She let both of her arms drop to the side, then she twisted her neck back and forth. “I feel like an old lady.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Seventeen going on seventy. Before you know it, you’ll be roommates with Beatrice.”
“I’d rather hang myself.”
“Cristina.” I cringed, knowing I sounded like a mom.
“What? Well, I would.”
And just like that she was back to being a typical teenager. I could cope with it. I had probably been ten times worse at that age.
“Ivy, I’m not sure we can find them,” she said, curling a leg under her bottom. “I know I pushed to add her as a client. She seemed desperate to find her parents. Maybe I had a soft spot because of my issues with my mom. I wanted her to be able to have a halfway normal relationship with her parents.”
I took a right and stopped suddenly, waiting for a person with an umbrella the size of my Civic to cross the street. She tottered up to the curb, and I stepped on the gas again. “Look, I realize its seems like a long shot, but I think we owe it to her to forge ahead.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid she might think we’re trying to milk our hours and her money.”
“We’ve yet to take a dime from her.”
“Or her great aunt’s sparkly bracelet.”
“You know her best,” I said, realizing I was driving like an old fogey, hunched over the wheel.
“I know her, but we’re not exactly besties, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded.
“Yeah, we jammed a couple of times, me on my guitar, her on her cello. But we’re both loners in our own way. Don’t like to be caged up, so to speak.
“I know the feeling,” I said. “I think the only thing we can do is be transparent. Share with her how much we’ve accomplished, using the numbers you gave me earlier.”
“But you don’t have your data prepared?”
Who’s being the mom now? “I’ll wing it. I have a decent idea, given the size of South Padre Island. But we’ll ask for her help. Names of people who knew her parents and might have some awareness, not just of their debt, but the story behind the debt. Given what she described and the eviction, they weren’t simply behind on a couple of house payments.”
“We need data,” Cristina said, smacking a hand into her opposite palm. “A credit report might be nice, shed some light on who might be looking to recoup their money.”
“Great idea, Cristina. Damn, you’re sharp.”
In contrast to the gray, thundering skies, I could see Cristina beaming. We all needed someone to boost us up occasionally.
My phone rattled in the cup holder. “Can you check that? I don’t want to take my hands off the wheel.” She picked up the phone. “It’s Stan.”
“Punch him up and hit speaker.” She did that and held the phone in between us.
“What’s up, Stan?”
A pause with muffled voices on the other end. “Stan, can you hear me?”
“Barely, sounds like your talking from a rock concert.”
Thunder had just rumbled. “Just driving in the storm.”
“You might want to pull over for this.”
His voice sounded grave.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Are you pulling over?”
“No. Just tell me.”
“It’s about a man named Jake Cosgrove. He was found dead in a parking garage. Does the name ring a bell?”
A haze blanketed my mind, and I had to replay his words. “My Jake?” I asked as the news sunk in.
“I’m afraid so, Ivy.”
I tried to veer to the side of the street, but a city bus was in the way, pedestrians getting on and off. “It’s not possible, Stan. You must have the wrong guy. He just left my place a few hours ago to head off to his day job.”
“Well, somehow he ended up in the garage of a high-end condo complex.”
“But you’ve never seen him before.” A rush of emotion pulled tears into the corners of my eyes.
“I put two and two together after you told me about your night with Jake. Look, it’s the way he was killed; that’s why I was able to tie this to you. I’m really sorry to tell you this, especially with you driving in this storm. Can you get back home, and I’ll reach out to you when I have more information? I’m sending over a uniform right now to stand guard outside of your apartment.”
Did this freak use a rat to kill Jake? I brought a hand to my face, trying to process everything. “I’m not a wilting flower,” I said, forcing out a breath. “I need to drop Cristina at the smoothie shop, and then I’m heading your way, wherever you are.”
“It’s not something you need to see, Ivy. I can talk to you later.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
He gave me his location, then pleaded with me not to show up.
25
The closest I could get to The Broadway-San Antonio condominium complex was half a block down on Hildebrand. I parked on the side of the road behind a police car with gold-rimmed letters on the doors that said, “Protecting the Alamo City.”
My cynical mind murmured, False advertising. They aren’t protecting shit. And then I put my head on the steering wheel and tried to keep myself from spiraling into an emotional vortex.
As I got out of the car, the skies opened up again, and I was drenched in seconds. With no umbrella or raincoat, I had no option other than to start running toward the entrance to the underground parking. Twenty yards out, near a barrier of yellow tape, a tall cop shouted over the storm, “You can’t go in there. Crime scene.”
“Detective Stan Radowski called for me.”
“Hold on.” He brought a walkie-talkie to his mouth as I stood there, water pouring off my nose like a waterfall.
A clap of thunder made me twitch. “You’re really going to make me wait out here in this storm?”
Without saying a word, he raised the tape, and we both walked into the safe cover of the garage. I immediately found spotlights and a hub of activity on the next level in the far right-hand corner. I started walking.
“You can’t go yet, lady. I need confirmation first.” The cop started jogging after me.
I stopped in my tracks, flipping around just in time for him to nearly run into me. “I just lost someone close to me.” Tears made a return appearance, but it was my quivering voice that gave my emotion away.
“I…” He removed his hat, flinging water in my face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Can I…hold on. Let me walk you up there.”
I took a breath. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?” he asked as we walked up the ramp.
“Ivy Nash.”
He nodded, squinting his eyes—I knew he was trying to place the name. “I used to work at CPS.” I could hear voices around the bend, but Stan’s Brooklyn accent was especially loud.
“Your name is familiar,” the cop said. Then he snapped his fingers. “I know now. My wife was reading this blog where the blogger was calling you a fake, that you had somehow faked your own kidnapping.”
“Please ignore that crap.”
“That’s exactly what I told my wife. I’m not a detective, but I know guys in that division. I told her you’re a legitimate victim.”
Just what I wanted to be called, “a legitimate victim.” But I didn’t want to hassle the officer.
“There’s Stan.” I could see him nod in my direction as he talked to Moreno and another guy wearing a jacket with Medical Examiner written on the back. He left the others and walked toward me.
“Sir, just checking in that you asked for her to join you here at the crime scene,” my cop escort said.
Stan looked at me, annoyed, then said, “It’s okay. She can stay here with me.”
The cop nodded and walked off.
“I’ve got to see him, Stan.” I moved left a couple of steps to look around him. People were moving all around a white van. “Is he inside the van? I don’t think he drove a van last night when he
followed me home.”
“Slow down,” he said. “You can help us here, but you can’t get too emotional. Okay?”
I tried to pull in a deep breath, but it didn’t help. It felt like a knife was wedged between my shoulder blades. I knew Jake had suffered a far worse fate.
“I’m fine.”
Looking me in the eye, he gripped my shoulders. “You sure?”
I nodded, knowing I was anything but fine. I was a wreck on so many levels, but I didn’t want that to dissuade Stan from sharing everything about what was going on at that moment. “Detective Radowski. Need you over here, sir,” a uniform yelled out.
“Give me one quick minute,” Stan said.
A buzz from my pocket, and I pulled out my phone to see a text from Zahera.
NO! It can’t be, Ivy. Jake is really dead???
I wondered how she already knew. It had to be Cristina. I swallowed back a lump in my throat and thumbed a response.
Yes. At crime scene w/Stan.
“Ivy, you got a moment?” I cut my text short and looked up to see Moreno walking my way.
Dropping my phone to my side, I said, “Sure. That’s why I’m here, to help as much as possible.”
He paused, looking at my drenched appearance.
“Caught in the storm.” I shivered from a chill that suddenly came over me.
He nodded, quickly glancing over at Stan. “You knew the vic, a Jake Cosgrove?”
I nodded.
“I’ll get right to it. How long have you known Mr. Cosgrove?”
“Are you aware of the revelation about the first two messages…how they weren’t symbols after all?”
A quick head nod, both hands at his hips, as if he were sizing me up. “Mr. Cosgrove?”
“Less than twenty-four hours.”
“Then why are you so upset? Unless you might have known him longer than what you told Stan?”
Stan had given him the full story, no doubt. So what was Moreno’s angle? “Nope. Just met last night.”
He pulled out his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen. “At a bar called Ernesto’s, correct?”
He knew it all; he was just razzing me. Or was there something else? I crossed my arms. “What’s your point?”
“How you go about interacting with the opposite sex is really none of my business,” he said, stroking his goatee. “Now, it may not be the safest practice…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
Was he really going there? Had it been any other time, any other place, I would have ripped him a new one, but somehow I found the willpower to hold off.
He shifted his eyes from his phone to me. I think I started tapping my foot. I wasn’t sure since everything in my body seemed to be moving.
“Did you notice anyone in the bar paying maybe too much attention to you or the victim?”
“No one.”
“That was a quick response. Do you need to think about it some more?”
“Let me rephrase my answer then. No one that I was aware of was staring me down. Now, Jake is…was a good-looking guy. A few ladies were giving him the eye. And I guess a couple of them gave me the eye when we walked out the door together.”
“Can you describe these women to me?”
“Really? You think a woman killed him?”
The moment I asked the question, I knew my emotions had blocked my logical mind. I’d already thought about the possibility of Kim Wheeler coming back into my life and using one of her thug friends as some kind of killing puppet. Had Moreno also opened his mind to a woman committing these acts?
His lips parted, but I held up a hand. “Hold on. You already know how he was killed, so you tell me if a woman could have done it.” I raised an eyebrow, but I could feel it twitch.
“Look, you’re getting very emotional about all of this, which is why we don’t like to have ordinary citizens at a crime scene, especially ones who just slept with the victim. You did sleep with the victim, didn’t you?”
“It was the best lay I’ve had in years.” A lie, but I couldn’t help but hit him with a roundhouse comeback.
He chuckled. “O…kay.”
As usual, Moreno seemed to be enjoying his position of power. I glanced to my left to see Stan deep in a conversation with a well-dressed man. Had he seen something?
“Did you hear my question, Ivy?”
“Can you repeat it?” I corralled the end of my hair and twisted it like the mop it was. Water dripped to the concrete.
“Did Jake mention anything at all about being under stress?”
I shook my head.
“Did he mention anyone who may have been bothering him?”
“Nope.”
A woman’s voice echoed off the concrete surroundings, and I turned to see a woman racing by Stan toward the area where Jake supposedly lay dead.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“No idea,” Moreno said, coming out of his rigid stance and darting toward her.
I watched two uniformed cops jump in front of the woman, who was screaming Jake’s name. Who the hell was she?
They ushered her away from the white van, a good fifty feet behind the man whom Stan was interviewing. Stan left the man and joined Moreno to talk with the woman, who was sobbing, her hands flailing everywhere.
“Miss, I think you’ll feel better with this on you.” I turned to see the cop from earlier pulling a government-issued blue blanket out of a plastic bag. I wasn’t going to turn it down. He draped it over my shoulders, and I pulled it close to my chest.
“Thank you.” I sniffled.
He gave me a warm smile and tipped his cap, helping me at least partially erase the Q-and-A session I’d just endured with Moreno.
Another text came in from Zahera. With an eye still on the interaction between Stan, Moreno, and the woman, I pulled out my phone and brought it up to my eye level.
Do we know if it’s the same killer??? I’m stuck in my office worried and upset.
I thought about how to word my response.
Haven’t seen the body, but Stan said it’s probably same killer. I’ll give u update later. Sorry.
Three dots blinked on the screen and a reply came back in a couple of seconds.
Should I try to reach Evan? Is he in danger?
Pressing my lips together, I thought about her concern. If Jake was targeted because he was with me, then Evan was most likely safe. But I didn’t want to take the chance; even on the off chance that this twisted psycho killer—man or woman—might have seen Evan in my company. I typed the following:
Doubt he’s in danger, but talk to him and tell him to stay near friends or family at all times for the next few days. I’ll call u later.
She typed a quick reply.
Wish I was there with u. Love u.
More emotion made its way into the back of my throat.
“Sorry about that,” Stan said, huffing from the exertion of walking over to me. Moreno, flanked by a female officer, was still talking to the woman.
“What’s all the drama?”
He blew out an exhausted breath, scratched his face. “She knew Jake.”
That was a short answer. “There’s more. I can see it in your face. Tell me, Stan. I need to know.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, his eyes shifting to the woman for a split second. “Jake was her date on a routine basis.”
“Her date,” I repeated. “Jake had a girlfriend?” Had I misread the guy that much? He was more of a two-timer than Saul.
Stan shuffled his feet, looking down for a moment. “That’s not the term I would use.”
“Spit it out, dammit.”
“Okay. Jake was a prostitute, her gigolo. Has been for the last year.”
Closing my eyes, I fought back the urge to scream…at the world, at this sick bastard who kept killing people, even at Jake.
“I don’t know what to say.” Stan’s voice was soft compared to his normal, more robust tone. “Want me to give you a few minutes?”
I used the blanket to wipe my face, knowing I’d probably just smeared eyeliner everywhere—if I had any left—but I didn’t care. “I’m okay,” I said, turning to face the woman. She was older, but striking nonetheless. Sweeping crimson hair that cupped a heart-shaped face. And her jewelry. I could see sparkles draped around her neck, wrists, fingers. She was swimming in money, and apparently Jake had jumped into her deep end.
“Had she seen Jake recently?”
“This morning. She lives upstairs.”
I could barely get out the next words. “He went straight from my bed to hers?” Stan’s chubby face grew tight, as if he wanted to say something, but there was only a moment of silence. He and I both knew there was no answer that would make it better.
“Jake told me that he was a model, but for now still had a day gig in finance,” I said, biting into my lip. “I guess his ‘finance job’ was nothing more than fucking women for money.”
“Ouch,” Stan said.
“You don’t get my point?”
“No, I do. I understand why you’re upset, Ivy.” He paused for a second. “I need to ask a tough question. One of many, most likely. And it’s a little demeaning.”
“Your buddy Moreno already has me prepped on that front. Go ahead.”
“Did you pay Jake to come back to your place?”
My jaw dropped.
“I just had to ask to make sure. I didn’t know if he might have done it subtly, you know, by suggesting that you pay for the next date or maybe help him out to pay his bills.”
“Nothing, Stan. He gave me no hint at all that he has women pay for his…services.”
I leaned down and put my hands on my knees. Why was I so upset? Was I more embarrassed by sharing his body with this other lady, only hours apart? Hell, he could have screwed a dozen other women in the last three days, for all I knew.
I blew out a breath, attempting to dial back my intensity. Rational thoughts slowly seeped back into my mind. While Jake had been nice, the sex had been….meh. I hadn’t expected to see the guy again, even though he’d written his phone number on the napkin.
“What are you thinking?”
“Girl stuff,” I said.
“I get it,” Stan said, cinching up his pants. “When my wife Bev gets that way, I stay clear.”
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 39