Dangerous Love

by E. B. Walters

  Faith couldn’t begin to voice the chaos in her mind. She stared into the night, the buildings flashing past, and cars zipping past them without seeing them. She wasn’t sure how much she could take tonight. Getting lost in Ken’s arms after confirming Sean’s thievery had been a temporary fix. She couldn’t ignore her problems anymore because they just kept getting worse.

  “If she’s the one, I want her in jail,” Faith said.

  Ken nodded.

  “Sean too.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “Yes. I know we can’t get him on stealing my designs, other than humiliate him, but there must be a way to connect him to the burglary and Molly’s condition.”

  “There should be, but first let’s get proof they’re working together.”

  Faith leaned back against her seat and waited for Hailey to contact them, her mind a jumbled mess of pointless, possible solutions. She couldn’t think beyond the fact that Deidre or Charlene might have betrayed her. Had betrayed her, she corrected, angry with herself for hoping Ken was wrong.

  They caught up with the van on Marina Freeway. Although there were several cars between them, they followed it, took a right turn then a left. They pulled up behind it on Redwood Avenue alongside a three-story gorgeous complex with Ocean View written above the front door. Sean’s sports car gleamed under the security light by the palm trees near the curb. Faith leaned forward, her gaze on the car, anticipation making her tense.

  Her attention moved to Ken when he reached in the back for his bag, pulled out an earpiece smaller than the wireless one she’d been using with Hailey and handed it to her.

  “This com system is really a high-tech walkie-talkie. You can hear everything I hear and communicate with me too by pressing this button.” He indicated a green button. Next, he pulled out a heavy-duty laptop, opened it, then pressed the power button. While the machine booted, he removed a tiny SD card, which he inserted in a slot on the frame of a pair of glasses. Another card went in the computer. After he typed a few words, a window appeared. It didn’t take Faith long to realize that the images on the computer screen came from the glasses.

  “You have a camera on your glasses?” Faith asked.

  “Yeah, unfortunately, it doesn’t record sounds. That is why you need the earpiece.” He passed her the laptop. “You can now see everything I see and hear what I hear.”

  Faith cupped his face and kissed him. “Get him.”

  She went back to studying Sean’s car. The door opened and he stepped out. Then he reached in the back and pulled out the garment bags, slung them over his shoulder, and without looking left or right, marched to the entrance.

  She hadn’t realized Ken already left the SUV until she saw him from the corner of her eye. He stopped to speak to his people in the van before following Sean. Through the glass door, Sean was visible as he talked to a balding, scrawny man, possibly the security guard, before he disappeared out of sight. Ken entered the building and Faith studied the feed from his recorder on the computer screen on her lap.

  The dramatic foyer had a hotel feel to it: marble floor, dramatic high-ceiling with a cute chandelier, egg-shell floor rug and couches to the right in what appeared to be a visitors’ lounge, and an ‘office’ behind a marble-top counter. An Olympic sized pool was visible through the back door.

  The same guard who’d spoken to Sean approached Ken. “Can I help you?”

  Ken flashed a card. “Kenneth Lambert, LAPD, Commercial Crime Division, Fraud Section. I’m working undercover on an insurance fraud case involving designer clothes. Do you know the man who just walked past with garment bags?”

  “That’s Ms. Jamison’s friend, Mr. O’Neal. Can I see that I.D. again, sir?” the guard asked suspiciously.

  “I’ll take this a step farther…uh what’s your name?”

  “William Hanks,” the guard supplied.

  “Hank, I’ll call Officer Fitzgerald of LAPD, West Hollywood precinct, to back up my story if it will ease your mind.” There was a pause while Ken punched in Eddie’s number. Then Faith heard him say, “Fitzgerald? We got O’Neal.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I know what time it is. Do you want in or not?” There was another long pause then he rattled off the address of the condos. “Yes, he’s headed to Deidre Jamison’s place with the evidence.” Another pause. “Yeah, talk to the security guard while I get some evidence.” Ken chuckled. “Sure, rip me a new one when you get here.” He passed the phone to the guard. “Talk to my partner. What number is Ms. Jamison?”

  “205,” the guard said. He wore a bewildered expression as he brought the cell phone to his ear.

  “Is there another way to get to the apartment other than the elevator?”

  “We have back stairs from the pool deck.” The guard pointed to the hallway leading to the pool. “Go through there, turn right, then take the third stairs to the second floor.”

  “Thank you for cooperating with your local law enforcement, Hank,” Ken said. “Now talk to my partner and be his eyes and ears until he gets here. He’ll need to know everything Mr. O’Neal did and said tonight.”

  The guard grinned, his chest pushed out. “Yes, sir,”

  Faith was impressed.

  “That was smooth,” she said after Ken took off toward the pool at a run.

  Ken chuckled. “Happy you approve.”

  “Was Eddie angry?”

  “He’ll get over it. He wants O’Neal behind bars as much as I do. I can’t talk anymore, sweetheart, but watch the screen.” He hurried through the door and turned right.

  Blue lights lit the Olympic size pool, and security lights in the flower beds along the sidewalk parallel to it made it easy to see everything Ken saw. Most of the ground floor houses had their numbers engraved on walls covering private backyards. Stairs led to the second floor apartments and the lofts. Ken slowed down near the stop of the stairs and peered into the hallway.

  At first all Faith saw was the hallway, then Sean appeared. He stood outside a door minus the garment bags, which meant he was leaving. His back was to Ken and Deidre wasn’t visible. Faith was still hoping Deidre hadn’t betrayed her. She focused on Sean.

  At first, she couldn’t hear what he was saying, then the words reached her. “Call me when it’s done,” Sean said.

  “I will,” Deidre’s high-pitched voice answered. Then she crossed the threshold, her five-four body in a belted, red silk robe, blonde hair mussed. She hugged Sean. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done, she won’t have anything to connect you to the designs.”

  “Just get rid of them,” Sean ordered then turned and started toward Ken.

  The screen went blank. Faith waited, her heart pounding with dread

  “Ken? Are you okay?” she asked.

  No response. No visuals. It was as though everything just died. Faith swallowed. Please, let him be okay. “Ken?”

  She didn’t want to worry, but couldn’t help herself. Maybe he couldn’t talk without giving his position away. The waiting was excruciatingly slow, and her stomach churned with nervousness.

  Sean sauntered out of the building like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wasn’t slowly destroying her life. Faith fought the urge to get out of the SUV and confront him, but that would be counterproductive. There was no point in letting him become aware they knew about him and Deidre. He hopped back into his car and sped off. The next second, the van took off after him. Ken was still a no show. Her concern grew. What if he was injured and couldn’t move?

  “Ken?”

  Nothing.

  “Damn it, Ken. Answer me this instant or—”

  “Coming.” The video feed came back at the same time as the audio. He was back in the foyer, where the security guard waited with his cell phone. “Did you talk to Detective Fitzgerald?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s on his way. He said you should wait for him.” The man gave back Ken his cell phone then asked, “So is Ms. Jamison under investigation?”

  “Sorry, can’t discuss
the case, but you could help us by answering a few questions.”

  “Anything to help, officer.”

  “How often does Mr. O’Neal visit Ms. Jamison?”

  “I just started working night shift, but he’s been around a few times during the day. Visitors must sign the log, so we should have a record of the number of times he visited.” He led the way to his office, where he pulled out a thick book.

  Signatures didn’t change, and Faith knew Sean’s from the years she interned at DHS. She studied the entries as Ken flipped the page. The frequency of Sean’s visits increased the last few weeks. Usually at night. No wonder Ken’s people hadn’t recorded phone conversations between him and Deidre. Instead of calling, they’d been meeting.

  “Do you have security cameras in this place?” Ken asked.

  “Of course. In the foyer and the front entrance,” the guard said.

  Faith was distracted by a siren. She turned to look just as it turned off, but she recognized Eddie’s SUV when it entered the street.

  She debated whether to get out and talk to him when he pulled up outside the building. Before she could decide, her cousin jumped from his vehicle and rushed to the door, trench coat flying. Her attention shifted to the computer screen as Eddie entered the foyer.

  “About time you got here, detective,” Ken said.

  “I was in bed, Lambert,” Eddie growled. “Hank, right?” he asked the guard.

  “Yes, Officer Fitzgerald. I’ll take you to Ms. Jamison’s apartment.”

  “That won’t be necessary since my partner here already knows it, but the LAPD thanks you for your cooperation.”

  “Just being a good citizen, officer,” the guard said, puffing his chest again.

  Eddie gripped his shoulder. “That’s all we ask, Hank. Lead the way, detective.”

  “This way,” Ken said, leading Eddie toward a set of elevator doors.

  “I’ll take it from here. Go on home, Lambert.” Eddie entered the elevator, turning to glare Ken.

  “Come on, Eddie. We made it this far. Let me see this through.”

  “No. I’m taking her in, and that means doing everything by the book.”

  “What difference is my presence going to make?”

  “You have no license to question her or enter her home. I do.”

  “At least wear these, so we can see what you’re doing.” Ken must have removed his glasses because the images blurred then all Faith saw was the carpeted floor outside the elevator. “There’s a camera hidden in here and this earpiece picks up audio signal.”

  “We?” Eddie asked.

  “Faith is in the car, hearing and seeing everything that’s happening in here.”

  “Damn it, Lambert. You didn’t have to bring her out here in the dead of the night. And don’t tell me she strong-armed you,” Eddie retorted, but he must have accepted the glasses because one second the video feed showed the floor the next Ken’s handsome face.

  “She did. Or haven’t you noticed how potent her smile is,” Ken said with a grin as the elevator door closed.

  Faith grinned.

  “Thanks for coming out to do this, Eddie,” she said, knowing her cousin would hear her.

  “It was that or throw your boyfriend in jail for impersonating a police officer. He’s reckless, cocky, and doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Ken and his people, Eddie,” Faith reprimanded him gently. “Give him some credit for that.”

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t good at his job. I just don’t like to see you dragged into things you’re not equipped to deal with.” The elevator opened and he stepped out.

  “The third door to your right,” Faith instructed. “Ken didn’t drag me into this. Sean did by stealing from me.”

  “I know.” Eddie sighed. “I have the glasses and the earpiece, so watch from afar, but that’s it. Are you in the SUV I saw down the street?”

  “Yes.” The door opened and Ken slipped behind the wheel. “Ken is here now.”

  “I’ll talk to you two later. No matter what you hear or see, don’t come in here.”

  “Okay.” Faith removed the earpiece and offered it to Ken. “I hope she confesses.”

  Ken heard the excitement in her voice and hoped it wasn’t premature. A woman who can slip in and out of the radar like Deidre wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t say anything. Faith had gone through enough tonight without him raining on her parade.

  On the screen, Eddie stopped outside Deidre’s door and rapped on it. “This is the L.A.P.D., open up.”

  Silence followed.

  Eddie waited then knocked louder. “Open the door, Ms. Jamison. This is the police.”

  A bolt clicked then the door swung open to reveal a scowling Deidre. She tightened the sash on her silk gown. “What’s going on, officer?”

  Eddie flashed his badge. “Eddie Fitzgerald, L.A.P.D., Ms. Jamison. We need to talk about Mr. O’Neal.”

  Deidre glanced up and down the hallway before looking at Eddie. “Are you related to, uh, Faith Fitzgerald?”

  “I don’t see why that’s relevant,” Eddy answered in a calm but firm voice. “We can either have this discussion in your apartment, Ms. Jamison, or do it at my precinct.”

  A door opened down the hall and a head popped out. Deidre stepped back and left her door wide open for Eddie to follow. “Come in.”

  She led Eddie to her living room, turned around, and watched him warily, arms crossed. She didn’t offer him a seat although she had two sofas and a love seat. The four garment bags were piled on one of the sofas.

  “What can I do for you, Officer Fitzgerald?” she asked.

  “Take a seat, ma’am.” Eddie pulled out a pen and notebook from his trench coat pocket, waiting until Deidre sat before he spoke. “For the record, state your name?”

  “Don’t I need a lawyer present?”

  “If you think you need one, go ahead, and make the call, ma’am. I’m not charging you with anything yet. I just need to verify a few things.” Eddie paused. “Do you need to call your lawyer?”

  “No. And my name is Deidre Jamison.”

  “Do you also go by a different name?” Eddie asked.

  She hesitated then mumbled, “No.”

  “Ms. Jamison, I showed your picture to the local sheriff in Coahoma, Texas, and he swore you were Charlene Butler, born in 1978 to Cynthia and Bobby Joe Butler. After high school, Charlene married Earl Mayes before he died a few months later under mysterious circumstances, leaving her his truck and house. I don’t care that you high tailed it out of town before dust settled on his grave, Ms. Jamison. I just wanted you to confirm that you go by a different name.”

  Deidre lifted her chin. “Charlene Butler was my birth name. There’s no law against changing one’s name.”

  “It is a felony to assume someone else’s identity and claim their social security number as your own. You did when you took Deidre Jamison’s identity. So far, you’ve only used her name and social Security number to find employment and rent this place. Those are minor offenses for which you can pay a fine and move on, but when you’re involved in criminal activities, you will serve time and pay a heavier penalty. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ms. Butler?”

  “I haven’t committed any crime,” Deidre said. “And please, I go by Jamison, not Butler.”

  “Okay. You are in possession of stolen property, Ms. Jamison.”

  Deidre frowned. “What stolen property?”

  “Last night, a group of designers held a charity auction for hurricane victims but by the end of the evening, some of the gowns went missing. The gowns belong to Dublin House of Styles. We got an anonymous call an hour ago that the gowns are in your possession.”

  Deidre swallowed, her gaze going to the navy-blue garment bags with DHS logo. “Who reported the gowns missing?”

  “A Mr. Sean O’Neal.”

  Deidre jumped to her feet. “The bastard. He’s trying to frame me.” She pointed at the gar
ment bags. “He dropped off those here a few minutes ago, told me to get rid of them.”

  “Please sit down, Ms. Jamison.”

  She paced. “Why is he doing this to me? Am I under arrest?”

  “No, but if you need to call a lawyer, do so now. The gowns are worth a lot of money, and are insured. It appears that you and O’Neal are planning to defraud his insurance company.”

  “No, we’re not,” Deidre yelled. “He dropped them off and told me to get rid of them. That’s all.”

  “Sit down, Ms. Jamison.”

  Deidre sat, but her eyes kept darting toward the garment bags.

  “Is Mr. O’Neal a friend of yours?” Eddie asked.

  “No. He’s business partner. At least I thought he was, until he asked me to spy for him. I was stupid and needed money, so I agreed. I didn’t mean for things to go this far. Now he’s framing me.”

  “Can you explain exactly what Mr. O’Neal asked you to do?”

  Deidre fidgeted, her eyes shifting to the left, where the garments were. “About a year ago, I went to his showroom with a proposal. I design jewelry and I’m always looking for fashion designers willing to showcase my work in their showrooms or fashion shows. Several local designers were already carrying my jewelry when I approached Mr. O’Neal.” Her voice shook as she continued. “He wasn’t interested until explained that I worked with other designers, including Falasha Designs. All of a sudden he wanted to see more of my pieces. After a few meetings, he chose several pieces, paid for them and commissioned more, but he kept asking if Ms. Fitzgerald liked the same designs. Soon he was asking which ones she liked and why. The more I answered the more he bought.” Her eyes grew bright and her chin trembled. “That’s when I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Eddie asked.

  “I mentioned a gown Ms. Fitzgerald was working on at the time and why my piece was perfect for it. He asked if he could see the design. The dress might be here.” Deidre jumped up and went to the garment bags. One by one, she unzipped them and pulled out gowns and threw them on the other sofa.

  “They are all mine,” Faith whispered, leaning forward.

  Ken slipped a hand on her nape. “We got O’Neal, baby. She’s singing like a canary.”