Reunited with the P.I.

by Anna J. Stewart

  “By people you mean DA Lawson?”

  “I mean any people.” Simone didn’t want to tell Kyla about her growing suspicions of Cal Hobard or her concern others in the DA’s office were involved. The farther away she stayed from everyone at her place of work, the better. At least until she got more information herself. “I’ve hired an outside investigator to hopefully track down Mara. I’m keeping it under wraps. I don’t suppose anyone would believe if I called in sick tomorrow?”

  Kyla’s expression confirmed her thought. “They’ll believe you’re working on a new angle for the case.”

  “That works.” Keeping people on edge gave her an advantage.

  “Come to think of it,” Kyla said. “You’ve never been sick in all the years I’ve known you. Must be all those plants you eat.”

  “What is it with people and how I eat?” To be contrary, she reached across the table and snapped off half the chocolate chip cookie Kyla had been nibbling on. “First Vince, now you—”

  Kyla slapped her hand on Simone’s arm as her mouth dropped open. “Vince, as in the ex-husband you never talk about Vince? Now it’s your turn to spill.”

  “He’s a private investigator, and I needed someone outside the office I could trust.”

  “You can trust your ex-husband?” Kyla’s confusion mirrored Simone’s. “Is that even possible?”

  “When it comes to something like this, yes, it is.” Describing Vince to someone who had never met him was a bit like trying to describe the Easter Bunny to a newborn. There wasn’t any point. They’d never understand. “I’m going to give him your cell number in case there’s more information he needs, information I can’t get to. Does that work for you?”

  “I’m your assistant.” Kyla’s defiant brown eyes sparked in that way that had convinced Simone to hire her. “You tell me what you want me to do, I do it. No questions asked.”

  “Keep that in mind because as we move forward, no matter what, this will all be over Monday morning.” Simone picked up her bag and got to her feet. “Keep your head down, okay, Kyla? Let me know if you hear anything else about the case.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure. But I have this odd feeling my world is about to crack open. I don’t want you getting swallowed by it.”

  “Then maybe it’s me who should be telling you to keep your head down. Hey, before you go, answer one thing for me.” Kyla waggled her eyebrows. “Any chance in all of this that you’ll introduce me to your ex-husband?”

  Simone couldn’t help it. She smiled. “Something tells me I won’t have a choice.”

  * * *

  Vince cleaned the last glass, turned off the neon open sign and locked the front door to the bar. The clock had hit 2:00 a.m. or, as he planned to call it from here on out, the hour of regret.

  He’d heard of hitting a grand slam before, but how he’d managed to sit through dinner with his ex-wife, agree to work with her and dive into what was probably another hopeless missing person’s case could easily be added to the record books.

  He never should have congratulated himself on knowing what buttons to push to unsettle her. Karma had caught up to him with Simone’s offer to reexamine his brother’s conviction. When was he ever going to learn?

  Vince flicked off the lights, picked up Jason’s file and headed down the narrow hallway, passed the bathrooms, to the stairs that led to his apartment. He bypassed the second floor that, until a little over a year ago, had served as the office for Sutton Investigations.

  The calm that normally descended when he closed out the rest of the world didn’t manifest as he shut his apartment door. Instead, the restlessness he’d brought back from Afghanistan rattled through him, prodding him toward the thin edge of control.

  He tossed the file onto the cluttered stainless-steel island. If he cooked, he did so downstairs. If he worked, it was downstairs. His life was...downstairs. The one-bedroom apartment, with its simple king-size bed and matching dresser, the no-frills throwback leather sofa, and a flat-screen TV he used more for background noise than anything, did little than give him a place to sleep.

  On the occasions sleep wasn’t possible, there was a window to stare out at the Sacramento skyline. Some nights, glancing at the tip-top of the golden Tower Bridge, standing sentry over the city, was all he needed. Other nights?

  He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, dropped onto the sofa and clicked on the digital music station on the TV. The muted strains of Bach drifted from the speakers and eased the tension that had cocooned him the instant Simone walked into the bar. His heavy metal music days had disappeared in the desert, replaced by the meditation-inducing melodies of the classical masters. He might not be an educated man, but he was smart enough to recognize genius and artistry.

  Vince’s gaze landed on the table beside him. He opened the drawer and pulled out the framed wedding photo. Gut-tightening regret coiled as it always did whenever he looked at his and Simone’s smiling faces. He didn’t recognize that man in the photo, couldn’t relate to the happiness and joy that now seemed as lost as a dream. Was that the last time he’d worn his uniform? He could remember the teasing glint in Simone’s eye as she’d walked down that short brick pathway in Napa overlooking a blooming vineyard. Her gorgeous, figure-hugging lace gown that sparkled in the sunshine had nearly undone him. When she’d reached out her hand for his, she’d leaned in and, in barely a whisper, told him the plans she had for him and his uniform in the hours to come. The years to come.

  Years that came to a screeching halt months later.

  Vince stared into Simone’s radiant blue eyes. He could almost smell that perfume of hers that he’d been convinced was part love spell. The ugliness that had followed him most of his life had vanished the day he’d realized he’d fallen in love with her.

  And yet he’d left without a fight.

  Vince set the frame face down on the table and shook his head to clear the past. Marrying her hadn’t been the worst mistake he’d ever made. Leaving her? Yeah, that might be up there with his thirteen-year-old self throwing lighted firecrackers at a patrol car.

  And yet, today proved she was still cagey and still knew how to work the angles. There was also her smile, always a weakness of his. He wouldn’t kid himself though, her career always came first. It was her trial, her job on the line. She was using his brother as a means to an end and while the idea of that didn’t sit well, he certainly understood her reasons for it. That she knew how easy it was to manipulate him should worry him more. Aside from Simone, Jason was the only person he’d ever valued. Thanks to his ex-wife, there was a chance he could get his brother home. So if that meant diving headfirst into his own personal nightmare, so be it.

  All he needed to do was stay in control, not like on the Walker case. Somehow he’d have to remain detached, unemotional and see the search out to its end. Whatever that end might be.

  Leaving the TV on, he headed into the next room, stripped and dropped naked onto the unmade bed, begging the past to leave him alone long enough for sleep to consume him. His prayers were answered, but only after one last thought shot through his head like a bullet: starting tomorrow, everything was going to change.

  Chapter 5

  Ding!

  Simone skidded to a stop halfway down the hall at the DA’s office. It wasn’t even 7:00 a.m. Who on earth, other than herself, would be in this early? She looked around, pulse racing. So much for a clean getaway. She hefted the file box Kyla had readied for her and darted behind one of the assistant’s desks where she dropped the files on the floor.

  Determined footsteps headed toward her. She clenched damp palms before readying her smile of welcome, when she turned and gaped, shocked at the elegant woman in the fitted red suit, who strode forward. “Senator Wakeman.”

  With coiffed silver hair, a steely, loc
ked-down gray-eyed stare and an unbreakable confidence that aided her in her anti-crime and corruption platform, the woman Simone had looked up to as a pillar of justice stood before her. Simone cleared her throat and approached. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m sure you don’t remember me—”

  “Simone Armstrong, of course.” State Senator Wakeman’s handshake was warm and firm. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She motioned her hulking dark-suited guards ahead of her. “I understand you’re doing great things here. Congratulations on your conviction rate.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Simone resisted the urge to gulp. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’m meeting with District Attorney Lawson to catch up on all the goings-on in your city. I hope you’ll feel free to call on me should you need my help with this Denton situation.” The faint lines around the woman’s wise eyes crinkled slightly. “I was having lunch with the governor yesterday when we heard about the disappearance of your witness. Absolutely dreadful.”

  “We hope to locate her soon,” Simone said. “I wasn’t aware Ward was in his office already.”

  The second the words were out of her mouth, her boss rounded the corner, decked out in his camera-ready suit and killer political smile.

  “Simone. Already at it, I see?” The guarded expression on Ward’s somewhat pale face spoke volumes given their conversation last night. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Senator.”

  “Not at all. I enjoy speaking with the up-and-comers in the judicial system.” The older woman gave Simone a nod of approval. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Simone watched Ward and the senator disappear into Ward’s office, bodyguards and all. Whew.

  Simone retrieved her box and hurried to the elevator. Now, given the senator’s interest, she knew she was doing the right thing by pursuing the case the way she was. All that remained was to get out of the office—and the parking lot—before anyone else saw her.

  Hustling downstairs, she then finished locking the box of files in her trunk and turned around. Cal Hobard stood behind her.

  She yelped, pressed a hand against her chest and wondered when, if ever, men were going to stop sneaking up on her in parking garages? “Good morning, Cal.” She plastered on her biggest fake smile. “You’re in early. Big weekend planned?”

  “Did have.” Cal’s pinched voice echoed in the empty parking lot. “Before one of our attorneys took it on the chin in court yesterday.” Cal wasn’t a large man, but he loomed taller than most, and his implication was clear. Thin and wiry, any weakness in appearance he might project was offset by the designer suit she knew for a fact he didn’t make enough to buy. Nothing about the man rang true to Simone. “Regarding Denton, still not willing to cut a deal, I hear.”

  “No,” Simone said. She rested tapping fingers against her hip. “As I told Ward last night.”

  “Yes, he filled me in.” The shifty eyes and surly attitude made her feel as if she was being questioned by a movie villain. He should join forces with those two bodyguards of the senator’s. “I heard he gave you a reprieve until Monday. Maybe by then you’ll see this is a complete loser of a case.”

  Don’t do it. Don’t rise to the bait. Don’t let him get the better...

  “Except it isn’t,” Simone said. “And for the life of me I can’t understand why you keep insisting it is. You know Paul Denton’s been working this game for years, maybe even decades, and yet you seem perfectly fine letting him skate by on some misdemeanor tax evasion charge. Why?”

  “Listen, unlike you, I don’t see conspiracies everywhere I look.” Cal hefted his briefcase in his hand, glanced away, but not before she saw him flinch. “Not everything is bigger than it is, Simone. The smart move, for you and for the office, would have been to accept a plea and move on. Now look where we are.”

  “You mean it would be the smart move for your client. Take an easy win, add it to the DA’s résumé and make it a talking point of his campaign.”

  Cal sighed and ducked his chin, his longish blond hair skimming his neck. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Where did she begin? “Only if you have other reasons for sweeping this case under the rug, which is exactly what you’ve been trying to do ever since you arrived here. Denton’s dirty, Cal.” Simone couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. “It could be worse than what the evidence so far proves and yet you’ve fought me at every step. Why don’t you want him to go down for these serious crimes? And why, in the span of this whole conversation, haven’t you said one word about Mara Orlov?”

  “What is there to say? Your witness got cold feet and bolted. If you remember, I warned you that might happen.”

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” Simone’s mounting unease lessened when she heard another car enter the parking lot. “Be sure to share those opinions of yours with Senator Wakeman when you get upstairs, will you?” She pulled open her door and climbed in but she couldn’t close it as Cal stepped in and blocked her.

  “Senator Wakeman is here?”

  Was that panic in his voice or the same shock she’d felt?

  “She’s meeting with Ward right now.” Simone frowned. “Why? What’s going on that I don’t know about, Cal?”

  “Nothing.” The answer came too fast to be anything other than a lie. But the uncertainty that flashed across his features momentarily was gone as quickly. “I don’t know how many ways I can say this, Simone, but drop the case. Offer the plea and take whatever Poltanic asks for.”

  Simone gripped the door handle even tighter and elbowed him back. “If that’s what Ward wants, all he has to do is remove me from the case and offer the plea himself. But he won’t do that, will he?”

  “No.” Cal’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t.”

  “Because then he’d make this an even bigger story than it is already. He’s given me until Monday, Cal. Either get on board or get run over.” She didn’t bother to check to make sure he was completely clear of her vehicle before she slammed her door. Within seconds she’d screeched out of her space and pulled onto the street. A few blocks later she pulled over. She clenched the wheel and tried to stop her hands from trembling. He knew something. Simone replayed the conversation in her head, wished she’d had the forethought to hit Record on her phone, but that would have been illegal.

  She laughed, a small sound that had her covering her mouth. Here she was tiptoeing around a case that could blow up at any time and she was rationalizing legal semantics. Then again, she had learned one thing this morning. Cal Hobard wasn’t just any political guidance counselor. He was into this up to his scrawny little neck. The question was, who else was in it with him?

  * * *

  “I hope you still take your coffee black.” Simone held out a to-go cup for Vince when he opened her car door about an hour later. Pushing the earlier conversation with Hobard out of her mind, she shielded her eyes against the sun as the hormones she’d given a stern talking to last night resurged.

  The rugged bartender she’d spoken with last night had disappeared. In his place stood the man she’d married. Vince had shaved and now presented a more professional appearance than she’d expected. There wasn’t a wrinkle in his dark T-shirt, black jeans or the snug jacket that covered those tattooed forearms she’d memorized once upon a time. She glanced down. Even his steel-toe work boots had a shine.

  “Appreciate the boost.” He drank and gave her a nod she accepted as thanks. “Right on time, as usual. Before we lock this down, I want to be sure you know what you’re getting into.”

  “You mean breaking and entering to gain access to a material witness’s apartment?” Simone retrieved her purse and locked up. “I can’t say the idea thrills me, but I may as well mark it off my bucket list. I should warn you, I asked Detective Jack McTavish to meet us. He has som
e information I need and I’m trying to give the office a wide berth today.”

  “As long as you post bail if he arrests me.” He cupped her bare elbow in his free hand and guided her across the street to the Governor’s Square apartment complex on 3rd and P. “Your case, your call. Apartment 2F, right?”

  When they reached Mara’s door, he stooped down, set his coffee on the ground and reached into his back pocket for the small leather case that held his lock picks. She caught a flash of the holstered Glock under his jacket before she looked away, silently reciting the codes he then proceeded to violate. “You still carry?”

  “When I’m working.” She heard the distinct clack of metal against metal before the deadbolt clicked open. “You ever take those shooting lessons I signed you up for?”

  “No.” She’d seen the damage that could be done.

  He turned the knob and pushed open the door. “After you.”

  “Thanks.”

  The muted earth tones, heavy curtains and solid wood furniture welcomed them like an oasis. Simone spotted a stack of folded laundry on the sofa, noted the business and entertainment magazines arranged on the glass coffee table and clung to the optimism she’d attempted to ingest with her own cup of coffee earlier. Unease prickled the back of her neck as she noted the half-completed crossword in last week’s paper. Mara did like her puzzles.

  “You’ve been here before.” Vince snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “Anything seem off to you?”

  “Everything.” Mara had joked about needing to get a maid as she was a hopeless slob, yet the apartment was pristine. “The last time I was here it looked as if a bomb had gone off.”

  He sniffed the air and winced ever so slightly. “You smell that?”