I scanned the lot, not finding an occupied car, and fixed my gaze on the entrance.
Nineteen minutes later, I tried the number.
Out of service.
I double-checked it and dialed one more time.
Same recording.
Putting the car in gear and rolling out of the lot, I peered inside every vehicle I passed.
Nothing.
Curiouser and curiouser.
The last rays of sun disappeared over the western horizon as I turned onto my street, still wondering what could’ve gone wrong. I’d texted Aaron, who said he’d run the number but guessed it was a TracFone (and what the hell was I doing meeting strange men in parking lots?), and that no, he had no new dead bodies or missing people.
Which left me shaking my head as I turned into the driveway, my headlights glinting off the shiny bumper of the black Lincoln parked by the fence.
My face split into a grin, the day’s tension ebbing as I stepped out of the car and heard Darcy yipping and Joey laughing in the backyard.
“Sounds like all the fun is back here,” I said, stepping through the gate.
Darcy didn’t even look at me, her attention honed on the raggedy squirrel in Joey’s hand. He tossed it and she took off, kicking up dirt on her way to the far corner of the yard.
He smiled and walked toward me. “Long day, baby?”
I nodded, stepping into his arms. “There’s so much to sort out. Aaron is banging his head against a wall. Hell, even Kyle can’t make heads or tails of this. But I’m going to talk to them first thing in the morning. I got a huge lead today, but I want to keep it quiet until I see what Larry can do with it.”
I cast my eyes at my shoes, biting down on the events of the past half-hour because they were probably nothing, yet I knew he would flip. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to have fun. Hopefully my tipster was a well-intentioned intern or something who just forgot to pay his phone bill, and Aaron would turn him up when he ran the number.
“Does this mean you’re going to be working all night again?” Joey dropped small kisses up the side of my neck between the words, pulling back to show me an exaggerated pout on his already full lips. I smiled.
It’d probably be easier to find Maynard’s assistant and friends during business hours, anyway. And I wanted a sharpened photo to take to my cops.
“Larry might be, but I’m off for a few hours.” I reached behind his head and pulled his face down to mine. “Can you think of a fun way to spend them?”
He kissed me, his hands moving under my shirt and up my back.
“I think I can.” He pulled back a millimeter and turned his lips up in my favorite sexy smile. Kyle picked that moment to bop through my thoughts talking about rock climbing.
I took a small step back, allowing a puff of air between our bodies, and smiled up at Joey. “Me too. And we have plenty of time. But you know, I was thinking: we don’t go out. What kinds of stuff do you like to do?”
He tightened his arms around me and lowered his mouth to mine again, tracing the bow of my top lip with his tongue. “I think you have a good bead on my favorite thing to do.” He murmured against my skin, moving his kisses to my earlobe.
I rustled all the self-control I’d ever thought about having and wriggled my arms between us, put both hands on his chest, and pushed gently. “I’m serious.”
He stepped back, his dark eyes confused. “As am I.”
I ran a light touch over the muscles in his arms and shoulders. “It’s obvious to casual passersby that you’re in great shape. I like running and kickboxing. What do you like to do? That doesn’t involve a bed.”
“Doesn’t have to involve a bed. Counter, table, rug…”
I rolled my eyes. “How far are we into…whatever we’re doing? Months? And I don’t know much about you.” His eyes popped wide and I raised one hand. “Not what I mean. Not work. Fun. Tell me a hobby. I want to do things with you. Besides food and sex.”
“We’ve never done food with sex.”
“Joey.” I drew the syllables out and added an edge.
He raised both hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Serious business. You want a date.”
“A fun one.”
“Are you saying the others have been less than fun?”
“No. But I want to do something. Rock climbing?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never understood the point of going up a plastic wall so you can drop right back down.”
“The point is to have fun.”
“But wouldn’t it be more fun to get somewhere climbing?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been, so I can’t say.”
“I think it would.” He slung an arm around my shoulders.
“Well then, what does sound like fun?” I turned for the house.
He planted a kiss on my head and whistled for the dog, who had abandoned her game of fetch to dig in the small garden I didn’t really use in the back corner of the yard.
“Anything I do with you.”
“Oh, good. We’re on the same page.”
I kicked my shoes under the coffee table and opened my laptop, searching “fun dates in Richmond” while Joey browsed my wine rack.
He put a glass of red on the table next to me as I clicked to the website for a go kart racetrack. He loved his car, and I knew he was good at driving fast.
“How about go kart racing?”
“Like a real live Mario Kart?” He sat next to me, his thigh pressing against mine as he sipped his wine and looked over my shoulder. “That could be cool.”
“Done. Let’s go.” I slammed the laptop, shoved my feet back into my canary Nicholas Kirkwoods and jumped up, ignoring the protest from my still-sore toe.
“Right now?”
“Why not? Seize the day.”
He laughed and put his glass on the table. “Your enthusiasm is contagious. Why not, indeed.”
I led him to the car and waved him to the passenger seat. “I haven’t checked the mail in days. I’m going to grab it and we’ll go.”
Opening the box, I pulled out a stack of sale flyers, three catalogs, five bills, and a large, flat manila envelope.
With no writing on it. And no stamp.
I fumbled at the tab on the back with clumsy fingers, reaching inside to find a photo and a slip of paper.
Bills and catalogs scattered around my feet.
My mom, leaving her shop. Shot with a short lens, from the wide angle that fattened the doorway.
A square of plain white paper lay across it, BACK OFF etched into it in black ink.
I studied the picture. Recent, because she’d told me Sunday she got a haircut last week.
My throat closed, my heart taking off like a greyhound with a bead on Thumper.
I heard a door slam, then running footfalls, managing to catch my breath as Joey snatched the papers from my hand.
He looked from the photo to the note to my ghost-white face, folding his arms around me and glancing up and down the street.
“Come on,” he said. “Whatever this is about, the safest place for you to be right now is away from here.”
Settling me in the passenger seat, he tossed the envelope and its contents in the back and squealed the tires pulling out of the driveway. I fumbled for my phone and texted my mom. A call would scare her—she’d hear the panic in my voice and freak out, and I couldn’t have that.
You there?
Bing. Hey, baby.
Thank God. I need you to do me a favor.
Bing. Anything.
I checked the clock. Just after five in Dallas. Call Kevin and tell him to come get you, and go away somewhere. To Austin or San Antonio. Just for a couple days.
Pause, pause, cringe. Bing. WH
AT? Why? Nicey, are you in some kind of trouble?
Deep breath. I’m safe. J is here. But please—trust me. Just go. Think of it as a spontaneous mini vacation. But go.
Pause. Tick tock. Bing. All right. Promise you’re safe?
Promise. You swear you’ll go?
Packing now. Love you.
Love you more.
Joey was silent ’til I put the phone down, turning to me when he stopped at the corner of Monument and Thompson. “Now. Let’s hear about this lead you got today, huh?”
I told him the whole story as he drove, his hands tightening on the wheel every few words until his knuckles had sailed past white to in-danger-of-splitting-open.
“And that’s where you come in,” I said. “I hope.”
“Care to explain?”
Deep breath. “I need a favor. Kinda hoping you have a friend that can get me a shot at pulling off a minor miracle.”
“Anything to get you out of this, so I’d say your shot is decent.”
“This guy, the one who took the picture. He’s an immigrant. With an expired visa and a deportation date.”
“Damn.” He laced his fingers with mine.
“You know anyone who knows anyone at the INS?” Another stolen glance. The shock and anger had been replaced by concentration. He drummed the fingers of one hand on the wheel and swiped sparks across my knuckles with the other.
“I might. I’m not sure what I can do, but let me look into it.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
He turned into the parking lot at the go kart track, meeting my quizzical eyes with a determined stare.
“You said you wanted to go out. We’re going out. I will make some calls about your refugee family, and I can help protect your mother, too. But for right this second, my focus is to get your mind off work.” He pulled me close and buried his face in my hair. “And don’t think for three seconds I’m letting you out of my sight until someone goes to jail. Meeting anonymous sources with no background. How do you manage to get yourself into this shit?”
I pulled away and forced a smile that was brighter than I felt. I’d be damned if these people were going to scare me off the trail. I’d call Aaron first thing, but for tonight, I was safe with Joey. And Aaron needed a break—possibly even more than I did.
“Natural talent,” I said. “C’mon. I’m going to kick your ass at driving.”
He laughed as he kicked the door open. “Bring it.”
32.
All in
I took two out of three, and the way Joey kissed me when we got back to my house said he didn’t mind the loss—or my helmet hair. I ran my fingers up the back of his neck and pulled him closer, forgetting everything but how he made me feel for a good two minutes.
“That was fun.” He kissed the tip of my nose and grinned. “Good distraction?”
“Excellent.” I ignored the twist in my gut and returned the smile before I opened the car door. “You’re not too shabby in that department, either.”
My BlackBerry binged and Joey groaned. “Breaking news sucks.”
I giggled as I dug through my bag. “It might be my mom.”
Or not.
Chad. I crossed my fingers and clicked the message.
No dice.
Dammit.
You couldn’t get in?
Please. There’s nothing in it.
Nothing at all?
Zip.
Isn’t that weird?
Not really. Not everyone uses cloud storage.
I glanced at Joey. “Sorry. Trying to find a clue. It’s like looking for a black-soled shoe in the Louboutin factory this week.”
He put a hand on my thigh. “Can I help?”
“Yes. But not with this. I don’t think. Give me sixty more seconds.”
He winked. “Always happy to help you with things that don’t involve dead people.” He squeezed my knee and went inside. I stared after him for a second before I resumed tapping my phone screen.
But her friend said she did.
Maybe she heard wrong. Or maybe it’s one of the eight million other services.
Sigh. Yeah.
Sorry.
No worries. What about the doc? Find anything on him?
Haven’t looked. I’ll get on it.
I owe you.
This saving the day thing is sort of fun.
When it works.
Have a nice night.
Planning to.
My BlackBerry bleated long before sunrise, and I lifted my head from its spot on Joey’s chest and groped for the nightstand. “What?” I muttered.
“They don’t even let you sleep now?” Slumber lent a sexy scratch to Joey’s voice.
I cracked one eye at the screen. “I guess not.” I sighed, clicking the talk button and putting the phone to my ear. “Morning, Aaron.”
“I have good news and bad news.”
I sat up and looked at the clock. “You’re calling me about this at four forty-five because why?”
“I owe you one.” He sounded annoyed. And exhausted.
“Good news first?”
“We do have the woman’s computer in the evidence room.”
Ah.
“But the bad news is you can’t get in or didn’t find anything.” I plucked at the blanket.
“Correct.”
“Damn. You had the cyber guys try?”
“They had it all night.”
Double damn. “I have a friend who’s pretty good with that stuff.”
He sighed. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Totally legit. He gets paid for it and everything.”
“This doesn’t increase my confidence level.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Even so, I can’t let it out of here. It’s evidence in an open murder investigation.”
Who would know? I didn’t bother to ask. Aaron would know.
“Could I bring him by there? After normal people are awake?”
“It could compromise our case if I let him touch the damned thing.” The last words were practically a growl, the frustration wearing on him. “We’re running out of time, Nichelle.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and plucked the blanket threads faster. Did I trust Aaron? With my life.
Whoever was running this show?
Not as far as I could throw a Buick.
But we’d worked together for so many years. On so much stuff.
“You sound like you could use a coffee, Detective,” I said, keeping my tone light. Whatever I was going to tell him, I’d do it in person.
“That an offer?”
“An invitation. Twenty minutes?”
“Absolutely.”
I clicked off the call and giggled when Joey locked his arms around my waist. “Stay here with me. It’s cold out there.” He still hadn’t opened his eyes.
I wriggled around and kissed his scruffy cheek. “I wish. But I have to go see Aaron. One way or another, we’re going to put this together.”
That was worth opening his eyes. “Who ‘we?’ You are not a cop. Let them put it together.”
“I know something they don’t know.”
“The photo you were telling me about?”
“Ellinger didn’t do it.”
“They will figure that out.”
“They’re getting pressure. Lots of it, from someone who ranks roughly alongside God on an org chart, from what Kyle can tell. Someone who wants Tom Ellinger to hang on this. I don’t trust any of it, but I have to tell Aaron. In person. I trust him. He’ll know what to do.”
He pulled me close and kissed me before he let go. �
�Be careful.”
“I always am.”
Aaron looked as tired and frustrated as he sounded, sitting across a round teak table from me gulping a small vat of straight black coffee while eating a box of chocolate-covered espresso beans. “The evidence keeps mounting against this guy. Your guy. The same one who’s so distraught over his wife I can’t get him to talk.”
“But you did go up there?” I waited.
Aaron sighed. “I hate it when you’re right. As hard as I tried, I just don’t get the vibe from him. If he shot anyone, it wasn’t on purpose.”
I let my head drop back and sent a silent thank you to the heavens. Having Aaron on my side would be great for the Ellingers. He was stubborn. And a hell of a good detective.
“I told you.”
He nodded. “I deserve that. But my gut isn’t going to do that guy any good if we don’t figure something definitive soon, Nichelle. Everything—and I mean everything,” he lifted his eyebrows to hit the word home, “points to him. If he was set up, it was by someone who dotted every ‘i.’”
“Did you check the rifle?”
He nodded. “One in the chamber.”
Hot damn. “That’s definitive. He said he took two with him. That means he really only fired one.”
He pursed his lips. “If you take the word of the accused. But we can’t prove that.”
My eyes wandered the room until they came to rest on a photo of Arthur Ashe, racquet raised over his head and face-splitting grin in place, walking off a tennis court. Courage. Taking chances. Even when you might lose something in the bargain. Hopefully the exclusive was the only thing at stake here. Surely whoever was pointing the cops to Tom Ellinger couldn’t discount Benny’s photo.
“There was another rifle inside the building, Aaron. On that floor.”
“I appreciate your doggedness, but I can’t take your gut to my bosses.”
Cover Shot (A Headlines in High Heels Mystery Book 5) Page 26