by Christa Wick
Seeing the question on my face, the judge explained.
“If you want to sell, the State gets to make an offer at reasonable market rates if they wish and you’d have to accept that offer.”
Grinning at Cross, Sheppard handed me my copy of the agreement. Together, Barrett and I quickly read through it.
Meeting my gaze when I finished, Barrett offered a faint smile and an approving nod.
“May I borrow a pen from one of you gentlemen?” I asked.
Sheppard and Judge Harrison reached for a pen.
Finished with his bread, Cross reached for a lemon cake.
Gamble called as Barrett and I were pulling away from the courthouse.
“Got you on speaker,” Barrett warned, handing his phone to me.
“Hi, Sheriff,” I said. “We are heading over to your office now.”
“Good, I need to pick your brain, Miss Whitaker. That tip you gave us about Western Union paid off, sort of.”
“Sort of?” Barrett asked, turning the corner and pulling onto the main street through Willow Gap.
“We found out she was due to receive money at one of the offices in Billings. They agreed to stall her until officers got there, but she went ballistic at the delay. Knocked over a bunch of displays and threatened to give the clerk an acid bath.”
“The clerk shouldn’t ignore the threat, but I don’t think Naomi will return to that location,” I advised. “If she has enough gas, or money to get gas, she’ll probably drive across the state border and use a Western Union there.”
“Clerk said they appeared to have been sleeping in the car they were in.”
“So they’re down to their last few dollars,” I suggested. “Well, my sister is an accomplished thief. She may lift a high-ticket item and take it straight to a pawnshop. She’s done that before.”
I kept the frown out of my voice and away from my face. Before Naomi became adept at stealing from stores, she had stolen from me. Jewelry, laptops, even CDs and DVDs. Anything that would give Naomi more and leave me with less.
“I’ll coordinate with the Billings police. They can have the local pawnshops be on the lookout. Most of the owners will play along in trying to stall her. The rest should at least kick her out.”
“You still want us to come over?” Barrett asked.
“Yeah. I need a signature on the witness statement identifying Naomi.”
“Okay, see you in about five,” Barrett advised, taking his phone back.
Catching Barrett’s glance at me, I stopped chewing at my lip and smiled.
Reaching across the cab, he took my hand in his and squeezed. “They’ll catch her.”
I hoped so. Telling Barrett that morning that I loved him didn’t solve anything. Getting the State to waive its rights to the land didn’t do anything more than help my financial situation.
Last night’s despair had been driven by the danger Naomi would continue to present as long as she was free to roam and mete out her special brand of hate and chaos. Until my half-sister was in jail, I couldn’t risk endangering Barrett and his family.
Sighing, I slid my hand from his, pulled out my phone and opened up a web browser. From there, I checked on the name availability for the type of businesses that could be found in Billings. Next, I checked whether a specific web domain was taken. Finding it free, I created a Gmail account for “rhinestonesandrodeos” then sent an email to my old business account, the one I had stopped logging into after Naomi’s last boy soldier had hacked it.
The email, complete with a few intentional typos from the fake sender, sought to confirm that I would be able to make their five o’clock appointment to discuss my designing the store’s site in advance of the grand opening. It also referenced an earlier, nonexistent, email from me mentioning the fire and offering condolences.
“What’s that about,” Barrett asked, reading over my shoulder after he finished parking in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Hopefully, I’m setting a trap,” I answered. “There are way too many pawn shops for them to have much of a chance catching her at one. And, if she’s already on her way out of Billings, this could draw her back.”
“You’re not going to Billings,” he mumbled, getting out of the truck and coming around to my side. “At least you’re not going without me.”
I slid from my seat and into his arms. Clinging to him, I buried my face against his chest.
“I can’t have her out there, can’t be around anyone I care about while she’s free to set another fire or pull some other crazy, deadly stunt.”
Barrett snorted, but didn’t argue. Threading his fingers through mine, he tugged me toward the building.
“Let’s get your signature on that paper first. Then we’ll worry about what’s next.”
Sheriff Gamble greeted us at the front desk, his lean face looking slightly embarrassed as he pushed the paper across the counter.
“Can’t believe I forgot to get you to sign these. This time of year, things are so slow everyone starts making rookie mistakes.”
“Everyone but the rookies,” Siobhan laughed, leaving her desk where she monitored the chatter on the patrol radios and took emergency calls to the station.”
Gamble rolled his eyes and handed me a pen.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“Bait taken,” I murmured.
25
Quinn
Turning my phone around, I showed the three of them the fake Rhinestone query I had sent in the truck, and then the reply that had just come in from Naomi posing as me.
Rae, can we move to four-thirty? Still dealing with fallout from the fire and have a five-thirty appointment re: that mess.
“I’ve never heard of Rhinestones and Rodeos,” Siobhan said.
Barrett threw a proud wink at me. “That’s because she made the business up on the fly on the drive from the courthouse.”
“Naomi has hacked all of my accounts at one time or another, so I expected her to be monitoring the old one.”
I hooked Gamble’s gaze.
“Question is, if she decides to go to the fake interview, where do I send her?”
Gamble pulled out his phone. “Can you stall?”
“I think she’ll definitely wait for my reply for at least an hour, maybe longer.”
“Shouldn’t take that long,” he said, gesturing for them to wait at the front desk while he went into his office.
Siobhan propped her elbows on the counter and clasped her hands together like she was praying. “Please let me go, too.”
“You realize it’s not an actual store?” Barrett teased.
“Duh. I told you I wanted to bust that psycho juvenile delinquent.” Taking a step back, she bounced her hip in our direction. “And, as you both failed to notice, I get to pack heat now.”
“Not if I hear you saying that,” Gamble cautioned, returning from his office.
“Got you on speakerphone, Jim. Miss Whitaker, Barrett Turk and…” Pausing, Gamble rolled his eyes at his armed dispatcher. “Deputy Siobhan Turk are listening in. This is Detective Jim Barnes with the Billings Police Department. He’s the one who is coordinating with Western Union and the pawn shops.”
“Hey folks, always sorry to have to meet people for official business, especially when it's gotten nasty like this.”
“We really appreciate your help,” I assured the man. “Oh, and this is Quinn…Whitaker.”
“Thank you, Miss Whitaker. Jude says you need an address. I have an empty unit at a strip mall, nothing inside and there’s paper covering the windows. That sounds like it might work depending on what you’ve already messaged your suspect.”
“Just the store name and time, I can pretty much work anything into the next email,” I assured the detective.
“Good, let me give you the address.”
He rattled off the street and suite number, Siobhan writing it all down in a tight, clean script.
“Now,” he warned, “I can’t bring a civi
lian into this as far as putting you on the property or in the store, especially without higher authorization given the RAP sheet I’m looking at on your sister and this guy she’s rolling with.”
No one had told me the man’s name yet and I didn’t want to know. I just wanted my sister removed as a threat.
“But,” Barnes continued. “If you want to come down here, I can put you in a surveillance van.”
Siobhan’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open and her hands resuming their pleading pose. Gamble cleared his throat and she immediately straightened up, offering her boss a contrite smile that was only slightly more convincing than the ones I had seen Leah fake.
“The process will go faster if I can get you down here to confirm we grabbed the right person. It’s all pro forma, I mean, but the prosecutors like everything delivered with a gold bow on it.”
I glanced at Barrett. He checked his watch and nodded.
“I’d like to see it, like to know for certain. There’s no ‘pro forma’ when it comes to my sister.”
“Great,” Barnes said. “I’m going to get it started on my end, you message her back. Sheriff Gamble will give you my direct number. When you get a reply, let me know so I can finalize having the resources in place.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Gamble said. “Hanging up now.”
“Bye,” the detective answered, beating Gamble to the disconnect button.
I thought for a few seconds then drafted an intentionally sloppy reply email.
Four-thirty works 4 me. havent moved stuff n2 the store. papers r still up on the window. If door shut, just knock. Look forward to seeing ur design suggestions.
I added the address then showed it to Barrett, Gamble and Siobhan.
“She might expect a phone number. Add mine,” Siobhan suggested. “It won’t show my name if she tries it.”
Gamble and Barrett nodded their agreement. I updated the email, my finger hesitating over the send button.
“Okay?” I asked.
“Okay,” they replied in unison.
I hit SEND, heart beating loud enough I was certain everyone else in the room, and maybe the lone prisoner or two in the holding cells, could hear it. As soon as the swoosh of mail being delivered sounded, Siobhan started to pace.
Barrett teased her for it. “Sure you’re cut out for this kind of work? Lots of waiting.”
She sniffed, stuck her nose in the air and waved away his concern.
“Lions pace.”
“Okay, Simba,” Gamble chuckled, his amusement turning the young woman’s cheeks a cherried pink.
My phone vibrated. I checked the incoming message.
Great, look forward to it. Also, didn’t I already give you my main contact email? This one is old and I haven’t used it in a few weeks. Don’t want to miss any messages from you. :)
A broad grin ate at the corners of my face.
“Wait, that’s bad, isn’t?” Siobhan asked.
“Nope, I made two emails on the way over.” My fingers flew over the onscreen keyboard.
Right, sorry! Hv same provider but QuinnWhitakerMT.
I hit send, Naomi’s new reply almost instant.
That’s right. See you at four-thirty!
“Now,” I growled. “Let’s see if I’ve learned all my little sister’s tricks.”
I switched over to the MT email and waited. A minute later, a new message popped in spoofing the rhinestonesandrodeos email address.
“Wow, she’s how old?” Gamble asked.
“Almost seventeen,” I answered. “She picks up a few tricks from each guy she…uh…dates.”
I read the message out loud. “Quinn, I need to move appointment to six. If not possible, we will have to go with one of the designers we’ve already talked to.”
“So is she going to be there at four-thirty or six?” Barrett asked.
I shrugged. “My guess is she goes in and impersonates me at four-thirty then maybe lurks around until I show up at six.”
I chewed at my lips, reluctant to discuss past encounters with my sister.
“She can be violent,” I said after another second’s hesitation. “That’s why I think she’ll wait around until six.”
Gamble picked up his phone. “I’ll tell Barnes to plan for both.”
While Gamble called the detective, I emailed back with an ingratiating, needy tone to my choice of words, confirming that I would absolutely be there at six and how much I was looking forward to showing them what I could do for their business.
Hitting send, I slumped against Barrett. He wrapped both arms around me and rubbed lightly at my back. Grateful for the contact, I soaked in his warmth and the soothing encouragement of his touch.
“Okay, Barnes is set.” Gamble pulled his hat on then fished his keys from his pocket. “You want to drive there in your own vehicle or with me?”
“We’ll get there in my truck,” Barrett confirmed.
Siobhan looked between her boss and her cousin.
“Chill out, rookie,” Gamble teased. “It’s your phone she might call. I very well can’t leave you here, can I?”
26
Barrett
Crammed in the back of a surveillance van, I sat on one side of Quinn, Siobhan on the other. Gamble was in the front passenger seat, Barnes next to him, both men wearing plain brown windbreakers with a logo that matched the company name and colors on the van’s exterior.
“Eyes on that gray sedan,” Barnes said over his headset.
I scanned the three grayscale monitors in front of us. The detective had been talking to the men and women stationed around the building. None of them were looking at black and white screens and trying to decide what was gray and what was pink.
“There,” Quinn said as a small four-door appeared in the bottom right corner of the center screen. “That’s her in the passenger seat.”
The car backed into a parking space near the door of the shop with its papered-up windows. A female detective and another plainclothes officer waited inside. It was a few minutes before four-thirty and Barnes was hoping that Naomi would go inside, separating her from the driver for an easier takedown.
About five parking spaces away, another cop pretended to have engine trouble. Naomi got out of the car and approached him.
“Dang, she didn’t even dress up for the interview,” Siobhan laughed. “You called it right. Maybe you should get some kind of a criminal minds degree.”
“I just know this particular criminal mind,” Quinn sighed. “I don’t want to learn any others and pray I can put this one behind me.”
“Amen,” I murmured, my lips brushing Quinn’s cheek. Putting my mouth up to her ear, I whispered low enough that only she could make out my words. “Either way, you’re staying with me, love.”
Reaching under the shelf, she found my hand and squeezed lightly.
“Hey, you got any cigarettes on you?” Naomi asked the undercover cop working on his truck.
He appeared to eye the sedan with her boyfriend still in the driver seat, the engine running.
“How many.”
She held up two fingers as she leaned against his truck and looked at what he was working on.
“Hey, my old man is good with engines. Maybe he can help you?”
“Yeah? You mean that guy?” He pulled out the cigarettes and handed her two.
Naomi nodded, put one of the smokes in her mouth. “Light?”
The man held up his lighter and gave it a flick. Despite the absence of any kind of a breeze, Naomi wrapped her hand around the flame and stepped up close to the guy.
“Of course, he’s not much good for anything else,” she teased.
“I hope he’s watching his gun,” Siobhan muttered.
“He’s a pro,” Barnes scolded from the front seat. “I’m betting she goes for the wallet.”
“Not likely,” Quinn said. “She does that and she knows she can't afford to wait around for me to show up.”
“Keep it.” The cop working
on his truck handed her the lighter with a throaty laugh. “Maybe you sweet talk him into fixing my truck, then we ditch him. What do you say?”
Naomi turned coy, picked a tobacco flake from her lip and flicked it from her finger as she pointed toward the papered-up door. “First I have an interview.”
Walking away, she moved like she was on a runway, looking over her shoulder at the man as she returned to the car and stood next to the driver side door, the window down. She handed the cop’s lighter and spare cigarette to her boyfriend.
Bending at the waist, Naomi gave the driver instructions while she waved and jiggled her bottom in the direction of the undercover cop. As she spoke, the microphone inside the lighter picked up every word.
“While I’m inside, why don’t you check and see if there’s anything worth taking in the truck.”
“I thought you wanted to wait around and mess your sister up bad. Can’t roll him and stay.”
“Let me figure out the logistics,” Naomi growled. “Just get a look inside. Tools, a good spare tire. My mom’s pissed about losing the Western Union money. She won’t send any more today.”
“You think she’d be pissed about you torching that cabin and car.”
“Yasss,” Siobhan hissed, reaching behind Quinn to offer me a high-five. “I love it when the perps are utter morons.”
Gamble grunted from the front seat, but didn’t order Siobhan to settle down. I figured the sheriff would save the lecture for the ride home.
“Are you kidding?” Naomi snarked. “I think she might have been touching herself as I described how Quinn’s life turned to ashes and blew away.”
“Speaking about touching—”
The boyfriend reached for Naomi but she gracefully sidestepped out of reach. “Remember, go give our new friend a hand while I ‘nail’ Quinn’s interview for her.”
“Ready Team One,” Barnes said.
Team One was the inside team. Barnes and Gamble watched the interior feed from a handset up front. I could see it from where I sat if I leaned back.
