by Andrea Kane
Casey nodded. “I can’t disagree with you. Just promise me that you won’t compromise the Worster case. His life’s in danger, too. And he’s already our client.”
“I won’t,” Ryan promised. “I can handle both. You know that. I never do just one thing at a time; it bores me to death. I’ve gotta keep my mind in a bunch of places to keep it sharp. Don’t worry. We’ll get the son of a bitch who’s threatening Mr. Worster. And we’ll rescue our soon-to-be clients, too.”
Emma grabbed Ryan’s arm on the other side of the conference room door. “Once Lisa calls, I want to help,” she said adamantly, but quietly so it stayed between them. “Remember, I’m the one who brought her case to FI.”
Ryan’s lips twitched. “Jumping the gun a little, aren’t you, Feisty? What case?”
“The one you just told Casey was a phone call away.” Emma’s chin came up. She wasn’t backing down an inch. “I know that you don’t plan on waiting for them to call. I know you’re on your way to your lair, ready to burn up your computer so you can get information on whoever might be after them.”
“Busted,” Ryan admitted. Emma’s gutsy nature was something he admired. She might be young, but she was as worldly as they came. “You want to get your feet wet. I get it. Okay, I’ll keep you in the loop. And I’ll put in a good word with Casey about you working this with me if—and it’s still an if—Lisa and Miles contact us.”
“Okay.” Emma’s stance relaxed a bit. “I’ll wait to hear what you find out. It should take you about an hour.”
“An hour?” Ryan shook his head. “You have way too much faith. It’s going to take a lot longer than that. This is hard, detailed work.” A grin. “I just make it look easy because I’m that good.”
“Yeah, well, go downstairs and be that good. And I don’t mean with Claire. You two can burn up the rug in your lair later. Now it’s work time.”
Ryan blinked. “How the hell did you know…?”
“I know everything that goes on here,” Emma informed him. “I’m the human equivalent of Yoda. And remember, he taught me everything I know.”
“Subject dropped.” Ryan was already descending the staircase. “And I wouldn’t share your theories with Claire-voyant. She’s not as uninhibited as I am.”
“No one is.”
Emma waited until Ryan had disappeared before she headed down to her first-floor desk.
So much for part one—getting Ryan to agree to share his findings with her.
Part two was something Ryan hadn’t considered.
She was FI’s executive assistant—the very person who answered the phones.
So bring on Lisa and Miles. She’d be waiting.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Shannon sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching her iPad and rereading the highlighted section of the Apex Olympic Gymnastic Center’s newsletter for the dozenth time. Her heart pounded harder and faster with each reading.
Jim Robbins had been officially declared missing. He’d last been seen on Friday afternoon at Apex, leaving for a few days’ vacation. It was now Wednesday, five days later. He hadn’t reported to work, hadn’t contacted his friends or colleagues, and hadn’t shown up at his apartment—according to his live-in girlfriend, who’d been told by Jim that his trip was going to be all business. All attempts had been made to reach him, and they’d all come up empty. The police were now involved, and, as of yet, there were no clues, much less results.
Shannon whimpered and fell back on her pillows.
What was she going to do? Were the cops going to interview her? Did they know that she and Jim had argued right in the middle of the Apex parking lot last week? Would she be a suspect? Would she be forced to tell them what she knew?
And, even scarier, was Jim dead? Had whoever he was working for killed him? Had he become a liability rather than an asset?
How would that impact her? Was she next on the hit list?
She had to get out of here.
Grabbing her iPad, she opened up Facebook and began composing a private message to Julie.
Julie was dealing with her own fears, and the last thing on her mind was checking her Facebook messages.
She was at the gym, trying to go about her business, trying to distract herself. It worked pretty well when she was giving aerobics classes or working with individual clients. Not so well when she was in her office, lost in thought and imagining the worst. Milo was back in the apartment, locked away in his bedroom, pounding on his keyboard. When he was in that mode, he didn’t talk. He just worked. And Julie didn’t push him. She just prayed that, whatever he was doing, it pertained to their backdoor escape route. Because her nightmares were becoming vivid, and every time the front door of the gym jingled, she was terrified that killers were on their way in.
A little after three o’clock that Monday, her fears were realized—but in a completely different way.
The door did jingle, and, as she had for the past three days, she jumped in her office chair, her head shooting up so she could peer out front and see who had entered.
Two men in suits were showing ID to the receptionist at the desk. And, based on instinct and experience, Julie knew they were cops.
She whipped out her cell phone and called Milo.
“I’m working,” he answered.
“Two detectives are here,” Julie hissed into the phone.
“Where are they and where are you?” Milo demanded.
“They’re at the front desk. I’m in my office.”
“Get into your private ladies’ room—now. Stay there as long as a woman can pull it off. I’m on my way.”
Thank God they’d installed a small bathroom attached to Julie’s office.
She rushed inside and locked the door behind her. Going straight to the sink, she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Dragging air into her lungs, she looked up at the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were wide and terrified. And she was pale as a ghost.
She couldn’t face the police looking like this.
Carefully, she dried her face, trying not to wipe off her makeup. Her handbag was in her office, so she didn’t have access to anything replenishing. Time to improvise.
She pumped a little body lotion onto her palm and smoothed it over her hands and lips. Close enough to lip gloss—at least her mouth looked full and soft rather than drawn and naked. And her hands looked as smooth as her manicured nails.
That done, she combed her fingers through her hair and played with it until it looked stylish and put-together. She adjusted her Lycra workout outfit, which was form-fitting and needed little help to look good. Then, she pinched her cheeks, bringing some much-needed color into them.
Last and most important, she forced the terrified look from her eyes and replaced it with calm professionalism. She’d done enough acting in her life. It was time to do some more.
A tentative knock at the bathroom door. “Julie?”
“Yes, Marti?”
Her receptionist made an audible swallow. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but there are two detectives up front who want to speak to you. What should I do?”
The poor girl was in total freak-out mode. Not that Julie could blame her.
“I’ll be right out to handle it,” Julie called back. “It’s probably about the robbery attempt in the jewelry store down the street.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. Of course.”
No wonder Marti sounded as if she’d never heard about any robbery attempt. There hadn’t been any.
“Also, Miles just walked in,” Marti added. “He’s not at the computer, so I guess he wants to talk to you, too.”
With a deep breath, Julie unlocked the door and stepped out. “Sounds like I’m very popular today,” she said with a smile.
Marti had clearly calmed down. Seeing her boss look and act so natural calmed her down even more.
“Please send the detectives to my office. And just tell Milo I’m in here with them.”
“Okay.” The tee
nage girl trotted off, her ponytail swinging as she gestured to Milo and headed up to the front desk.
Julie sat down at her desk, thumbing through some paperwork.
A minute later, the two detectives appeared, one of them knocking on her open door.
“Ms. Forman?” he asked.
“Yes.” Julie rose. “Come in, Detective…?”
“Atkins,” he supplied. “And this is Detective Brown.”
Detective Brown acknowledged her, as well. He was tall and lanky with salt-and-pepper hair. Atkins was shorter and paunchier, and probably a few years older than his partner. Neither of them looked like they were about to go in for the kill and arrest her. They just looked like they were here to do their job.
“Nice to meet you both.” Julie rose and shook their hands, wishing Milo would get his ass in here. “What can I do for you?”
“We just have a few questions,” Atkins said.
“About?”
“What happened in Chicago. Lisa Barnes’ murder, to be specific.”
Julie nearly wept with relief. They might think she knew something, but they didn’t know she was Lisa Barnes.
She sank down in her chair, genuine tears filling her eyes as she thought back to that day, something she desperately tried to block out. “It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I freaked out in a way I’ve never done before.”
“Indeed,” Detective Brown said. “The thing is, you grabbed a few things, left your apartment, your places of employment, your entire life in Chicago, and you ran. You didn’t even stay long enough to call 911. Why is that? Did it ever occur to you that Lisa Barnes might still be alive? That the EMTs could have gotten her to the hospital and saved her?”
Julie shook her head, grabbing a tissue to wipe her eyes. “I’m ashamed to say it, but no. Nothing occurred to me. I acted out of blind panic. Looking back, I was incredibly selfish. But I just knew in my gut she was dead. All that blood, and she was all contorted and so very still…” A shuddering breath. “Maybe I’m just trying to justify my unforgivable actions. The truth? I don’t remember the hours right after that. One minute I was staring down the street at what I believed was a dead body, and the next minute I was on a train heading here.”
Atkins was writing things down on a pad, taking notes the old-fashioned way. “Why Upper Montclair?” he asked. “And how did you manage to settle in so quickly, both personally and professionally? It’s almost as if you knew you’d have to start over somewhere far away.”
Julie turned sheet white. “Wait—do you think I had something to do with Lisa’s murder?”
“Frankly, we don’t know what to think. But the Chicago detectives asked us to pay you a visit.”
They thought she was a killer? She felt that surge of panic and hysteria bubble up inside her again.
Abruptly, Milo poked his head into her office, coming to her rescue once more.
“Hey, Julie,” he greeted her. “The server is back up and…” He broke off, seeing the two men standing in front of Julie’s desk. “Excuse me. I thought you were alone.”
“It’s fine, Miles. Come in.” She beckoned him, trying not to look like she was grasping on to her life preserver. “These are Detectives Atkins and Brown. They have questions about Lisa’s death.”
Atkins turned to look at Miles in surprise. “You knew Lisa Barnes?”
Miles’ jaw tightened. “She was my best friend from the time we were kids. We were in foster care together.”
“And your name is?”
“Miles Parker.” He turned up his palms quizzically. “Why are the Montclair police investigating her death? She was killed in Chicago. And I had no idea there was an investigation at all. Why didn’t the police call me?”
“I’m not understanding this,” Detective Brown said. “Lisa Barnes was your best friend, yet you never spoke to the Chicago detectives, and you took off with her landlord right after she died?”
Miles looked appalled. “Took off with her landlord? Lisa put me in touch with Julie a week or so earlier. She said that Julie wanted to start her own gym and not work for anyone else. I’m a tech for Dell Computer, and I talk to people everywhere. I’d heard about this place. I knew it needed major work, but I also knew that all the equipment was in place. Julie wanted to own her own gym and was willing to relocate.”
His voice grew low and shaky. “Then Lisa was killed. Julie showed up at my doorstep, a complete wreck about what she’d seen. My only tie to Chicago was Lisa. I needed to get out of there. Julie needed a computer tech. So I went; we left together.” He swallowed hard. “As for the police, no one ever contacted me. Maybe they didn’t even know I existed. Lisa and I had agreed to each find our own place to live, after a lifetime of depending on each other. So I guess the cops assumed she was alone. I don’t know what they assumed. But I didn’t hear from anyone—not then, and not since.”
Atkins and Brown looked at each other.
Julie went the next step, turning teary eyes toward Milo. “The detectives seem to think I had something to do with Lisa’s murder. Or at least, that’s what I’m inferring from their line of questioning.”
“What?” Milo’s reaction was perfect. “Why the hell would you kill Lisa? You barely knew her. You gave her a job when no one else would. And you let her stay with you, borrow your clothes, learn about personal training and dealing with rich, snobby people. You were more of a friend to her in a week than anyone except me had been to her in years, maybe ever.”
His head snapped back to face the police. “What’s the motivation? Why are you dredging up Lisa’s murder? Are you just using Julie as a starting point? Do you plan to drag Lisa’s name through the mud?”
That perked up the detectives’ ears, just as Milo had planned.
Create a diversion. He was a master at that.
Sure enough, Brown asked, “Why? Is there something to dredge up?”
Milo pretended to look as if he wished he could recall those words. “Nothing that would make someone kill her.”
He sounded less than convincing, and Atkins took over. “Let us be the judge of that. What was she involved in? Drugs?”
Again, Milo looked less than forthcoming. “She lived a shitty life. So, yeah, she did a little drug running when she was young.”
“And when she wasn’t young?”
“Look, she didn’t share all the details with me. She was probably trying to protect me. But I know it turned out the gang she was dealing with back in the day were part of a bigger cartel. I think she met with a few bigwigs once or twice. That means she saw their faces and could identify them. Maybe that became a problem. I don’t know. But it’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Please, detectives.” Julie didn’t have to feign her anguish. “Please don’t harass us. Like Miles said, he was Lisa’s best friend. As for me, I just want to go on with my life and try to forget what I saw.”
“I’ll never forget losing Lisa,” Milo added. “If I knew who did this, I’d have to be restrained from killing them myself.”
Again, the two detectives exchanged glances.
“I take it you two don’t plan on leaving Montclair?” Brown asked.
“Of course not,” Julie replied. “I just bought a gym here and rented an apartment. Miles and I are splitting the rent and the space. Excalibur is my baby. I plan on making Upper Montclair my home.”
“So we can find you either here or at your apartment?”
“Yes. And you can call me anytime.” Julie handed them her business card. “My cell number is on there.”
Milo dug in his pocket and produced a rather wrinkled business card of his own. “Sorry. I don’t carry too many of these around with me. But my cell number’s on it. Use it, and share it with the Chicago cops. Like I said, I’d love to face the bastards who killed my friend so I could beat the crap out of them. Just give me the chance and it’s done.”
Atkins closed his notepad. “I think we have enough.” He shot Brown a let’s-
go look. “We’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Emma was at her desk, electronically storing Marc’s interview with the wack job who was now Suspect Number One in the Worster case, when the phone rang.
She hit the save button on her keyboard and scooped up the phone.
“Forensic Instincts. May I help you?”
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone, and Emma’s antennae went up. It was either Lisa or Miles. She knew it.
Sure enough, a guy cleared his throat and said, “Is Ryan McKay there?”
Emma would find Ryan if she had to pull him out from under Claire or smash all his gadgets. “Yes, he is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Miles Parker.”
Yes. Emma pumped the air with her fist, while she kept her voice steady and professional. “Just a moment, Mr. Parker, while I track him down.”
The instant she put Miles on hold, Emma raced for the stairs, nearly tripping on her way down to the lair. Sending Ryan a text wouldn’t work, not if he was working.
“Ryan!” She flung open the door to his man cave and burst inside. Big surprise. He was leaning over his computer.
“Nothing yet, Emma,” he informed her. “And, in the future, please knock. I know you’re jumping out of your skin, but…”
“Miles Parker is on the phone,” she interrupted, practically vibrating as she spoke. “He’s asking to talk to you. And I’m sitting in on the call when you take it. So put it on speaker.”
Ryan’s head shot up. He looked like a kid in a candy store.
“Line three,” Emma instructed, planting herself on a chair next to his workstation. “The phone’s under there.” She pointed at a slew of papers that were strewn everywhere. “And remember, put it on speaker.”
Ryan was already clearing the pile, groping for the phone. “Only if you keep that mouth of yours shut,” he replied. “Miles is calling me. He doesn’t even know you exist.”