by Amy Vansant
“Yes?”
“Not anymore,” said Darla grimly.
“The coyotes got the cats and they’re moving their way up the food chain.”
Charlotte dragged her hand over her face. “Okay, okay, let’s get back to business and forget the coyote problem for a second.”
“Fine. But I’m going to get you a bag of rocks.”
“Thank you. Now, back to this hole in the wall. The walls are too thin to easily tell the trajectory, but we should follow where we think the bullet would have gone and check the trees. It had to hit one of them.”
“So we’re looking for a bullet embedded in a tree?” asked Mariska.
“Right. Oh, but the bullet probably won’t look like a bullet anymore. It’ll be flat like a pancake if it hit a tree.”
“So we’re looking for tiny silver pancakes, I can do that.”
Charlotte imagined she’d be getting silver dollar pancakes for breakfast the next day. You couldn’t say food in front of Mariska without her running off and making it.
Darla slid the long, black bag draped over her shoulder to the ground and unzipped it. From it, she pulled a metal detector.
“That was a good idea,” said Charlotte.
Darla nodded. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to find a bullet in a tree.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to ask about Darla’s bullets-in-trees history, but decided she didn’t want to know. Darla had a bit of a shady past. After all, she’d been the one who taught Charlotte how to pick locks. It shouldn’t be a complete shock she’d also spent time looking for bullets in trees.
Charlotte had to get back to corralling Mariska, who’d wandered down the side of the building.
“Mariska, where are you going? I don’t think the bullet went through the wall and made a hard left.”
Mariska glanced over her shoulder. “There’s a pile of little carpet squares over here. I couldn’t tell what they were. Hey...” Mariska turned to face the outer wall of the warehouse. “Are you sure that’s a bullet hole down there?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s more of them here.” Mariska stuck her finger into the side of the building as Charlotte moved in to investigate. She squinted at the new hole.
“You’re right. That looks like a bullet hole, too.”
“And this one down here,” called Darla from farther down the wall. “And another.”
“Hmm.”
Charlotte took a step back. What did that mean? Did Stephanie shoot at Jason multiple times? The new bullet holes were farther away from where Jason had been tied to a chair. It didn’t make sense. They couldn’t have had a whole firefight. The early reports she heard from Frank were that Stephanie’s gun had been fired once. She thought if she could find the bullet it would clear Stephanie, but now she was starting to understand why the cops had apparently given up trying to find it themselves.
Charlotte sighed. “I’m going to have to go inside and see what I can see from there. You guys keep looking for bullets.”
Mariska fished in her purse. “Do you want to take some coyote rocks with you?”
“No. I think I’m good.”
Jogging around the building, Charlotte located the bullet holes Mariska had found from the other side. Two holes, maybe two feet from each other diagonally. They didn’t fit Stephanie’s story at all. She said she’d found Jason tied to the chair and shot once after someone had shot at her. She’d dove for safety and hit her head, ending the firefight.
But Stephanie also said she thought someone might have been hiding behind Jason. Maybe that person had run and she’d shot twice more at him? Maybe after hitting her head she forgot the additional shots?
Charlotte pulled out her phone and called Frank.
“Frank here.”
“Did you get the official ballistics report back on Stephanie’s gun?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Sorry, hello.”
“Hello. And yes, I did get it back. Hold on.”
She heard papers rustling on Sheriff Frank’s desk.
“Here it is. Her gun was fired once. The bullet was recovered from Jason’s body.”
Charlotte gaped. “It was? This morning you said they hadn’t found the bullet yet.”
Frank grunted. “Sorry. Got the report right after I talked to you. Hadn’t had a chance to get back.”
“Oh. That’s bad news. I’ve got your wife and Mariska out here looking for bullets in the trees. I was hoping to find Stephanie’s far from Jason’s body.”
“Nope. Inside his body as it turns out.”
“But Stephanie’s gun was still only fired once, right? We found a couple other bullet holes in the wall here.”
“Eh, that place has been abandoned for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if kids shot it up once or twice.”
“Ah. Makes sense. Anything else?”
“Yep. Hold on, let me see...” She heard Frank’s pen tapping on the desk as he read the report. “Ah. Here’s something good for you. Seems Jason was already dead. They didn’t see the bullet hole right away because there was no blood.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t bleed after being shot. He was shot post mortem so he didn’t bleed and the bullet just sort of sunk into him like he was soft cheese.”
Charlotte’s lip curled. “Yikes, Frank. Cheese?”
He sniffed. “Probably about right.”
“But that means she didn’t kill him!” Charlotte heard the excitement in her voice as she forgot about Frank’s graphic description and realized her troubles were over if Stephanie didn’t shoot Jason.
Frank didn’t let her remain excited for long. “Hold on there, missy. As the person in the warehouse with him, and the one who put a bullet in his dead body, Stephanie’s still the best suspect for the murder. She’s not going anywhere fast.”
Charlotte slumped. “Shoot. What about the bullet that Stephanie says was shot at her?”
“Can’t find any real evidence anything was shot in her direction. The wall behind her is half holes as it is and leads across the road. They looked and couldn’t find anything.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I got some good news anyway.”
“Tell you what. If you want to keep Darla searching for the bullet, be my guest. It stops her from shopping online.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I’ll take that into consideration. Thanks.” She hung up and walked back around the warehouse to the ladies.
“Bullet-hunting has been called off. Seems the powers that be have them all.”
“But Darla just found one,” said Mariska. She stood beside her friend, who had a pocketknife in her hand. With it, Darla pried at the side of a pine tree. Mariska held a zip-lock sandwich bag beneath the spot and a moment later something heavy dropped from the side of the tree into the bag.
Charlotte lined up the path from the tree to the warehouse. This bullet had to be what caused one of the mystery holes Mariska had found.
“Frank thinks those are probably from kids shooting up the place.”
Mariska zipped the bag and thrust it toward her. “Well, you might as well keep it.”
“Do you want me to look for the other one? This is fun. It’s like looking for treasure.”
Charlotte considered the offer and smiled, remembering Frank’s joke. “Nah. Let’s get out of here before the coyotes find us.”
“Or the bobcats,” added Mariska.
“Or the panthers,” said Darla.
“Bears.”
“Gators.”
“Pythons.”
Darla pouted. “Why the hell do we live here anyway?”
Chapter Twelve
“There’s some kind of weird bird on your roof,” said Mariska as they approached Charlotte’s house.
Charlotte squinted toward the top of her house as the ladies left her ancient Volvo to return to their own homes. She spotted a flash of movement on the opposite side of her roofline before the creatur
e Mariska had seen moved into better view.
“That’s no bird. That’s Blade.”
The enormous man sat crouched on her roof fiddling with some small contraption. As she pulled into her driveway, he glanced down at her and waved, grinning wide enough she could spot the gaps where he was missing one lower tooth and one upper. Charlotte chuckled to herself remembering what Darla called a smile like that: Summer Teeth. Some’r there and some are not.
Charlotte turned off her ignition as a Cadillac pulled to the curb and parked behind her. Andy and Butch peered out at her through the Caddy’s tinted windows. Butch’s window lowered, and he pointed up at Blade.
“He supposed to be up there?”
Charlotte glanced up at Blade. “I’m not entirely sure.”
Declan appeared from behind her house and held up a hand. “It’s okay guys. He’s with me.”
Butch nodded and remained in his air-conditioned car. Charlotte thought she’d seen the black Cadillac lurking outside the warehouse while she, Mariska and Darla were bullet-hunting. She’d been right. It seemed Butch and Andy were officially watching her. A fast food paper sack appeared in Butch’s hand and he rooted through it in search of lunch as his window slid back up.
Charlotte smiled at Declan. “Where did you come from?”
“I was around back helping with some of the wiring.”
“Wiring? I assume that has something to do with why your ginormous employee is crawling around my rooftop?”
Declan nodded. “Blade decided you needed motion-triggered cameras around the perimeter of your house. He brought six. I think he’s almost done setting them up.”
Charlotte glanced up but Blade had moved to another corner of the roof, out of view. She lowered her voice, leaning toward Declan. “You told him about my troubles?”
“He—” Declan pressed his lips into a tight line, the muscle in his razor-sharp jaw line bulging. “I’m afraid he overheard me talking to Seamus. Then he couldn’t stop worrying about you. It was either let him install the cameras or watch him wring his hands until the bones broke.”
“So you told Seamus about Jamie?”
“It’s always good to keep Seamus in the loop when it comes to people like Jamie. He knows how to think like a criminal.”
“True. I wonder why that is?” She elbowed Declan in the ribs and he smiled.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Charlotte heard clattering above her and she shaded her eyes to peer up at Blade. She felt a little ashamed more people knew she was tucked under the thumb of a murderer.
“Hi, Blade.”
“Hi, Miss Charlotte. I hope you don’t mind. But I told Declan I’d like to do this for you. Just in case.”
“It’s sweet of you. I appreciate it.”
Blade grinned beneath his droopy mustache.
Charlotte returned her attention to Declan. “So Blade had six motion cameras sitting around his house? Or he went out and bought all this stuff?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Who’s going to be on the other end of these cameras?”
“You. Me. They work off an app on your phone so anyone with access to the app can be notified of motion and watch the clip.”
“So I’ll get a ding every time a possum waddles by or Butch walks over to pee in my bushes.”
Declan’s gaze darted to the Cadillac. “Butch is peeing in the bushes?”
“No. I was just kidding. But I can imagine a world where that might happen with them sitting outside my house all day. Unless they have the bladders of blue whales.”
Declan sighed. “I wish you’d just move in with me for a bit.”
Charlotte shook her head. Declan had suggested the night before she come stay with him, but she didn’t feel moving would solve her problems. If anything, it dragged scrutiny to a spot they might need as a safe house, and put Declan and Seamus under Butch and Andy’s surveillance. She didn’t want those two keeping an eye on any more people than necessary.
“I want to stay near Mariska and Darla, just in case Jamie decides to mess with them again. And anyway, with all these cameras and ex-mobsters around my house, it’s safer than Fort Knox.”
Declan didn’t seem happy, but he shrugged and nodded. “I hear you. For the record, Seamus sometimes sleeps in the little apartment over his bar, so he isn’t always on my sofa watching soccer. If you need a quiet place to think, my house is not a bad option for the first time in a long time.”
“You must be enjoying that.”
“You have no idea.”
Blade clomped his way down the ladder propped against the side of her house. “I think you’re all fixed, Miss Charlotte. No one will be able to look at this house without you knowing.”
“Thank you, Blade. I feel safer already.”
Blade’s attention shifted to the two men sitting in the idling Cadillac, his eyes narrowing.
She nodded her head toward Andy and Butch.
“I’m told they’re harmless.”
Blade nodded. “Sure.” He flashed another smile and wandered off to retrieve his ladder and tools.
“So how’s it going so far?” asked Declan.
“I went through the papers Andy and Butch delivered about a hundred times. There isn’t much there...” Charlotte trailed off as a strange thought bounced through her mind.
There are two of them.
“What is it?” asked Declan.
Charlotte paused a moment longer while her suspicions gelled. “She thinks the person who framed Stephanie did so to get back at her. But it just occurred to me there might be two people involved.”
“Two people working together to frame Stephanie and trap Jamie?”
“Yes. I’m thinking the one who does the dirty work is probably the one who rigged the warehouse scene for Stephanie. But there could be another person who orchestrated it—Jamie’s true enemy.”
“Why do you think that?”
Charlotte rubbed the collar of her t-shirt between her fingers, snapping the hints in Jamie’s packet together in her mind like puzzle pieces. “In her pathetic collection of helpful notes it feels like she’s describing two different personalities. One person she suspects sounds like a bit of an animal. She said to look for him where swamp people hang out, but then went on to say the man she wants has been hunting her for years. Anyone capable of staying alive that long when she wants them gone has to have a certain level of sophistication. That doesn’t sound like a swamp person.”
“But why wouldn’t she tell you there are two people?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you it’s making me angry she’d throw all this in my lap and then play games.”
“That’s sort of her specialty.”
“Yeah, I know. Great, isn’t it?” Charlotte kicked at a tangled ball of wire laying in her driveway and watched it bounce against her steps. “For some reason she doesn’t want me to know who the mastermind is. The only vaguely useful information she gave me was to say the man I’m looking for isn’t in the fingerprint book but should be.”
“What does that mean? Maybe he came too late and she hadn’t had time to add him before she had to run?”
“Maybe.”
Declan crossed his arms against his chest. “Is it possible Jamie is the mastermind?”
“That she’s screwed her own daughter?”
Declan nodded. “Either to test her or you.”
“But why test me?”
“You know who she is. The last time she came up against you, her cover was blown and she had to leave town.”
Charlotte laughed. “Maybe I’m the secret enemy. Maybe I’m hunting myself.”
“Being on Jamie’s radar isn’t funny.”
Charlotte waved away his concerns. “I don’t think this is about me. If she found me threatening, she’d try to kill me, not ask me to solve mysteries for her.”
“I guess.” Declan stared at the ground, rocking back and forth for a moment before looking back up at her. Charlotte coul
d tell he didn’t like the open-endedness of her exchanges with Jamie. All the loose ends felt particularly loose, and he liked neat, tight knots.
“Nothing else useful?”
“Not really. She ended with watch out for spiders, which was odd to say the least.”
“Spiders? Does she mean there are a bunch of other people involved?”
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Just another loose end.
Chapter Thirteen
Stephanie sat up, her head grazing the bunk above her.
Where am I?
She looked around the concrete room, half in a dream.
Oh right. I’m in prison. Fantastic.
“Bitch, you’re crying in your sleep again.”
Stephanie cocked an eye toward the woman in the bunk above her. “Mind your business, Beatty.”
Beatty leaned over her bunk to peer at her. “It is my business when you’re keeping me awake—”
Stephanie grabbed the woman’s greasy hair and jerked her throat against the edge of her bed. Standing, she pressed harder with her opposite hand, dodging as her cellmate’s right arm flailed. Beatty used her left to push against the bed frame, trying to keep her windpipe from crushing against the metal.
“Okay! Okay!” she croaked.
Stephanie released her and Beatty scrambled back into her bed, holding her throat. She glared at Stephanie and Stephanie held her gaze until she looked away.
“You’re crazy,” muttered Beatty, rolling on her side to face away.
Stephanie sighed.
You have no idea.
Stephanie sat back on the edge of her bunk and wiped her hands on the edge of her sheet. She was pretty sure killing a cellmate didn’t play well with juries, or they’d be dragging Beatty’s greasy, dead body out of the cell.
No. The perception of juries didn’t matter.
I don’t kill people anymore.
Right?
But everyone thought she’d killed Jason. And even she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she hadn’t. Each night as she went to bed beneath Beatty she struggled to remember every detail of her moments in the warehouse.
Jason had been tied to a chair.
