Deadly Deception

by Marissa Garner

  “Ask Luke,” Karla suggested.

  “Luke is too much in my corner. He couldn’t give me an unbiased opinion.”

  “Anyone else you can ask?”

  Jessie went through a mental list, but none of her friends was a lawyer or in law enforcement. Sean. The name popped into her head, unwanted and unusable. The irritation produced by his earlier questions on the phone returned. He was wasting his time focusing on Nate and her stepdad. Drake was a more likely suspect, but she hadn’t had a chance to tell Sean about her ex-husband being in town before Hal had hung up on him. She needed to get that information to Sean, but how? She’d checked months ago, and Glenn didn’t have a listed phone number. Probably didn’t even have a landline with as little as he was in town. Did Sean still have the same cell number as eight years ago or had he changed it after moving to LA?

  “Earth to Jessie.”

  “Huh?”

  Karla leaned forward. “Is there anyone else you can ask?”

  “I…I don’t think so.” She shook Sean from her thoughts. “Want a Coke?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Jessie opened the fridge. She pushed aside some items to get to the soda cans and paused. The little baggie of breadcrumbs she’d made for the ducks sat where she’d placed it yesterday morning before going to work. Why hadn’t Callie and Hal taken it with them to the creek? She smiled for the first time that morning. Callie was probably in such a hurry that her grandpa forgot about the bread. It had happened before. Shaking her head, she grabbed two Cokes and returned to the table.

  “Didn’t you go to a lawyer with your parents when they were setting up their trust-thingy a few months ago?” Karla said, popping open the can.

  “Yeah, we saw Mr. Swanson. Nate, Uncle Chad, and I were there because we’re successor trustees. I don’t think he’s a divorce lawyer.”

  “Swanson. That’s him. He’s been practicing law in Ramona since Noah and the flood. He set up a partnership for Troy and his friend to run their pool maintenance business together. Swanson must be more of an all-purpose country lawyer.”

  “Yeah. Mom told me he’d been such a big help when my birth father died and she had all kinds of legal stuff to deal with.”

  “See, Swanson knows all that lawyer-y stuff. And since he’s your mom and dad’s attorney, he probably won’t charge you much.”

  Another memory of Mr. Swanson surfaced. “Hmmm, I’m not so sure. Mom also told me once that he asked her out a couple times before she met Hal. Swanson was never quite as friendly after she remarried.”

  “Well, that makes sense. The other man beat him out.” Karla gestured toward the phone. “Call him. What’ve you got to lose?”

  Jessie sighed. “I want to go to the sheriff’s station first to file the report, and I can’t take Callie either place.”

  “You haven’t told her?”

  “No. I can’t even think about telling her without starting to cry.”

  “Why’s you gonna cry ’gain, Mommy?”

  She spun around to find Callie standing in the kitchen doorway. She cleared her throat. “Uh…the ice cream’s so cold it hurts my head.”

  “You gots brain freeze,” the four-year-old announced.

  “You’re right. Did you wash the ice cream off your hands?”

  Callie nodded and held them out for inspection.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Karla said. “Why don’t I take the munchkin with me to the shop? I can give her a trim, mani, and pedi to keep her out of trouble while you…um…take care of business. You can pick her up whenever.”

  Callie bounced up and down. “Say yes, Mommy, pleeeeze. I wanna go with Ms. Karla. Puuleeeze.”

  Letting Callie out of her sight suddenly felt like a terribly risky idea, but Jessie didn’t know how she was going to get her two critical tasks accomplished if she didn’t accept Karla’s offer.

  Her stepdad was leaving in about an hour for a wedding photography job in LA tomorrow, which was scheduled too early for him to make the four-hour drive in the morning. This was the wedding of an old friend’s daughter and had been on the calendar for almost a year, so he couldn’t possibly cancel. Despite Sean’s strange questions about Hal’s name and his outrageous suspicions, Jessie would’ve felt much better leaving Callie home with her grandfather. Hal had a shotgun and knew how to use it. And, more importantly, he wouldn’t hesitate to aim it at Drake. Unfortunately, her stepdad just wasn’t available. She didn’t really have a choice but to let Karla babysit Callie.

  “Okay, munchkin, but you mind Ms. Karla and always stay where she can see you.”

  * * *

  Sean slouched back into the chair and glared at the laptop screen. “How are we going to figure out who this guy really is? No way he changed his name legally.”

  “Right. I’m sure it was all done with fake documents. We’ll have to come at it from the other side—find him being released from prison shortly before the name change,” Jake said.

  “Jesus, that could be hundreds, maybe thousands, of inmates since we don’t have any idea where he was incarcerated. I mean, federal, state, local jails, anywhere in the country.”

  “Nothing says it was even domestic.”

  Sean tunneled all ten fingers into his hair and gripped it. “Fuck. This’ll take a while.”

  “Try forever.”

  He groaned and then went still.

  “I can see your brain working. Should I be afraid?” Jake joked.

  “Only if you’re Hallelujah Ima Freeman. I’m gonna nail him.” Sean stood up and started pacing again. He stopped and turned to Jake. “What if he wasn’t released?”

  “He escaped?”

  “Yeah. There have to be a lot fewer escapes than releases.”

  Jake nodded. “Better be. Still a lot of geography to cover, though.”

  “For sure. We’ll start with escapes in California.”

  “Then where?”

  Sean stared into space. He’d just heard Hal’s voice on the phone when the jerk thought he was telling off Deputy Johnson. The man had a hint of an accent. Nothing strong enough to pinpoint its source, but it was there. It sounded slightly Southern, but not like the deep Southeast. “Hell, I don’t know, but let’s give Texas a try based on his accent.”

  “Well, damn, you’re not half bad at this. But why couldn’t you pick a tiny state like Rhode Island?”

  Chapter 6

  Jessie’s hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob of Mr. Swanson’s office. Filing the missing person report on her mother had been an emotional hell. Thank goodness Luke had come to the station to help her through the ordeal even though he wasn’t on duty. A person couldn’t ask for better friends than Luke and Karla Johnson.

  But did Jessie really feel strong enough to draft a battle plan against Drake right now? Drawing a deep breath, she let her hand drop to her side. She closed her eyes and forced resolve through her veins. She had to do this ASAP. If she waited, Drake would have the upper hand. And this was Callie—not dollars, not anything else—at risk. No way could she not act quickly. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and marched across the threshold into the empty reception area.

  “Is that you, Ms. Hargrove?” Mr. Swanson called from his private office.

  “Yes. I—”

  “C’mon in. My assistant is smarter than I am; she doesn’t work Saturdays.”

  Jessie walked into an office overflowing with papers, books, and files, quite different from the neat, orderly conference room where the group had met to take care of the trust signing. Behind a desk that looked like a bomb had hit it, Mr. Swanson stood up and reached across the mess to shake her hand. His carefully groomed gray hair, angular features, and piercing blue eyes gave him an aristocratic appearance, and his intense gaze suggested keen intelligence.

  “How are you today, Ms. Hargrove?”

  She gulped. “I’ve been better. And please, call me Jessie.”

  “Of course. Have a seat and tell me what I can do to he
lp with this situation involving your ex-husband.”

  She explained about the phone call from Drake that morning. Then she gave him some background on their disastrous marriage and even more devastating divorce. He listened intently and nodded his understanding. When she finished, he leaned back in the large leather chair and steepled his fingers under his chin in contemplation.

  “What do you think brought on this sudden change of heart regarding the custody arrangements?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. Knowing we were moving back to California, Drake was pretty reasonable when we originally negotiated the terms. But he’s a manipulative son of…er…person, a real control freak. This could be just another ploy to terrorize me.”

  “Okay, but couldn’t he have made the same demands from Chicago? Why go to the trouble and expense of flying out here?”

  The attorney had a point. Why had Drake come to San Diego? A shiver raised the hair on her nape, and she shuddered.

  “Are you all right, Jessie?” He stood up.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  Mr. Swanson hesitated a moment before sitting down.

  “I don’t know Drake’s reason for coming, but it can’t be good. I’m scared, and I don’t want him anywhere near Callie or me. Can we get a restraining order?”

  He pulled a legal pad from a drawer and tapped a pen on the yellow paper. “We need to have some grounds on which to request it. Was Drake ever physically abusive with you or your daughter?”

  Jessie’s gaze dropped to her lap. Even after escaping from him, the memories haunted her. Talking about Drake’s behavior would be like reliving the experiences. “Not really. He…he was more of a psychological abuser. He has a terrible temper. When he went into a rage, he was extremely intimidating and frightening.”

  “Did any of these frightening instances happen in California?”

  She thought a moment. “No. Only in Illinois.”

  “Hmmm. Are there any police reports documenting his violent outbursts?”

  Heat flowed up her neck and into her checks as she shook her head. “No. It was never that bad.”

  “Do you have any witnesses?”

  “Not really.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “I don’t think Drake would actually hurt either of us…intentionally, at least. I’m most afraid he might kidnap Callie. He’s used to getting his way, and when he doesn’t, he does whatever’s necessary to make it happen…or to get revenge.”

  “Spoiled rich boy?” Mr. Swanson asked.

  She cocked her head. “Exactly.”

  “Such a shame.”

  “And he’s a mama’s boy to a woman who defines the word matriarch.”

  “Terrible combination.” He exhaled. “Let me talk to a judge friend of mine who works with domestic violence restraining orders all the time and see what he thinks. You should also gather pictures of Drake, Callie, and yourself, as well as write up physical descriptions of everyone. Do you have a local address for him?”

  “No. I don’t have any idea where he’s staying.”

  “We’ll likely need an address to have him served. Meanwhile, if he does anything—and I mean anything—that frightens you, call 911 without hesitation. Better safe than sorry.”

  “When do you think we can file this?”

  “If I determine we can get it approved, we should be ready to go Monday. Will you be all right until then?”

  She nodded and stood up. “Thank you so much for seeing me on a Saturday and on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure.” He smiled. “Every time I see you, Jessie, you look more and more like your mother,” he said with a hint of longing for what might have been in his voice. “I haven’t run into her in a while. How is Molly?”

  Jessie gulped, and tears filled her eyes. How was she going to cope with all this: Mom, Drake, Hal…Sean?

  The attorney’s expression morphed from curious to concerned. “Is something wrong?”

  “M-Mom’s missing,” she stammered.

  Mr. Swanson froze, and his gaze hardened. “Tell…me…what…happened,” he said, emphasizing each word.

  Her legs wobbled so she grabbed the back of the chair and lowered herself onto it. She opened her purse to rummage for a tissue. When she looked up, his eyes were still riveted on her. “Mom never came home from running errands yesterday. I found her Buick abandoned on Wheaton, but she’s vanished…without a trace, as the saying goes.”

  His face paled to ashen as she spoke. He didn’t blink, just stared right through her. “How did she know?” he mumbled so softly Jessie wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. After several seconds, he cleared his throat. “What’s being done?”

  “I filed a missing person report with the sheriff’s department right before I came here. We’ve notified Nate, Uncle Chad, and all Mom’s friends and asked everyone to be on the lookout for her and to spread the word. This afternoon, I plan to distribute flyers.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  She shrugged. “Check places you think she might be. Spread the word. Anything you do is appreciated.”

  He nodded, still looking dazed.

  She gathered her composure and stood again. “Thank you for your help with…both matters, Mr. Swanson.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied absently.

  He didn’t make a move to stand, shake her hand, or show her to the door. He seemed totally distracted. Should she stay and be sure he was okay? No, she couldn’t; she didn’t have time. She wanted to make flyers on the computer and distribute them before picking up Callie at the beauty shop. She turned to say good-bye as she stepped through the doorway into the reception area.

  Mr. Swanson still sat at his desk, his head cradled in his hands, and muttered to himself, “Why, sweetheart, why?”

  * * *

  This sucks. Sean’s level of frustration maxed out. He and Jake weren’t having any luck finding an escape report on the man now known as Hal Freeman. And Sean’s focus was shot to hell with worry over Jess. “Stay out of it, Deputy Johnson.” Freeman’s words ricocheted around in his brain. They were joined by all the man’s hate-filled comments from years past about law enforcement. His attitude fit the profile of a convict perfectly.

  Gnawing at the back of Sean’s mind was the crucial question of what crime the man had committed. Petty theft? No big deal. Aggravated assault? Big deal. Rape? Big fucking deal. Murder? Biggest fucking deal. The possibilities and the corresponding danger to Jess were driving him crazy.

  “I gotta go,” he announced.

  Jake swiveled in his chair and eyed him solemnly. “To check on Jessica?”

  “Yeah. I can’t shake this bad feeling.”

  “Understood. Stay in touch. I’ll keep looking.”

  “Thanks, Stone.”

  Jake pressed something on the high-tech remote. The safe room door buzzed, clicked, and opened. He nodded. “I turned off the electrical current. Hurry up so I can rearm it.”

  Sean thought his friend was kidding, but he couldn’t be sure. He hustled out, grabbed his computer bag, and passed through the “normal” office as the bookcase slid back into place.

  “Angela?” he called when he reached the foyer.

  A laugh came through the speaker beside the front door. “She left hours ago, Burke. Get out before I decide you were planning to flirt with my girlfriend.”

  The front door lock clicked. Sean saluted the security camera in the corner and escaped the fortress.

  His truck shot down the steep, winding driveway and past the boulder sentries. Careening onto the two-lane road at the bottom of the hill, he raced away from the isolated citadel toward the freeway, urgency increasing with each passing mile.

  Pulling his cell from his pocket, he pondered calling Jess. Would she talk to him or tell him to go to hell? He didn’t want to take the chance so he headed to Ramona without making the call.

  Bad traffic increased his trip to almost an hour. When he finally pulled into the Freeman driveway, the property looked des
erted except for Jess’s Camry. Stepping out of the truck, he listened for signs of life but heard nothing. No kid chattering. No equipment running. No music or voices. His gut clenched.

  He leaped up the two steps to the front door and poked the doorbell several times. No response. He banged his fist on the wooden door. Still no response. “Jess! Answer the door.” Nothing.

  Sean dashed around the house to the back door. Without knocking, he grabbed the knob and twisted. Locked. “Fuck.” He yanked his wallet from his back pocket, fished out a credit card, and slipped it between the door and frame. Frantically, he slid the card up and down against the old lock until it gave way. He shoved the door open. “Jess!”

  He flew through the kitchen, which he knew at a glance hadn’t changed since his last visit years ago, and landed in the living room. A quick sweep confirmed it was also empty. His heart pounding, he hit the hallway at a run.

  Halfway down, he slammed into someone emerging from the bathroom. They both went down, sprawling onto the floor.

  Jess screamed and pummeled Sean with her fists. “Stop, Drake, don’t hurt me,” she cried with her eyes closed, arms and legs flailing.

  Drake? Is that her ex? With Jess struggling frantically beneath him, Sean captured her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head on the carpet. “Jess, stop. It’s me. Sean.”

  “Sean?” Opening her eyes, she gasped for air and stopped squirming. “What…what’re you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. But the real question is why did you think I was Drake?”

  Her eyes still blinking with surprise, she stammered, “H-he’s here.”

  Here? Sean’s head whipped around, his eyes searching the hallway in both directions. Then jealousy bit him. Hard. His gaze dropped to the woman beneath him. “You’re here…alone…with your ex. How does Lover Boy Luke feel about that?”

  In that jealousy-laden moment, he noticed Jess wore only a towel. A towel that their struggles had pulled down to barely cover her nipples. He knew because those delicious points were protruding noticeably beneath the terry cloth. The swell of her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath. His dick decided to do some rising and swelling of its own.