Deadly Silence

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Humph.” He pulled out onto the main thoroughfare and glared through the windshield. “I think the storm is actually getting worse.”

  She shivered and flipped the knob to turn up the heat on her seat. “You guys won’t be able to fly in this.”

  A siren blared through the air. Ryker leaned to glance in the rearview mirror. “Damn it.”

  He slowly pulled the truck to a safe area off the road.

  Zara tensed and looked around. The black car behind them wasn’t a patrol car, but it had a light in the dash and a siren. Her breath caught, and adrenaline sped through her veins. “You weren’t speeding.”

  “No.” Ryker leaned over and opened the glove box, shoving Zara’s mail out of the way, to retrieve a stack of papers before sliding his window down.

  Men walked up on both sides of the truck.

  Her door opened. Ryker grasped her, and tugged her toward him, but a gun suddenly appeared near his ear. He stiffened.

  “Zara Remington? You’re under arrest for the murder of Julie Pentley.” Detective Norton reached in and took her arm. “Please exit the vehicle.”

  She coughed and let go of Ryker’s arm. Panic and shock buzzed through her mind. “I didn’t kill Julie,” she whispered as the detective assisted her into the cold. He turned her around and quickly snapped cuffs on her wrists. The metal was cold and bit into her skin.

  Fury lit Ryker’s eyes, but with the gun at his temple, there wasn’t much he could do. “Don’t say anything until your attorney shows up,” he ground out.

  Dazed, Zara gulped in air. “I won’t.”

  Norton turned her, almost gently, toward his car. “You have the right to remain silent.” As he continued with her rights, she blanked out, her mind spinning.

  What now? Her shoulders shook, and her knees weakened.

  The detective guided her into the back of his car and shut the door before taking the driver’s seat. The officer with the gun then slipped into the other seat.

  Silence ruled the car as Norton drove through the blustering storm to the police department. Zara endured being fingerprinted and then sat in a cell for about fifteen minutes before Norton fetched her. She entered a different interrogation room from last time. This one was cold and stark with one of those one-way mirrors she’d seen only on television. From a metal table, Norton pulled out a metal chair for her, facing the mirror.

  She swallowed and sat, trying not to shiver.

  He took the seat across from her, his brown eyes somber. “We know you did it.”

  She blinked.

  “The only motive I can think of is that you were still in love with the mayor.” Norton tapped a manila file on the table. “Or maybe Julie came at you, full of drugs, and you had to defend yourself? If so, tell me. I want to help you, but you need to help me first.”

  Right. “I didn’t kill Julie, and I wasn’t present when she died.” Zara sat back and crossed her arms, her voice trembling. “I’m not saying another word until my lawyer arrives.” She knew the detective’s goal was to get her talking about anything and then catch her in some sort of mistake. Since she hadn’t killed Julie, she shouldn’t be afraid, but she knew better than to speak without Heath present.

  “That’s your choice.” Norton also sat back. “But when your fast-talking attorney gets here, I won’t be able to help you.”

  Like he really wanted to help her.

  “Did Julie leave you anything? Any proof that you were her friend, not a jealous rival?” the detective asked.

  “I gave her three thousand dollars a month to help her with bills,” Zara burst out. “Why do that if it wasn’t for friendship?”

  The door opened. “Stop talking.” Heath strode inside and immediately shrugged out of a snow-covered jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. He wore a black button-down shirt, faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and a pissed-off expression on his handsome face, and his light brown hair was ruffled and sprinkled with snow.

  Zara kept herself from edging away from the barely controlled violence rolling off him. He had another case to worry about and shouldn’t have to babysit her. “You don’t have to stay,” she whispered.

  Heath ignored her and faced the detective. “This is going to get you sued, Detective.”

  “I don’t think so.” Norton waited until Heath sat next to Zara. “We have proof, a lot of it, so your client needs to help herself out here and cooperate.”

  Heath’s upper lip curled. “You have fingerprints at Julie’s motel, which makes sense because my client visited Julie there. They were friends.” He pushed back from the table. “If that’s all, then I want to bail out my client.”

  Norton shook his head. “That’s nowhere near all. We have your client’s ID for the Picalo Club, which is related to the blackmail, I believe. Your client was explaining the money to me.”

  Heath frowned. “Right. Zara lent Julie money because her asshole of a husband wouldn’t give her any. There’s no crime in that.”

  “I think Zara bought drugs for poor Julie because Julie was blackmailing her.” Norton smiled, full of triumph. “I have a dealer, folks.”

  Zara’s mouth gaped open. “No—”

  Heath held up a hand. “Stop talking.”

  She breathed out.

  “You don’t have a dealer who will say that, because that never happened. Stop fishing, Detective. It’s a waste of time.” Heath glanced at a well-used watch on his wrist. “So far, you’re just wasting our time and courting a false arrest lawsuit. Maybe harassment.” His nostrils flared.

  Norton leaned to the side of his chair and reached into a briefcase. “Well, we did find this.” He tossed a see-through bag onto the table. It fell with a loud thunk and bounced once.

  Zara squinted at a knife covered with what looked like crusty blood. “What the hell?” she breathed.

  “I’m betting the farm that it’s the murder weapon.” Norton smiled. “We’ve tested the blood, and results should be back soon.”

  “So?” Heath asked.

  “So? We executed a search warrant last night on your client’s home, and we found the knife hidden in her bedroom closet beneath several boxes of shoes. In fact, the knife was found in a box of those fancy Manwelloo Blonkers, or whatever they’re called.”

  Zara coughed. “That’s impossible.” Her mind spun, and a pit opened in her stomach.

  Heath again held up a hand. “I’d like to see the warrant.”

  “Of course.” Norton opened his file and slid a stack of papers toward Heath.

  Heath read quickly. “Who found the knife?”

  Norton lifted an eyebrow. “One of the uniforms found it and called me over. We have pictures and everything.”

  Zara turned toward Heath. “Somebody had to have planted it.”

  Norton scoffed. “You said your attacker the other night was contained in the kitchen and living room. Nobody entered your bedroom.”

  Yeah, but she hadn’t been home since, so somebody could’ve easily entered her house. “But—”

  Heath leaned forward, and she stopped talking. Time to listen to her lawyer.

  “Fingerprints?” Heath asked, peering closely at the knife through the plastic.

  “None.”

  Heath glanced up. “So you’re telling me she was smart enough to wipe her prints, but stupid enough to stash the murder weapon in her own box of shoes? Seriously?”

  Norton shrugged. “Criminals rarely make sense to me. Maybe she wanted to use it again, or perhaps she gets off on seeing the blood. I don’t know or care.”

  Heath shook his head. “You need more than this.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” Norton patted his belly. “But I do have more. Guess what, Ms. Remington? I have a witness who saw you at the motel during the time of the murder. The kid at the front desk wasn’t completely asleep when you snuck by right before the time of Julie’s death.” He pushed back from the desk and stood. “Time for a lineup, lady.”

  Chapter

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nbsp; 30

  Ryker barely kept his temper in check as he clicked off the call from Heath.

  “How bad?” Denver asked from across Ryker’s desk.

  “Bad. Somebody planted the murder weapon in her house, and she just got picked out of a lineup by the front-desk kid of the motel. Heath is posting her bail now, and they should be here within an hour. We might have to run sooner rather than later.” Ryker shot a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Greg will run in the opposite direction.” Denver scratched his scruffy jaw.

  “Fuck.” Ryker glanced at the ceiling. “No, he won’t. I’m more worried he’ll try to break into the police station and steal any evidence against her. Or kidnap her and take her to a safe place. The kid adores her.” At the moment, Grams was making cookies in an effort to keep Greg close and eating.

  Ryker’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen before frowning. What now? Hell, he didn’t have time to talk to the lawyer. “Hi, Brock. I don’t have any news on Jay Pentley’s case.” Except that Zara had been arrested, damn it.

  “I’m at the office, and I think I have a lead on Pentley’s case. Zara’s being set up. Can you drop by?” Brock asked.

  Ryker sat up. “What kind of lead? Did you hear about Zara?”

  “Yeah, and that’s partly why I’m calling. I have some information here, and I need help going through it. It’s odd, and, well…” Brock ruffled papers. “There’s a pattern here, but I might be just trying to help Zara. I’m not sure.”

  Ryker stood. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He’d go insane just sitting and waiting for Zara to return and the weather to clear, so he might as well figure things out. He clicked off. “I’ll be at the law firm,” he told Denver. In fact, they hadn’t had a chance to grab Zara’s things from her office, so he’d do that for her, too. One less thing for her to worry about. “Call me the second Zara and Heath get back.”

  “Yep.”

  “Would you go check on Greg and Grams?” Ryker asked.

  “Yep.” Denver rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stood, then gracefully strode from the room.

  Ryker watched him go, unease settling in his gut. Denver hadn’t been right since they’d relocated, and maybe the best thing was to force him back to Alaska to face his past. Something to think about another day, however. Ryker jogged through the office and down to his truck, rushing into the swirling snowstorm and fairly empty streets.

  He slid through several intersections before reaching the law firm and parking out front. The snow battled him as he made his way to the main entrance and shoved inside, stomping up the stairs to the office.

  Mrs. Thomson smiled at him. “Go on back to the smaller conference room, Ryker. Brock is waiting for you.” She peered through her thick glasses. “Tell him to take a break and grab some lunch, would you? That boy worked all through the night and hasn’t eaten.”

  Ryker nodded and hustled past her, down the hallway, and to the small conference room.

  Papers littered the table, and piles of them were perched on the chairs. Brock hunched over more papers, mumbling to himself.

  Ryker shut the door behind himself. “Dude. You need sleep.”

  Brock looked up, his eyes twice as bloodshot as Denver’s had been. “Somebody is pulling the strings here, and I don’t like it. Have a seat.”

  Ryker’s chest compressed. He lifted a bunch of papers off the nearest seat and set them on the floor. “What’s going on?”

  Brock scrambled through a stack and shoved a piece toward Ryker. “At first, I thought Jay Pentley was somehow involved in his wife’s death, but now I think there’s somebody else pulling all the strings.”

  “Why?” Ryker asked, taking the paper.

  “Because after the break-in the other night, I put men on Zara’s place. We keep a rotating security firm on retainer.” Brock looked around and grabbed a coffee cup, frowning into its empty bottom.

  Ryker stilled. “You had a detail on her place?”

  “Yeah.” Brock set the empty cup down and grimaced. “I figured the break-in might have something to do with one of our cases, most likely the Pentley divorce, and I wanted to know what was going on. Plus, if Zara stayed there, I wanted her protected.”

  The guy really liked her, now, didn’t he? “Wait a minute. If there were men watching the house—”

  “Exactly. Nobody got in, Ryker. Which means that the knife was planted…”

  “During the search.” Ryker sat back, his mind reeling. “One of the cops?”

  Brock nodded. “Yeah. That’s a list of the officers and detectives on the scene. I called in a favor. A couple of them, really, in order to get that list. You have the resources to track the names.” His hand shook when he patted the papers in front of him. “These are all my current cases that Zara is working on, and I’ve been going through them to look for leads on the off chance this isn’t related to the Pentley case. Haven’t found anything yet.”

  Shit. Zara was at the police station. Ryker grabbed his phone and quickly texted Heath. The returned text relaxed his lungs. “Zara made bail, and Heath is taking her to my place now.” He quickly texted the most recent info and a request to lock down their building for safety.

  AFFIRMATIVE was the response.

  Good. All right. Ryker narrowed his gaze at the lawyer. “You need food and sleep, Brock. At least food.”

  Brock grimaced. “A shower wouldn’t hurt, either. I’ll head home, and you track down those names and see what you find. We’ll touch base later today?” He stood and swayed.

  Ryker shoved to his feet and tried to calm the nervous energy ripping him in two. “How about I drop you at your place on the way to my office? You’re in no condition to drive.” While he didn’t like the guy’s interest in Zara, Brock was trying to help.

  Brock rolled his eyes. “I can make it home. The faster you get on that list, the better.”

  True. Ryker grabbed his jacket and followed Brock through the office, where they checked in with Mrs. Thomson, and then outside into the freezing snow. He headed for his truck and waited until Brock had swung his Jeep around the corner. While the lawyer had said he was fine, he was barely functioning, so there was nothing wrong with following him to make sure he didn’t hit a building.

  Ryker pulled his truck into the deserted street and followed the Jeep.

  The lawyer drove slow but steady. Maybe he didn’t need a tail.

  Ryker watched him for a couple more miles and then decided to turn off. Right as he was about to move, blue and red flashed behind him. He pulled over and tensed until he saw Detective Norton loping up his side of the car. “What now?” Ryker growled.

  Norton shoved a gun in his face. “You’re under arrest, asshole.” He jerked open the door.

  “Why?” Ryker kept his hands on the steering wheel.

  “Accessory after the fact,” Norton said grimly, grabbing his arm.

  Damn it all to hell. Ryker allowed the cop to pull him from the car, flip him around, and cuff him. “Based on what facts?”

  Norton read him his rights. “Let’s get you booked and then we’ll have a nice chat in interrogation.” He pulled Ryker around and shoved him toward the car.

  The detective was trying to mess with their heads, but Ryker didn’t have much of a choice unless he wanted a manhunt on his ass. So he trudged through the snow and let Norton shove him into the backseat. His butt hit cold vinyl, and he scooted over. The door slammed.

  Norton got inside and slowly pulled the car into the street.

  Wait a minute. “Where’s your partner, Detective?” Ryker asked.

  “Gathering information on you, dickhead,” Norton returned evenly, his brown eyes concentrating on him in the rearview mirror. “I know you assisted Ms. Remington, but she’s the one I really want for this. Tell me where the package is, and I’ll let you out right here.”

  Package? Ryker felt along the cuffs. Nice and tight. Something wasn’t right. “What package?”
r />   “I am so tired of you assholes.” Norton turned down a tree-lined street.

  Ryker studied the buildings surrounding them, his body settling into attack mode, his mind going clear and ready. “The police station is the other way.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Norton made another turn. “Where’s the diary?”

  Ryker’s analytical side clicked facts into place. Oh, so not good. “What diary?”

  “Julie’s. She had one, and I know she sent it to Zara. Where the hell is it?”

  Julie’s mystery man. The detective? Ryker hadn’t seen it coming—not even close. “You planted the knife.” Ryker tugged on the handcuffs, but there was absolutely no give. How had he missed this? He usually read people better. His personal life was fucking with his abilities.

  “Yep.” Norton shook his head. “I tried to keep you and Zara out of this, but the diary never showed up. You took care of the guys I sent to fetch her, and you’ve left me few options. I’ve searched her house several times, so it must be at your place. Right?”

  The package that Zara had received. The one in his glove box. “Yep.” Ryker calculated the odds of getting loose without getting shot, and they sucked. His body vibrated from a rush of adrenaline. “We picked up a bunch of Zara’s mail, and a nice small package was included. She probably hasn’t even opened it yet. I think it’s on my desk.”

  “Good.” Norton took another turn.

  Ryker fought the urge to kick the back of the detective’s seat. “Did you mess with the brakes on Zara’s car?”

  Norton frowned. “Yes. Thought she saw me with Julie, and when I started investigating, I discovered she hadn’t.”

  Anger roared through Ryker so quickly he did kick the back of the seat. “I’m going to fucking rip off your head and reach down to rip out your lungs.”

  Norton winced. “She was fine, right? God. No offense, but you should probably worry about yourself right now.”

  Oh, the cop had no clue who he’d just pissed off. “You’re a dead man,” Ryker spat.

  Norton turned right. “If you say so. Where’s your office?”

  Ryker gave the directions. He’d have backup at the office.