by Aimée Thurlo
Rod stopped pacing and looked Preston in the eye. “Okay, I’ve got that out of my system. What do you need?”
“Information. Does Ilse have a car?”
“Not her own, no. The SUV she drives belongs to Garner Inc.,” Rod said. “What are you after?”
“I’d like to track her whereabouts the night of Carl’s murder,” Preston said.
“Easy. The SUV’s got a GPS,” he said. “I’ll get you the chip. It’ll tell you everywhere the SUV’s been, along with the dates and times. It’s my wheels, so you don’t have to worry about a warrant. You’ve got my permission to access anything you need.”
“I’ll give you a receipt for it, and once we’ve copied the data, you can have it back.”
“Let’s go. The SUV she drives is the green one that’s parked in front of the garage. It’ll only take me a few minutes to pull the chip. I do this every year for my accountant—tax deductions, you know.”
Preston looked at his watch. “Is there a chance Ilse will need the SUV and catch on?”
He glanced out the back window. “Ilse lives in that casita,” he said, pointing. “The glow through the curtains is from her 40-inch TV. That tells us that she’s viewing her favorite TV show, which she records on her DVR. She watches it religiously as soon as her workday is over. For the next hour or so, she’ll stay put.”
Five minutes later, memory card in hand, Preston went back to his SUV and called the station. After speaking to the IT tech, he uploaded the GPS data via his MDT. Before long, he had the information he needed in a clear printout.
Preston went back to the house and met with Abby and Rod. “Ilse was up by Navajo Dam,” he told Abby but didn’t fill in the details for Rod. “More important, she went to the bus station a few hours after Carl’s death.”
“No way Ilse would travel by bus. That chick’s high maintenance. She rents a car if she goes out of town on private business.”
“Well, considering she’s still around and didn’t take any trips, I suspect she stored something in one of the lockers there,” Preston said.
“Okay, B-man, what’s next? Can you get a warrant and search the lockers?” Rod asked.
“No, just the ones she’s using, and we’d have to specify what we’re looking for. Since we don’t know the answers to either of those questions, we can’t make a move. Right now all I can get her for is misdemeanor invasion of privacy. To get her for anything more, we need to handle it differently. First, I’ll need to put all the bugs I found in your office back where they were.”
“Say again?”
“You heard me,” Preston said. “We don’t want to tip her off. What we need to do is set her up by having her overhear a staged conversation. I’ll make sure it rattles her enough to force her into making a mistake.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rod said. “Ilse doesn’t rattle easily. That’s one of the reasons I hired her. Even when I lose my cool, she barely blinks.”
“Speaking of that, make sure you replace that broken cup in her office, and maybe the vase on the patio. When she comes back here, it has to look as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
“You bet,” Rod said. “How long do you need to set everything up?”
“Till morning. When does she get to her desk?”
“Eight-thirty,” Rod said. “Unless something special is coming up, Ilse keeps regular hours.”
“We’ll set things in motion then. Just play along with whatever I say.”
“You’ve got it.”
After leaving Garner’s estate, Preston drove toward Daniel’s place, where he arranged to meet his brothers.
They arrived fifteen minutes later. Preston waited as the heavy metal gate opened so he could drive through. “This is going to be an all-nighter, Abby. You sure you want in? I can take you home right now.”
“Michelle is going to be with the animals, so I’m staying. Everything I value is on the line.” Even as she said it, she realized how true that was. And there was more than her beloved ranch at risk. Standing with her in the thick of things was the man she’d learned to love.
* * *
THEY’D ALL CATNAPPED a few hours on the sofas in Daniel’s sitting area, but it was close to daylight by the time they went over the details one last time.
“Everyone know what to do?” Preston’s gaze took them all in, one at a time—Abby, Daniel, Kyle and Gene. Once everyone nodded, they stood.
“Let’s grab something to eat, then get back to the ranch,” Preston said. “From this moment on, we keep things as routine as possible.”
* * *
ABBY SPENT THE next two hours tending the animals. She was getting ready to return to Rod’s place when she saw Bobby’s foster dad pull up.
“In all the confusion, I totally forgot that I’d promised Bobby he could stay here this weekend!” she said, thumping her forehead with the heel of her hand.
Preston shook his head. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Kyle should be here any minute. He can watch over Bobby while he’s guarding the ranch.” He gestured toward the gate as he finished speaking. “There he is now.”
Preston hurried to meet Kyle. “Hey, bro, one more favor.”
“Dude, what’ll you ever do without me once I’m gone?”
“I’ll try to bear up,” Preston said, biting back a grin. “Now listen up. We need you to watch over Bobby while you’re here. In another thirty minutes, if it goes according to plan, things are going to get heavy.”
“You hope,” Kyle said.
“My plans don’t fail,” Preston said.
Preston then called the station and verified that a patrolman was in position and keeping an eye on the guest house inside Garner’s estate. The officer was to report in if Ilse returned there any time during the day.
Then Preston joined Abby. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
As they got under way, Abby listened as Preston went over their plans one more time. If Preston was right, and Ilse and Stan were behind Carl’s murder, the case would be solved soon. After that Preston would go back to his life and get involved in another case, and what they’d shared would soon become just another memory. She swallowed hard at the bittersweet prospects ahead.
“Hopefully this will all be over for you soon, and you’ll be able to pick up your life right where you left off.”
She shook her head. “I can never go back to the way things were. I’ve learned too much about myself. The ranch will always be at the center of my life, but I don’t want it to be my entire world. I want...more.”
He nodded slowly. “You deserve the best of everything, Abby.”
“After the case is closed, will you still come to visit?” She hadn’t meant to voice it out loud, but now that she had, she didn’t regret it. She needed to hear his answer.
“I wish the answer could be yes, but I’m not the man you need beside you, Abby.” He tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Our worlds would collide and eventually destroy one or both of us. A cop’s work is filled with long shadows, the kind that follow a man after he quits for the day. You need to focus on hope and optimism. That’s the heart of everything Sitting Tall Ranch does.”
“Shadows have always been part of my life, Preston, and I’ve never hidden from them. I face them, then try to push them back, at least temporarily, for the kids.” She paused. “The real problem between us is that you don’t trust love and, without that, no relationship can survive.”
He looked at her for a moment. “I admit there’s some truth to that—” Before he could go on, he got a text message from Rod. “Here we go. Ilse’s at work now,” Preston said, reading it. “Time for us to get things rolling. You ready?”
“Absolutely,” she said.
As
eager as she was for closure, she knew that saying good-bye to Preston would follow, and nothing she could do, or say, would protect her from the heartbreak to come.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As they walked inside Rod’s home, Abby noticed that things looked perfectly ordinary again, including the patio, visible through the French doors. A moment later Ilse, with her usual smile, escorted them down a short hall into Rod’s office.
As Ilse left the room and the door shut, they sat down. Rod gave Preston a thumbs-up.
“So what brings you here?” Rod asked, getting things started.
“After this case is closed, Sitting Tall Ranch will be in need of funds,” she said.
“Some of the investments Stan made for me took another wrong turn so I’ve got some cash flow problems right now,” he said. “But I’ll be happy to help you with some fundraisers. You could hold some special event here on the estate and charge admission.”
“I plan to get the department involved and maybe other city agencies,” Preston said. “Of course, we’ll have to wait until the case is closed, but it shouldn’t be much longer now.”
“What’s changed?” Rod asked, instantly picking up his cue.
“We’ve found Carl Sinclair’s journal. It’s a police matter, so I can’t really discuss it, but I can tell you this—although he wrote it in code, we’ve already cracked the first part and expect to have it all before the end of the day. We have reason to believe the journal holds the name of the man who came after him and the location of several stolen paintings Carl kept in hiding.”
“So it’s all over but the crying,” Rod said. “Outstanding.”
“I believe that by noon, midafternoon tops, we’ll be ready to make some arrests,” Preston said.
There was a soft knock on the door and Ilse came in. “I’m feeling a little under the weather, Rod, so unless you need me, I’d like to head home.”
“That’s fine. Go ahead,” Rod said.
After Ilse left the office, Preston held a finger to his lips, reminding them that the bugs were still in place.
A few minutes later the three of them went outside onto the patio. Preston’s phone rang. It was the patrolman who was watching the casita and Ilse.
“The subject’s inside the house, Detective. Currently, she’s on the phone. I can see her walking around.”
“If she leaves, call me immediately.”
“Copy.”
About ten minutes later, as Preston and Abby were leaving the estate with Preston driving, they spotted a familiar-looking figure on the sidewalk down the street. Though carrying a large tote and wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, a far cry from her designer clothing, the woman’s long-legged strides and purposeful walk gave her away.
“Don’t look at her,” Preston said. “We’ll circle the block and come back around.”
Preston called the patrolman as soon as he turned away. “She’s not there, is she?”
“I haven’t seen her for the past several minutes. She came to the window, looked around and then left the front room. Let me go in for a closer look.”
Preston parked at the curb and waited. A few minutes later the officer called him. “She’s gone, sir. She must have slipped out the back.”
As Preston hung up, Abby looked over. “From the way she’s walking, she’s got a specific destination in mind.”
He pulled out into traffic, then circled the block and cruised down the street. After a short distance, they spotted her again, walking down a graveled pathway among the grass and trees.
“She’s cutting across the city park,” Preston said. “I won’t be able to follow her in the car. I’ll have to park somewhere and go after her on foot.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No. Drive back to the ranch and wait for me.” He took off his jacket, turned it inside out to change its color, then put it back on.
“Handy—a reversible jacket,” Abby said. She quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail and fastened it with a rubber band she had inside her purse. “I’m going with you. You’re not the only one who wants to know what Ilse’s up to.”
“All right,” he snapped, reaching for the Stetson in the backseat. “I don’t have time to argue.”
They climbed out of the SUV, leaving it parked at the curb, and started down the same path Ilse had chosen. They remained at a distance, screening themselves whenever possible with the natural contours of the ground, trees and bushes.
Preston kept his eye on Ilse but had to hold Abby back. “The key to tailing a suspect is patience and positioning. Keep them in sight, but always give them plenty of room. We look a little different now, but we still need to maintain our spacing.”
“She’s going to get away if we don’t hurry up,” Abby said, urging him on.
“No, she won’t. She’s headed for the bus station. She took the shortcut across the park because it knocks a couple of miles off her route and she can’t be easily spotted by an officer in a police cruiser.”
Although there had been no indication that Ilse suspected they were there, she suddenly stopped, turned around and slowly searched the area behind her for followers.
Preston instantly stepped into the shadows of a tall pine tree, pulling Abby with him. Facing away from Ilse, he pressed Abby’s back to the trunk of the tree and kissed her.
For one breathtaking moment, she forgot everything but Preston. His mouth was hard and insistent, and as she parted her lips he groaned and deepened the kiss.
Seconds later, he pulled back. The fire she saw in his eyes made a shiver course up her spine. He held her gaze for a brief eternity, then turned his head and looked across the park.
“She’s on the move again. Time to go,” he said. “Ilse’s not taking anything for granted, and she’s watching her back. Be ready for her to make more abrupt stops.”
As they continued to tail Ilse, the memory of Preston’s kiss burned inside Abby. She could still taste him and feel him against her. She loved him. No one had ever filled her with such strong longings, but Preston would never allow himself to need anyone other than his brothers.
The knowledge stung. With effort she forced herself to concentrate on Ilse. This woman was probably the key to catching Carl’s killer and ending the case that threatened the ranch’s continued existence. Ilse was the priority now.
As Ilse entered the bus depot, they waited a moment, then stepped inside and sat in an area where travelers were waiting with luggage and backpacks. Preston picked up an abandoned newspaper and handed Abby a section.
Ilse walked toward the ticket counter, then stopped to look around. They lowered their heads, pretending to read.
Ilse waited in the short line, bought a ticket, then stepped away, turning around again to make sure she wasn’t followed. At long last, she walked toward the rear wall of the main floor and to the long row of metal lockers.
After one last look around, Ilse fished a key out of her tote and went to one of the larger storage units. She had a problem opening it, but after a moment, they saw her remove one medium-size cardboard mailing tube from the locker. She quickly tucked it under her arm, then started walking around as if bored and impatient.
“Got it,” Preston said, lowering the cell phone he’d used to video Ilse’s activity. “But if we move in now and that doesn’t hold a stolen painting, she’ll know for sure that we’re on to her, and we’ll never get the evidence we need. Let’s stay back and watch her for a while longer.”
Preston caught the eye of the plainclothes officer who’d been positioned to back him up and held up his hand, signaling him to wait.
“What if she jumps on the next bus? She has a ticket. She might even make an exchange as she wanders around through the crowd and we’ll never see it happen.”
“I’ve got
that covered. She’s on depot surveillance and has two sets of eyes on her. If she makes a move for the loading area outside, I’m arresting her. Trust me—I do this for a living.”
Ilse suddenly turned and moved toward the loading zone door labeled Gate 1.
“Stay here, Abby,” Preston said. He rose and nodded to the officer, who’d been standing across the room. The plainclothes cop moved over to cut Ilse off. Ilse, who was already on her guard, veered away, picking up speed as she headed for the Gate 2 door instead.
Preston had anticipated the move and was already blocking her way. The minute she saw him, she turned back but soon spotted the other officer.
“Ilse, stop. You’re under arrest,” Preston said.
Panicking, she looked toward the station entrance.
“Don’t try it, Ilse. You’ll never make it outside. If you resist, you’ll only be making things worse for yourself,” Preston said. “You’re already facing serious charges.”
The crowd of travelers, suddenly aware of what was going on, froze and stared silently as he cuffed Ilse’s hands behind her back and informed her of her rights.
“Hang on to the lady, Detective Edwards,” Preston said to the plainclothes officer.
As people started to talk and move around again, suspecting the action was over, Preston turned to go talk to Abby, but she wasn’t where he’d left her. “The woman I came in with—where did she go?” he asked Edwards.
“Near the entrance talking to the guy in the sports jacket,” Edwards replied with a directional nod of his head.
Preston turned, worked his way through the active crowd and saw Stan. They were near the main entrance—Stan holding Abby’s forearm in a viselike grip. As Stan’s eyes met his, Preston inched his hand down toward his gun.
Stan shook his head and moved back the lapel of his own jacket, revealing the handgun jammed into his waistband. For emphasis, he put his hand down on the butt.
Gesturing by cocking his head, Stan motioned for Preston to approach.
“What the hell?” Edwards muttered, coming up beside Preston, Ilse in tow.