Deadly Intent

by Camy Tang

  “And what happened to this Sarah Daniels?” Aunt Becca exclaimed.

  Suddenly, pieces fell into place. “Jessica recognized her. The false Sarah. Knew who she really was.”

  “She killed Jessica before she could expose her,” Devon said.

  “Why kill Eloise?” her aunt asked. “And why take the necklaces?”

  “We talked about that,” Devon replied. “The necklaces were inconsequential. The real need was to get rid of Jessica. I don’t know why she killed Eloise Fischer, though. Did Eloise come from Glory, too?”

  “No, Eloise didn’t even really know Jessica.” Naomi thought back to her conversation with Eloise. “She knew Jessica’s mother.”

  “Maybe Jessica’s mother knew about the real Sarah, or the false Sarah,” her aunt said.

  “I think she’s the ‘Andrea’ Jessica mentioned when she died,” Naomi said.

  “How would Sarah—or rather, Andrea—know that Eloise Fischer was acquainted with Jessica’s mother?” Devon asked.

  Naomi remembered Iona walking into the Anise Lounge with a tray of wineglasses. “Iona. Eloise mentioned Jessica’s mother when Iona was in the room with us. Andrea must have asked Iona what we talked about and found out that Eloise knew Jessica’s family.”

  “And killed her in case Eloise knew too much.”

  “Poor Eloise,” Aunt Becca whispered. “I doubt she knew anything at all.”

  “But Andrea made a mistake,” Devon said. “She thought Naomi was at lunch when she killed Eloise, but Naomi was with a last-minute client and had an alibi.”

  “That must have really upset her.” Naomi shivered. “Andrea had obviously planned everything carefully—right after she found out Eloise knew Jessica’s family, she stole my credit card number to pay for the lamp.”

  “And she planted the napkin on Eloise, not knowing it was my blood and not yours,” Devon said.

  “But Devon, why would Andrea try to kill you?” her aunt said. “She tried to run you down even before you found the yearbook.”

  “Maybe she was afraid of what I knew about Jessica’s past. After all, she knew I was Jessica’s ex-husband.”

  “Now it makes sense,” Naomi said. “She wanted to frame me, so she tried to break into my car but couldn’t—she only mangled the lock. But she knew Marissa Paige had the same make and model car. She followed them to the restaurant. Managed to steal the keys out of Marissa’s purse. Drove to your hotel. Laid in wait for you.”

  “Except she didn’t know you and Becca would be walking by when it happened,” Devon added.

  “She’s dangerous.”

  “We need to tell Detective Carter.”

  “We don’t have proof. We need to show him that yearbook.”

  “I’m on my way,” Devon said, starting his car engine.

  “Hurry.” She ended the call.

  “You call Detective Carter,” her aunt said as she left the room. “I’ll go clean up the kitchen and get the background checks for you to give to the detective later.”

  Naomi called the detective, but he barked, “Yes?” when he picked up the phone. There was a lot of noise and bustle in the background.

  “Detective Carter, this is Naomi—”

  “I know, Miss Grant. What do you need?” Someone nearby him shouted, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  “I think that my receptionist, Sarah Daniels, is the murderer.” It sounded awful, saying it aloud.

  “Why?”

  “I think she’s not really Sarah Daniels. I think she’s Andrea—the ‘Andrea’ that Jessica Ortiz mentioned before she died.”

  “How do you know this?” More voices in the background. Things sounded stressful and frantic.

  “She’s from the same hometown as Jessica Ortiz, but the picture of Sarah Daniels in Jessica’s yearbook is a different person from the woman I know as Sarah.”

  “Where’s the yearbook?”

  “Devon Knightley is driving to Sonoma with it. Can we come by the station—”

  “No, do not come by the station. We have a situation here right now. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

  “Oh.” What was going on? she wondered. Things sounded very serious. “Okay. I’m at home.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Miss Grant.”

  Before he hung up, someone spoke to the detective. “The bomb squad is ready, sir…”

  Bomb squad? There was a bomb threat at the station?

  The fire at Devon’s house. The bomb threat at the station. Was all this Andrea’s work?

  That was silly. Andrea couldn’t be everywhere at once.

  But maybe this meant she was about to do something. Something bad.

  Naomi gripped the edges of her desk, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She was safe here. Her father, her sister Monica and Aunt Becca were here with her. All she had to do was stay put at the house and not do anything stupid.

  “Naomi!”

  She went to the stair landing and saw her aunt in the foyer, poking through her purse for something. “Naomi, did you call Detective Carter?”

  “I just did.” She summarized their brief conversation.

  “Good. Stay here,” Aunt Becca said, fishing her keys out of her purse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go to the spa. Rachel called my cell phone from the lab. She could hear my office phone ringing almost constantly for the past hour.”

  “Why?”

  “I just checked my voice mail. Moya Hillman’s manager left twenty messages—she forgot her meds in her locker and needs them. I’m going to let the manager into the spa to get them.” Aunt Becca strung her purse over her shoulder.

  “Be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll also be able to check up on Rachel.”

  Naomi didn’t want her aunt to leave her. But that was silly. Dad and Monica were in the house.

  “I’ll be right back. It won’t take me more than forty-five minutes to get there and back.”

  While Naomi waited for Aunt Becca to return, she went online to research Sarah Daniels and Glory, California. But she didn’t find anything. The name alone was too common to give her manageable results.

  So she tried Jessica Ortiz and Glory, California. That got a few targeted hits. Jessica had won a few school awards, and a few newspaper articles about her father’s business mentioned her hometown.

  Jessica had been homecoming queen in her senior year. The newspaper picture showed a smiling young woman with a wide, bubbly smile, sitting on a papier mâché throne with a cheap tiara on her head. Students crowded around her—the picture had been taken at the homecoming game, apparently.

  And in a small corner of the photo, there was Andrea.

  She was much younger, but with the same lovely eyes, pert nose and rosebud mouth. She looked like she was about ten years old. She looked dazedly at the camera as if unaware that she was in the picture of Jessica.

  I got you.

  After this picture was taken, Jessica and her family had moved to San Francisco because her father expanded his business. What had happened to Andrea? How long had she stayed in Glory until she moved here to Sonoma?

  And what happened to the real Sarah Daniels?

  Where was Detective Carter’s business card? It had his e-mail address so she could send him this picture. She looked through her purse, then started sorting through her desk drawers. Her cell phone rang.

  Caller ID said it was Iona. Why would she be calling? “Hello?”

  “Miss Grant.” Iona spoke in a shaking whisper. “Please help me.”

  Her entire body tensed. Iona and Sarah were friends outside of work. “What is it? Where are you?”

  “I’m in Sarah’s apartment. I’m in her bathroom. Oh, Miss Grant.” She swallowed a sob. “I was looking for toilet paper. I looked under her sink…and Miss Grant, Ms. Fischer’s ruby pendant is there.” Iona’s soft sobs carried over the line.

  “Iona, calm down.”

  “Plea
se help me. I don’t know what to do. Miss Grant, what do I do?” Panic threaded through her whispered words.

  Naomi started to shake, too, but she grabbed her purse. “Stay in the bathroom. Pretend you’re sick. I’ll get the police and come to Sarah’s apartment.”

  “Please hurry.” Iona clicked off.

  Naomi called Aunt Becca. “Yes, dear?”

  “Iona’s in Sarah’s apartment. She found Eloise’s pendant under the bathroom sink and she’s scared out of her mind.”

  “I’m not yet at the spa. Don’t you dare go to Sarah’s apartment alone.”

  “I’m not going to. Can I meet you at the spa?”

  “Yes. Did you call the detective?”

  “I’m going to do it right now.”

  “Good girl. I’ll meet you at the spa.”

  Naomi got Sarah’s home address from the staff directory and hurried to Dad’s room, but stopped at the threshold at the sight of Monica and her father glaring at each other. “Dad?” Why did they have to choose this moment to have another fight?

  Monica glanced her way, then turned and stalked past her out of the room. Dad took a thin breath through flaring nostrils, then said in a tight voice, “Yes?”

  “I’m…going to the spa to meet Aunt Becca.” She’d explain later. She had so much to explain anyway—she realized that she’d never told him about what she’d just discovered about Sarah/Andrea.

  “Fine.”

  She called Detective Carter as she headed out the door to the garage. It went straight to voice mail. “Detective Carter, this is Naomi Grant. My other receptionist Iona is at Sarah Daniels’s—not the real Sarah, the false Sarah’s apartment—and she just found Eloise Fischer’s necklace there. She’s scared and she called me. I’m going to the spa to meet my aunt Becca. Please call me back as soon as you can.”

  She slipped her cell phone in her pocket, so she’d have quick access in case he called her back when she was driving.

  Naomi and Aunt Becca would wait at the spa until they could go to Sarah’s apartment with the police. Assuming Detective Carter let them follow. She hoped he would, if they promised to stay at a safe distance. She wanted to be there for Iona. What a thing to discover about her best friend.

  She got into her car as the garage door slid open. As she started the engine, she heard a click. That was strange. She looked in her rearview mirror—

  Right into the eyes of Andrea.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Don’t move.”

  Something cold and metallic pressed against her neck.

  Naomi couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Her heart was racing so fast, it was going to explode in her chest.

  “Back out of the garage.”

  Her hands wouldn’t respond. Her feet were welded to the floor.

  The gun pressed harder into her neck. “Do it.”

  She couldn’t shift gears. Her hand shook so much, she kept missing Reverse.

  Andrea knocked the tip of the gun into Naomi’s jaw, hard.

  She flinched. The car went into Reverse.

  “Drive to the highway.”

  She complied, her entire body sensitive to the motion of the car, every bump and jerk.

  She found her voice. “Iona…”

  “She’s fine. I just used her phone. Hard to tell someone’s voice when they’re whispering, isn’t it?”

  Naomi hadn’t even suspected.

  Should she let Andrea know everything? Would it make her desperate, or would it make her abandon her plan if she knew too many people had already pieced things together? What would she do if she knew Devon was on his way back to Sonoma with the yearbook that she’d failed to destroy?

  “You weren’t surprised when you saw me,” Andrea remarked.

  A pang went through Naomi. She hadn’t stuttered in surprise to see her receptionist in her backseat holding a gun.

  “It doesn’t matter if you have figured it out already. You won’t live much longer.”

  Naomi gripped the steering wheel tight to keep herself from screaming.

  They turned onto the winding two-lane highway. Could she cause a car accident? Would that enable her to run away?

  “Hand me your cell phone.”

  Naomi stopped herself just in time from reaching in her pants pocket. Her broken cell phone was in her purse.

  Blood pounded in her ears as she rummaged in her purse and pulled out the broken phone. Would Andrea look closely at it, see that it was broken?

  No, she didn’t even glance at it before sliding a window down and tossing it out of the car.

  Thank You, God.

  “Pull over here.”

  She stopped on the side of the stretch of road. Would someone pass by? Naomi wondered. Could she scream? Was anyone close enough to hear her?

  “Pop the trunk and get out of the car.”

  She watched the gun barrel as she obeyed. It never wavered.

  “Get in the trunk.”

  She bent to climb in, noting that Andrea had removed her roadside emergency kit and the tire iron from the trunk. No hope of a weapon.

  Then pain crashed into the back of her head.

  Devon was about half an hour from Sonoma when he received Becca’s frantic phone call. “Have you seen Naomi?”

  “I’m driving up to Sonoma now.”

  “She’s not answering her cell phone.”

  Something sharp twisted in his gut. “Maybe she can’t hear it in the house.”

  “I called Augustus. She left an hour ago to meet me at the spa. She’s not here.”

  “Why was she going to meet you at the spa?”

  “Iona called from inside Sarah’s apartment. She had found Eloise Fischer’s necklace under the bathroom sink and was frightened. Naomi said she’d call the police and meet me at the spa.”

  “Did she call the police?”

  “Detective Carter said he got a voice mail from her about it, but when he called her back, she didn’t pick up. He hasn’t heard from her since.”

  Panic clawed at his insides like a wild tiger. “I’ll meet you at the spa, Becca.”

  “Please hurry.”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. He didn’t know what to pray. He didn’t want to voice his fears.

  His tires squealed as he turned into the spa parking lot. Becca ran up to his car. “She set Naomi up.”

  “Andrea?”

  “I got a call from a client’s manager who needed to get into the spa to get her meds, but she never showed up. Detective Carter says they received a false bomb threat at the station—he received a package that was nothing but putty and wires.”

  “Where’s the detective?” Devon asked.

  “At the station.” Becca got into his car. “He’s waiting for us. Do you have the yearbook?”

  “Yes.”

  As they headed out Becca’s cell phone rang. “Hello? Oh, hello, Carlos…” She suddenly sat up. “What? When?”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes on the road. He glanced at her.

  Her hand was over her mouth as she listened. “And you’re sure it was her car?”

  Naomi’s car? He strained to hear, but all he caught was the tone of Carlos’s voice, tinny as it sounded through the cell phone.

  “We’ll be right there.” She closed the phone. “Go back to your hotel.”

  “What did Carlos see?” He looked for a place he could turn around.

  “He says he saw a woman he didn’t recognize driving Naomi’s car past his restaurant. She parked at your hotel, went inside, then came right back out again and drove off.”

  “He’s sure it was Naomi’s car?”

  “Yes. He’s obsessed with cars. He remembered the Paiges’ license plate number.”

  “So what does he think the woman did?”

  “He doesn’t know, but what I think is that she left you a message.”

  He stepped on the gas.

  Sure enough, slipped under his hotel room door was another note. This one had been printed on a laser printer, how
ever.

  Dear Devon,

  I can’t live the lie any longer. My gambling addiction has taken over my life. Even the necklaces will not bring me enough to pay back what I owe. I hope you can forgive me.

  Naomi

  “What?” He read it again.

  Becca bit her lip as she read over his shoulder. “Remember, this isn’t Naomi. That’s what Carlos said.”

  Suddenly Devon remembered the call from the bookie, and the pieces slid into place with echoing finality. “She’s set Naomi up to take the fall for the murders. Andrea incurred gambling debts by posing as Naomi, and reneged on paying them. There’s a dangerous bookie after her.”

  “What?” Becca stared at him in horror. “When? And why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I told Naomi.” Obviously she hadn’t told Becca, probably so her aunt wouldn’t worry more.

  “So Andrea took the necklaces—”

  “As a ruse to make people think Naomi killed those women for their jewels, in order to pay off her gambling debts.”

  Becca stared at the letter again. “No one would believe it of her. This letter is too heavy-handed.”

  “What are the police going to believe? Assertions without proof or a letter?”

  Becca’s face turned pasty. “Or not a letter. Maybe stronger proof.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Devon.” She grabbed at his arms. “What if she intends to kill Naomi? With Naomi dead—and maybe the necklaces found on her—the case is closed.” Becca gripped his hands and closed her eyes. “Father God, please protect Naomi—”

  Protect her? When was He going to start protecting her? He snatched his hands out of hers. “I can’t. Becca, I can’t pray.”

  Her eyes were startled and wet with tears. “You can. You have to.”

  “No, I don’t.” There was a chasm between them, huge and yet small at the same time. “He’s…He’s…” He couldn’t voice it.

  “He’s here.”

  “He’s never been here! Where is He?” His breath came in gasps. Naomi was in danger. “I can’t pray to Him.”

  Sparks flew from her eyes. “Well, then, what are you going to do?”

  “What?”

  “I have something to do, someone to trust in. Who do you have to trust in? Have you just given up?”