I was nowhere close to the wall shared between my place and Zane’s. And it would look weird to spontaneously start knocking. But I’d do it if I had to.
“At least hear me out.”
“I’m fairly confident that I can’t trust anything you have to say.”
“You’ve got to hear my side.”
“You’ve got five minutes.” I was being generous. I should have said thirty seconds, but it was too late to take it back now.
“I did get here early. I went right to Willie Wahoo’s. Of course. I wanted to see if Simon was there. He eventually showed up, and I followed him to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
“I went up to the room. I was going to confront him because I suspected he was cheating on me. Instead, I found him dead. I didn’t know what to do. So I ran.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Because I knew how it would look. Of course I’d seem guilty. He was cheating on me. I followed him here from Atlanta. I can read the writing on the wall.”
“Why come up with the big story then and hire me?” So much of what she said didn’t make sense. I didn’t have to be Raven Remington to know that.
“Because I wanted to know what happened to Simon. I needed someone else to find him. I needed to erase the fact that I was ever there that night.”
I didn’t know what to say. I supposed she might actually believe her crazy story. She looked like she did. Her voice didn’t waver, nor did her eye contact. But still . . . it was so weird and farfetched.
“What happened the night you almost died?” I asked, needing to collect more information.
“I was telling the truth about that. I was at Friskies. I did drink too much. I obviously ran my mouth too much. A man jumped me when I got out of my car. He forced me inside the house and made me drink and keep drinking until I blacked out.”
“You never saw his face?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t. He wore a ski mask.”
“Do you remember anything about him?”
“I had the impression he was probably in his twenties or thirties. He had an average build. I know it’s not helpful.”
Could that be the man who was watching her in Willie’s?
“You believe this was the man who killed Simon? And that he knew you knew and needed to silence you?”
“I can only guess. I left you a clue at that salon. Did you find it yet?”
“A clue? The only thing you left was your card and a check.”
“No, I slipped some change into the tip jar. Don’t you remember that episode of Relentless? Only it wasn’t a tip jar. It was a donation canister where the clue was hidden that brought down the jockey who was juicing his horses.”
I did vaguely remember both that episode and Lily leaving some change. I’d thought she was simply trying to add flair. And I hadn’t even given a thought to that episode of Relentless. I needed to remember from here on out to always reference my former TV show.
“What’s that have to do with the clue?” I asked.
“I left a cuff link.”
“What are you talking about?” Had she been drinking more before she came here?
She let out a sigh. “I found a cuff link in Simon’s hotel room that night. It wasn’t Simon’s, so it must have been left by the killer. I knew I had to hide it. I also knew that someone would go through all of my stuff if anything happened to me. So I hid it in the open. Right there in the tip jar. I figured you’d find it.”
Reality check: I wasn’t Raven. “I didn’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you can figure out who it belongs to, you’ll find your killer.”
“I’ll check that out. Why’d you run from the hospital?”
“I knew it was just a matter of time until either the police figured I might be involved or until the killer came back to finish what he started. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep thinking that the killer came to visit me in the hospital while I was in the coma.”
A shiver ran through me at her announcement. That was kind of creepy.
“What are you going to do now?” I asked.
“I’ve got to run. I have no other choice. But you’ve got to keep finding the answers. I left that for you.” She nodded toward my dresser. A wad of cash was there.
I blinked at the sight.
“It’s another five thousand dollars. Will that be enough?”
What should I do? That cash would be helpful. And I pretty much believed what Lily was telling me. Then again, I’d also believed that my husband was actually paying our taxes and that off the record truly meant off the record, so my judgment wasn’t always the greatest.
I nodded. “It should do. But I’m still not sure why you have so much confidence in my abilities. I know. I know. I played Raven, and you can’t fake that kind of stuff. But I haven’t found this killer yet, and there are no guarantees I will.”
“My gut tells me you will, and I always trust my gut.” She placed something on the table. “Simon was looking at these pictures before he left.”
I stared at the pile of glossy six by fours. “How do you know that?”
“I went to his house and found them on his nightstand.”
“And you took them?”
“That’s right. I did. I don’t know what they meant, but I thought they could be valuable. Now I’m leaving them with you. Because I have faith you’ll figure this out.”
Well, I could add her to my list of people I’d let down. “I’ll take a look.”
She stood. “One more thing: don’t put your faith in Giselle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people in witness protection aren’t innocent. She was right in the middle of all the crimes going on. That’s how she had so much evidence against the Kilgores at the trial. But she’s just as guilty as the rest of the bunch.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Now, I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”
And as quickly as Lily had appeared, she was gone.
As soon as Lily left, I called Jackson and asked him to pick me up. I knew I should be all female tough and everything, but there was no way I was going into Beach Combers at this hour by myself. No, I didn’t have a death wish.
I could have asked Zane, but his “appointment” was still parked out front.
As soon as Jackson pulled up, I darted outside and climbed into his truck. “Thanks for coming.”
His gaze burned into me. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”
“I just talked to Lily—”
“Lily? You know where she is?”
I strapped on my seat belt. “She ran away. I’m sorry. But she left a clue as to who murdered Simon.”
“She ran away? You know she’s a person of interest, right? Tell me you know that.”
“I know that, but I couldn’t stop her.”
He remained quiet for several minutes and finally sighed. “You said something about a clue. Where is it?”
“That’s where I want to take you. To Beach Combers.” I also handed him the pictures that Lily had left. Well, almost all of them. I may have kept one or two for myself, just in case. And I took snapshots of the rest with my camera phone. just in case.
He put the truck in reverse. “You did the right thing by calling me.”
But did I? I didn’t feel nearly as confident about my gut as Lily felt about hers. I wanted to trust Jackson. I really did. But I still had some doubts.
“Deputy Marshal Manson and I have been working closely to figure out what’s going on,” he said as we started down the road.
“I know.”
They were dedicated and experienced. If those two couldn’t figure this out, what made me think I could? I supposed it wasn’t all my choice. I did have a psycho threatening to kill me if I didn’t.
We pulled up to Beach Combers two minutes later. I grabbed my keys and unlocked the back door. Despite my doubts about Jackson, I was glad he was he
re now, because my anxiety was through the roof. There had been too many surprises lately. People waiting for me at the police station. Inside my home.
I stepped inside, Jackson behind me. Close enough behind me that I could feel his body heat. Close enough that my heart rate surged for a moment.
Stupid heart rate.
I flipped on the lights, holding my breath as the room came into sight. Part of me expected to see devastation or an intruder. Instead, everything looked normal.
I released my breath and rushed over to the tip jar on the counter. I dumped all the change out onto the front desk while Jackson watched curiously.
“What in tarnation are you doing?” he asked.
“You’ll see.” I scrounged through it until I found what I was looking for: the missing link. Cuff link, that was.
“This belongs to our killer.” I held a fancy piece of jewelry in the air.
He took it from me and studied the piece. “How did it end up here?”
“Lily found it in the hotel room where Simon died.”
“It was apparently like Grand Central Station in there.” He scowled.
Police officers did not like it when their scenes were compromised. Not at all.
“If we can figure out who this belongs to, we figure out the killer.”
His hands went to his hips. “I can figure out the killer. There’s no we here.”
I raised my chin. “I did share this information with you.”
“And I appreciate it. But I don’t want to see you get hurt. We don’t know who we’re dealing with here. The best thing you can do is remain low key.”
“But—”
He stepped closer and glowered down at me. I held my ground, unwilling to be a shrinking violet.
But as I looked up and our eyes met, my entire body seemed to become electrified, and I could hardly swallow. Or think. Tension crackled between us better than any on-screen chemistry I’d ever experienced.
“No buts, Joey,” Jackson said softly, his gaze still locked on mine and keeping me mesmerized.
It was so strange. I felt like we were touching. But we weren’t. We were a good five inches apart. Yet every part of me was aware of every inch of him.
You’ll ruin him, Joey. Just like you’ve ruined so many others.
I cleared my throat and stepped back. Whatever the magic of the moment had been, the spell was broken. Thankfully.
I crossed my arms. Low key, Jackson had said. Could I really remain low key at this point?
No, I couldn’t.
Because if I did, I would die.
Twenty-Five
I forced myself to go to work the next day. But I was brooding, and I couldn’t stop myself. I’d thought about the cuff link. I’d even tried to Google it. But I’d found no answers.
I’d studied the pictures that Lily had left—both the two physical copies I’d kept and the rest that I’d taken photos of with my phone. They made no sense. They were simply pictures of men in a crowd. There was no one I recognized. No one at all.
Another dead end.
I did a couple of haircuts, and then I decided to take off early. That was the nice part about renting my own booth. I could set my own schedule. I wanted to go back and stare at that whiteboard. I wanted answers.
Just as I climbed into my car, my phone rang. It was Jackson. It was almost like he could read my mind and wanted to make sure I actually went home, as he’d urged me.
“Mr. Corbina has an alibi on the night Simon Philips died,” he announced.
My lungs deflated. Mr. Corbina had seemed like my best bet as far as who was guilty. I’d only seen that cuff link for a minute, but it looked expensive. Someone with money had bought it. Someone like Mr. Corbina.
I pressed my head back into the seat. “How solid is the alibi?”
“Rock solid. He was in Virginia. Two people have verified it.”
“So we’re back to square one.” I frowned. Raven would have answers by now. She wouldn’t be this confused. She’d have a plan.
I was failing my alter ego.
However, Raven wasn’t real. Nor was TV. This was real life.
“No, we’re not back to anything. I’m still actively working on this case.”
“Does that mean you have other suspects?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. Where are you now?”
“Leaving Beach Combers.”
“And going?”
I frowned again. “Home?”
“Smart idea. Please go there. And stay there. Okay?”
“You got it.”
I had every intention of going home and staring at the whiteboard and waiting for answers to magically appear. But as I started down the road, I got behind a car with the license plate MY3SONS.
I knew exactly whom it belonged to. Lily’s neighbor.
And I may have ignored it. Except the van was going pretty fast for a family vehicle. And it was headed toward the bridge leading to Roanoke Island. And . . . I’m not sure of any other reasons. I just know I followed it.
Things became even more interesting when it turned left after the bridge instead of right. Right would have led to Manteo. Left led to . . . Wanchese.
I tried to lag behind since my red Mazda Miata wasn’t the most subtle car. But I also had to keep the van in sight. I needed some tips on tailing people. It was much more complicated than I’d thought.
The van pulled up behind an old building right on the water at the docks.
I sucked in a deep breath. This wasn’t far from where my dad had worked.
I stopped two buildings earlier and put my car in park, well out of sight. Again against all good sense, I climbed out. I crept behind an old shack that smelled like it was used for seafood processing. And then I watched, resisting my urge to gag.
A man climbed out of the van and met with two other guys who’d been waiting in a pickup truck. Two guys that, if I was honest, looked pretty scary and pretty rough. Not the type that I’d want to tango with in a dark alley by myself.
They talked quietly for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear anything they said. When they finished, they walked to the back of the van, popped open the door, and began pulling out boxes.
The same boxes I’d seen at the house. The ones I hadn’t been able to read the words on.
Drugs. It was all I could think about. In one episode of Relentless, the bad guys had transported drugs in packages disguised as produce. Was that what these guys were doing also? Disguising their sinister deeds?
It seemed like a good guess.
What if this was somehow connected with Simon or Lily? Had Simon discovered Lily was in town and gone to the wrong house to find her? Had he seen something he wasn’t supposed to? Was I on the wrong track completely this whole time? Me being on the wrong track seemed like a good possibility.
Just then a techno-thriller theme sounded. The theme from Relentless, for that matter.
My cell phone! How could I have forgotten to silence it? Starla had programmed the ringtone to be funny.
I jerked my head up. The men stared at me.
“Hey, you!” one shouted.
I ran back to my car and took off.
Twenty-Six
I glanced in my rearview mirror as I sped down the highway. The van was still behind me and quickly gaining.
Maybe the men hadn’t recognized me. That would be a good thing . . . right? And my Miata had to be faster than that minivan. That was another good thing . . . right?
However, the fact remained that I had no idea where to go. Back to my house? I couldn’t lead them there. But I had no one else to turn to.
Jackson’s face flashed through my mind. I certainly couldn’t go to the police station—not until I knew if I could trust them.
Then I thought about Zane. Again, that would mean leading these guys to my home. That didn’t seem smart.
I zoomed over the bridge back toward Nags Head.
The light in front of me changed to yellow.
>
I hit the accelerator.
I glanced in the mirror.
The van was still there, getting closer by the moment.
I nailed it as I went through the light. My heartrate was through the roof.
I looked back again.
A tractor-trailer pulled in front of the van, and the driver slammed on brakes.
I let out a breath.
Maybe I’d gotten away.
Maybe. Just maybe.
As my heartrate started to slow, my cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. Why not keep my life interesting?
“Joey, it’s Giselle,” she rushed, her voice a mere whisper. “Can you meet?”
Giselle? How had she even gotten my number? How did everyone keep getting my number, for that matter?
I didn’t want to lead anyone to the woman. I glanced behind me and didn’t see the van, but still . . . “Can’t we talk on the phone?”
“I’m sorry—we can’t. But I don’t know who else I can trust right now. I’ll fill you in when you get here. Please.”
I remembered my promise to Jackson and cringed. I couldn’t tell her no. Besides, my life was also on the line. “Of course I can. When and where?”
She gave me the location. “Please, Joey, don’t tell anyone you’re coming. No one.”
“Okay.”
I turned around, ready to head back to the pier.
I hoped I didn’t regret this.
I already regretted this, and nothing had happened.
For one thing, I was at the pier. Could this be a trap?
Absolutely. And if so, I’d just walked into it.
For the second thing, it was cold out here. Bitterly cold. The wind whipped around me, antagonizing me as it sank deep into my bones.
Thirdly, it smelled like fish up here, and I hated the smell of fish.
What was it with me and smells lately?
But Giselle apparently needed me. Had she discovered something? Did she remember something she wanted to share?
I had no idea. Whatever it was, she couldn’t tell me on the phone.
But I also remembered Lily’s words. Giselle wasn’t a good girl. She’d been on the inside and sold out her loyalty to a crime family for immunity and a new life.
Ready to Fumble (The Worst Detective Ever Book 1) Page 16