Well, any minute now. Gabe urged them silently. The wait was excruciating. No one sprang into the room to deem the vile trick a success, and Gabe’s heart filled with worry all over again.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Gabe’s voice had been weakened by dread.
“Unfortunately,” Eddie guaranteed with a swift, steely look.
“This is not going public until you provide some solid evidence.” Gabe slammed a fist down on the desk, scattering the mountain of files.
“Yes, sir.” Eddie stood and moved toward the door. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and glanced over his shoulder, flashing his boss a disadvantaged look. “Sir, I really need to get inside his house.”
Better judgment urged Gabe to deny LaCall’s request, but a different voice inside his head had other ideas. A silent insistence fueled by a nagging influence drilled the inquiry through his thoughts—what if he’s right?
Gabe siphoned a heavy breath in through his nose and then let it drift out easily through his parted lips. “LaCall, this is off the record.” He pointed a finger at his newest agent. “You’re not authorized to go in. So you’d better be quick, clean, and efficient.” His cold, hard tone ushered in his insistent, commanding words. “If you find something, you stay with it. You guard it while I get a search warrant.”
Gabe wasn’t about to send LaCall into Switzer’s house in an official capacity. He wasn’t entirely convinced that LaCall hadn’t gone off his rocker. If he was wrong about Switzer, Gabe didn’t want to be responsible for ruining an innocent man’s life.
Then again...what if Eddie was right?
CHAPTER 18
IF THERE was anything Eddie hated, it was feeling that he no longer had the option to operate by the book. If he stood a prayer’s chance of saving Rio, he’d have to close the book and bend the rules to suit his needs. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice.
After he’d gone to all the trouble to enter Switzer’s house—off the record—his suspicions about the guy turned up nothing.
He hated winding up empty-handed. It meant he was off the mark. Either that, or his suspect was one step ahead of him. That was an even scarier thought.
He entered Gabe Dalton’s office, not quite satisfied with finding Switzer’s house free of evidence.
“Well...” Gabe asked as Eddie grabbed a chair. His boss had taken on a look of resignation. “I take it Switzer is clean.”
“His house is clean.” Eddie held onto his reservations about Switzer. He didn’t trust him. All this meant was that Switzer was either very thorough or he was on to Eddie.
“You drop this thing you’ve got going against Switzer.” Gabe’s bold stare cut through Eddie. “You might have something with that scorned lover angle, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.” He let out a stifling burst of laughter. “Hell, Laraquette’s never given him the time of day.”
Gabe had a point.
“You trying to tell me something?” Eddie was sure of it. But what, he didn’t know.
“Yeah.” Gabe gave him a slight nod. “There’s more than one person that’d be put out by a pairing between you and Rio.”
Eddie knew that. He wished people would stop bringing it up because Naomi didn’t have it in her—not like Switzer.
The thought crossed Eddie’s mind that maybe Switzer was the one he’d been sent here to expose. If that were the case, he was going to enjoy bringing the guy down, one way or another.
He’d better keep a closer eye on his colleague.
* * *
By the time Eddie arrived back at the casino, the rain had subsided and the dark clouds had begun to break apart. Exiting the car, the aroma of fresh rain—something that didn’t happen very often in the desert—wafted around him.
He moved inside, intent on finding Rio quickly. There would be no rest until he saw for himself that she was okay.
Luckily, he happened upon her just as her table had taken a dinner break. Rio didn’t say a word, just motioned with a quick nod, beckoning him to follow.
Eddie trailed a safe distance behind her, while Bradley fell in line behind him. They followed her outside and around the corner until she finally stopped between a couple of large Washington Palm trees planted in monstrous pots.
Huddled against the wall, she dug inside her purse and came out with Dickie’s cell-phone contraption. She opened it and held it in her hand leisurely at her side. Its presence and current status—open—ensured that no unwanted ears could successfully listen in on their impending conversation.
“I’m in the hot seat,” she said with a hint of enthusiasm. “The one Dickie likes to refer to as the lucky seat.”
A tumultuous range of chaotic scenarios rushed through Eddie’s mind. Had they one-upped their adversary? Maybe the opposition was on to them. Perhaps they’d been fortunate enough to catch a break. Their covers still had to be intact. They had to. Nothing else made sense.
Why would the doer knowingly put Rio in the hot seat? Along with Dickie’s photographic surveillance, that move could be the ironclad evidence they needed to solidify a conviction—if they could figure out the identity the mastermind.
“We need to figure out how to switch seats,” the suggestion poured from Eddie’s thoughts.
“Yep!” Rio said. “And I can tell you exactly how we’re going to do it,” she added, with a proud nod and a gleam in her eyes.
She had something up her sleeve and Eddie bet it was good.
* * *
Once Rio’s match resumed she played a few hands, making sure she was still in Dickie’s self-defined lucky seat, and then, like an old pro, she delved into the sting operation as if it were an extension of her personality.
She checked her hole cards. A pair of tens. She set up the scheme by massaging her forehead and then amused herself with the idea of knowing that at least one other ten would fall into the flop or the river.
While most people might not consider a pair of tens to be a viable bet—once the ten of spades did come down in the river, that was all Rio needed to confirm for her that no other hand would beat hers.
Rio monitored the game’s progress, called each raised bet until the round was over and then raked in the pot. Again.
She looked for a tournament attendant and quickly zeroed in on one poised a few feet away. “Excuse me.” She waved over the casino’s employee.
The attendant approached Rio with a pleasant smile. “Yes?” She eyed Rio’s ID tag. “Ms. Butler. What can I do for you?”
Rio leaned in toward the casino employee whose nametag read Lucinda. “I’m afraid I’m having a problem with one of my fellow players’ cologne,” she said in a low voice. “I need to be moved from this table immediately before my sensitivity develops into a full-blown allergic reaction.”
Lucinda turned and motioned to a security guard. The bulked-up security officer lumbered toward them in an awkward yet cocky strut.
Lucinda seemed to give him little consideration, issuing her instructions with cool indifference. “Bring Ms. Butler’s chips and follow me.”
* * *
A few tables away, Eddie had been watching with an absorbing curiosity as Rio worked her magic. Mild laughter rippled through him as she wrangled the casino’s employees into leading her away from the table.
The hand at Eddie’s table came to an end, but the match was far from over. His cell phone rang. He glanced at the floor attendant, and said, “It has to be an emergency. I wouldn’t be called otherwise.”
“Are you sitting this one out?” the male attendant asked.
“Yes.” Eddie nodded and moved away from the table, giving not much more than a second thought to the casino’s employee looming over his seat.
He was more interested in how much attention he was getting from the chick with Rio. When her sights lingered on him for more than a few seconds, he let the relief building up take hold. She’d jumped on the hook. Now it was up to Eddie and Rio to reel her in, nice and quick.
She gave him one of
those you’re-already-displaced looks, waggled a follow-me finger at Rio and headed toward Eddie.
Good. She’d swallowed their bait.
* * *
The collective teams of detectives involved in the stalking and the poker tournament cases sat around the conference table, waiting for Gabe Dalton to arrive.
Eddie kept a stealthful eye on Switzer sulking on the opposite side of the roundtable. Rio sitting at Eddie’s side probably had a little something to do with the surly look contorting the guy’s face into a scowl.
Switzer’s temper seethed out in his frosty glare as if to say, why don’t you throw her up on the table and be done with it?
Eddie leaned toward Rio, keeping his peripheral vision honed in on Switzer. “What’s the deal with Switzer?” he whispered. “Have you two dated or something?” he added, his tone tangled in skepticism.
“No.” Rio followed the declaration with a lingering groan.
“Not even a pity date, right after you just broke up with some guy that really lit your fire?” he asked. She turned red. He winked, just to see if she’d turn redder. She did. “Maybe it was one of those misguided moments when you thought a boring guy like Switzer was the answer?”
“Eweee...gross!” A shiver raked over her body and a scowl furrowed her brow. Clearly, she didn’t relish the thought of Switzer’s touch.
Good.
“I’m telling you, he’s got it bad for you, Laraquette.” Eddie kept his voice low, barely above a whisper. “But the weird thing is...he acts more like a scorned lover than the custodian of an unrequited crush.”
* * *
Rio didn’t know whether to feel sickened or pissed off. There was nothing appealing about the nerdy little twerp sitting on the opposing side of the table.
In a casual manner, she caught a glimpse of the glare in Blake’s eyes. If looks could kill—then again, a strong wind would blow Switzer away.
Rio diverted her gaze to Eddie. She paused only for a moment before leaning over and whispering in his ear, “Do you really think a girl like me would ever, under any circumstances, be interested in a frail little thing like Blake Switzer?” She leaned back, far enough to look into Eddie’s eyes.
Nope. Rio needed a guy like Eddie. One she could grab hold of and hang on to for dear life, without fear of breaking him into pieces.
Eddie gave her another wink. “Oh, I know he doesn’t have what it takes to attract you, much less satisfy you.” He folded his hands in front of him and laced his fingers together. “I’m just saying I don’t trust him.”
Gabe entered the room, followed by Dickie King. They all straightened in their seats, as if their fed-up teacher and the angered principal had just entered a classroom filled with problem kids.
“Sorry I’m late,” Gabe said. His apology lightened the mood considerably. “With that said...let’s get to it, King.”
Dickie wheeled his projector to the back of the room and cleared his throat. All eyes focused on him. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell any of you that Laraquette landed in her table’s lucky seat last night.” He flipped the switch on the projector and grabbed the pointer stick attached to the side of the cart. “Or how she and LaCall successfully changed places. He took command of her seat and continued to win just as she had.” Dickie paused. For effect, Rio imagined. “But it’s doubtful that any of you know the card layout at the table in question was slightly different this time.”
“How so?” Gabe asked.
“Well, in the past the winning hand was defined in the flop every hand. This time though, it was rarely clear early on. Usually it wasn’t apparent until the turn or the river card came down. And what’s more, up until that point it appeared to other players, sometimes more than one, that they were going to win the hand. Thereby, inducing them to bid precariously.”
“Are you saying it was well thought-out and planned?” Bradley asked, unable to conceal his curiosity.
“I certainly hope not,” Rio said, hardly able to conquer the skepticism welling inside.
“Why?” Switzer’s confused expression flittered around the room and finally landed on her face.
“Because...” Eddie’s voice showed his boredom with Switzer. “That means they’re on to us, most likely, and they laid those cards out perfectly for Rio, on purpose.”
“Do we have any reason to believe that’s the case?” Gabe’s anxiety seeped out and grated his voice.
“Other than what we’re seeing at the tables? No.” Eddie said.
“So why upset the apple cart?” Bradley spoke up, not thoroughly convinced either way.
“Who knows?” Dickie said. “It could be something as simple as boredom. Right now it’s hard to understand why this person, or persons, does anything.”
“And we won’t,” Rio said softly. “Not until we know their motive.”
“She’s right,” Dickie said, as if he’d grown tired of doling out explanations long ago. “These cards are laid out with discrete precision. Still, the outcome is benefiting no one because most players with targeted seats aren’t taking advantage of it.” Dickie glanced at Eddie and then Rio. “Except you two. You both moved up the ranks considerably yesterday.”
“If any of the earlier targeted seats had taken advantage ...?” Gabe asked. “What’s the likelihood that they would’ve fared as well as Laraquette and LaCall?”
“Slim,” Dickie said with a simple shrug. “Consider, if these two weren’t undercover—” He waved dramatically at Rio and Eddie. “—then Laraquette would’ve stayed in the seat she’d been assigned. She wouldn’t have known the cards were laid out for her, but if she were a gambling player she could be ranked in the top five right now.”
“And where are they currently?” Gabe’s interest grew.
“Rio’s thirteenth and Eddie is sixteenth.”
Something about this whole thing reeked. Why would someone rig the tournament in such a manner? What was the point of setting up Rio and Eddie to win?
Chaotic scenarios clashed inside Rio’s mind, but she could come up with only one reasonable explanation—somebody wanted to discredit her.
“While I was perusing the audio feeds...” Dickie’s voice broke into Rio’s silent ramblings. “I found this conversation interesting.” He paused long enough to prepare the tape for playback. “I haven’t been able to identify the voices on the tape, but I can safely say it’s a pit boss and a casino customer.”
Waiting for the voices on the audiotape to begin, silence rippled around the table.
“I need a one-hundred dollar marker.” Even on the audiotape, the uncertainty in the woman’s voice was easily detectable.
After a brief intermission of soft static, a man’s voice replied, “Here you are, Miss.”
“So what do I do now? Just wait a bit and then cash in my chips at the cage?” The girl clearly sought guidance as she spoke in a lowered voice.
“Yes.” His tone sounded short and certain, and just above a whisper. “Just wander around as if you’re playing some slots or something. Then cash in your chips and we’ll meet later, as I’ve already stipulated.”
Dickie switched off the device. “The conversation was brief but interesting, I thought.” His comment signified the end of his disclosure and the onset of the FVC’s newest mystery.
“Let’s table the poker tournament until we see what happens today,” Gabe said with a dismissive wave. “I want everyone’s eyes and ears peeled. I want to know who those two are on the tape, and what they’re up to.”
If only Eddie could see what was going on inside this shady picture that’d been painted by the mysterious voices on Dickie’s audiotape. While the details weren’t clear, he could easily guess that it wasn’t good. Maybe, once he I-D’d the guy on the tape, he’d be one step closer to solving this weird thing going on with the poker tournament.
“Switzer, what have you got for us?” Gabe’s voice drew Eddie’s attention to the inept man he’d placed in charge of Rio’s stalking.
<
br /> “I haven’t been able to tie any of Turner Atkins’s recent visitors while he’s been incarcerated to the letters or the incident yesterday.” Switzer gave his report in a monotone voice.
Incident? Seriously? Had he just referred to a deadly snake as a mere incident?
“And the surveillance tape?” Gabe’s tone sharpened. Good. Maybe he was a little perturbed that his lead detective avoided eye contact with anyone while he spoke.
“Dickie...” Switzer’s uneasy glance settled on his colleague still standing at the back of the room. “Can you run it for us?”
Without a word, Dickie brought the first frame up on the screen.
“Roll them slowly,” Switzer said in a much too fragile voice. “As you can see, our perp is well-cloaked in the proverbial dark clothing.” His tone strengthened as he delved into the more probing aspects of the investigation. “I’ll put it on record now, we weren’t able to see the individual’s face, hands or hair color in any of the frames.”
The person in the video walked casually across the parking garage with a cardboard box in hand. One like those obtained at most pet stores in the area. Eddie caught the dread climbing up his throat. The unidentified assailant invaded Rio’s locked car with little effort and gracefully released the reptile without the slightest hint of reservation or concern.
Even though the perp was camouflaged well, there was something familiar about the faceless person on the screen. “Man or woman?” Eddie asked, letting one of his thoughts escape.
“It could go either way,” Switzer said. “It could be a small man or a taller woman.”
“Any markings on the box?” Rio inquired of the serpent’s container. If it hadn’t registered for her before, it should now. Someone was out to get her.
“None.” Switzer’s tone sounded regrettable.
“What’s the time on the video?” Gabe said to Dickie.
Dickie’s reply was instant. “The snake was released into her vehicle at 9:57 in the morning.”
“That wasn’t long after our meeting ended.” Eddie searched his brain for the time displayed on his watch at meeting’s end on that particular day. 9:45. Twelve minutes. Too close for comfort.
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