Chasing Secrets

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Chasing Secrets Page 9

by Lynette Eason


  Haley stepped carefully out of the police cruiser, her hand pressed to her side as though that would keep her stitches more secure. Just before leaving the hospital, she’d gotten Quinn’s text to let her know that Zeke’s house was quiet, and Richie was in custody and they would question him first thing in the morning. Grabbing Richie had been the reason for his delay in responding to her. He’d also let her know that the officer on Zeke’s home would be leaving at three. Other officers would drive by occasionally, but no one was available to sit on his house. “But,” Quinn had told her, “odds are they won’t be back tonight.”

  Haley wasn’t so confident. She waved her thanks to the officer, Lucas Tagg, who’d been a reluctant participant in her escape from the hospital. “Appreciate it.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure about this? I really don’t think this is a great idea. And if something happens to you, Quinn will kill me.”

  Haley crossed her arms. Then winced at the pull on her side. “I’ll be fine. Richie’s in custody, but the people who shot up Zeke’s house aren’t. If they come back, Zeke’s going to need protection.”

  He scowled. “I don’t like it.”

  She gave him a small salute. “See you later, Lucas. Thanks for the ride.”

  Haley shut the door on his continued protests and climbed into her Hummer. Then sat and caught her breath. She wasn’t feeling quite as good as she’d pretended. All she really wanted to do was go home and slip beneath the covers of her bed.

  But concern for Zeke overruled her protesting body. Within minutes, she was back at his house sitting on the curb with her window down and the engine off. All was quiet, and within thirty minutes, she was fighting to stay awake. Another half hour passed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  Until she heard the low hum of an approaching vehicle.

  Her adrenaline spiked and her fatigue dissipated. She sat up and felt the pull of her stitches. Ignoring the pain, she squinted through the darkness. The streetlamp hampered her vision rather than enhancing it. She couldn’t make out the type of car, but her pulse quickened as the vehicle slowed. Haley reached for the weapon she’d placed in the center console and held it ready to lift and shoot if she needed to.

  The dark vehicle drove under the light and she breathed a little easier. The black truck wasn’t the vehicle she was looking for. But it slowed and she tensed again. When it stopped in front of her, she waited. The driver turned the engine off and opened his door.

  The interior light came on and she blinked. Steven? She placed her weapon back in the console and waited for him to walk over. “What are you doing here?”

  “My phone woke me up.”

  She motioned to the passenger seat. “Hop in.”

  Once he was in with the door shut, he turned to her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been shot.” She paused. “But I guess that’s better than feeling dead.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She saw his eyes rove over her. Not in an insulting way, but more like he was assuring himself that she really was still in one piece. She cleared her throat. “What’s keeping you awake other than your phone?”

  “What makes you think something other than my phone is keeping me awake?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “No.”

  “So?”

  He let out a low chuckle that didn’t hold much humor. “A lot of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the fact that two drive-bys in the same night is a bit much to take in.”

  She touched her side. “You’re telling me.”

  “Quinn texted. They had to let Richie go.”

  “What? Why?” She grabbed her phone and stared at the missed text messages. And four missed calls. She checked the button on the side and slid the volume up. She’d turned it off in the hospital and forgotten to turn it back on when she’d left. “Great.”

  “Quinn figured you’d be here. The plate on Richie’s car is different than the one we got off the car at the drive-by shooting scene.”

  “He switched it.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “Not entirely. And there’s no way to really connect Richie to the shooting. He drives a black Mustang, not a Buick.”

  “Any security video?”

  “Nothing that’s turned up yet.”

  “And if it does, it probably won’t show anything that would prove he’s the shooter.”

  “You never know.” A comfortable silence fell between them. He finally decided to break it. “Something’s been nagging at me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Did you really grow up on the streets in Belfast?”

  She let out a low laugh. “That’s been nagging at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, okay then.” She gave a short nod. “I really did.”

  “So how did you get to where you are now? What pushed you?”

  Haley paused, then turned in the seat a bit to look at him. The moonlight fell across his face, highlighting his features in a subtle way. He really was very attractive. “Where’d you get that scar on the edge of your chin?” She reached out to touch it and his warmth seeped into her finger and shot up her arm. Interesting. His eyes narrowed and heat rushed into her cheeks. Grateful for the darkness, she dropped her hand.

  “Got it when I jumped out of the window of my treehouse trying to play Tarzan with a tree limb that was rotten.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yep. Are you avoiding my question?”

  “No, I’m just not sure how to answer it.” She fell silent, then said, “I’m very observant. I watched my mother fight and scrape for every penny we had. I learned from the people on the street how to survive, but in some ways, how to live. Or not live. The street people helped me graduate from high school.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My mother died when I was fifteen. One of my friends simply took over the role and another posed as my father when I needed a parent to show up. They signed all the papers that needed signing and banded together to make sure I had what I needed.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “They were my family.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Some are still on the streets.” Another light shrug. “They have their life, it’s what they know. Some I send money to occasionally. Those people have steady jobs and a flat now, they just need a little extra every so often.” She cut him a look. “Those are the two who impersonated my parents. They’re actually married now and have opened a shelter for the homeless.” Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes—as well as love for the people she considered family. “They’re doing well and we talk every so often.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Yes. Not every teen on the street has my story, as I’m sure you know. I had it easy compared to some. I was protected, sheltered from some of the harsher elements of the homeless life.”

  “Your past is why you built the center.”

  “Hmm. Yes, for the most part.” Haley covered her mouth and yawned. “Sorry.”

  “You should be sleeping.”

  She looked toward the house. “Yes, but I can’t take a chance on them coming back to finish the job. And now that I know Richie is out, I’m going to be doubly alert.”

  “You think they were trying to kill Zeke or just scare him?”

  “If he’d been in the front room, he’d be dead. Along with anyone else.”

  “Yeah.”

  Another yawn took over and she shook her head. “Sorry. Again.”

  “Stop apologizing. I’m not sleepy. Catch a few z’s if you want.”

  She chuckled. Low and without humor. “I wish I could. I’m sleepy, but my brain won’t shut off.”

  “Thinking about Duncan?”

  “Yes. And all he had to say. And about Zeke and little Micah who needs a heart and what I can do to help them.”

  “Sometimes you can’t.”

  “Can
’t help?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know.” She looked at the house again. “But sometimes you can.”

  [10]

  MONDAY, 7:05 AM

  Steven watched Haley blink as the sun rose. She rubbed a hand down her face and fastened her gaze on his. Awareness hit her and she blushed, then cleared her throat. “Okay. So . . . I guess I slept more than a few minutes?”

  “You needed it.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “I’ll go home and grab a few hours, then help Quinn keep an eye on Richie. I’m curious as to what his next move will be.” He paused. “I called Social Services as soon as I heard of Richie’s release.”

  She stilled. “And?”

  “I told them we had the suspected abuser under surveillance and there was no immediate danger to the family. I also told them to make sure when they came by the house, there wasn’t a black Mustang out front, and if there was, as long as there was no violence going on, they needed to wait until it left. I did my best to make sure they understood that if they showed up when he was at the house, things could get violent for everyone.” He paused. “I also told her whoever went to the house would need to take an officer with them just to be on the safe side.”

  “I understand. You didn’t have a choice. You’re a mandatory reporter. I would have done the same thing, truthfully.” She frowned. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to stay here all night.”

  “Wasn’t all night, just a couple of hours.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost 7:10. It’s been quiet. A couple of cars drove past, but nothing suspicious.”

  The front door opened and Steven saw Zeke step out with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The teen came to an abrupt stop when he saw them. Haley waved at him and he walked toward them. Steven didn’t note any bruises on the young man’s face, but that didn’t mean there weren’t some hidden on other parts of his wiry body.

  “Sweet ride,” Zeke said and let out a low whistle. “I might have to major in bodyguarding if this is in the budget.”

  “It’s not unless it’s a gift from a client,” Haley said.

  “A rich client.”

  “Definitely.”

  Zeke ran a finger along the side of the door just below the window as though he’d never touch a Hummer again. “You been sitting out here all night?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Haley said. “Or for the last few hours anyway. Someone else was watching until I could get back.”

  He frowned, his eyes going back and forth between her and Steven. “But . . . why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to take a chance on anyone coming back.” Haley glanced at the door, then back at him. “How’s Micah?”

  “He’s all right.” Zeke shrugged. “As all right as he can be, anyway. Mom’s getting ready to take him to the doctor’s office, so I’m catching the bus to school.”

  Steven thought the boy looked tired and figured he probably hadn’t slept much. He leaned forward. “Zeke, are you sure you’re telling us everything you can about the shooting last night?”

  Zeke huffed. “I’m telling you, man, I don’t know who those dudes were. I didn’t even recognize the car. It’s not like anything anyone drives around here. Too fancy. Except the guys on the upper tiers of the drugs and the gangs.”

  Steven backed off. Zeke didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him. But he seemed to like Haley. Maybe he’d talk to her at some point. “Okay then,” Steven said. “You need a ride to school?”

  His eyes lit up and some of his fatigue faded. “A ride in this? Hoo . . . yeah!” Almost before Steven could blink, the kid was in the back seat. “Dreher High School, please,” he said in a haughty—and bad—British accent.

  Steven caught Haley’s raised brow. “It’s not but a couple of miles. You can bring me back to get my car. Do you mind?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You just want to ride in my Hummer too.”

  “Guilty.”

  She rolled her eyes, but he caught the amusement on her pretty features. “Boys,” he heard her mutter. “Sure. I can do that.” She started the car and pulled away from the curb. “How was Richie last night, Zeke? He throw those fists around any?”

  “Aw, Richie’s a punk. And no, he kept his fists to himself. He wasn’t about to do anything with all the police still around.”

  “What about later?” Steven asked. He could see Zeke in the rearview mirror and saw the kid lift a shoulder.

  “He left not too long after he got there,” Zeke said.

  “Want to press charges?”

  Zeke met his gaze. “For what?”

  He wasn’t going to admit to anything. “You think Richie had anything to do with that drive-by last night?” Steven asked.

  Zeke blinked. Then frowned. “No. Why would he do that?”

  Steven had to admit the perplexed expression didn’t appear to be feigned. “You never know with some people.”

  “Well, that’s true, but Richie doesn’t drive that kind of car. And doesn’t have a reason to shoot up my house. He’s not going to mess up a source of income.”

  “Source of income?” Haley asked.

  Zeke’s face went blank. “Never mind.”

  Haley started to say something else, then snapped her lips shut. She fought the morning traffic in silence and Steven knew she was thinking about how to respond.

  “You can let me out at the convenience store across the street, okay?” Zeke said.

  “I don’t mind taking you to the door.”

  “Uh, no thanks. I don’t need anyone asking a bunch of questions about who my new friends are with the sweet ride.”

  “Right.” She pulled into the parking lot and stopped.

  Zeke paused on his way out of the vehicle and turned back to Haley. “So what’s this job you’re wanting me to do for you? To pay off my debt.”

  “We’ll talk about it later, but it means showing up at the Teen Center around 4:00 today. Will that work with your schedule?”

  “Uh . . . yeah. Sure. Okay then. See you at 4:00.” Zeke hopped out, threw them a wave, and darted toward the crosswalk at the corner.

  “Hey, Zeke, wait!” Steven called.

  He stopped and jogged back to the car. “Yeah?”

  “Does Richie ever hit or threaten to hit Micah?”

  Zeke’s eyes frosted over. “Never. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he knows I’d kill him—one way or another I’d kill him. See ya.” And then he was gone.

  Steven let out a low breath. “He’s serious.”

  “Dead serious. We need to make sure he doesn’t have a reason to act on that threat.”

  “Well, at least the three of them are safe for now.”

  “For now. I’ll let the school’s resource officer know to keep a close eye on him.” She continued to stare after Zeke.

  He raised a brow. “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t like that comment about them being Richie’s source of income.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “He could be Belinda’s pimp.”

  “Could be, but I don’t see how that’s possible when she has to be with Micah pretty much 24/7.”

  He glanced at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “You’re going to figure it out, aren’t you?”

  She shot him a tight smile. “I don’t have time to do the digging, but I’ll ask Maddy or Olivia to see if they can do it.” She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. When she was finished, she put her phone away. “All taken care of. Now, I’ve got to think about possibly getting a ticket to Ireland.”

  “You’re still going?”

  “Yes. However, I need to do some research first. I want to find out everything I can about that day—and all of my supposed family members—so I know what I’m walking into.”

 
“I thought your grandfather was going to send his plane if you decided to go.”

  She grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, I’m just . . .”

  “Adjusting?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s understandable.” He paused. “Want some help?”

  “Don’t you have cases to work on?”

  “Hmm . . . yeah, but those cases aren’t going anywhere.” He frowned. “And besides, I’m still thinking about the shooting.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  8:00 AM

  Haley pulled to a stop next to Steven’s vehicle and tried to ignore the fresh waves of fatigue washing over her. And the pain throbbing in her side. She really shouldn’t be tired, though. She’d certainly slept hard in the car for the few hours she’d gotten. She felt her face heat once more at the memory of waking up and seeing him looking down at her with that amused look in his eyes. Ugh. How embarrassing. At least he hadn’t kidded her about it.

  She grabbed her phone. “Let me just bring Olivia up to date on where I am.” She shot a text to Olivia to do just that, but also added the request for help in lining up a schedule of protection for Zeke and his little family. Olivia texted back that she would see what she could do. Haley had complete confidence that the situation would be taken care of and she could go home and rest. She shot a look at the man next to her. A very interesting, good-looking man. “So, you think Richie will come back?”

  “He was pretty steamed with your interference.”

  “I know, but he’d have to be crazy to come after me now. He knows we’re on to him. I mean, even if he managed to kill me, he’d still get caught and wind up in prison.”

  Steven pursed his lips. “You know as well as I do he may not care about that.”

  She grimaced. “And I suppose he could always hire someone to do his dirty work for him. I’m mostly worried about Zeke and his family paying the price for me ticking off his mom’s boyfriend.”

  “I have another theory for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What if that drive-by has something to do with what you learned last night?”

 

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