Gone Daddy Gone (Sloane Monroe Book 7)

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  Adele nodded and Delia swung the door open, motioning for us to come in. “Follow me to my office, please.”

  Delia turned and led the way while Adele skulked down the hall beside us. I squeezed her shoulder and leaned in close.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything,” I whispered.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, mouthed the words thank you and ascended the stairs.

  Once we entered Delia’s office, Nick dove right in. “We went by your place of business earlier today. It doesn’t look like you’ve operated from there in a long time.”

  She shrugged. “There’s no need. Most of my business is conducted over the phone. I can book appointments from anywhere.”

  “Why bother with a storefront then?”

  “We use one of the rooms as a photo studio to keep the girls’ profiles updated. The other we use for storage. Anything else you would like to know, Detective Calhoun?”

  “You know who I am?”

  “I make it my business to know everyone in law enforcement.” She turned toward me. “But I don’t know you. Why are you here?”

  I explained.

  “Why did you act like you didn’t know Shelby just now?” Nick asked.

  “I never said I didn’t know her. I was feeling the two of you out. I have a lot of paperwork to get to tonight, so if you wouldn’t mind, let’s get to your more pressing questions.”

  “All right, fine,” Nick said. “How long had Shelby been working for you?”

  She glanced up. “Let’s see now ... she started midway through her first year at college. She was referred to me by another young woman who used to work for me.”

  “I know,” I said. “Heather Farnsworth. She died last year.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. I was sorry to hear it.”

  “Did Shelby ever mention having problems with any of your clients?” Nick asked.

  She shook her head. “Shelby was one of my most popular girls. She was well liked. If anyone had mistreated her, or anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated before turning him in to the police. I have a zero-tolerance policy where the girls’ safety is concerned. Fortunately we cater to the kind of men I don’t often worry about.”

  “I’m going to need a list of all of the men who hired Shelby,” Nick said.

  She shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “No personal records are retained—not here or at the office.”

  He scoffed like he didn’t believe her. “Fine. If you want to play it that way, I’ll get a warrant, but I will see those files.”

  “I invited you into my home, Detective, even though I was under no obligation to do so. Get your warrant if you must. It won’t change anything. After we screen a client, and their time with the girl they’ve hired has concluded, we incinerate any information we’ve collected to protect their privacy. Essentially, there’s no database or list of past clients.”

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  “If you have a problem accepting what I’m telling you, I’ll give you my lawyer’s card, and you can take it up with him.”

  “What can you tell me about Paul? He was one of Shelby’s regulars. We understand he was in love with her.”

  “Like I said, I’d be happy to give you my lawyer’s information, but I won’t be speaking to you about any of my clients.”

  We’d hit a wall, and it was clear nothing we said would penetrate it.

  “I guess we’re done here then, for now,” Nick said.

  “Not quite,” she said. “Since you’re here, there is one detail worth sharing. Shelby came to me before she died. She thought someone was following her.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Last week.”

  “Why haven’t you notified the police?”

  “Because I have no specific details to report. Without concrete information, what good would it have done? Shelby never actually saw anyone following her. She didn’t even know whether it was a man or a woman. My girls are squirrely enough after what just happened, and I have a business to run. I can’t have them thinking their next client might be a gun-toting Boogey Man looking to end their life.”

  Nick pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Here’s my number. If anything changes and you have reason to believe any of your girls are in danger, contact me.”

  “Understood.” She turned toward me. “I’m sorry about Shelby. She was a sweet girl. I was very fond of her, as was my daughter.”

  On our way out, I asked one last question. “What made Shelby feel like she was being watched, did she say?”

  “It was a feeling she had—the kind of feeling we all get when we’re alone and every hair on our body stands up on its own. We may not know why our body reacts the way it does. We just know something is wrong.”

  CHAPTER 23

  At four o’clock the next morning, Maddie and I began the trek back to Wyoming to attend Shelby’s funeral. While I drove, Maddie leaned a pillow against the window and slept. I sipped on an energy drink, using my mind to keep me company. I processed everything I knew about Shelby’s murder so far, which wasn’t enough. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something—something big, something I hadn’t thought of yet.

  I’d been working on the assumption that Shelby’s murder had been motivated by someone in her own life, in her circle of friends, or in the industry she worked in. Now I questioned that logic. In all my years as a private investigator, I had always considered myself a good judge of character. So why did I have the feeling none of the characters I’d questioned so far were guilty?

  Paul.

  Elise.

  Jesse.

  Clinton.

  It felt like I was standing amongst a group of trees, barking. No matter which tree I chose, it was always the wrong one. The escort angle was an easy one to latch on to, and I had assumed Shelby’s murder was tied to it somehow. Now I was starting to feel like her death had nothing to do with the business she was in. The pieces weren’t coming together like they should. There was a different path I needed to follow, perhaps one that hit much closer to home, and I just needed to find it.

  CHAPTER 24

  The funeral home was packed to overflowing, with latecomers being forced to stand outside the service in the crowded foyer. I sat on a pew in the front row with Cade, my hand clutching his. At the far end of the row, Shelby’s mother sat next to a man twice her age. He was grossly overweight and wearing a button-up shirt with half of the top buttons undone, exposing a gray, hairy chest no one wanted to see and couldn’t unsee once they did. In the looks department, he was a flat zero, but Wendy was with him for his money. Based on the gold chain dangling around his neck and the diamond watch adorning her wrist, he had plenty of it to go around.

  One look into Wendy’s glassy eyes and it was obvious she was using again. Her last stint in rehab had been due to an addiction to cocaine. I wondered what her drug of choice was this time.

  The sermon started with a prayer that lasted so long it felt more like a speech. It was followed by Cade’s cousin singing a mediocre yet heartfelt rendition of James Taylor’s You Can Close Your Eyes. Then it was Bonnie’s turn. She delivered a touching address and showed a slideshow she’d put together with photos of Shelby throughout the years.

  Next up was Cade.

  He made his way to the front, faced the crowd, and stood there, tall and stoic, searching for the words he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  A minute passed.

  Then two.

  We locked eyes, and with the slightest shake of his head, I knew he couldn’t go through with it. He stepped down, and I stood up, searching for the words Cade would have me say.

  “I knew Shelby for the last few years,” I said. “In that time, I watched a rebellious teenager blossom into a beautiful, confident woman. One of my favorite memories was watching her tease her dad. She used to hide behind the corner and wait for him to come
around, and then spring out in front of him. No matter how many times she did it, she still managed to surprise him.”

  I went on for the next several minutes, doing my best to say some of the things I knew Cade felt in his heart. And then came time for the inevitable—I passed the torch to Wendy.

  Wendy adjusted the front of her short, spaghetti-strap dress and walked to the podium, her slip-on wedge sandals clicking against the heels of her feet with each step. I exchanged looks with Bonnie, who was poised on the edge of her seat, ready to jump up if necessary. It wasn’t our first rendezvous with Wendy—we’d attended a funeral with her before. When it came to Wendy’s unfiltered mouth, it was best to prepare for the worst.

  “I wasn’t the best mother,” Wendy began. “I didn’t braid Shelby’s hair or read her bedtime stories, or make sure she brushed her teeth at night, but I loved her as much as any woman loves her child. She was a good girl, and she was smart. She was going to college so she could do something special with her life.”

  She paused, patting a hand against her chest as if to calm herself. So far she’d come off beautifully, but the longer I gazed upon her face, the more I detected a shift in her demeanor. The tide was about to change, and we would all be swept up in its wake.

  “My baby girl was murdered. Shot. Someone ended her life, some savage, and now he’s out there running around, free to do it again to someone else’s precious daughter. Why isn’t anyone talking about that? Why isn’t anyone doing what needs to be done to find the bastard and end his life?”

  Bonnie and I stood at the same time.

  “Enough!” Bonnie said. “This is your child’s funeral, Wendy. Don’t make a scene.”

  Wendy swished a hand through the air. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I get it. Y’all think I’m crazy, but you want to know what I think, standin’ here, looking out at all of you, all prettied up in your Sunday best, trying to have a respectable service, pretendin’ what happened is fine? It’s not fine. It will never be fine. Save your condolences, your sympathy for my loss. I don’t need ‘em.”

  After her “drop the mic” moment, she walked up the aisle and out the back door. Her boyfriend followed behind like a faithful puppy. The pastor cleared his throat and walked back to the podium, doing his best to smooth over what had just happened. He led the congregation in a song and then ended with a prayer.

  I looked at Cade. “You all right?”

  “Why’d she have to ruin it? Why’d she have to make a fool of herself today of all days?”

  “She’s dealing with what happened to Shelby in her own way. It’s not the right way, but it’s the only way she knows how.”

  He let out a long, tired breath. “I don’t feel like talkin’ to anyone right now. I just wanna get out of here.”

  I slid my hand inside his. “Why don’t we head to the truck and sit for a few minutes before we drive to the cemetery?”

  He nodded, and we stood, walking together toward the back door. A few people reached out along the way, patting him on the arm, giving him a smile. Cade’s puffy, swollen eyes hid the tears he wouldn’t let fall. He focused on the ground, never lifting his head until we reached the back door. He pushed it open, and we stepped out.

  A loud bang pierced the air, the sound of a gun being fired at a relatively close range. My head whipped around as if in slow motion, processing what had just happened, even though it seemed more like a dream than reality. I squinted, focusing in the direction the sound had come from. A man in a ski mask, dressed head to toe in black, darted out from behind a vehicle, pausing a few moments to meet my gaze before running toward a tree-lined hillside behind the building.

  I was too stunned to move, my feet planted on the ground like they’d been strapped to weights. I turned toward Cade, blinking in disbelief as the present moment came into focus again, and the awareness of what had just happened hit me. Cade had been shot, blood dripping from his forehead onto his suit. He glanced at me and then released my hand, his body slumping to the ground.

  I fell to his side, hovering over him, screaming.

  CHAPTER 25

  Running—the sound of the man’s feet hammering into the pavement as he made a swift getaway. The moment after he’d squeezed the trigger, he’d stood, holding Sloane’s attention for several seconds while she stared him down, trying to understand what had just happened and why. She had probably been in shock. Shock that gave him the upper hand, the time he needed to pop up from behind the car and make his escape before everyone else exited the building.

  He took refuge on a hillside next to the funeral home, the perfect place to watch the aftermath unfold. He reached into his bag and removed his binoculars. Time to assess the damage.

  The shot he’d taken was a good one, but had it been good enough to do the job he’d intended? With the mass number of human bodies swarming around Cade like bees protecting their hive, it was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead.

  He scanned the area, focusing the binoculars on Sloane. She stood in front of Cade, looking around in a daze. A man walked up to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her away from Cade. They talked for a moment, and then she raised a finger, pointing in the direction of the hillside. Given the distance, it was unlikely she would be able to make him out very well, if at all, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she made her move.

  That’s right, Sloane.

  Follow me.

  Take the bait.

  You know you want to.

  CHAPTER 26

  Maddie pushed her way through the crowd of funeral attendees, trying to get to me. Cade’s fellow officers split into two groups, two providing cover around Cade, and the other two ushering everyone back inside the funeral home for safe keeping.

  I flashed back to the moment I’d locked eyes with the masked man. He was tall and muscular. Even with the mask over his face, he seemed familiar somehow. And he’d stood there, waiting, like he wanted me to see him, wanted me to know he was there.

  Why?

  Maddie knelt in front of Cade, assessing the bullet wound and checking for a heartbeat. “I feel a pulse. He’s alive, for now, but he’s losing too much blood too fast. I need to get pressure on his head wound.”

  I felt someone tugging on my arm and whipped around. Quaid Hooker, the ME in Jackson Hole, and one of Cade’s best friends, grabbed me, looking me over from top to bottom. “Sloane, are you okay? Were you hit?”

  “I’m ... yes. I mean, yes, I’m fine. No, I wasn’t hit. Cade was the only one who was shot.”

  “What happened?”

  Part of it was still a blur.

  “We were ... ahh ... walking to the truck,” I said. “I heard a shot go off. I didn’t know what it was at first until I looked over at Cade, and his head ... he was ... it was bleeding.”

  “Do you know the direction the shot came from? Did you see anything?”

  Did I see anything?

  Yes.

  I had seen something.

  “I saw a man in a ski mask, running. No. Wait. Before that. The man shot Cade and then jumped out from behind one of the cars in the parking lot.”

  “Which car, do you remember? And where did he go?”

  I closed my eyes, replayed the last few minutes in my mind, and then looked in the direction he’d gone. I saw something up there, in the trees. Something shiny. Was he there now, watching?

  “There,” I pointed. “He’s there. He ran up the hillside.”

  Hooker glanced in the direction I was pointing.

  “I need you to help Maddie with Cade,” I said.

  While Hooker alerted the officers to what I’d just said, I set off in a sprint, crossing the parking lot, and entering the thicket of trees where the masked man had gone minutes before. I stopped, glanced at the snow, quieting my mind.

  Focus, Sloane.

  See what you need to see.

  I found a set of footprints and took off running again.

  Footsteps crunched through the snow behind
me—someone approaching fast. I glanced back. Detective Proctor and another officer or two were on my heels. Proctor was a small, squatty man who made up for his lack of height in muscle mass.

  He could chase after me if he wanted.

  I wasn’t stopping.

  “Sloane, wait up,” Proctor shouted. “Slow down!”

  I reached the place where I thought I’d caught a reflection of something and canvassed the area. Footprints circled around me, spreading in every direction, like the shooter had run around, attempting to throw me off.

  Proctor caught up to me and grabbed my arm. “Hang on a sec, Sloane. Let’s talk. Hooker said you saw the shooter up here. That right?”

  I nodded, pointing at the shoe prints in the snow. “See all of these?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When Cade was shot, the man ran in this direction. And I could have sworn I saw something shiny, reflecting from up here.”

  He inspected the footprints. “Most of these are too smeared to really give us an idea of where he went next. Powder’s not packed enough either. Still, I’ll get a couple of the guys out here right away.”

  “I think we’re dealing with the same person,” I said, “the one who killed Shelby.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “These tracks might not be intact, but the size is in line with the prints Maddie found at Shelby’s crime scene in the park. Plus, the coincidence ... Shelby then Cade?” “Huh, okay. Let’s hold tight for a minute.”

  He made a couple calls.

  The steady whine of an ambulance sounded off below, and my thoughts turned back to Cade. I was torn. His life was on the line. I regretted taking off like I had, especially now when the man we were after was nowhere to be found. I could have waited. I should have waited.

  “I should be with Cade,” I said. “I should ride with him to the hospital.”

  “Yeah, you should,” Proctor said.

  I couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just trying to get rid of me.