cut her own brake lines. We came here for help.” He turned to me, his face red. “Please tell me I was never this bad.”
I smirked. “On you, it’s cute.”
His eyes softened, and he grinned.
Officer Sancini blinked as if absorbing Manuel’s words then fiddled with a pen he’d picked up off his desk. He pulled a clean pad of paper from the drawer and paused with the pen over the paper. “All righty.” His gaze leveled on me. “Shoot. Tell me every detail starting with Saturday night.”
I laid it out for him, only holding back that I’d searched Mr. Somerfield’s office and what I’d found. And my make-out session with his son.
“I wish we had that message so we could trace it.” He tapped the pen on his chin and squinted past my shoulder. “Could’ve been sent by a burner phone. But we might be able to obtain some information through your carrier. I’ll put someone on it.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “Before we left the party, I saw Mr. Somerfield out front, near the cars.”
“I doubt he was cutting your brake lines.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“What would be his motive for doing something like that? You were attending a party at his home. You said you used to date his son which leads me to believe you were friends.”
“I already told you. I think he murdered my parents and Brianna.”
“I know you’d like to pin the accident on him, but there’s no evidence. We concluded our investigation, and we’re convinced it’s not a homicide.”
“But,” I blurted out. “He met with a CIA agent.”
Chief Sancini blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Manuel squeezed my hand tight enough it made me pause. A quick glance showed him giving me a quick shake of his head. He didn’t want me sharing this information. Yet.
“Ms. Davis?” Chief Sancini said. “What’s this about the CIA?”
“Nothing.”
He scowled. “Nothing? Then why did you say it?”
“I, um, was mistaken.”
“Hmm.”
Time to redirect the conversation fast. “Can you reopen the yacht case?”
He stared at me long enough I squirmed. “I suppose we could look over the details again. See if we missed anything.”
Short of dragging the boat up from the ocean floor, that was unlikely to happen.
“Will you question Mr. Somerfield about this?” I asked.
“I have no problem asking him what he was doing near your vehicle that night.”
“Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “In between then, you need to do what that text suggested. Stay out of this. If it truly was a homicide, we’ll find out what happened. You need to leave this in our hands.”
At this rate, I’d be fifty before they decided whether it had been murder or not. But the text and the cut brake lines only proved this situation was suspicious. My investigation was making someone desperate to cover it up.
“We’ll look at the car.” Chief Sancini glanced at Manuel. “Nothing against your skills in identifying this fact, though I’m not confident this has any relation to the yacht accident.”
It was a rather strong coincidence that my brake lines were cut shortly after I’d searched Mr. Somerfield’s office, but I couldn’t tell Chief Sancini that. I wasn’t handing over my evidence for them to toss into a desk drawer for the next six months. Not until I’d researched everything thoroughly. Let alone that fact that I’d illegally obtained my evidence.
“Aside from Mr. Somerfield, is there anyone else who might want to do you harm?” Chief Sancini asked, his pen poised over his paper.
Harm? More like an attempt to murder me. Funny how this investigation was playing out just like on TV. First, the officer tried to pin it on the victim. Only after the victim called the cop on it did he take her seriously. And then, he tried to suggest she must’ve done something to deserve whatever happened. I needed to play my part.
“I can’t imagine anyone who’d have it out for me.”
Except for Mr. Somerfield. He must’ve suspected I’d been snooping.
Chief Sancini wrote something on his paper. “No friend who might be jealous of you?”
I doubted a friend would cut my brake lines, let alone be jealous enough to kill me. “Most of them fell by the wayside after the yacht incident.”
“Would any be angry enough about you ending your friendship that they’d do something like this?”
“They’re the ones who faded. I didn’t push them away.” This was even more unlikely. “And why bother? I have—had—two main best friends, Brianna, who is dead. And Sean.”
“Who would never do anything like this,” Manuel said.
“Wait,” I said to Manuel. “We should tell him about the clown in the library.”
Chief Sancini wrinkled his brow. “A clown?”
“Not truly a clown, just someone laughing like a clown.” When he stared at me, blinking slowly, I said, “It was scary.”
“I was there,” Manuel said.
“You heard the laughter, too, Emmanuel?”
“No, but I searched the library,” he said.
“And found…?”
Manuel directed his gaze downward. “Nothing.”
“I’m not making this up,” I said.
Chief Sancini shook his head. “Okay.” He wrote on his paper.
“And then a light fixture almost fell on me,” I said.
“A light fixture?” From his tone and the skepticism growing in his eyes, he must think the lamp actually had hit my head and scrambled my brains permanently. “This also happened in the library?”
I explained.
“The maintenance crew was replacing the lights?” he asked.
“Not while I was there.”
“But during the evenings when school was not in session.”
“Yes.”
He tossed his pen onto his paper, a paper that only held a few lines of notes, and pinched his brow. “We’ll certainly look into this.”
To say I was frustrated would be a major understatement. Bec
ause ‘looking into it’ had become the routine answer for everything about this investigation.
“Anything else?” Chief Sancini asked, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t even pretending to take notes any longer.
“I think that’s it.”
I had to admit, though, there wasn’t much for him to go on, assuming he decided to take this further.
He grunted. “We’ll look at your car and notify the insurance company because they’ll also be interested to hear foul play could be involved.”
“Should Janie have someone assigned to protect her?” Manuel asked.
Chief Sancini scoffed. “Because of an accident?”
“Because someone tried to hurt her.”
“According to Ms. Davis, this occurred immediately after the text. Which we don’t have as evidence. There’s nothing to indicate at this time that this is anything other than an accident.”
“Is that a no?” Manuel asked.
“I really would like to help.” His intent eyes studied me, and I was glad that while he wasn’t handling this the way I’d like him to, he did appear to be taking my words seriously. “We don’t have the staff to provide security based on suspicion.”
Not just a suspicion to me. Mr. Somerfield killed my parents and now, he was after me.
I stood. “I’ll be okay.” Sure, I was scared something else would happen to me. But I wasn’t going to end my investigation. I’d just have to be extra careful from now on.
“I’ll ask one of my officers to drive by your place periodically,” Chief Sancini said.
“I appreciate it.” Like that would do any good? I could be inside my house, lying in a pool of blood, and the officer would drive by and note the situation was a-okay before gliding off into the sunset.
Fortunately, Mom and Dad had installed a security system.
Not that I intended to hide behind it.
I still had more investigating to do.
22
“Tell me about this life of crime we’re getting into,” I said.