by Lane, Aubree
Something was wrong. Brett was way too edgy for comfort. He was the most laid back person Leah knew. His easy going style was his trademark, and he had won the hearts of many women by being aloof and unattainable. Leah didn’t know Brett that well, but she didn’t think he let his guard down to very many people. Cara was one of his chosen few.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to have a nervous break-down.” Leah reached out in concern, but once again, Brett withdrew.
“Leah, please stop and listen. This is vitally important.” He took a few steps towards the door. “She should have run when I told her, but since she didn’t, this is the best I can do.”
“Brett, you’re scaring me. Please let me help you.” Leah begged. “You look like you’re about ready to jump out of your skin. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Brett raced forward and grabbed Leah’s arms with such strength that his fingers bit harshly into her skin. “Tell her I’ll always cherish the time we spent watching Jaunting Jamison, and if she’s ever in trouble, the Boden original she has in her front yard will come in handy.”
Talk about cryptic! Leah was convinced Brett had finally lost it. Why in the world would he cherish watching some old black and white television program with Cara?
Leah softened, hoping it would help to settle Brett’s agitated state. “Let me call someone for you.”
Brett exhaled with frustration and pushed her away. “Just do it, Leah. It’s important.” He turned and tugged open the door.
“Please don’t go. Let me help you.”
Brett nervously jeered back and peered out the shop window. Fear radiated from his eyes. He rushed back to Leah and grabbed her arms. “Promise me you’ll tell her,” he begged.
Leah looked into his distressed eyes and couldn’t deny him. “Of course I will.”
Brett gave her a jittery hug and raced out the door.
~~~**~~~
Hunter Henderson shot up in his uncomfortable black task chair and took notice of the images flashing before his eyes. He pounded on the keyboard. “Hey, hey, hey!” he shouted. “I think I found something.” In frustration he banged the keys harder. “Why in the hell can’t I ever rewind this blasted thing? Crandall, get over here!”
Blurry eyed from the nonstop, mind numbing search through the hours and hours of the recorded feed of Cara’s living room, Hunter’s plea barely registered with David. They had been at it so long that even the occasional peep show had lost its appeal. He eased his eyes closed and relished the relief they so desperately sought. His head turned towards the ruckus being created on the other side of the room and mumbled, “What?”
“Open your god-damned eyes and get the fuck over here!”
David blinked and tried to shake off some of his weariness. He scrubbed his face and rolled his head from side to side, trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his neck which threatened to knot up and spasm. “What are you hollering about?”
Hunter slapped the side of the monitor. “I think I just saw the person who stashed the phony evidence.” He grabbed the display with both hands and choked it. “But this stupid thing won’t let me back up.”
David rolled his eyes. “Slapping the monitor around isn’t going to help.” He got up and moved behind his partner. “Watch and learn.” He leaned over Hunter’s back and placed his fingers on the mouse. The curser moved to the upper right hand corner of the screen and the commands to pause, stop, rewind, and fast-forward magically appeared. “See how easy it is when you talk nicely to it.”
Hunter growled and brushed David’s hand away. “Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”
David could relate. They had been at it for twelve hours straight, and there wasn’t enough coffee in the world that would help them push through their fatigue.
Hunter scrolled back through the footage. He went so fast David missed what he was looking for. Hunter cursed knowing he had backtracked too far and let the feed go forward at its own pace. Two minutes later, David yawned and began to believe Hunter was hallucinating. Suddenly, the form of a man stepped out of Cara’s bedroom. The time stamp on the feed indicated that it was two o’clock in the morning.
In the middle of the night someone had broken in and was now lurking in the shadows. He was dressed in black, a hoodie hid his face, and dark gloves covered his hands. David and Hunter watched the figure pull a manila envelope out from behind his back and walk just out of the camera’s field of vision. For the next few minutes all they saw was a glimpse of his back or an elbow as he worked to hide the evidence.
David tapped the screen. “You’ve been in Cara’s apartment, what’s in that section of her home?”
“The kitchen. That side of the counter holds a trash compactor and some drawers. I think he just pulled one of those things out and tape the envelope to either the back side of the compactor or maybe underneath a drawer. Do you remember the exact location where they found the evidence?”
At the moment, David was finding it hard to remember his name, let alone the small details of the case.
Hunter rewound the feed and the two searched each frame more diligently. This time when the perp passed through the living room another clue emerged.
David smiled. “Look at his arm. There’s a roll of duct tape on it. See how the silver shimmered when it caught the light shining through the window. Back it up further. We need to know if Cara was home.”
Hunter did as he was told and at seven thirty the previous evening they got an eyeful of Cara’s cleavage as she pulled the door open and shut it behind her. She had not returned home before her house was invaded.
“I can’t believe I missed that the first time around.” Hunter joked.
“We’re both tired. Why don’t we catch a few hours of sleep and pick it up again when we’re more refreshed.”
Hunter shook his head. “You do what you want, but I’m forging on. I don’t understand how this Cloud thing works, and I’m afraid this information will vanish into thin air.”
David walked over to the dark blue backpack he carried when he was on a case. He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a thumb drive and tossed it to his weary cohort. “Back it up on this.”
Hunter turned the portable storage device over and smirked, “Do you think a hundred and twenty-eight gigs will be enough?”
David zipped the compartment closed and patted the backpack lovingly. “There are four more of those babies in here if it’s not.”
“What are you, a flippin’ boy scout?”
David couldn’t help but grin. His previous partner had called him the exact same thing on numerous occasions. The fact that Woody Hooten was now crippled and in a wheelchair was a heavy cross, which David was forced to bear. The memory of that horrific day flashed through his mind, and the smile was wiped from his face.
Hunter watched David Crandall’s emotions swing from almost happy to dark and sulking. He hit a nerve, but he couldn’t fathom what had caused the drastic change in attitude. “Go on home,” he told his partner. “If Dakota is still awake, tell her I’ll pick her up around eight. I’ll even bring breakfast.”
David nodded. “I won’t argue. I’m so tired I can barely function.” He pointed to the backpack. “I’ll leave that here, in case there is anything else you need. Feel free to give it a look so you know what a real detective should always have on hand.”
Hunter flipped him the bird.
David chuckled lightly before he walked out of the office.
The moment the door closed, Hunter carefully opened another window on his computer and typed David Crandall into the search bar. If he was going to have a successful working relationship with the man, he needed to know more about him.
~~~**~~~
Cara pulled herself off the sofa and stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. She hadn’t heard any movement from her bedroom and figured her father was still asleep. He was nearing seventy, and the long drive between Sonoma and Tahoe had worn him out more than usual. She could well imagi
ne how exhausting the stress of dealing with her mother’s illness was, and she worried his health could also be in danger.
She put the coffee pot on to brew and wandered into the bathroom. A pair of puffy eyes stared back from her reflection. Cara splashed some cold water on her face and focused a few extra handfuls over her swollen optics. Knowing there was no hope, she gave up and went to overdose on some caffeine.
Her coffee quest was interrupted by a knock on the door. She made a quick detour and swung opened the carnival inspired eyeball. “Hey, Leah, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry for barging in like this, but it couldn’t wait.” Leah brushed past Cara and headed for the freshly perked pot of Columbian magic. She pulled down a couple of the large mugs which were usually reserved for hangover Sundays. Being as it was Tuesday, Cara was a little concerned.
“What’s going on?”
Leah poured the black pick-me-up and drank it down without the half and half she typically added. “Brett just stopped by the shop. He was a nervous wreck.” Her hands shook as she tried to describe the petrified hollowed out shell of a man formerly known as the sophisticated, internationally known artist. “He looked like he was about to fall apart and kept looking out the window, like someone was watching him. I half expected some mysterious stranger in a trench coat to waltz in and shoot us.” Leah picked up the other mug and downed it. “He’s running away from something. I just know it. He gave me some cryptic message for you. Something about enjoying the time the two of you spent watching some old black and white television program and how that sculpture in your front yard would come in handy one day.”
Cara frowned. That didn’t sound like the Brett she knew. Brett had no problem taking on the world and living life exactly how he pleased. She wondered if having his place searched by the police had triggered the drastic change in behavior. That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Brett had no problem opening his home/studio up to thousands of visitors a year. Bringing people into his sphere had made him famous. He was the male version of a social butterfly, and his life was an open book. He never hid anything, so why would someone be watching him and why would he be on the run? None of it made sense. “What did he say to you again?”
“Why are you so calm?” Leah shouted. “I feel like I’m in some kind of spy movie.” She slammed her hand down on the counter. “The man was cryptic! I have never really seen cryptic in real life before, but I’ve watched a ton of spy and gangster movies, and Brett definitely fit the bill. With all that’s going on with the Alexander’s and their suspected connections with the mob, I’m totally freaked out!”
Cara looked towards her bedroom door. Her father had to have heard Leah’s outburst, yet he had not stirred. She walked over and tapped the door gently. “Dad? Are you up?” No sound came from within, so she knocked a bit harder and turned the door knob. “Dad?” she asked as she stepped inside. “Are you okay?”
Her bed was made and none of her dad’s belongings were anywhere in sight. Her dad had jumped ship. Cara went back to the living room and grabbed her cell phone off the coffee table.
“What’s going on?” Leah asked.
Cara held a finger up to silence her. Her parents’ phone began to ring and her dad picked up. “Hi, sweetie. Before you yell at me, let me explain. I was worried about your mom and with everything going on with you, I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye.”
Cara was relieved that her father was back home safe and sound. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I was going to send you home today anyway. You need to be with mom. I’ll be okay. Can I talk to Mom?”
“She’s asleep right now, but I’ll have her call you when she wakes up. Cara, I need you to promise me something. No more secrets between us, okay? I’ll keep you up to date on how we’re doing here and you tell us what’s happening there. Deal?”
Cara smiled. “It’s a deal. I love you.”
“Same here. Tell Leah I said to take care of you.”
“She’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, I’m in the middle of making myself some lunch. You take care, baby.”
Lunch? Cara looked at the clock and saw it was nearing the noon hour. She must have been exhausted after their emotional day together. As they neared the end of their conversation, Cara suddenly realized why her dad couldn’t say goodbye. Cara was finding it hard to hang up the phone. “I will. You take care of mom and yourself, too.”
“Cara.”
“Yes, Dad?”
“Hang up.”
Cara chuckled. “Fine.” Taking a moment to bask in her father’s love before she turned back to her frantic friend, she kissed the receiver tenderly and hit end.
“Cara, Brett is in some kind of trouble. We have to help him!”
Cara yawned and ran her fingers through her hair. “First of all, Brett specifically told me he’s a grown man and that he’s fully capable of taking care of himself.” She walked around the counter and poured the remaining coffee into one of the mugs. “Second of all, I’m not sure what he said to you... something about watching television.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “He said he enjoyed watching Jerry Springsteen with you, and that the Brett Boden original would come in handy one day.” She threw her arms up in the air. “What the hell does any of that mean? I know he was talking in riddles and leaving us a clue, but I can’t figure it out.”
Cara was totally confused. Did Leah mean Jerry Springer, or Bruce Springsteen? Either way it didn’t matter, she and Brett hadn’t watched either of those shows. She didn’t even think Bruce Springsteen had a television show, and if he did, it wouldn’t have been in black and white. “Slow down and tell me what show you’re talking about again.”
“That old black and white traveling adventure show with Jerry Springsteen.”
“Jerry Springsteen?” Cara racked her brain. The only show she could come up with which remotely resembled what Leah was talking about was Jaunting Jamison.
The host of the show, Jamison Spencer would jaunt around the world in search of treasures or valuable missing artifacts. It had become an inside joke, because none of the treasures or artifacts mentioned on the show were real. There was no historical record of them anywhere. It had been completely fabricated. The show was presented in documentary style, but since it was total fiction, Jamison had an excellent recovery rate. “Are you talking about Jaunting Jamison?”
Leah nodded. “That’s what I said.”
That wasn’t what she said, but Cara let it go. “Tell me again what he said about the statue.” In her mind she could see Brett rolling his eyes and telling her it was a sculpture. She knew Leah was getting his message all wrong, and she wished Brett had come by to tell her himself.
“He said if you ever found yourself in trouble that the Brett Boden you have in your front yard would come in handy.”
“How much more trouble could I possibly be in?”
Leah held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Leah grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I have to get back to the shop, but I’ll be back later. We have to figure this out. I just know he’s given us some sort of clue.”
Cara watched her friend go. Leah’s instincts were usually spot on, and Cara didn’t want to dismiss them lightly, but it all seemed pretty farfetched.
She looked around her empty apartment. All alone once more.
Tanner was just a few feet away, but she couldn’t call him. Mrs. Grimes was even closer, but she wasn’t supposed to contact her either. She knew her dad was just a phone call away if she needed him, but her mom needed him more. Somehow she was just going have to be satisfied with her own company.
Even as that thought passed through her mind, she dismissed it. Cara picked up her phone and called Jena, her favorite waitress at Rookies Bar and Grill and the newly appointed captain of LOLA.
“Professor Greene!” Jena exclaimed. “How goes it? Are you calling to reclaim your command?”
“We haven’t found any new species, if that’s what you’re asking, but I don’t have your touch. It isn’t nearly as fun without you, and I think my crew might mutiny before the summer is over.”
Cara chuckled. It had taken her years to get her spiel down where she entertained as much as she educated. Being a teacher was not for the faint of heart. “I think you’ll all survive. I’m glad you’re missing me.”
It was Jena’s turn to chuckle. “Those are you’re words, not mine. The crew might not be having fun, but I’m having the time of my life. I don’t wish you ill. I know everything they are saying about you is totally bogus, but once you’re cleared, feel free to take your time coming back to work.”
“Sorry,” Cara joked, “but the moment I’m reinstated, I’m giving you the boot.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment Cara thought she had hurt Jena’s feelings. Just as she was about to apologize, Jena popped back on the line. “I have to get back to work, Professor. I have a rowdy table that’s waiting for another round. I’d blow them off, but they tip really well.”
“I’m sorry, Jena,” Cara replied remorsefully. “I didn’t realize you were at work. I just wanted to let you know that you can call me if you need any advice.”
“Thanks. I gotta go.”
“Bye, Jena,” she said, but the line was already dead, and Cara was left with absolutely nothing to do―again.
She twiddled the phone in her hand. Tanner’s number was right at the top of her favorites list. Her fingers longed to tap his picture and hear his voice. She hadn’t seen him around much. He had only crossed by her window a couple of times since their breakup, and she had begun to wonder if he was the love ‘em, plant evidence, and leave ‘em kind of guy.