The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 4)

by Linsey Lanier

  Not gonna happen, she determined and managed to turn the plane right. Except now she was off course, heading inland again. She turned back the other way, maneuvered the aircraft along the shore. Below and ahead lay a long strip of sand. Clear sand beside a large body of blue.

  No people.

  Fighting to keep her voice from quivering she spat out her next words. “I think I’m near a beach. I could land here.”

  “You’re near Ipanema Beach,” the controller said. “I can guide you to the airport.”

  That idea made her want to scream. She didn’t want to be piloting this plane a minute longer than necessary. “No. This is good. I can do this. There’s nobody down there.” It was winter time here, for Pete’s sake.

  She heard what sounded like a frustrated grunt in her ears. “What is your altitude?”

  Altitude. Altitude. Which one was that? Found it. “Fifteen hundred feet.” She hoped she was reading that right.

  “Is your pilot leaning on the yoke?”

  “No. I got him off earlier.”

  “Do you see any red lights on the panel?”

  “No.”

  “That is good. Very good.” He walked her through the controls to steady the plane.

  She forced herself to breathe. “What now?”

  “Do you see the throttle? It is a big black lever on your lower left.”

  “I see it.”

  “Pull back on it just a little.”

  Her hands were sweating but she managed it. “Okay.”

  The aircraft jumped. The engine growled and she nearly lost her seat.

  “That is normal,” the controller assured her. “Perfectly normal.”

  Right. Just a regular day at the beach.

  “You are doing well.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Am I?” She peered down and saw the long stretch of sand beneath her getting near. Still no sunbathers out. She was glad for that, at least.

  “Your nose should have dropped.”

  She peered out the window. She was heading down. “Yep. It’s dropped.”

  He gave her directions for getting the flaps down, checking the fuel mixture, the altimeter, the fuel mixture, the airspeed. He even made sure her seatbelt was fastened.

  This was going to be a piece of cake. If she could just stop shaking.

  She glanced over at Parker. He still hadn’t moved. Don’t think about that yet, she told herself as her heart started to break all over again.

  “Cleared to land,” the voice in her ear said. “You should be nearly there.”

  Once more she glared out the windshield. The beach lay just before her. “I’m there.”

  “Pull the nose up. Then pull the throttle towards you all the way to the idle sign. Press on top of the rudder pedals.”

  She tried to follow his directions but he was talking so fast. She hit ground. Sand spurted up on either side of her like she was waterskiing on the beach.

  The plane bounced up, went down again. Up. Down. Up. Down. “Whoa!” she felt like she was riding a bucking bronco.

  Up again. Then down. And finally it stopped. She’d landed.

  She put her head on the yoke and the tears came.

  The voice crackled in her ears. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “Yes. Yes. I’m fine. Thank you. Thank you.” She turned to Parker, slapped at his cheeks again. “I need a doctor for my husband. My pilot.”

  “Emergency vehicles are on the way.”

  “Thank you.” Her ears were ringing like church bells.

  She undid her seat belt and twisted around to feel for a pulse on Parker’s neck. It was there, good and strong. Dizzy with a giddy spurt of relief, she patted his cheek again. “C’mon, Parker. C’mon.”

  If only she had some bleach or smelling salts or something to put under his nose. She was just about to unbuckle his seat belt when he sputtered to life.

  He shook his head as his hands shot to his face. “Where are we?”

  She let out a weak laugh. “I thought we’d take a detour to the beach. Like it?”

  “What?” He squinted at the plane like he’d never seen it before. Then he looked at her like he’d never seen her before.

  “Parker? Do you remember this plane? Our trip to Rio?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  Dear Lord, what in the hell had he swallowed?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Before she could think what to do, two emergency workers appeared at their door and got them out of the aircraft. They ushered them over to a pair of ambulances parked a few yards away in the sand. Apparently it hadn’t been church bells ringing in her ears. It had been sirens.

  She wanted to stick with Parker but they insisted on checking her out. When they decided she was fine—like she’d been telling them—she hurried over to where Parker sat, a female in a lab coat peering into one of his ears.

  “Is he all right?”

  “The brain fog is clearing,” the woman told her with a thick Brazilian accent. “It seems he had a dose of Rohypnol.”

  That news took her breath. “Rohypnol? That’s a date rape drug.”

  “It is also used for treating certain mental illnesses.”

  Miranda laid her palm against her forehead trying to put it all together. “I think it was in the coffee he drank.” Coffee that was in the basket that came from the resort’s kitchen.

  That meant…

  Before she could voice her thoughts a red-haired man plodded across the sand toward them, the thermos in his plastic gloved hand.

  “We’ll have to take this into custody,” he told them.

  Miranda was surprised to hear a different accent. Sounded British. Maybe Welsh or Scotch.

  “Be our guest,” Parker said. “Officer—”

  “I’m Inspetor Keith. Forgive me if I dunnot shake hands.”

  “That’s perfectly fine.”

  Inspector Keith wasn’t bad looking, despite a frumpry, frazzled appearance. Kind of like the gumshoe in the old Columbo reruns. Reddish beard, no tie, wrinkled short sleeved shirt, worn pants.

  He nodded toward the plane. “That yours?”

  “A friend’s.”

  He had thick, curly red brows which now drew together in suspicion. “You’re American. Are you licensed to fly in Brazil?”

  Miranda watched Parker’s chest expand in an attempt to control his irritation. “I’m a licensed private investigator, Inspector Keith. And in fact, my partner and I are waiting for lab results from the São Paulo police on a murder case we’re investigating. We flew here to Rio in hopes of preventing another killing.”

  Inspector Keith’s face went pale. “Precisely what incident are you referring to?”

  “A body found in the woods near Campos do Flores. Inspector Chico Gaspar is in charge of it there.”

  The officer nodded. Miranda knew he’d be double checking that.

  Parker got to his feet. “I hope we won’t be detained much longer, Inspector. As I explained we have urgent business.”

  Keith eyed Parker up and down. “We’ll just need to get your statements.”

  Oh, brother, Miranda thought as a second officer took her off to the side to get the details of what the heck had just happened. She told him all she could, leaving out bits and being vague about Tia, citing client confidentiality and all that. She knew Parker was doing the same.

  When she reached his side again, he was handing Inspector Keith his business card.

  “When we get the results of that coffee and the rest of the things in that basket, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Thank you,” Parker said. He turned to her. “Are you ready?”

  She looked him over. His color had returned and he seemed like his old self.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

  He took her arm and led her over the sand. “The plane is damaged. We’ll have to wait for repairs before returning to Campos do Flores.”

  That didn’t answer her question but as she sha
ded her eyes with her hand and peered ahead, she realized where he was heading. A street lay fifty feet or so ahead just beyond the sandy shore. Sidewalks, palms trees, skyscrapers. They could easily get a cab and get to Rico’s modeling agency from there.

  They reached the walkway, which had a fancy design on it. A narrow strip of road stretched beside it and a few cyclist passed by. The smell in the air was an odd mix of sea and sand and city. Parker stood glaring at the traffic, the warmish wind lifting his hair.

  He was silent.

  Probably more rattled than he wanted to admit.

  “Are you feeling…better?” she ventured.

  Without looking at her he gave a curt nod.

  “Someone drugged that coffee. That has to mean Rico is back in Campos do Flores again.”

  “While the doctor examined me I called Tia and told her to stay inside her house. She’s with Valdinho.”

  Miranda rubbed her arms, hoping that would be enough. So should they bother with finding Rico here or head back any way they could?

  She considered the options. “Since we’re already here, I think we should take the time to check out Rico’s agency. We might be able to find out some clue and if we don’t, Tia won’t rest about it.”

  Parker didn’t reply.

  She wondered if they could return to the resort the way they came. Not that she was eager to get back inside that aircraft. “How long will it take to repair the plane?”

  “Too long.” He waited for a jogger to pass then stepped across the pathway to the curb.

  What did that mean? “How are we getting back to Campos do Flores?”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  Huh?

  A bright yellow taxi with a blue stripe along the side pulled up to the curb and Parker opened the door for her.

  She hesitated on the sidewalk, eyeing his stern look. “Where are we going?” she asked again.

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Get in.”

  Something was up and she didn’t like it. But she slid into the backseat hoping she wouldn’t regret the move.

  Parker got in and said something to the cab driver in Portuguese but the name “Galeão” made it too easy to figure out.

  She turned and glared at him. “What did you just say?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  Parker gazed steadily at his wife, vowing he would not argue with her about this issue. Not in this cab. Not at home. Not ever. His mind was made up. He was in charge of this case and dammit, he was in charge of the Parker Agency. It was his company.

  “We’re making a stop at the airport first,” he said stiffly.

  Miranda couldn’t breathe. “Why?”

  Parker’s face was granite as he peered out the window while the cab pulled away from the curb and into traffic. “I’m putting you on a plane back to Atlanta, Miranda.”

  “What?” she screeched.

  “It isn’t safe here. I refuse to put you in any further danger.”

  Further danger? She sputtered and fumed, unable to speak. It took all the self control she had to calm down enough to get words out.

  When she did, she let him have it. “What the hell, Parker? Didn’t I just save your life?”

  He refused to meet her gaze. “Of course, you did.”

  “Then you’re the one in danger. Not me.”

  “We’re both in danger,” he said sharply. “But I will not stand by and let some madman attack my wife. I refuse to use you as bait, Miranda.”

  “Bait? How can I be bait? We don’t even know what this guy really wants. We’re not even a hundred percent sure it is Rico.”

  “Whoever he is I think it’s safe to conclude he wants to kill us.”

  “Yes. Us. Both of us. We have to stick together.”

  He turned to her, eyes blazing. “Not this time. This time I’m sending you home. I’ll handle the rest of the case. I can take care of myself.”

  Like he did on the plane? Fury hotter than she’d ever known blazed inside her. She’d been mad at him before but she couldn’t remember ever being this mad.

  She bared her teeth at him. “Like hell you are.” She tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Pull over.”

  “Keep heading toward the airport,” Parker barked.

  “You want me to jump out of a moving car?”

  He reached for her arm. “Miranda. Be reasonable.”

  “Me be reasonable? Me?”

  The cabby hadn’t listened to her. They weren’t at the curb, but the traffic was heavy and slow moving. She waited until the driver braked for a light. Then she pulled out of Parker’s grip, jerked open her door.

  “Miranda. Don’t!”

  She hesitated for only an instant. The idea that he wanted to take her off this case and send her away when they were supposed to be partners stabbed at her like a razor-sharp saber. How could he do that to her? Too angry to think straight, she shoved the door open and stepped out into the street.

  “Miranda!” Parker shouted, his voice demanding.

  “See ya later, Parker.” She slammed the door shut and hurried through the idling cars and buses to the sidewalk.

  If he thought he could handle everything on his own, he could just do it. She spun on her heel and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the cab. Parker would have to jump out on foot if he wanted to catch her but the car couldn’t chase her.

  ###

  Parker twisted around in the back of the cab and glared out the rear window. Fury pounded in his chest making every muscle tight. He wanted to punch something. Instead he kept his head and watched his wife’s determined, long-legged gait as she glided through the traffic and onto the sidewalk.

  Despite his rage, she was a thing of irresistible beauty.

  His heart ached at the display of her brash independence, her fierce spirit, her commitment to solving this case. It was what had attracted him to her from the first time they met. It was what made him love her more and more every day.

  It was what might be the death of him.

  If she had drunk that coffee this morning…they would both be dead. He didn’t care about his own life. But he would not let some random killer they were chasing end hers. Not even for the sake of his decades-old friendship with Tia.

  He watched her turn and hurry away down the sidewalk, her movements clean and efficient, the tail of the coat he had picked out for her to wear flapping behind her. She knew it would be impossible for the cab to follow her going in that direction.

  She had excellent instincts, a sharp mind, good training—training he had provided. She knew how to lose a tail.

  But if she thought she could evade him, stop him, outwit him, well….She’d better think again.

  He turned back around to the cab driver and address him in the Portuguese which was beginning to come back to him as if it were his native tongue.

  “Make a U-turn at the light.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Miranda hustled along the sidewalk winding through palm trees and pedestrians and cyclists, passing trendy shops and cafés and high-end restaurants. At last she reached a traffic light on the corner. Two big white and yellow buses rumbled by.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she crossed back to the beach side and stopped a moment to clear her spinning head.

  Parker’s cab was nowhere in sight.

  He wasn’t coming after her? Hah. She didn’t believe that for a single minute.

  She crossed back over the trail and headed down the patterned walkway along the beach, oblivious to the cyclists and joggers passing her as she plodded along.

  How could Parker do this to her? From the start of this case they’d been short-handed and now he wanted to handle it alone? Didn’t he think her contribution was valuable enough?

  No, it was his damned paranoia raising its ugly head. Why couldn’t he get that under control? Did he think he was the only one living with the dread of losing the person he loved? What did he think she’d been through when he passed out o
n that plane today? Maybe he was the one who should see Dr. Wingate when they got home.

  She didn’t know what Parker intended to do now, but she wasn’t going home until she found out who was behind those death threats and the attempts to stop them.

  She could head over to Rico’s agency and pose as an auditor herself. She didn’t need Parker to do that. She had the address in her phone and money and her passport in her pocket.

  Just as the plan began to take shape in her mind, she heard a voice beside her.

  “Steele?”

  Miranda turned her head and saw long tanned limbs, sleek red hair the color of amaretto, a skimpy pair of pale blue shorts and a matching halter top.

  Tall. Tan. Her age. Lovely? She guessed most men would say so.

  “Wesson?”

  The woman slipped off her designer sunglasses. The face was unmistakable. “Who else?”

  Janelle Wesson had been a bitter rival back at the Parker Agency when they were in training together. Until Miranda had bested her in a martial arts contest. Apparently she’d been out jogging judging from the outfit and the sweat oozing from her pours.

  “What the heck are you doing here?” Miranda said.

  Wesson folded her lean arms. “A girl can’t go on vacation? I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  Wesson was on vacation? Here in Rio? It was a first but Miranda saw running into her at this moment as a stroke of luck. She blinked at the sand and scratched her hair.

  Wesson shot a thumb over her shoulder. “Hey, did you see that Cessna that went down on the beach a little while ago?”

  Miranda couldn’t resist a smirk. “See it? I was flying it.”

  Even the hard-nosed Wesson had to do a double-take at that one. “Say what?”

  Miranda shrugged as if she did it every day. “I’m on a case. It’s complicated.”

  “So that’s what you’re doing here. Where’s the boss? I know you two have been taking on some pretty exciting cases lately.”

  Depending on what you thought of as exciting. “Uh, he’s…running an errand right now. I’ve got an assignment and I could use your help.”

  “Really?”

  “That is if you don’t mind. I don’t want to interrupt your vacation.”