Actually, it did make sense. Too much sense. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
He pressed harder into me. “Do you get it yet?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I’ve nearly decided who will die if you fail.”
“Who?” My voice cracked as the question left my lips.
“It’s between Zane Oakley and Jackson Sullivan. I haven’t quite made my mind up yet as to which. Do you understand?”
Nausea rose in me, but I nodded. “I understand.”
“You have five hours to make this right. Five hours.” With that, he left.
I could figure this out. I knew I could. The answers were just within reach. I wished I could talk to Jackson, but he would tell me to mind my own business. I’d call Zane, but he was snowboarding.
I was flying solo here. Which was just as well. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted? To stand on my own two feet and not depend on a man? Wish. Come. True.
I was back upstairs in my duplex watching reruns of Relentless and hoping to be inspired.
What my stalker had told me made sense. Giselle was the real target here. But how did that help me narrow things down? Any one of my suspects could still be guilty.
“You’re an actress, Joey,” I whispered, dropping the remote and ignoring the scene on TV where Raven single handedly took down a dangerous drug ring. “Use what you know. If you don’t, one of the two people you’ve come to care about will die.”
I rubbed my temples. How did I do this? What did I know?
I knew body language.
I’d taken method-acting classes. I knew how to act guilty. Avert your gaze. Add ticks. Delay before answering. Leaving out “I” when speaking about something.
Who had acted like that? I shook my head. I wasn’t sure. Then I reviewed what I knew.
The killer was a male.
He wore expensive cuff links.
He had a reason to want Simon and Giselle dead.
He’d tried to kill Lily.
He knew I was investigating.
He hadn’t left the area.
Simon had told Giselle, “Things aren’t as they seem.”
I stared at my whiteboard of suspects.
Mr. Corbina still maintained his position there. I added Billy to the list also. Had he killed Simon in a moment of lovelorn rage? Was he now targeting Giselle because . . . Because what? Why would he do that? I also couldn’t rule out one of Kilgore’s hit men.
I rubbed my temples again. This was so confusing.
No, no, no. There was one person who fit all of this. One person who made sense, who fit this more than the others.
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t seen this earlier.
I hopped on the computer and did a little extra research just to make sure my theory was plausible. Then I sent the photos Lily had left me to a friend who specialized in makeup and costumes. If anyone could answer my question, it was her.
She got right back to me and confirmed my theory. Those two people were one and the same.
I knew who’d done it. I knew who had the three Rs, as Raven called them: a reason, a resource, and right circumstance.
I nibbled on my lip for a minute. It was going to be hard to prove. In fact, I had no real evidence, only hunches. But there was one way to draw this person out and prove once and for all who the killer was. The same way Raven had done it on Episode 215.
I had to do it. I had no choice. If I didn’t, then someone would die and his blood would be on my hands.
I glanced at the clock. I had only three hours left.
My hands trembled as I picked up my phone and called Jackson. You have to do this, Joey. You have no other choice. It’s what Raven would do.
Jackson’s voice sounded surprisingly warm and welcoming as he answered. “What’s going on, Joey?”
I swallowed hard, hating the fact that I had to deceive him. But I did. “Giselle is with me,” I whispered.
“What? Giselle is? Where are you? We need to come get her. Her life is in danger, and if you’re with her, so is yours.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “You can’t come yet. But meet me in an hour at my house.”
“An hour? Why an hour? Is she with you now? Who else knows she’s there?”
“No one.” I licked my lips. “And right now, I’ve got to convince her not to run. I need an hour, at least. That could be pushing it, so please listen to me. Follow my parameters. Please.”
“Joey, don’t do anything stupid.” Jackson’s voice was tinged with urgency and concern. “Let the police handle it. You’re in over your head.”
I closed my eyes. No more messes, Joey. It’s time to start restoring people’s lives instead of destroying them.
“I’m just trying to do the right thing.” My voice was raspy with emotion.
“Joey—”
Before he could say anything else, I hung up. I really hoped this worked.
Someone was tracking my moves. The person who wanted Giselle would come find me in order to find Giselle. I’d laid the groundwork for it. The web had been set.
The only problem was that I was the bait.
I waited outside at my house. Behind the outdoor shower. At the place where I could see anyone coming and going.
Then I texted Jackson and told him the truth.
The timing had to be just right. Otherwise, he would blow the whole thing. I couldn’t let that happen. The consequences . . . well, I didn’t want to think about the consequences.
I pulled my black sweatshirt closer, shivering against the bitterly cold air. This had to be the coldest day yet, and forecasters had said another blast of arctic air was headed this way.
A sound caught my ear. Was that . . . someone pounding down the stairs? What . . .
My heart sank when I saw Zane appear with a bag of trash in hand.
Zane?
Zane wasn’t supposed to be home. He’d told me he was going out of town. So why was he here?
Panic engulfed me. Would he ruin all of this? Or find himself in the middle?
I couldn’t live with myself if he got hurt because of me.
My phone jangled, letting me know that I’d gotten a text. I’d forgotten to silence it again! I really was terrible at this.
It was Jackson.
Are you out of your mind? I’m on my way now. Stand down. I repeat, stand down.
“Joey?” Zane stepped closer.
No, no, no!
I knew I couldn’t hide out here and expect him to go away. The best thing I could do was to convince him to go back up to his place.
I stepped out, knowing I didn’t have much time. “I’m here. I thought I dropped a ring, and I’m looking for it. I thought you were snowboarding.”
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I started to feel bad about leaving you here with a killer on the loose. It wasn’t my best choice. I mean, friends should be there for each other, right?”
I smiled despite the circumstances, knowing I had to sell this. I’d have to tap into my acting skills to do so though. “Right. Listen, Zane. I’m going to go upstairs in a minute after I look a little while longer. Can I meet you?”
“Maybe I can help—”
Before he could finish his statement, he grabbed his neck. A second later, he slumped to the ground.
“Zane—” What had happened to him? I hadn’t heard anything. Seen anything. Anyone.
Before I could figure it out, something sharp pricked my neck. Then everything went black.
Twenty-Nine
I opened my eyes as the cold hit me like a wave.
No, not like a wave.
I was dry. And in the dark.
And I was tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse.
The windows to the place were open, and cool air rushed inside. Arctic air. Air that was well below freezing.
I tried to move my arms, but I couldn’t. Not my legs either. Ropes kept them in place. And to make matters worse . . . this had once been a fish-processing wa
rehouse, hadn’t it? The place reeked.
“You’re not as smart as you think you are,” someone said behind me.
He obviously didn’t know me, because I didn’t have confidence that I was all that smart. “Some people might say the same thing about you.”
He chuckled as he crossed the space and appeared in front of me.
Ted Manson.
Just as I suspected. However, it was never supposed to get this far. Jackson was supposed to arrive just in time to see Ted show up.
Where was Jackson? Had something happened to him? To Zane? I remembered seeing him crumple to the ground, and I let out a cry. Had Ted killed him?
“You don’t have to do this,” I muttered.
“Sure I do. You know too much. You didn’t have Giselle at all, did you?”
“No, I just needed evidence that you did this.”
“Well, your friend Jackson is a little distracted right now. All of his car tires are flat. It’s going to take him a while to fix that.”
Panic clawed at me, but I pushed it back. “There are other cops. He can borrow their cars.”
“He can. But you’ll be long gone by then. In the meantime, I’ll set this up to make it look like your unhinged stalker is simply trying to finish acting out that episode of Relentless. I’ll send him my thank-you letter later for making this so easy.”
I narrowed my eyes as I watched the smug jerk pace in front of me. “You had the inside track the whole time, didn’t you? You were the perfect person to kill Giselle.”
“I did. So tell me, how did you figure it out?”
“I just did a little detective work,” I said. “First of all, I knew the killer was someone with an inside scoop. Like you. I knew you had money problems, but I also saw that you had a Black Diamond luxury-class credit card. I saw it when your wallet flopped open at Oh Buoy. Only people with a lot of money can get one of those. Believe me. I know credit cards. And people on a marshal’s paycheck? They can’t get those.”
“Very observant.”
“Then there was your gaze. It’s shifty in a very subtle way. My acting classes taught me to look for those things as signs of guilt and inner turmoil.”
“I see.”
“But the biggest giveaway came when I examined some pictures that Simon had.”
Ted paused. “Pictures?”
So he didn’t know about those. Good to know. However, useless if I died right now. “Lily gave them to me. At first they didn’t mean anything. But then I realized that one of those men was you. I mean, you looked totally different wearing jeans and a ball cap. A typical disguise.”
“But effective.”
“You were with men who were associated with Kilgore. I cross-referenced the pictures. And I saw that they were all wearing the same cuff links. The cuff link that was found on the scene of Simon Philips’s murder.”
He clapped, the sound echoing throughout the empty building. “Well, bravo to you. Yes, I’m on Kilgore’s paycheck. He does pay better. And I suppose I should have given you more credit than I did.”
“You knew Simon and Giselle were going to meet. You got to the room before Giselle did and forced Simon to take those pills. As you were leaving the hotel, Lily showed up. You hadn’t expected that.”
“No, I hadn’t.”
“You followed her that night, saw she was drinking too much, and had an easy solution on how to silence her. However, she didn’t die. I suspect that you went to visit her in the hospital though, as a way of monitoring her condition, just in case.”
“I heard people understand more than we give them credit for while in comas. I needed her to know she had to stay quiet—if she remembered anything.”
“I suspect that Simon got some photos of you—in disguise—with members of Kilgore’s network as a part of a different case he was working. He put everything together and realized you were going to kill Giselle. He came here to warn Giselle. You had to stop him before he did.”
He tugged the rope around my arms, tightening it until I blanched. “You are smarter than I gave you credit for.”
This whole plan may have been absolutely stupid. Maybe it was what Raven Remington would have done. But Raven Remington was fictional. She couldn’t die. Not really.
But I could. And I might. I’d be finding out soon.
My heart panged when I thought about my father. If I died tonight, I’d never have the chance to make things right. That was why I had to fight with everything in me not to give up.
“It’s cold in here,” Ted said. “Give it time, and you’ll go into hypothermia. Really, it won’t be that painful of a way to die.”
“And you’ll be gone? You’ll walk away, take your money, and start a new life. Maybe you’ll even win your ex-wife back.”
He smiled, but his eyes looked soulless. “As soon as I track down Giselle, I’ll be gone. Everyone will think your little stalker did this, and no one will look at me.”
With that, he walked away, leaving me to die.
Thirty
Just as Ted reached the exit, a figure lunged from behind a table and tackled him. Leonard. Leonard had followed me here.
I never thought I’d be thankful for a stalker.
As the two wrestled each other, I reached beneath my watch—something I never wore—and pulled out the blade I’d hidden there. Of course I had a backup plan. Every good detective did. I began sawing away at the ropes.
I tried to work quickly. I didn’t have much time.
As I did that, I worked my boots off. Another move I’d learned from Raven: wear big shoes to give yourself more room in case you’re ever tied up. If I could get my boots off, then I could easily slip my feet out.
What did you know? That move actually worked. My feet came out. Just as they did, the ropes binding my hands broke. I was free! I quickly slipped my shoes back on, knowing I’d need them to escape.
Before I could move, Manson landed a final blow to Leonard. Leonard’s limp body sprawled on the floor.
I sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, my backup plan had ended with that razor blade. I knew I couldn’t take down Manson on my own. I was a master at fake punches, but they would do me no good right now.
Manson paced back toward me.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” he grumbled. “Your fan club is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”
Just as he reached me, I popped to my feet. His eyes widened.
“Baloney!” I yelled.
Using the edge of my foot, I kicked his shin as hard I could. He grunted with pain, which gave me just enough time to dart toward the door.
“Stop right there, Ms. Darling,” Manson said, his voice eerily calm.
Something clicked behind me, and I froze.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Manson.”
I glanced over. Jackson. Jackson was here. He’d brought backup too.
But that didn’t change the fact that there was a gun aimed at me.
“Walk away, Manson. You can get a plea deal. But don’t do anything stupid,” Jackson said, creeping closer to me.
I wasn’t going to lie. He looked awesome all suited up and holding that gun. Not that it was an important detail to notice at this moment.
“You know why I brought you here, don’t you, Joey?” Manson said.
I slowly looked back at Manson. The shoes. Oysters. Red diesel. Varnish. “Why?”
“So it would look like your dad was involved.”
The air left my lungs. “My dad? You know about my dad?”
Manson smiled and raised his gun. His finger poised on the trigger, and darkness filled his gaze. “Too bad you’ll never know.”
Just then, a bullet cut through the air.
I held my breath, unsure who had fired and who had been hit.
The next instant, Manson fell to the ground.
“No!” I shouted. He’d had information on my father.
I rushed toward him. Jackson was behind me. He squeezed my
shoulders. Tried to pull me up and away. Muttered things that I couldn’t understand.
I checked Manson’s pulse.
But it was gone.
He was dead.
And now I might not ever know what had happened to my father.
Back at the station, I sat across from Jackson, wishing I could relish the fact that the crime had been solved. But I couldn’t. I had too much weighing on my mind. Too much about my father.
“I’m sorry, Joey.” Jackson reached forward and squeezed my hand. “He was going to shoot you.”
I nodded. I understood that on a logical level. But emotionally . . . “I know,” I finally said, even though my throat burned.
This wasn’t Jackson’s fault. It was Manson’s. He’d timed it all out perfectly. He’d wanted to die rather than go to jail, and he wanted to torture me by leaving unanswered questions.
He’d succeeded.
I cleared my throat, wishing it was that easy to clear my thoughts. “What about the shoes, Jackson? How did they tie in with all of this?”
Jackson leveled his gaze with me. “I think your stalker may have been leaving you a clue, but not about this investigation.”
My heart panged with realization. “You think it’s about my father?”
He nodded. “I do.”
I wanted to ask him what he knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. I wasn’t prepared to handle the truth.
“What about Lily’s neighbors? They were meeting with suspicious people down at the marina.”
“They were selling some stuff on eBay.”
eBay? What sense did that make? “But why did they chase me?”
“They said they were just driving fast. And that your gas tank lid was open and they were trying to tell you.”
My heart sank. Really? That was all?
“But Mr. Corbina’s son had his car parked at Lily’s rental.”
“He likes to use his father’s rentals whenever he wants to do whatever he’d like.”
“Mr. Corbina owned that house also?”
“He has a little empire around here.” Jackson offered a compassionate smile.
Ready to Fumble (The Worst Detective Ever Book 1) Page 18