by Dale Mayer
“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”
He glanced over at her profile. “I’m afraid so.”
Her shoulders hunched. “Do we call the police or check it out ourselves?”
“I can’t call the police if we don’t know something is wrong.”
“I know.” She hopped off the bike.
“Whoa,” he said. He turned off the engine, kicked the stand, then raced around to her side. He grabbed her arm as she started up the sidewalk. “I’ll go in. You don’t have to.”
The look on her face made him tug her closer and hold her tight. “I know that,” she said, “but I don’t want to stay here alone. I feel like I need to see what’s in there. Even if it’s nothing.”
He tilted his head back and stared up at the stars. “I really don’t want you to have to see anything ugly.”
She snorted. “Sometimes the worry in my mind is worse than the reality. Let’s go. If it’s bad, you can tell me to not go in any further.”
And that was likely as good as it was going to get. He led the way to Dean’s house. The front door was locked. He rang the doorbell several times then headed to the back door. The outside light was off and there were no signs that the security system was on. He knocked on the door…and it opened silently under his hand.
“Shit,” he whispered. Jazz slid her hand into his. He squeezed her hand gently and pushed the door open wider. Reaching in, he flicked on the light switch.
Dean, fully dressed, denim jacket still on, lay on his back. In a repeat of Billy’s death, his face had been obliterated by a shotgun.
Chapter 13
Jazz saw just enough to make her body tremble and her stomach start to heave.
Morgan closed the kitchen door and backed Jazz up to the edge of the house before he turned her and walked her toward his bike. “Get on while I call in the cops.”
She straddled the bike, her mind consumed by what she’d seen. She could hear Morgan talking to Shawn beside her. He reached a hand to rest on her shoulder. She covered his hand with hers. She needed the connection. That sense of something in her world being right.
There was so much else out there that was seriously wrong. Why? Why Dean? She’d really wanted to help him turn that corner in his life.
He’d turned it all right. But it looked like someone else didn’t appreciate his shift.
Before she realized what had happened. Morgan had jumped in front of her and wheeled the bike back down to the street. Getting off again, he said, “The police are coming. I don’t want to be in the way.”
She nodded.
Good. She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Dean had just gotten home.”
“I saw that.”
Silence.
“As in someone knew where he’d gone and what he’d done.”
“Quite likely.”
“So he’s been lying there since, what – noon?” And that bothered her. She knew it was too late to bother Dean, but just the thought of the poor man being all alone after trying to do the right thing was so wrong.
“I should have stayed and waited for him.”
She reached out for his hand. “No. It’s not your fault.”
“No, it’s not, but maybe it is.” He groaned. “I just know if we hadn’t gone down this road, he likely wouldn’t be dead.”
“It was a shotgun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Then he shrugged. “Hell, I’m assuming, but what else can make a face look like hamburger meat?”
It needed to be said. “So likely the same person that killed Billy.”
“Yeah.”
She closed her eyes. “Who’d have known what he was doing?”
“Anyone who’d been keeping an eye on him. If they had video into our place, did they have the same at his?”
Not a pleasant thought. “Or they just followed him to the police station, waited for him to come out, and followed him home.”
“Possible. If he had something to share and they couldn’t get to him before he spilled his guts, they’d be sure to plug that hole afterwards.”
“Do you think they are still here watching us?”
He shook his head. “No. They did what they wanted to do and are long gone.” But his hard gaze stared at the neighbors.
She shivered. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she studied the surrounding houses. “Unless they live here, there’s no way they can see us.”
He pointed across the street from Dean’s. “That house is empty and looks like it has been for a while. In fact, with that ‘For Sale’ sign out front, it’s asking for trouble.” But he kept his gaze on the house a little longer. “And would be a damn good possibility.”
“Don’t stare at it,” she said in a low voice.
He reached out a hand and gently squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
She nodded. Inside, she wondered what the viable range of a shotgun was.
Sirens split the air.
“Good, they took long enough,” he said as the vehicles pulled up into the driveway. There were two cop cars, one undercover vehicle, and an ambulance.
That was a sobering reminder of what she’d seen inside.Constable Proctor walked toward them.
“Go to the kitchen door around back,” Morgan said quietly.
Shawn nodded. “Don’t leave. I need to take a look then get this started. I’ll want to talk to you afterwards.”
Morgan nodded. “We’ll be here.”
Whether they wanted to or not, apparently. Jazz watched them head around back and into the house. There was nothing for several long minutes, then the front door opened and an all-clear signal was called out. Car doors opened and people stormed in.
She slumped in place. Dean had garnered more attention in death than he had while alive. There was something seriously disturbing about that.
Shawn appeared another ten minutes later.
He walked down to them. His frown was thick and dark. “This is getting ugly.”
“This was ugly to begin with,” Jazz said quietly. “But this is too similar to Billy’s death to ignore.”
He nodded. “We’re going to be here for hours.” He pulled a notebook out from inside his pocket. “Give me a quick rundown of what you did and what you saw when you got here.”
When Morgan went quiet, Jazz added what little bit she could,
“Anything else?” Shawn asked, looking up from his notes. Morgan shook his head. “That’s everything.”
“Except…” Jazz groaned. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but if someone wanted to watch who came to check up on Dean, the house across the road is empty and would provide a perfect spot.”
The detective looked at her. “Interesting.” His gaze shifted to the house with the ‘For Sale’ sign. “Not a bad suggestion.” His gaze sharpened as he turned to pin Morgan in place. “Did you go over there and check it out?”
“No,” Jazz popped in, “I wouldn’t let him.”
“Good. Don’t. I’ll make sure someone checks it out. We’ll have to canvas the neighborhood anyway to see what the neighbors might have heard or seen.”
“Chances are they saw and heard nothing.”
Morgan swung his leg over the bike. “I need to take Jazz home. Do you still need us?”
“Not tonight, but we’ll need another statement from you.”
Jazz watched Morgan’s face darken. He gave a clipped nod.
“Will do.”
Jazz reached around to hold onto Morgan’s waist, nodded once at the cop – then they were off.
*
Morgan wanted to hit the gas and rip through the streets. Let the devil riding inside him out. He needed to run from all this. He hadn’t wanted any of it. Now he was mired in all of it. Someone had killed both Billy and Dean and for all he knew, Jazz was correct and that same person had seen them arrive and wait for the cops. That killer could be waiting for them at his home.
He wanted to race home and pound the asshole into the gro
und then do it all over again. Was it Borg? He knew the man by reputation. Deadly as a snake and twice as mean. There was no way he’d let Billy walk. But a shotgun wasn’t his style.
And he had no intentions of leaving Jazz alone to face Borg. She’d been through enough. A deep-seated anger was growing inside. They’d all been through enough.
Pissed, he ripped past a series of slow-ass cars. The wind whistled past his face and neck, bringing cool reasoning. They were targets, nothing had changed in that way. Dean had fallen, likely not suspecting he was even in danger. Or maybe hoping he could talk his way out of it. And he might have if it had been Borg. But Morgan didn’t think Borg had killed his brother. That was someone else entirely. He changed lanes and took the corner leading to his house. He could feel Jazz relax behind him as he rode. They’d always been in sync that way. Riding as one. He knew what she was thinking, often turning into the direction she was heading in her mind, before she asked to go there. It was special.
After seeing Dean sprawled out like that, his life cut short before he could turn that damn corner was yet another reminder that life was short. And he needed to rejoice at every day he had left to him.
He pulled up to the garage and turned off the engine.
Jazz slipped off the back and stood silently at his side.
He studied her wan face. More shocks. More hardship. More grief.
Even though she’d not really known who Dean was, she’d seen several sides of the man. Enough to know that it was a damn travesty.
“Are you okay?”
She shrugged.
Right. So the answer was no.
He locked up the bike, took care to secure his garage, then walked with her to the house.
“Are we next?” she asked in a small voice as they entered the kitchen.
“No,” he said in a gentle voice. “Don’t think that.”
“A little hard not to.”
“Fear is normal, don’t let it cripple you.”
She snorted. “Easy to say.”
“Yeah.”
Jazz walked over and put the teakettle on. As she pulled out her cup and popped a tea bag into it, her phone rang.
“Jazz?” Roxy said. “The store’s been broken into.”
Chapter 14
“Shit.” Jazz leaned against the kitchen wall and rubbed her temple. “What the hell happened?”
“No idea. The front door lock has been busted and the door is ajar.”
“How did you find out?”
“I was out for dinner with a new guy,” her voice lightened, sweetened. “He drove past the store bringing me home and there was a light on. We came in, I thought it was you.” She groaned. “But by the time we pulled up, there was no light and no lock on the door.”
“What about the security system? That should have gone off,” Jazz cried.
“It wasn’t on,” Roxy said. “I don’t know what’s going on, Jazz.”
“I don’t either. Did you go through the store? Has anything been stolen?”
Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I can’t see anything that’s been stolen. It’s weird, though. The reception desk has been trashed.”
Jazz gasped. She spun to look at Morgan. “Did you hear that?”
He nodded, his face in grim lines. He mouthed, “They were looking for the electronics we took.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh shit.”
“Oh shit what?” Roxy said, then repeated in a louder voice, “Jazz? What’s oh shit?”
Jazz quickly explained. “I think they’re looking for the adaptor I hadn’t told you about.”
She explained about Dean then, too. Amidst Roxy’s cries and quiet weeping, Jazz realized she needed to go to the store. “Look, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Morgan turned off the teakettle. “Come on, we’ll take the truck.”
“Why didn’t I tell her about the rest?” she cried as they raced out to the garage. “She had a right to know.”
“Because you didn’t want her to worry.” Morgan opened the truck door then walked around to the driver’s side. “As soon as we get there, I’m calling Shawn.”
“You do that. Maybe if he gets tired of us calling all the time, he’ll catch this bastard.”
“Do you think it’s the same guy?” Morgan asked. “Borg only got in last time because we left it unlocked,” he reminded her. “And he’s still looking for his money.”
“And if I saw him, I’d give him the damn money back, but we can’t figure out how to contact him.”
“Hmmm.” He drove the truck out onto the main road.
“What?”
“Just when you said ‘contact him,’ I wonder if he got a message saying something – like his money – would be here and to come and get it. Only when he got there, no one or nothing was there.”
She stared at him. “Do you think someone called him specifically to the shop? Or had the message been put out accidentally? Or…was there no message and he got impatient and came to check on his own again?”
“All is possible.”
But there was a different tone to his voice. “But?”
He glanced over at her. “I’m just wondering if someone else is playing Borg’s game. Maybe they are trying to get Borg taken out or at least caught by the police. Leaving them free and clear.”
She frowned. “Why is this shit so damn confusing?”
“It won’t be. In the end, it’s going to be really simple.”
He pulled the truck up in front of the shop and parked. “Let’s go”
She hopped out of her side and followed him to the front door. Inside, the store was dark.
It shouldn’t be. Where was Roxy?
“Damn it, Morgan.” He grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the big window.
“If Roxy is in there still, she’s in trouble.” Jazz made to move around him, but Morgan held her back. “If Roxy is in trouble…but did you consider that Roxy might be behind all this?”
“She’s not.” On that point, Jazz was certain.
“Remember who have betrayed us so far. She might have as well.”
Jazz shook her head. She reached out and stroked his arm. “Not Roxy.”
He stared at her in bemusement. “Why? Just because you’re friends?”
“Good friends,” she said. “Sisters.”
“If you say so.” He motioned to the storefront. “Whoever is in there knows we’re here. We drove right up.”
“Sure, but then again, I’m not seeing any signs of life inside,” she countered. “Shit. I wished I’d phrased that differently.”
“But it’s a consideration.”
He pulled his cell phone out and quickly texted Shawn. Leaving his phone on mute, he whispered, “Let’s check out the back door.”
He tugged her around to the back of the store. “It’s deserted.”
“Are you sure she said the store had been broken into?”
She nodded, but her throat was tight, hating the suspicion in her mind. Was such a thing possible? Would Roxy have done that to her? It didn’t bear thinking about. “We should have checked the front door. See if the lock had been jimmied.”
“We can go back and do that, but I want to see what’s going on back here.” He snuck up to the back door and reached out silently and turned the handle. The knob turned but the door didn’t budge. “This one is locked.”
“Hmmm.” Jazz jammed her hand into her pockets, looking for her keys. “Here.” She pressed the correct key into the palm of his hand.
“Just a moment.”
He fitted the key into the door. He turned it and they both heard the click of the lock.
“I don’t think we should go inside.” Jazz said. “Let’s wait for the cops.”
“And if Roxy is hurt?”
“Oh no!” She stared at Morgan, images of Dean’s lifeless body filling her mind.
“Maybe call her.”
Jolted into action, J
azz quickly dialed Roxy’s number. It rang and rang. In the cool evening air, it clearly echoed over and over again.
“She’s inside. She’s got to be hurt if she’s not answering,” Jazz cried. “I have to go and see.”
She dove for the door and opened it.
*
“Shit.” Morgan reached out to snag her before she could enter, but it was too late. She was inside already. “Damn it, Jazz, hold up.”
The store was in complete darkness. Morgan reached for the light switch, only to find there wasn’t one close by. “Damn it, Jazz,” he muttered. “Where are the lights?”
Jazz didn’t answer.
His blood running cold and with panic just beginning to rise, Morgan raced inside. He stopped just inside the supply room. There was no sign of Jazz. He hadn’t heard anything, including a body falling, so she was on her feet. The only way she wouldn’t answer him, or warn him if he was walking into danger, was if she couldn’t. Right. He dropped to a crouch and peered around the doorway. Nothing. Jazz’s work computer was on the left. There was the bathroom to his right. Where was Jazz? He closed his eyes, trying to still the fear inside. If someone had hurt her…then he heard the loud breathing. To the right. Beside the bathroom. He stared into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He thought there was a light switch just inside the shop room close to the bathroom. He slid backwards slightly and straightened behind the safety of the wall. One arm outstretched, he flicked the light switch on.
And nothing happened.
Shit. They’d cut the power.
Up ahead, the breathing was louder, raspy. Feminine?
He tilted his head, trying to hear the fine nuances that would give him a hint of who was there. Could it be Jazz? If so, was she unconscious? No, her breathing would be low and slow. This breathing was active.
He crept forward on his hands and knees. He could see shadows, and further into the store there was light from the big windows. He couldn’t see anything else. He skidded around the corner and grabbed the figure there. There was a muffled shriek and immediately a hellcat exploded in his arms.
Jazz.
“Shh,” he whispered “It’s me.”
She sagged in his arms. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you say so?”