“I thought that credit card was just for an emergency,” Chandler said.
“This is an emergency. Grab me a pen out of the glove compartment, would you?”
Chandler searched the glove compartment and handed Jack a pen. “You ready to explain what the balloons and flowers are for?”
“They’re bait,” Jack said. “For the blonde.” He pulled the cap off the pen with his teeth, and wrote something on the little card that came with the balloons.
“What are you writing? You don’t know her name,” Chandler said.
Jack smiled. “I don’t need to know it. Here’s the message: I need to see you. I miss you. Love, Michael.” He grinned and shoved the card into its little envelope.
Jack drove the car right up to the front door of the building. He took the bouquet of flowers and the balloons from the back seat and headed inside. Chandler, grumbling about something or other, waited in the car.
The lobby was open and airy, filled with tropical plants and a waterfall wall that flowed into a small koi pond. With the summer sun streaming through the windows, it felt like a rainforest despite the air-conditioning running so high it created a breeze. A contemporary reception desk of glass, metal, and smoky plastic curved into a sweeping design. The interior designer appeared to be a huge fan of Star Trek.
The brunette from the bistro raised an eyebrow as Jack approached.
“Hello.” Jack smiled. “Delivery.”
“Who’s it for?” Her voice was nasal.
Jack reached into his pocket and turned it out: empty. Awkwardly, he shifted the balloons into his other hand, then searched the opposite pocket. He pulled out several scraps of paper.
The brunette tipped her head to the side and huffed.
Jack shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just got the address.” He took out the envelope. “There’s a card, but no name on it.”
The brunette snatched the card out of his hand, then proceeded to read what Jack had written on the inside. She smiled knowingly. “I know who it’s for. Thanks.” She waved her hand as if she were shooing away a fly, then she turned and placed the flowers and balloons behind her.
Jack had to force himself not to run back outside. He got back into the car and drove it to a spot at the far side of the lot.
“Well?” Chandler said.
“She took the bait.”
Together they watched the events unfold through the windshield, like two kids watching a crime thriller at a drive-in movie.
The brunette receptionist was walking through the cubicle farm, the balloons floating behind her. Like gophers popping their heads out of their holes, several employees’ heads rose above cubicle walls as they stood to watch the parade pass by. Most were no doubt looking around to see who would be the lucky recipient of the gifts; one woman gave a dismissive wave of her arm when the receptionist passed her by.
The longer the brunette walked, the faster Jack’s heart beat.
As Jack had hoped, she stopped at the blonde’s cubicle and held out the flowers and the balloons.
Chandler pounded Jack on the back. “Bam!” he cheered. “Back left pocket, baby!”
Jack clenched both fists and held them high. “They have to be having an affair!”
“You were right. The receptionist knew exactly who to give them to.”
The blonde stood in her cubicle, her phone pressed against her ear. She was slowly twisting back and forth with a bright smile on her face.
“You think she’s calling Michael?” Chandler asked.
“Guaranteed,” Jack said. “Look how happy she is.”
The blonde stopped twisting.
“Uh-oh…” Chandler said. “Looks like this is the part when Michael is saying I didn’t send you any flowers.”
The blonde covered the phone and turned to the receptionist. The brunette looked like an orchestra conductor gone mad. Her hands flew out in all directions.
“Maybe we should go,” Chandler said. “You got your proof.”
“Not yet,” Jack said. “Right now we don’t know if she called Michael Fitzgibbits. We’re just guessing. And I’m not talking to Clark unless I’m a hundred and fifty percent certain. But if Michael comes here and talks to the blonde, it will prove that he knows her. Then we’ve got him.”
“Or he gets us. Do you realize you’re luring a man back here who you think could be a killer?”
“It’s not like we’re in danger,” Jack said. “You can’t really see us from the office building. And we’ll see Michael coming from a mile off.”
“So that’s the plan? We’re just going to sit here and see if the psycho shows up?”
“That’s the plan.” Jack grinned.
Chandler didn’t.
The minutes ticked away. Cars came and went, but the silver Toyota was nowhere to be seen. Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“How long are we gonna stay here?” Chandler asked.
Jack turned to answer him, but his mouth clamped shut as the Toyota came into sight. Jack pointed, and they both watched as the car zipped into the parking lot and stopped right at the front of the building.
Michael got out, and the blonde and the brunette both came out to meet him. Michael paced back and forth as he spoke with them. Even though they were over fifty yards away, Jack heard Michael yelling, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Suddenly the brunette looked in Jack’s direction. Jack thought the car was pretty well hidden, but when her eyes narrowed, he knew they were in trouble. She shouted something and thrust her hand out—pointing straight at Jack.
“Oh, hell no,” Chandler muttered.
“Uh-oh… Our cover’s blown. Let’s go.” Jack started the car.
Michael was already running toward them.
The tires on the little car squealed as Jack shot out of the parking space. There was only one exit from the parking lot, and Jack drove straight for it.
But Michael got there first. He blocked the exit, and his expression dared them to come closer. His face was bright red and his hands were clenched in fists. In between the string of profanities that flew out of his mouth, Jack picked out the words bloodsuckers and TV trash.
“He’s nuts,” Chandler warned.
“He thinks we’re reporters.” Jack cut the wheel and headed back into the parking lot.
“What are you doing now?” Chandler said.
“There’s another way out of here.” Jack pointed.
“That’s a sidewalk!” Chandler shouted.
“It’s got a handicapped access ramp.”
“It’s still a sidewalk, Jack,” Chandler repeated, his voice rising.
Jack kept going, steering the tiny car right up the ramp and then right down the sidewalk. One wheel hugged the top of the curb while the other crushed the grass along the edge. As they dropped off the sidewalk onto the road outside the parking lot, metal scraped on the curb. Jack checked the rearview mirror to see whether anything had fallen off.
“No, no, no.” Chandler leaned away from the window. “Incoming!” he warned.
Michael had grabbed a rock, and now he heaved it at the car. The stone just missed the hood and bounced harmlessly into the street. They heard him screaming behind them.
“He’s running back for his car,” Chandler said.
The streetlight ahead turned yellow.
“Go!” Chandler yelled.
Jack laid on the gas and took a hard right. The little car’s engine whined. For a moment Jack thought they were in the clear—until he looked in his rearview mirror and saw the Toyota running the red light.
“Damn,” Jack cursed.
Jack passed a Buick and took a left. The Toyota stayed with them. Michael screamed something. Spit flew against Michael’s windshield as he ranted and gestured at Jack to pull over.
“I knew it.” Chandler smacked his forehead. “I knew something like this would happen.”
“I’ll lose him.” Jack took a right and headed
down a narrow two-way street.
“In this wind-up toy? I don’t think so.”
Michael was right on their tail.
The light ahead turned yellow.
Jack didn’t slow down.
“Jack…”
A huge black SUV barreled from left to right toward the intersection ahead of them, but Jack still didn’t slow.
“The SUV’s jumping the red light.” Chandler put his huge hands on the dash.
“There’s a passenger-side airbag. Sit back or it’ll break your arms.”
“Stop the car and it won’t go off!”
Jack’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “He’ll stop.”
“You won’t make it.”
“I might.”
“Might?” Chandler’s voice shrilled.
The compact zipped in front of the huge SUV. The SUV driver laid on the horn and slammed on the brakes.
Jack didn’t see the BMW taking a right.
Chandler screamed. So did Jack, but he kept the gas pedal pinned to the floor. The BMW just missed the rear bumper, and Jack’s little car with the “I love my math teacher” bumper sticker sped through the now snarled intersection. Horns blared and people swore.
Jack looked back. Michael had skidded to a stop behind them, on the other side of the intersection.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Stratton?” Chandler roared. “You could have killed me, you, and everyone else back at that intersection.”
“How am I going to kill them in this tin can? Sure, we’d die, but this car would’ve bounced off the SUV without even denting it. And the light was still kinda yellow.”
“You know, it’s not too reassuring that you care so little about us dying.”
“We didn’t.”
“Unacceptable risk. Learn that term,” Chandler growled. “I’m not taking them, and neither are you. You need to be responsible.”
“I am responsible,” Jack said.
“No, you’re not. If you haven’t realized it about yourself yet, let me explain it to you. You’re the wild child of the family, and I’m the responsible one.”
“I’m not that wild.”
Chandler laughed. It was deep and real. “So says the crazy man who just gunned it through an intersection in a toy car.” He mimed driving, holding his hands out and making a high-pitched whine.
Jack laughed.
After several minutes of weaving down side streets, Jack headed toward the highway. “I think we lost him.”
“I hope so. He looked nuts. What now?”
“I’m going to go talk to Detective Clark. The police’ll have to look at Michael Shaw now.”
27
Not Your Case
“You what?” Detective Clark glanced across the lawn of the police station and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“I didn’t break any laws,” Jack said defensively.
Clark jabbed the air with his cigarette. “Before we get into breaking laws, did you miss the part where Detective Vargas told you that this is an ongoing investigation?”
“But—”
“But nothing.” The old detective’s wrinkles became even more pronounced as he scowled. “And it’s not my case.”
Jack felt his frustration rising. He respected Detective Clark and valued his opinion, but right now the detective’s dour expression hurt Jack. “It’s wrong to just sit there. I had to try to do something. I tried to explain to Detective Vargas, but he didn’t listen. So I decided to look into it myself.” Jack squared his shoulders.
Clark’s scowl didn’t go away, but with a sigh he said, “You may as well tell me what you found. Start at the beginning.”
Jack took out his notebook.
“You took notes?”
Jack nodded. “I went to H.T. Wells and started asking around.”
“You can’t do that, Jack.”
“There’s no law against talking to people.”
“There is one about hindering a police investigation.”
“I’m just trying to bring you other possibilities. Vargas is locked in on Jay, when he should be looking at other people too.”
“Such as?”
“Stacy’s manager, Leland Chambers. He argued with Stacy that night. Over a report. For the Right-A-Way Shipping company.”
“Where did you get that?”
“The custodian, Jeremy. When I questioned Mr. Chambers about the report, it really got under his skin, and he had Jeremy fired.”
“That’s interesting.”
“I thought so.”
Clark pulled out his own notepad and started to take notes. “Go on.”
“I also found someone in the park who you need to look at. Alex Hernandez.”
Clark’s expression soured. “I know Alex.”
“Well, the night of the murder, Alex was in the area right next to where Stacy’s body was found. He called it an outpost.”
Clark lowered his notepad. “Wait a minute—he spoke with you?”
“Yes. He answered a few questions. When I asked him about the murders—”
“Do you know how unbalanced he is?” Clark took another long drag of his cigarette. His face glowed almost as brightly as the end of the cigarette.
“I do now.”
Clark ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve already spoken with Alex. Detective Vargas interviewed him too. Alex cooperated fully.”
“I thought you said you weren’t part of this investigation.”
Clark’s scowled deepened. “I said it’s not my case. But when you work law enforcement, it’s all hands on deck. Besides, if there’s an issue with Alex, they call me in. How was he after you spoke to him?”
“Agitated. He got really upset. Was he a suspect in his wife’s murder?”
“No. He was overseas at the time.” Clark looked around. “I’ll have to go talk to him again. Where did you see him?”
“In the basement of the old maintenance building at Hamilton Park. He told me he saw a messenger, in civilian clothes. I think he was talking about a jogger, and based on his description of the clothes, that jogger was Leland Chambers.”
Clark flicked his ashes. “Alex thinks that all joggers are messengers. There were several in the park that night—we talked to a few. We interviewed Chambers too.”
“I think you should be looking at both Alex and Chambers.” Jack’s eyes lit up. “You gave Alex the key to the maintenance building.”
Clark sucked on his cigarette so hard Jack was surprised it didn’t burst into flame. “Alex didn’t tell you that.”
“No. You did.”
Clark’s forehead creased.
“You weren’t surprised when I said I talked to him inside the maintenance building.”
Clark exhaled until the last puff of smoke drifted out of his mouth. “I didn’t give him the key, but I do overlook the fact that he has it.” He clicked his tongue. “I feel bad for him after what happened to his wife. I worked her murder.”
“My mother told me.” Jack shook his head. “Did you catch the murderer? Is he in jail?”
“No.”
“So whoever murdered Alex’s wife could have murdered Stacy Shaw. It’s the same MO. Anne Hernandez was pregnant, wasn’t she?”
Clark watched a group of police officers walk into the station. “They’re not in jail because they’re dead. Being a cop is a ticket to hell, Jack. Sometimes you have to see things people shouldn’t see. Anne Hernandez was killed in a home invasion. Two junkies were looking to stick up a drug dealer at home. But they got the wrong address. They tortured Anne for hours, trying to get her to give up where the dope was.” He snuffed out his cigarette and took out another. “It was one of the worst crime scenes I’ve ever seen. Once she was dead, they stole her car, took what money she had, and bought a load of heroin. We found them the next day—OD’d.” Clark cupped his hand around his cigarette as he lit it. “And Alex… he never went home again. His old house is right across the street from the mainte
nance building, but he won’t go there—won’t leave the park. He believes Anne’s still alive and had the baby. He thinks it’s his mission to stay and watch over them—from a distance. Recon.”
“But you don’t think he had anything to do with Stacy Shaw’s death? Even with his camp right there?”
“No, I don’t.” Clark rolled his shoulders. “Did you find out anything else?”
“I followed Michael Shaw to Darrington. First he stopped by a law office.”
“Did you get the name?”
Jack flipped through his notebook. “Tate, Wolfe, and Rice.”
Clark wrote the name on his pad. “Continue.”
Jack explained everything that had happened with Michael Shaw. From the Facebook status to following him to the bistro, to baiting him to the blonde’s office. He took his time going over each step.
“Is that everything you did?” Clark eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not leaving anything out?”
“That’s everything.”
A muscle in Clark’s jaw twitched. “Hold on a second.” He took out his phone.
“Who are you calling? Detective Vargas?” Jack felt a mix of vindication and pride wash over him. “You’re going to have him look at Michael Shaw, right?”
“I’m calling your father.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?”
“Why?” Clark looked at Jack as if he had four heads for even asking the question. “Ted? Hi, it’s Derrick. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need you to come down to the station. It’s about Jack.” Pause. “Yes, he’s with me now.” Pause. “No, nothing like that.” Another pause. “Fifteen minutes sounds good. Thanks, Ted.”
Clark clicked off the phone and took a drag of his cigarette.
Jack stood there, shocked. “Why would you do that? Why not look into the information I gave you?”
“What did you think I’d do? I told you this is an ongoing investigation. If you want to stick your neck out, you have to be ready to face the consequences. Are you ready to do that?”
“Do you know you’re going to screw up me getting into the Army? If I don’t go to the Army then I’ve got no shot at being a cop!”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 24