A Panicked Premonition

by Victoria Laurie

  “Oh, I tried to tell him, Sundance,” Candice said behind me. “But the idiot wouldn’t listen.”

  I set Brice’s coffee down on his desk, and walked over to hand Candice her cup. She took it with a muttered, “Thank you,” and the room fell silent again.

  I took a seat across from Candice but turned to speak to Brice, who was still at his desk glaring at his wife. “Zane’s the missing link we’ve been looking for,” I said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  I turned to Candice, waving at her to take over. I’d put it together in the car, and actually felt bad for ever doubting her. “Zane is one of Murielle’s groupies,” she said, glaring at her husband. “When we were looking for a clue on Murielle’s Instagram page to link her to the Roswell murders, I remembered seeing him in several of the photos she took out on the town with her posse.”

  I’d remembered him too, but belatedly when I was in the car on the way to get coffee. When I’d viewed her Instagram account, I’d been so focused on the fact that Murielle had taken every photo to make it look like the Roswells were crashing her scene that I hadn’t given a ton of thought to the extra people in her group. But Candice had, which is why she’s such a good investigator.

  At the news that Maldonado was part of Murielle’s posse, Brice’s brow furrowed. And his mouth opened as if he had something to say, but then it closed again and it took a minute for him to actually speak. “Wait . . . he’s . . . what?”

  Candice turned her phone so he could see the image on the screen. It was a shot of Maldonado with his arm slung around Murielle at some nightclub. “He and Murielle are super chummy. I recognized his face and thought that appearing friendly and flirtatious might help get a little info out of him. As I was showing him where to find his client, I asked him about Murielle. He told me that they go way back, but he wouldn’t give up much more than that. Since dropping him off at Hekekia’s door, I’ve been researching him. He costs five fifty an hour to retain. Five hundred and fifty bucks an hour,” she repeated for emphasis, and I had to agree that it sounded ridiculous to pay that much for an attorney. My own attorney was less than half that, actually.

  “How the hell can Hekekia afford him?” I asked. “I mean, all the cash we recovered from the house he was in with Gudziak was confiscated. He wouldn’t have access to it to pay for Maldonado.”

  “I doubt he’s got the money to afford him,” Candice said. “But Murielle sure can.”

  “Do we know she’s paying for him to represent Hekekia?” Brice asked.

  “How could we know that?” Candice asked. “Without a warrant for her finances, we can only guess. Even so, I find the link between Murielle and Hekekia through Maldonado pretty interesting.”

  I smiled smugly at Brice once Candice was through explaining. I hoped he’d notice and walk back his jealous hissy fit.

  For his part, Brice appeared to be struggling with a whole bunch of emotions and thoughts. Mostly he looked confused and embarrassed. As if to cover it up, he took the coffee I’d brought him and peeled back the tab on the lid to sip at the black liquid. I wondered if he was stalling for time to come up with an appropriate apology. Instead—and in perfect Brice fashion—he ignored the fact that he’d been a complete jackass and focused on just the facts. “Even knowing we’re hard-pressed to get a warrant for her financials, would Murielle be stupid enough to send in her own attorney to represent the guy who’d murdered the two people we suspect she ordered the hit on?”

  “She would if she wanted Hekekia to keep quiet about it,” I said. “It’s sorta perfect when you think about it. I mean, if she pays for Hekekia’s counsel, she can control what he admits to through Maldonado. And he’s not going to let the scumbag talk. He’ll convince Kaapo to keep quiet about anything relating to the Roswells and wait for us or APD to put enough together to form a case.”

  “Which will be hard, as we currently have shit to tie Hekekia to the Roswells,” Brice said.

  “But maybe we can use Maldonado’s connection to Murielle to throw him off-balance,” Candice said, with an extra bounce to her knee. “Maybe before we try to interview Hekekia, we toss out the fact that we suspect Murielle is behind the financing of Kaapo’s defense.”

  “How much do you think she’s willing to spend to keep him quiet?” I asked. At $550 an hour, the tab would run up pretty fast.

  Candice waved her hand casually. “I doubt Murielle is concerned about the cost. The woman’s worth about a billion dollars, right? She has money to burn, especially to keep any mention of her connection to the murders of the Roswells and their staff under wraps.” And then Candice seemed to think of something else and she asked me, “Hey, do you think the guy she was talking about when she asked you to use your radar to focus on that employee she didn’t know if she could trust—could that have been Maldonado?”

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “It absolutely could’ve been him! Wow, I hadn’t even made that connection. He’s certainly pretty enough for her to want to jump into bed with, and he strikes me as the kind of oily narcissist that totally fits the bill of who I was describing.”

  I turned my attention to Brice then. “Is there any way we could force Maldonado to tell us who’s paying his tab?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. That falls under the scope of attorney-client privilege. He’s under no obligation to tell us, and we can’t look at Murielle’s finances without a warrant, which we don’t have anything to go to a judge and get, especially not with her money and influence. Any kind of a warrant for her is going to require a smoking gun with her prints on it or something just as compelling.”

  “This case is so frustrating,” I grumbled. “We have all these disconnected pieces and no way to bring them together.”

  “So we’ll have to be clever in that interview room,” Candice said, once again focusing on her phone. Then she looked up and said, “Hey, Sundance, feel like running a quick errand with me?”

  My stomach grumbled. Dutch was due back with our dinners any minute, and I was fast approaching the hangry zone of the evening. “How quick?”

  “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

  I sighed. “Fine. But if we see Dutch between here and the garage, I’m grabbing my dinner and eating it in your car.”

  Candice had a rule about eating in her Porsche: No one was allowed to unless it was an emergency. It’s crazy how many times feeding me has been deemed an emergency. “Deal,” she said. “Let’s go so we can get back before Maldonado finishes talking to Hekekia.”

  On the way out, Candice pointed to Nikki, who was looking majorly bummed while staring at her phone in one of the free cubicles around the office.

  “Hey,” Candice said, snapping her fingers to get Nikki’s attention. “You. Come with us.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” Candice said, moving past the cubicle toward the door like a woman on a major mission.

  Nikki fell into step with me and said, “I’ve got nothing better to do tonight anyway.”

  I cut her a sideways look. “The hot date cancelled?”

  Nikki pocketed her cell. “I texted him to see if we could meet up later because I’m stuck here for at least another two hours, and he texted back to say that he already had plans for later.”

  I winced. “Ouch.”

  “It might not be with another girl,” she said, squaring her shoulders.

  I didn’t say anything. It was clear to me that this player had made a second date with the girl he planned to get lucky with tonight. Meeting Nikki for dinner had simply been his warm-up act. Douche bag.

  I was suddenly glad that Candice had a little excursion to help take Nikki’s mind off things, but I still had no idea what Candice had up her sleeve.

  A short time later we walked into her condo, following her right to her closet, and it sort of came togeth
er about what she might be thinking.

  “I’m not wearing that,” I said, standing defensively with my arms crossed while Candice basically shoved a slinky, low-cut, impossibly tight outfit at me.

  “Put it on, Sundance,” Candice said firmly.

  “I’ll wear it,” Nikki volunteered.

  I made a gesture to indicate she should by all means take the outfit, but Candice shook her head. “I’ve got something better for you, Detective.” Candice tossed the tight, slinky thing onto my head as if it was a foregone conclusion that needed no further argument.

  I pulled it free so that I could scowl at Candice, who was reaching back into her closet to take out a gorgeous powder pink pantsuit, cinched tight at the waist and flaring slightly in the pant leg. “Oh, come on!” I yelled. I would’ve worn that in a heartbeat.

  “It’ll look better on her,” Candice said.

  Nikki grabbed the outfit greedily, and after Candice motioned toward the master bathroom, she trotted happily off to change.

  I continued to glare at Candice. “Why do I have to wear the slinky outfit and you two get all the class?”

  Candice smiled sweetly. “Maldonado has already seen what I’m wearing, but I don’t think he really took you and Nikki in. We need a little distraction in that interrogation room, Sundance. You in that outfit will be a terrific diversion. And Nikki’s skin tone is sure to bring out the best of the other outfit. Maldonado might not even be able to think straight with all the bombshells in the room.”

  I arched a skeptical eyebrow. “That seems a little desperate, don’t you think? I mean, would this guy really be that easily distracted by such an obvious ploy?”

  Candice pulled out her phone and showed me a few of the pictures highlighting Zane in the background of Murielle’s photos. In every single one he had his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman in a tight, cleavage-baring outfit, and always his eyes were roving to about midchest. The guy was an obvious Lothario.

  “Great,” I said woodenly. I’d be the only one of the three of us with lots of cleavage showing, which was a problem, as I didn’t have lots of said cleavage to offer.

  Candice seemed to understand the dilemma, because she walked to her dresser and opened the drawer. “Here,” she said, tossing me a push-up bra from the collection. “And I’ve got some falsies to help fill you out.”

  I was about to protest when the door to the bathroom opened and Nikki stepped out, looking so radiant it was a wonder I’d ever thought about taking that pink number away from her. “Candice, I love this outfit!” she exclaimed.

  “I figured you might. You can borrow it too, if you’d like. Wear it to your date with the new guy.”

  Nikki blushed, and my chest tightened because she still looked so hopeful whenever anyone mentioned the guy. “I couldn’t,” she said, even though her expression turned eager.

  “Yes, you should,” Candice insisted. “Especially since you’re going to be taking hell from your CO tomorrow. Consider it my way of saying thank you.”

  Nikki smoothed her hand over the waist of the pantsuit. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” Candice said, and it was decided. Then she turned back to me and pointed to the door. “Get dressed. Now.”

  With a growl I headed off to the bathroom and put on the outfit she’d handed me, which—shocker—didn’t look slutty at all. Okay, so maybe it honestly looked amazing on me, and maybe I felt stupid for making such a fuss about it, but hell if I was going to let Candice know that.

  I came out of the bathroom to find Candice working on Nikki’s makeup. The girls both let their mouths drop when they took me in. “Whoa,” said Nikki. “You look so beautiful, Abby!”

  “Nice,” said Candice, offering me a satisfied smile. “All that working out has really paid off. Your bod is absolutely gorgeous, my friend.”

  I grinned. Okay, so maybe I’d let on that I liked the look too. “You guys think it fits okay?” I asked, tugging at the hem, which was midthigh.

  “It fits you better than it does me, so you can also borrow that one,” Candice said. “In fact, Abs, why don’t you just go ahead and keep it?”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said with a light laugh. “I don’t think Dutch would forgive me if I took that back after he sees you in it.”

  “Maldonado’s going to have a hard time keeping his head in the game,” Nikki joked. “We should be able to ask Hekekia anything we want.”

  “We’ll see,” Candice said. I was with her. Maldonado was pretty, but he sure as hell didn’t strike me as stupid. He’d certainly be distracted, but I doubted he’d let us run roughshod over his client.

  “We should be able to push the envelope a little at least,” I said.

  “Assuming the boys let the three of us go in together to interrogate Hekekia,” Candice remarked.

  “Oh, crap,” I said. I hadn’t even thought of that. By rights it should’ve been Nikki and maybe Brice, or maybe Nikki, Brice, and Dutch. We’d have to get their permission to allow us into the room with Nikki.

  And then it hit me that maybe that was also part of Candice’s plan. With the three of us showing up like Charlie’s Angels, we had a better chance of getting all the men to see things our way.

  Candice fluffed Nikki’s curls and said, “Okay, beautiful, move over so I can get to work on Sundance.”

  “Oh, boy,” I sighed, and my stomach gave another rumble. This had already been longer than fifteen minutes and I had a bad feeling my dinner was quickly getting cold.

  “Sit,” Candice said when Nikki got up. “I promise, this won’t take long.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Candice kept her word and in five minutes I was primped, fluffed, pushed up, and primed—ready for a night out on the town . . . or, you know, to interrogate a killer and his suave lawyer.

  We arrived back at the office and walked in with all the drama that three gorgeous girls exerting major va-va-voom power would. Walking side by side, and stepping in time down the main aisle among all the cubicles, I think, we needed only a big fan to pull off the Hollywood crime-drama walk.

  Even without the fan, jaws dropped all around. Oh, and I didn’t really look, but I swear there were a few men in the room who gave at least a little salute to our entrance.

  We stopped in front of Dutch’s desk, and my hubby stood there a bit stupidly, one hand stuck in a large take-out bag, the other holding a plastic set of utensils, his mouth a big round O.

  “Hey,” I said, giving him a little lift of my chin.

  “H-hey,” he said, blinking hard. “You . . . you . . . wow.”

  I smiled coyly. “You okay with the three of us taking first crack at Hekekia?”

  “Hell, no!” we heard, and I turned to see Brice standing in the doorway of his office, that jealous, angry look back on his face.

  Candice stepped away from Dutch’s desk and approached her husband. Her walk was full of extra bounce and even though I couldn’t see her face, I had a feeling she was turning on her considerable charm as she approached him.

  Sure enough, Brice’s expression wavered when she neared him, but then he shook his head as if to clear it and said, “I’m serious, Candice. No way.”

  She didn’t say anything; she simply stopped in front of him, took his hand, and led him into his office. The door was shut a moment later and at first we heard Brice’s muffled and slightly raised voice, but then it softened, and then there wasn’t much noise at all. A few moments later the door opened again and Candice stepped out triumphantly.

  Brice came out adjusting his tie, but he still didn’t look happy.

  I grinned at Candice. There are days I’m so grateful she’s on my side.

  I was so full of adoration for her I almost didn’t notice when she got up next to me and lifted the container of Thai food that I was greedily about to dive i
nto.

  “Later,” she said.

  I grabbed the container back. “I’m hungry!”

  “Three bites,” she ordered. “No more.”

  “Why?”

  Candice’s gaze dropped to my belly. “You really want that big meal hitting your stomach about the time we walk into that interrogation room?”

  I looked down. My getup clung tightly to my body. Hell, you could see the outline of my belly button. “Dammit,” I muttered, shoveling three huge bites of chicken and rice into my mouth, chewing quickly, and setting the rest aside.

  At least those three bites were enough to take the edge off. “Okay, let’s do this,” I said. Dutch was still staring at me with lustful eyes. “We’ll be back,” I assured him, patting his shoulder and following Candice and Nikki toward the conference room where Hekekia and his attorney were.

  Candice looked back over her shoulder toward the boys and said, “Oscar, give us two minutes to square it with Maldonado and then hit the cameras, okay? We’ll want to record this.”

  “You got it,” Oscar said to her, but his eyes never left Nikki. The poor boy looked like he was honestly lovestruck.

  Huh, I thought. Interesting.

  Oscar was my buddy at the bureau. He and I had been through a lot together, and our bond was pretty tight. I adored him and we got along like brother and sister, always looking out for each other.

  Now, Oscar didn’t know that I knew he’d been recently dumped by a beautiful girl I’d really thought was going to work out for him. He’d told no one, but broken hearts are pretty easy for me to pick out of the ether, and one morning about a month earlier when he’d offered me a breakfast burrito from one of our favorite local restaurants, I’d seen it written all over his energy. Outwardly, he’d shown no sign of the breakup. And I hadn’t mentioned it, because, well, the boy should have some privacy. When he was ready to share his relationship status with me, he would.

  So far he was still keeping mum about being single again, but there were signs. He’d removed his girlfriend’s photo from his desk, for one, and he’d stopped talking about her altogether, which was another. For the past few weeks I’d felt so bad for him, because Oscar is one of those really great guys that can’t seem to find lasting love.