Buried Leads (An Avery Shaw Mystery)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Brian looked panicked. “You can’t let him kill me?” He begged Jake.

  “I could say I never found you,” Jake suggested. “That Eliot killed you in self defense to save Avery.”

  “You wouldn’t do that,” Brian looked flabbergasted.

  “No,” Jake said grimly. “As much as I would like to, I wouldn’t do that.”

  Brian dropped the knife and took a step towards Jake with his hands outstretched in front of him. Jake pulled his handcuffs out and snapped them on, never moving his gaze from Brian Frank’s distressed face. “Why did you do this?” Finding reason with a madman is fruitless, I thought.

  Brian looked nonplussed. “It was an accident.”

  Eliot moved to help me stand up, pulling me into his arms briefly. Once I was steady on my feet, he pulled away and inspected me for injuries. I was still staring at Brian Frank’s back. I couldn’t figure out how such a small man held so much evil.

  Jake looked over at me. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Is he going to prison forever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m great,” I said before promptly bursting into tears.

  Jake and Eliot looked shocked – and then pained. They both just stood there looking at me with dumbfounded confusion.

  “Jesus Christ,” Derrick walked into the clearly and directly over towards me. “She’s a girl. She cries.”

  “I’ve never seen her do it before,” Eliot said.

  “I haven’t seen it since we were kids,” Jake informed everyone.

  “Well, now you have seen it. Stop staring at her.”

  Derrick wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me out of the clearing. Jake led Brian Frank a few paces behind and Eliot brought up the rear. “Maybe you should try not to be such a hard ass,” Derrick suggested. “You just scared them more by crying than you did by getting kidnapped.”

  I wiped the tears from eyes and barked out a hollow laugh. “I really do derange people. You were right.”

  “You can’t help it. You were born that way. That’s why you’re never boring.”

  I heard Eliot and Jake laugh as we walked out of the woods.

  Thirty-Four

  When I woke up the next morning, I bolted straight awake with a sense of terror. Eliot wrapped me in his arms quickly and pulled me back down to the mattress with him. “You’re okay,” he murmured into my hair.

  The events of the previous day came rushing back to me. After Jake had taken Brian into custody, he had been transferred back down to Macomb County. Derrick had did the honors. The police wanted to question him over the ride.

  After getting my statement, Jake had released me to Eliot’s care. Once I stopped crying Jake and Eliot had returned to normal. Both of them verbally lambasted me for going out to interview Brian Frank alone the afternoon before – but, in the grand scheme of things, it could have been a lot worse than it was.

  Jake talked to his deputies back in the city and found out they had discovered Sarah Frank’s torso on top of his dad’s building. Search parties were being organized to find the rest of her in the woods.

  Jake had called my mom to tell her everything was fine. She was more concerned with Brian hanging up on her than anything else. She was glad the “rude young man” had been taken into custody. Of course, she didn’t know that he had killed the au pair or cut his wife up into little pieces either. I couldn’t wait for that conversation. Thankfully my cell phone was dead – so I wouldn’t have to worry about that for awhile.

  I had fallen asleep in Eliot’s car on the way back home. I slept for almost four hours straight. When we got back to town, he took me straight to his place. I climbed into the shower – and I wasn’t exactly surprised when he joined me. Instead of a fun time, though, he spent the entire time gently washing me – paying special attention to the miasma of bruises that were steadily popping up. Given the grim set of his mouth, I couldn’t help but figure that if he had it to do over again, he would have snapped Brian’s neck right there.

  We both tumbled into bed after that – not even bothering to get into pajamas. I fell asleep with Eliot’s body wrapped protectively around mine. We were both too spent to do anything else.

  “How do you feel?” Eliot asked.

  “Sore,” I admitted.

  “I bet.”

  I groaned as I moved to get out of bed. “I’m hungry,” I announced. I had been too tired to eat anything the day before. The last meal I had was grandpa’s famous spaghetti.

  “You want me to cook for you?” Eliot looked at me suggestively.

  “I want breakfast from the Coney.”

  “That stuff will kill you,” Eliot informed me.

  “I was already almost killed by a crazy guy, I think I can survive breakfast.”

  “Fine,” Eliot sighed. “Just let me shower.”

  “Shower later. I need food now.”

  Eliot shook his head but did as he was told. I would have to take advantage of this situation while I still could. It probably wouldn’t last long.

  I didn’t even bother to put any makeup on. I brushed my hair back into a pony tail, slipped into my dirty jeans and one of Eliot’s T-shirts, and headed for the door.

  “You’re not even going to put on a bra?” Eliot looked amused, and a little turned on.

  I turned back to him with a small smile. “You can benefit from that after breakfast.”

  Eliot didn’t put up any argument. Once we got out to the street, he linked his hand with mine for the two-block walk to the diner. I ordered my usual eggs, hash browns, toast and ham and topped it off with some tomato juice. Eliot must have been hungrier than I realized, because he ordered a full breakfast of pancakes and bacon as well.

  “That stuff will kill you,” I teased him.

  “Dating you has already shortened my lifespan,” he retorted. “I think I can survive the breakfast.”

  While we waited, I gave Eliot all the gory details from the previous day. He hadn’t asked me a thing during the ride home. He must have realized I needed time to process. While I was telling him the story, his face got continuously darker. “That guy is an animal.”

  “He’s not our problem now,” I reminded him.

  “We’re both going to have to testify at his trial,” he reminded me.

  Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Fish was going to be pissed. Crap. It hadn’t even occurred to me that someone else would have had to cover the story in my absence. I looked around the restaurant and caught sight of a copy of The Monitor. I got up, grabbed the paper, and sat back down. I was relieved to see Marvin’s name in the byline spot.

  I skimmed the article. He had all of the details. I was a little disappointed that I hadn’t gotten the big story, but since I was part of the story that wasn’t exactly a surprise.

  Eliot watched me read the paper knowingly. “You’ll still have the big story. You’ll be able to write everything up from your point of view. No one else will have that.”

  “I know,” I said defensively.

  “Eat your breakfast,” Eliot ordered. “We’re going back to bed when you’re done.”

  We both looked up at the front door when it chimed. I was surprised to see Jake walk in. When he caught sight of us, he headed in our direction. He slipped into the booth next to me, reached over and grabbed a slice of bacon off of Eliot’s plate, and then turned to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” I said. “A little sore, but good.”

  “Did you sleep?” He cast a wary glance in Eliot’s direction.

  “For like twelve hours.”

  “That’s good, you probably needed it,” he said.

  “So what’s up?” Eliot asked.

  “Brian confessed everything. He’s being taken out to the woods to show the deputies where the rest of Sarah’s body is this afternoon.”

  “That’s a cheery task,” I muttered.

  Jake reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, slipping it t
owards me. I was surprised when I saw it was a check for $25,000. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s the reward from Crime Stoppers,” Jake said.

  “Reward?”

  “For solving the Sarah Frank case.”

  “I forgot there even was a reward,” I admitted.

  “That’s what happens when you get kidnapped.”

  “I shouldn’t get this,” I said. I was suddenly embarrassed. “Give it to his kids or something.”

  “You solved the case,” Jake pointed out. “Put it in the bank.”

  I looked up at Eliot curiously. “What do you think?”

  Eliot sipped his coffee a second and then smiled. “I think you earned it.”

  Jake sneaked another slice of bacon from Eliot and then got to his feet. “By the way, can you tell your mom to stop texting me and requesting calls on FaceTime?”

  “No.”

  “It’s becoming annoying.”

  “Better you than me.”

  Jake shook his head and walked out of the restaurant. He didn’t look back.

  Instead of going back to Eliot’s apartment, I returned home. I promised him that not only would I spend the night with him tonight – but I would cook him dinner. I had something I needed to do first, though.

  When I got home, Lexie was waiting impatiently for me in the dining room. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me,” she said angrily. “If I wasn’t heavily meditating, I would have freaked out.”

  “Did you say meditating or medicating?”

  “Don’t be cute.”

  I told Lexie the gritty details of my travails – she only interrupted me about ten times for clarification – and then I pushed the check towards her decisively.

  “What’s this?”

  “I figured you could start your yoga studio.”

  “You’re giving this to me?”

  “No,” I cautioned her. “I’m a silent investor in your yoga place. If it goes belly-up, so be it. If it makes a profit, you have to pay me back.”

  “It will make a profit,” Lexie promised.

  “I know.”

  Faith starts somewhere. If the Brian Frank situation had taught me anything, you can’t just kill someone else’s dream. You have to be willing to support them. I was taking a chance on Lexie. Who knows? Maybe she’ll surprise me and be a huge success.

  Of course, this could be the world’s biggest money trap, too.

  Thirty-Five

  When I returned to work on Monday, I expected a big lecture from Fish. My bruises were steadily on the mend, but I figured the ego bashing I would get from my increasingly disgruntled boss would be tremendous.

  He surprised me when he greeted me with a stiff hug instead.

  “I’m glad he didn’t kill you.”

  That’s it? “You’re not mad?”

  “You didn’t plan it did you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not mad at you.”

  There had to be a catch here. “You do, however, have to do a series of articles chronicling your time with Brian Frank. Enough for an entire week.”

  “That’s a lot of articles,” I said carefully.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Great.

  My friend Erin watched the exchange with a mixture of worry and relief. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Was it scary?”

  “It had its moments.”

  Now that I was two days removed from the situation, I was a lot braver in hindsight than I had been in the present.

  “Still, you’re like a hero now,” she enthused, her dark eyes sparkling.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “No, you are,” she said honestly. “Everyone loves you.”

  “Duncan?”

  “Well,” she amended. “Duncan hates you. Actually, he hates you even more than normal.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t die?” That would be so like him.

  Erin bit her lower lip. “I think you better ask him.”

  “Where is she?” I heard Duncan bellowing from across the room as he entered, leaving a swath of fleeing reporters in his path.

  “I assume you mean me?” I fixed my steady gaze on him.

  “I can’t believe you,” Duncan ranted. “You did this on purpose. You completely stole my thunder.”

  “I stole your thunder?”

  “You purposely cut me out of the story because you knew I would overshadow you.”

  “If you mean that I purposely got kidnapped so you couldn’t be a part of the takedown, well, you got me. It was all part of my diabolical plan.”

  “I knew it,” Duncan raved. “I’m going to human resources – and this time there’s going to be no way they can keep you. You have officially done it this time.”

  “You do that,” I challenged. “Do you think they’re going to fire the woman they’ve budgeted an entire week of front page stories from?”

  Duncan looked properly chastised – for a minute. “This isn’t over.”

  “It’s never over.”

  I walked over to my desk, pulling my new cell phone out of my pocket as I went. Eliot had surprised me with it yesterday. His number was pre-programmed into it – and it was number one on speed dial. Even better, I had forgotten to text my mom to tell her I had a new phone.

  I hit his number and waited for him to pick up.

  “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Just making sure,” he mumbled.

  “Can’t I just call to chat?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “Well, I actually am calling for a reason.”

  “I knew it,” Eliot blew out a sigh. “What have you done?”

  I pushed back the angry retort that had bubbled to the surface. I was turning over a new leaf, after all. “Actually, I called to invite you to Carly and Kyle’s wedding in a few weeks.”

  “You called to invite me to a wedding that’s almost a month away?” Eliot seemed surprised.

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just not like you.”

  “If you don’t want to go, just tell me,” I grumbled irritably.

  “I didn’t say that,” Eliot said hurriedly. “I guess I’m just surprised.”

  “So, do you want to go?”

  “It would be my honor.”

  “You might not say that when you see my dress.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to picture what’s under the dress,” Eliot said suggestively.

  “My Yoda thong?”

  Eliot laughed despite himself. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

  “Yes, you will,” I agreed.

  I disconnected the phone and sat down at my desk to start writing. I had a lot of stories I was expected to produce over the next week. I might as well get a jump on them. The new and improved Avery was taking direct and purposeful action.

  I heard a nasal voice waft down the aisle. “She purposely cut me out of the story and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

  “Oh, shut the hell up!” I exploded.

  So much for turning over a new leaf.

  Author’s Note

  I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels.

  If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone. These are not bright and shiny people – and they swear a lot.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system
, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.