Play It Again

by Ashley Stoyanoff

  “What are you talking about?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Meeting’s at two forty-five.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he replies, his voice a low growl. “I’m gonna kill Jase. I thought we were past this shit.”

  He’s dead serious as he says it, and I let out a laugh, shaking my head. About a year ago, Cruz showed up to a meeting five minutes late. It was a joint case we were working on, one involving money laundering and a messy divorce. Long story short, Cruz was supposed to arrest the husband on money laundering charges, and almost lost his shot because of those five minutes.

  “What time did he tell you?” I ask, grinning wide. I swear each time Jase adds a few more minutes just to piss Cruz off.

  “Two fifteen,” he says, closing the file and tossing it onto the hood of the car. “Thirty minutes is a bit excessive, even for him.”

  I shrug, smirking at him. “You know Jase has a thing about being punctual.”

  “Five goddamn minutes late one time …” He grumbles, and then stalls, his voice trailing off as he shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh, fixing his eyes squarely on my face. “You look like shit.”

  “I feel like shit,” I mutter under my breath, leaning against his car, shifting uncomfortably. My entire body aches; the skin covering my ribs on my left-hand side is bruised and tight, and every muscle, every tendon in my right arm feels as though it’s torn and stretched. I’m exhausted, too. I don’t think I got much more than an hour of broken sleep last night between waking Piper every two hours, and stressing the fuck out over her constant vomiting.

  He frowns. “How’s Piper doing?” I can tell by the look in his eyes and the slant of his mouth that he isn’t asking because he should, but because he’s truly worried.

  I blow out a breath, low and shallow, and run my hands over my face. “I don’t really know. She says the headache’s fading, but she’s still vomiting, claiming it’s from a hangover.”

  He considers this for a tick, and then nods. “Could be, but if it doesn’t settle down by tonight, you should take her back to the hospital.”

  “Told her as much this morning,” I say, glancing around, my gaze settling on the file he’d discarded when I got here. “That Piper’s file?”

  He hesitates before turning around, picking the file back up and handing it to me. “Uh, yeah, it is. Not sure why the responding officers haven’t picked up on this and acted, but I’m pretty confident that you guys are right. You’re dealing with a stalker, and my guess is their motive is revenge.”

  I nod as I take the file. I’d already come to that conclusion myself. Opening it up, I scan over the content, finding incident reports, but nothing that I didn’t already know.

  “She made a suspect list,” I say, setting the file back down on the hood of the car and reaching into my back pocket, retrieving the folded piece of paper. I feel my lips twitch with amusement, recalling her notes about Heather Tane and the coffee cup as I hand it to him.

  Cruz studies me for a tick, before reaching out and taking it. “Typically I’d say that’s good, but that look on your face isn’t filling me with confidence here.”

  I chuckle. “Just keep in mind she was drinking when she wrote it.”

  He unfolds the piece of paper, studying it, his forehead wrinkling with confusion. He casts a disbelieving look my way. “Is this for real?”

  “Yeah,” I say, chuckling, meeting his eyes. “Piper isn’t really one to make enemies. She’s pretty quiet, and as long as I’ve known her, she’s kept to herself. Not many friends, but the ones she does have are close.”

  Cruz stares at me.

  And stares at me.

  And stares at me some more.

  His expression flickers between amusement and frustration, before settling into what I know as his cop face. “No pissed off exes or friends?”

  I shake my head. “I asked and she said no. No one she’s screwed over, no ex who might be holding a grudge. Nothing.”

  He brings a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jase said you’ve been keeping an eye on her for the last few years. You really have no idea who might be behind this?”

  I let out a strained laugh. Jesus, the way he says it makes me feel like I’m the stalker. “First off, she lived with my cousin. I was keeping an eye on them both. And second, if I knew who it was, I wouldn’t be pulling you or the guys into it. I would have just dealt with it.”

  He considers me silently for a second, still rubbing his neck before dropping his hand, and I can practically see the cop wheels turning behind his eyes. He picks up the folder, and pulls a pen out of his pocket, jotting down a few notes on the outside as he asks, “Have you looked into her family? Could be that the stalker is trying to get to her to punish them, not her.”

  “It’s possible, I guess.”

  “Dig into them and get her working on another list,” he says. “If you give me the names and locations of her family, I’ll run checks on my end, too, and see if anything turns up.”

  “I appreciate it, Cruz.”

  I rattle off the names of her family members and some identifying information, ages, where they live. I give him as much as I can remember off the top of my head. Cruz scribbles it down on the outside of the file folder, making notes of everything and adding a few questions of his own.

  As we’re finishing up, my phone beeps, and I dig it out of my pocket, checking the display. Piper’s house. Front door motion detected.

  My stomach sinks and my insides coil as I tap the screen, unlocking the phone and accessing the security system app. I know Piper isn’t expecting anyone, and I know no one has left the house since me. I would have gotten a notification if the doors opened or the alarm was reset.

  Waiting impatiently for the front door feed to load, I consider getting a new phone, or maybe changing my service provider, because it really shouldn’t take this damn long to pull up the feed.

  “Everything okay?” Cruz asks from beside me, his tone tight with concern.

  I cut him a sideways look. “Someone’s at Piper’s house and this goddamn feed is taking forever to load.”

  His eyes fly wide open. “You’re monitoring her house?”

  “Yep.” I don’t know why he’s surprised at that. Jase told him about the system we put in. What’s the point of having a system if it isn’t monitored?

  Glancing back down at my phone, I squint at the image as the feed begins to take form, and frown at what I see there. “It’s a courier service. One of those small same day ones.”

  Cruz sighs. “She runs a business from her house. It’s probably something to do with that.”

  “Could be,” I say, watching as the guy rings the doorbell and a couple seconds later the door opens and Jimmy appears. He smiles at the courier, signs the clipboard, and accepts the package before closing the door.

  It all looks innocent. Just a regular delivery.

  The courier doesn’t hang around, turning away, and moments later, he’s back in his van and pulling out of the driveway.

  Sighing, I stare at the screen for a second before closing the app and stuffing my phone back in my pocket, feeling my chest loosen slightly, though the urge to call her and be sure everything’s okay winds through my gut.

  I’m about to pull out my phone again and make the call when Cruz pushes off the car and says, “Look who finally decided to show up.”

  Piper

  The outside motion sensors start to beep and I wince at the sound. My head is pounding so badly it feels as though my brain is trying to fight its way out, thrashing against my skull. After the beer I had here last night, mixed with more beer and shots at the pub, and the nasty gash on the side of my head, I’m not entirely surprised, but I really, really wish it would stop.

  Groaning, I let my head fall to the table top, relishing the feel of the cool wood against my heated forehead. First thing I’m doing when this is over is having all those sensors pulled out. Seriously, motion sensors for outside are the
stupidest invention ever.

  So damn loud.

  “Somebody make it stop,” I whine, rolling my head back and forth against the table. “Please.”

  Pushing his chair back, Jimmy stands up. “I’m on it,” he says, just as the doorbell rings in three quick shrills of sound, and I whimper.

  He jogs out of the kitchen without looking back, and seconds later, I hear him punch in the code for the alarm, silencing the beeps, and then the front door opens.

  “Piper,” Kim hisses. I roll my head to the side, glancing up at her noting her weary expression. “He’s avoiding. I’m worried.”

  I blink at her, drawing a blank. I have a headache and I feel like I’m going to hurl again. I just can’t drudge up the effort to figure out what she’s talking about.

  “What?” I ask, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the queasiness. Oh God. I probably shouldn’t have scarfed down that huge plate of eggs and bacon and toast, but the water stayed down, and so did the coffee, and my stomach was grumbling for food.

  “Tara,” she whispers. “She’s pregnant.”

  “What?” I ask again, the high pitch in my voice hurting my head even more. I pull myself up, sitting up straight in my chair, gaping at her.

  “That’s what the words were about last night at the pub. He told me when we got back to my place.” She makes a face at me, somewhere in between annoyance and pity, twisting her napkin in her hands. “I know you’re feeling like shit right now, but you need to talk to him. I’ve been trying, but he won’t listen to me.”

  Closing my eyes, I try to think.

  “She’s pregnant?” I ask, swallowing again, and Kim nods. “And he just … ran out of there when she told him?” I shake my head, not quite believing it. “Holy crap.”

  “Kim, mind your own goddamn business,” Jimmy says, his voice cutting through the room like a serrated blade. “Piper doesn’t need to hear about this shit right now.”

  “I think I do,” I say, turning toward Jimmy.

  He doesn’t respond, but his icy eyes cut from Kim to me, his face heating with anger. He holds my stare for a long moment, his nostrils flaring, and his lips pulled tight. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d be freaking out right now. As it is, I’m having a hard time not squirming under his glare.

  Finally he says something.

  “You got a package.”

  “Jimmy,” I say softly, but stall, when his eyes flare again.

  I exchange a quick look with Kim, and she shrugs helplessly.

  Lots of help she is.

  Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I glance back at Jimmy, meeting his angry eyes. Something isn’t right here. This isn’t like Jimmy. Not at all. He’s one of the most dependable people I know. He’s a good man, has a good heart. He wouldn’t just walk out.

  He wouldn’t.

  For an instant I consider pushing the topic, but the truth is, I’m just not feeling up to it, and clearly, he isn’t either. “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine, but we’re going to talk about it.” Then, looking to shift the subject to something less hostile, I lift my chin. “What’s in the envelope?”

  Jimmy doesn’t respond, instead, tearing into the envelope, reaching in and pulling out a single sheet of paper. He stares at it for a second.

  Five … ten … fifteen …

  His eyebrows dip, his face flushes red, and he mutters, “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  Silence.

  Did he hear me? I open my mouth, about to ask again, when Jimmy blows out a breath and I watch as he shoves whatever was in the envelope back in place. He looks at me from the corner of his eye, and I stiffen when I see his hand tighten seemingly involuntarily on the envelope.

  “What is it, Jimmy?” I ask again.

  He bites his bottom lip, fiddling with his lip ring, a sure sign that something’s making him uneasy. “I think you should call Vance.”

  “No, he’s busy with that detective,” I say. “Just tell me what it is.”

  He hesitates, glancing at Kim and she shrugs.

  “Just spit it out,” she says, her eyes darting between us.

  His hands clamp down even tighter on the envelope, the paper crinkling in his grip. “It’s …” he starts, and then stalls, letting out a hesitant breath. “It’s a photo of you throwing up on the side of the road with Vance holding your hair back and there’s a post-it note that says, ‘Last warning. Stay away,’ stuck to it.”

  “Let me see that,” I say, shoving my chair back and jumping up so fast that I lose my balance, the floor suddenly going wavy under my feet. My headache flares behind my eyes, and Jimmy goes blurry before me.

  Swaying on my feet, I reach out blindly for the chair, needing something, anything to grasp onto.

  “Whoa, you okay?” Jimmy asks, grabbing my arm, steadying me.

  “Pipes,” Kim calls, suddenly right in front of me, hands on my shoulders, guiding me back. “Sit back down, sweetie.”

  My stomach rolls and clenches. I pull in a harsh breath, shaking my head and flinching away from both of their touches, my hand flying up to my mouth, and I bolt for the bathroom.

  Chapter Ten

  Vance

  I’m seated at a scratched and dinged-up rectangular wooden desk with Wes, Jase, and Cruz hovering around me. My elbows rest on the tabletop, my chin in my hands, and I’m watching the split screen of feeds from the parking lot last night.

  After showing us where the digital feed dumps its video footage on the computer, Sam took off out front to stock the bar, leaving us to do our thing. It didn’t take long to cue up the feed to the moment Piper’s truck pulled into the lot and we’ve been watching for about ten minutes now, and so far, nothing.

  “How long was she in there last night?” Cruz asks, leaning in closer, studying the feed that shows the tailgate of her truck.

  “About an hour,” I say. “An hour and a half max.”

  “This angle sucks ass,” Jase grumbles. “Unless the person approached her truck from the back end, we’re not gonna see shit.”

  He’s right. The blind spot is huge. If the person was trying to hide from the camera, they could have moved in from the street, loosened the bolts, and left without being noticed. Except, if that were the case, it would make more sense to screw with one of the front tires, not the back. Less of a risk that way.

  “There’s only an hour and a half of feed,” Wes says, eyes glued to the screen. “We might get lucky.”

  My cell phone buzzes with an incoming text message, distracting me from the conversation, and I pull it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. It’s a message from Kim.

  Kim: When are you coming back?

  Me: Just got started here so probably an hour, maybe two. What’s up?

  Kim: Piper got a package. Sending you some pics now.

  I lean forward, pausing the video playback, my eyes shifting from my phone to Cruz. He frowns at me. “What’s going on?”

  “Kim’s sending me pictures of whatever was in that package,” I say.

  Wes narrows his eyes at me. “What package?” His tone is harsh, clearly unhappy that he’s only hearing about it now.

  “Same day courier showed up at her house just before you guys got here,” I respond. “Jimmy answered the door, signed for it, and the courier left.”

  Wes nods, and his expression softens, seemingly content with my response. He should be. He knows that if I’d thought there was something off about the transaction, I wouldn’t be here now.

  My phone starts buzzing again and I quickly tap on it, bringing up the first image. It’s a note, sloppily handwritten, on what looks like a lime-green post-it note, and I have to enlarge it to make out the words. Last warning. Stay away.

  Frowning, I pull up the next image and my stomach roils. Sonofabitch. It’s a shot of Piper and me from last night just after the accident.

  “The stalker was watching last night,” I say, my voice a low snarl, my hand cle
nching tightly around the phone. “He was fuckin’ watching and taking goddamn pictures while she puked on the side of the road.”

  “Send them,” Jase says, already digging his phone out of his pocket.

  I thumb my screen, sending the images in a group text to the three of them. Phones chime and buzz, and a second later a stream of curses fills the room as the guys study the photos.

  I tap out another message to Kim.

  Me: She okay?

  Her response is immediate.

  Kim: I don’t know. She’s locked herself in the bathroom. It sounds like she’s getting sick again.

  Me: On my way.

  Standing up quickly, I grimace at the stabs of pain that shoot through my body. “I’m heading back to Piper’s,” I say. “She’s locked herself in the bathroom.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Cruz says. “I want to get my hands on that package. We might be able to get some prints off the photo or note.”

  Glancing at Jase and Wes, I ask, “You two mind sticking here and finish up watching the feeds?”

  Jase nods, and Wes rolls his eyes as though to say, of course.

  “Sure,” Wes says. “We’ll finish it up.”

  The drive from Piper’s house to Constant Pub took me fourteen minutes. To get back, it takes me eight. I park my car in the driveway, and I’m already halfway to the door, keys in hand before Cruz even pulls in.

  The alarm is off and the door is unlocked when I make it there. Jimmy didn’t bother to reset it and lock up after the courier. I push against it, shoving it open, not bothering to close it with Cruz only a few seconds behind me.

  I hear footsteps coming down the hall as I move toward it.

  “Vance, is that you?” Kim calls, her voice sounding rattled. I don’t have a chance to respond, before she appears in front of me, Jimmy on her heels. “I didn’t hear the alarm.”