On the Scent

by Angela Campbell

  An image of the older man and Ellie Parham appeared in his mind like a flash going off. The two were flipping through a book and laughing.

  He knows more than he’s telling you. They were close. Really close.

  The idea was not his own, although he’d been headed in that direction fast. Zach looked down at the mesh bag and saw the cat staring back at him.

  He knows who she really was.

  Abbott lifted a paw and began licking it.

  Zach swallowed.

  “Mr. Collins, are you alright? You look a little pale all of a sudden.”

  Hannah’s warm fingers touched his hand. “Zach?”

  Damn. He was still getting used to that, those flashes.

  “Mr. Russell, I’m curious.” Hannah squeezed his fingers and then removed her hand. She focused on the lawyer. “Why would Ellie leave documents instructing me to hire Mr. Collins after her death? Did she ever confide that information in you?”

  Every cell in his body froze as Zach waited for, dreaded, the answer he knew was coming.

  Franklin L. Russell’s name had been on the two checks Zach had handled years ago. One, delivered to his office as payment for services rendered to Ellie Parham, and the other made out to Eric Meester.

  This asshole had been involved in what they’d done to Hannah three years ago. He knew everything.

  He could ruin everything.

  The older man leaned forward, bracing himself with his elbows on the desk. He looked at Zach for several long, intimidating seconds before turning his gaze back to Hannah. “No, I’m afraid she didn’t. As her legal advisor, I would have warned her against it. Our firm has worked with other private investigators I would have recommended first.”

  Zach sighed, tipping a mental hat to the man who was as good an actor as any he’d ever known.

  Hannah looked disappointed. This was another sin compound on his list of many he’d have to atone for someday.

  He would have to find a way to visit the man without Hannah. Find out whatever the attorney knew, because he definitely knew something.

  Chapter Nine

  “I think we should make our move soon. This afternoon.”

  Fox’s grip on the phone tightened, even as he reached with his other to pick up the makeup kit sitting on the hotel dresser. Although he’d already come to the same conclusion, he asked, “What makes you say that?”

  His partner’s voice was hushed. “Collins left last night. His assistant is standing guard, and the kid is green. Real green. From the sounds of it, he’s spent more time playing games on his phone than keeping an eye out. She’s also taking the dog to Centennial Park this afternoon.”

  Glancing at his clean-shaven reflection in the mirror, he had to give his prodigy credit. Planting the bug in the home had given them plenty of useful information while they waited for a prime opportunity like this. He would have preferred not to make a move in public, but nothing about this job had gone as planned.

  Fox slid his hand beneath the mattress to retrieve the small gun he’d hidden there.

  “Good work.” He made sure the safety was on and slid it into his bag. Now all he needed was the perfect disguise. “I’ll meet you at the park in an hour.”

  Hannah considered E.J. as she prepped Costello’s bag for the training class. The young man had positioned himself on her couch where he’d occupied himself with his Smartphone for most of the morning.

  “Do you want something to eat? I can fix something before we leave.”

  “I probably shouldn’t take advantage.” E.J. lifted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “But if you twist my arm, yeah, man, I’d love to eat.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. It was hard not to like this guy. “You might regret those words, but I’ll see what I can scrounge up for us.”

  “Mmmm.” Tucking his phone into his jacket pocket, E.J. slid onto one of the seats at the breakfast bar. He rubbed his hands together. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “I actually enjoy cooking.” She found some eggs and readied a pan. She made a mean omelet and wouldn’t mind one for herself. “I’m running low on supplies. I haven’t been to the store much since I moved in here.”

  “I’ll talk to Zach. Maybe make a run for you after he gets back.”

  “Thanks. When did Zach say he’d be back?” She hoped she didn’t sound as hopeful as she felt. She didn’t want to offend E.J. Her reasons for wanting to see Zach simply had more to do with liking him around than anything wrong E.J. had done.

  “Shouldn’t be too long. He’s taking care of some personal business.”

  Personal? “Oh. Is he married?”

  “Zach? Hell, no.” E.J. snorted out laughter.

  “What? Is he gay or something?” She peppered her voice with amusement to make a joke out of it.

  “Yeah, that’s even funnier.” E.J. shook his head. “Nah, he likes the ladies. Trust me.”

  At least she could reassure Sarah of that now. “So how long have you been doing this, E.J.? You seem awfully young.”

  His fingers tapped out a rhythm against the tabletop. “Nah, I just turned 21.” He reached into his jacket and retrieved a Slim Jim. “Zach and Brian took me on about—what was it?—two months ago.”

  Not for the first time Hannah noticed the tattoo peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. She recognized the skull with initials from her rounds in the emergency room as a student nurse. Should I mention I know what it means? She couldn’t remember which gang it signified, but that detail didn’t matter to her.

  She only cared if E.J. was a danger to others.

  E.J. must have caught her staring because his hand reached up and tugged at his collar. “My granddad works in their building. He put in a good word for me. Brian thinks I could go for my P.I. license someday. Zach’s been helping me study about laws and regulations.”

  “Your grandfather must be proud.”

  Costello whined, and E.J. bent down to scruff his head. “I’m sorry, boy. Here ya go.” He handed the dog a chunk of the beef jerky. Perhaps the only danger E.J. presented was giving her dog high cholesterol.

  “Yeah, my grandpa’s a good man. So are Zach and Brian. They gave me a chance when not a lot of people would have. I—”

  His words hung between them for several seconds. When Hannah flipped the finished omelets onto plates, she turned to measure his reaction. “You what?”

  He shrugged, and she recognized the vulnerability in his expression. And maybe even a hint of guilt? “Sometimes I think I don’t know what I’m doing.” He scratched the back of his head and chuckled.

  Zach obviously trusted this young man, so she would, too. She slid a plate in front of him. “Everyone has a special set of skills. All you have to do is figure out how yours will benefit the agency.”

  He wolfed down his food almost as quickly as she’d seen Costello snatch a treat. “I’m pretty good with a computer. Zach wants to bring in people who can work in cyber security. I’m hoping maybe—” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Funny. Sarah loved computers, too, so much so she had gone back to school for it. Hmm. How much persuasion would her friend need to give E.J. some lessons? Oh, probably a lot. Hannah smiled at the thought.

  “Know what else I’m good at?” Oblivious to her amusement, E.J. glanced over his shoulder, both ways, then leaned closer. “I’m a helluva pickpocket. I can boost a car in under thirty seconds.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. Snap. It’s done.”

  Her eyes widened as she slid a piece of her omelet into her mouth. Sometimes E.J. reminded her of a little kid with all of his enthusiasm and mannerisms—but then words like that came tumbling out of his mouth. “Um, that’s…impressive.”

  He shook his fork at her. “Nah, I’m gettin’ away from all that. I promised my grandpa.”

  She hoped he kept his promise. It was no easy feat, leaving a gang as she assumed he’d done. She wanted to ask him how he’d done it, but she wouldn’t pry.

  “Okay, I
have a confession of my own.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I used to want to be a pickpocket like Dodger in Oliver Twist.”

  “That a movie or somethun’?”

  Oh. My. God. Please tell me he’s kidding. Hannah blinked away her bemusement. “A book by Charles Dickens.”

  “Huh.” He shrugged. “Pickpocketin’s easy.”

  “Well, show me.”

  “Nah. Zach wouldn’t like it.”

  She was about to remind him Zach wasn’t there when the phone in his pocket went beep beep beep and he fumbled to silence it, muttering, “Stupid game.”

  “If you get stuck with guard duty again, remind me. Ellie had a Wii somewhere that we used to help keep her active. I think it’s in a box in the garage.”

  He pointed his fork at her. “Now you’re talkin’.” He laughed and shook his head. “You all right, Hannah.” He gestured to the dog that was staring up at him in anticipation of more scraps—not that there were any. “What time we gotta have ’em at the park?”

  She checked her watch. “A couple of hours.” Hannah nudged the remainder of her omelet toward him and leaned against the counter, propping her head in her hand. He grabbed the plate and devoured her leftovers. “Wanna do me a favor?”

  “Sure thing.”

  E.J.’s boss knew more than she wanted about her. It was only fair to get some intel on Zachary Collins, too. “Tell me what you know about Zach. What’s his story?”

  “He’s one of the best guys I know.” He hopped to his feet and grabbed both their empty plates. “Dishwasher?” She opened it for him and together they began loading the dishes into the machine. “Thing about Zach I’ve noticed is he don’t give himself enough credit. He knows everything about laws and junk when we go over them, but he always acts like Brian’s in charge. I heard somethun’ bad went down on a case he was workin’ six months ago, and he’s been workin’ behind a desk ever since. I ain’t seen him put as much work on a case as yours. Usually he stays in the office, handles paperwork, bills, research, whatever.”

  “Really?” It pleased it her to think she was a special case for Zachary Collins. Because of her money? Probably, but still. She felt irrationally flattered. “What happened six months ago?”

  E.J. shrugged and bumped into her. “Oh, sorry.” He closed the dishwasher door and stepped back. His mouth was pulled from ear to ear. “By the way—” He held up the watch she’d been wearing a few seconds ago. “I lifted this off you.”

  “What?” Her mouth dropped open and she grabbed the watch out of his hand. “You sneak! Show me how you did that.”

  “Alright. Alright.” And, laughing, he did.

  Hannah was so engrossed in his lessons, she forgot all about her questions.

  Zach’s grip tightened on the phone as he listened to his contact at the DMV confirm what E.J.’s research had found.

  Eric Meester lived in New York. He had a wife and a kid. Steady job and no reason to return to Georgia anytime soon.

  Zach ended his call and swore. He’d come to the office and pulled the dossier on Meester from three years ago. The man’s criminal history had been enough to send up a red flag then. Mainly he’d been cited for writing bad checks and incurring a shitload of traffic tickets.

  Zach’s mind went back to one of his last meetings with Ellie Parham.

  “Thank you for meeting me here.” The old woman had patted the seat on the park bench beside her. “I read the report you mailed to me, Mr. Collins. I appreciate that you gave me a discount on your fees. That was very kind of you.”

  He’d cut her a break because the old lady had looked like she barely owned a suitable sweater, let alone could afford his fees. She’d been holding some kind of yappy little dog that had wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap.

  “It didn’t take much to run a background check on your nurse, Miss Parham. No need to thank me for billing you accordingly.” A small lie, but it didn’t bother him.

  “Call me Ellie. I like to think I’m good at reading people, and when I look at you, I see a kindred spirit.” She had reached over and patted his knee. “I can trust you, can’t I, Mr. Collins?”

  “I like to think so.” He’d been working hard to make himself the kind of person people could trust. “And you can call me Zach.”

  Her smile had grown bigger. “I care about Hannah Dawson, and I’m worried about that man she’s mixed up with. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  He’d shrugged. It had seemed as if the guy had cleaned up his act a lot since meeting his fiancé. Zach was in no position to judge anyone. “It’s hard to tell a person’s true character by reading a piece of paper, Miss Parham, er, Ellie.”

  “That’s why I’d like to hire you to do a more extensive investigation on Eric Meester. Follow him around. Make sure he really is worthy of my Hannah.”

  He’d started to stand. “Look, I—”

  “I’ll pay double what I gave you before. Just as a retainer.” She’d reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. It had been thick with money. All cash. “I need to be sure he’s a good man. I need to know he loves her and not just her money.”

  “Her money? Does she have a lot?”

  “Why, she’s a nurse!” The old woman’s voice had sounded astonished he’d even questioned it.

  Zach had thought about taking the envelope. Thought about it and decided against. The old woman had probably cleared out her entire savings to offer the payment. No way could he accept it. Pushing her hand away, he’d said, “If I can ease your mind that this guy really loves her, then what?”

  “Then I’ll die a very happy woman. My mind will be at peace.”

  “This means a lot to you?”

  “It means everything, Zach.”

  “Then keep your money. I’ll do it as a favor.” He’d winked at her. “I’m a sucker for a pretty lady.”

  “Oh, Hannah is beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “I wasn’t talking about Hannah.” He’d stood, taken her hand, and kissed the back of it before departing.

  Zach had followed Meester around for only a week before he’d come to the conclusion Ellie had been right. He’d been playing around on Hannah with a woman from his office—make-out sessions in his car, not a full-fledged affair, but it had seemed headed in that direction—and Zach had overheard him bragging to another colleague that he’d only proposed to Hannah because she was financially responsible and had a good career.

  “She’s beautiful. She’ll make a great mother. I care about her, sure, but five years down the road, I’ll be traveling a lot if I get promoted. What would it hurt if I took up with a few women on the road? It’s the perfect setup. Right?”

  Zach had put it all in his report to Ellie, and hadn’t been surprised when she’d contacted him a few days later, wanting one more favor.

  Ellie hadn’t asked Zach to rough Meester up or anything. Simply deliver an envelope and wait for an answer. It’d shocked the hell out of Zach when he’d peeked inside the envelope she’d given him and seen a check for fifty thousand dollars made out to Meester, from Franklin L. Russell. The fist he’d delivered to the asshole’s gut when Meester had read the enclosed letter and accepted the check without hesitation had felt good. He hadn’t been able to resist.

  He’d added a few words, whispered into Meester’s ear while he’d been still been winded and hunched over. “If you don’t hold up your end of the deal, I’ll be back.”

  Zach had spent several months worrying the creep had recognized him, that he’d press charges, or that the whole mess would somehow come back to bite him on the ass. Why had he gotten so involved? He should have known better.

  If Hannah ever found out about this—

  His phone vibrated against the table before chiming, and his heart did a somersault when he saw the caller’s name. He took a deep breath and answered, “Alexandra, you called me back.”

  “What do you want, Collins?”

  Damn. She wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
He glanced at the time. “I need—” He blew out his breath. “I need someone to talk to about psychic stuff.”

  “Psychic stuff?” The disdain in her voice warned him not to push his luck. “You mean, like a case you’re working? You need a consult? How much does it pay?”

  “I’m not going to jerk you around, Alexandra, because you deserve better. I’m sorry for the way things went down with the show.” She’d guested on two episodes as a competitor to his character. He’d made it clear to the producers he preferred doing the show alone. Too risky having a real psychic on set to expose him for a fraud. “I know what I’m gonna tell you is gonna sound as crazy as hell, but…” The words caught in his throat. He swallowed. “I just realized that I really am psychic, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  Silence.

  “Alexandra, are you there?”

  Even though he’d half been expecting it, her soft, feminine laughter took him by surprise.

  “I’m not joking.” He should have known this was a mistake. “Dammit. Forget it. Forget I ever called.”

  “Wait.” Her entreaty stopped him. “Collins, are you for real? You’re admitting to me that you faked it all those years on TV?”

  He clenched his teeth. “Yes.”

  “I could go to someone with this. It could be in the news by tomorrow.”

  “I know.” But something told him she wouldn’t.

  She said nothing for several seconds. A long sigh blew into the phone. “Why do you suddenly think you’re psychic?”

  He explained it as briefly as he could manage.

  “Hmmmm,” she said.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to say? I’m trying to figure out if you’re yanking my chain or if this is real.”

  “You’re psychic. Can’t you tell if I’m lying?”

  She snorted. “I’m a medium, Collins, not a telepath.” Her sigh blew into the phone. “Look, I’ve got to run to work. If you’re serious—really serious—about this, maybe we can meet up sometime and talk.”

  “You’re in Atlanta?” He thought she’d been based out of Denver or somewhere similar.