Deadly Lies

by Mary Stone

  But it was tempting. Especially as the clock on her phone ticked off another five minutes.

  When the clock hit eleven, she gave into what she already knew. Either he’d given up on her when she’d been late, or he was a no-show.

  But why didn’t he answer his phone, at least? She tried one more time. No answer.

  Sliding off the barstool, she decided to call it a night. She’d track him down tomorrow.

  She walked outside, getting hit by a blast of cool night air. Pulling her sweater tighter over her chest, she headed to her car, but she was forced to wait until another car backed from its spot. The headlights of the Acura flashed on something red and shiny. And sporty.

  In his Facebook photos, Nate had been in a bright red Porsche a couple of times.

  She’d thought it made him even more suspicious…how was he paying for that fancy car?

  She marched over to the car, noticed a shadow inside.

  Had he been waiting for her in the parking lot all this time? Had he fallen asleep?

  Frustrated to her core, she knocked on the top. Nothing.

  She knocked harder. Nothing.

  Kylie’s fingers were trembling as she tapped on her phone, searching for the flashlight app. Her spidey-senses whirred into overdrive.

  “Stop it,” she grumbled to herself. After all, this wasn’t Masterpiece Theatre. This was a freaking boring embezzlement case, as safe as could be. That’s what she’d assured Linc and Greg and her mother. It was dull. Boring. There was no reason to have her mind spiral out in all these wild directions.

  Taking in a deep breath, she turned the flashlight on.

  It was Nate. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, his head back, nose to the sky. Eyes open. There was blood on his shoulders, soaking the front of his white starched shirt.

  It took Kylie a moment to register what she was looking at.

  A dead body.

  She’d never seen one before. Even with her run-in with the serial killer last month, she’d been removed from that. This man, Nate…he’d been alive and well just hours ago. And now, he was most definitely not.

  Because of her?

  Nausea gripped her, and she staggered back against another car, nearly dropping her phone.

  What should she do?

  Call 9-1-1.

  No. She headed to her car, needing to get away. Inside of the safety of the little Mazda, she scrolled through her contacts. She knew exactly who she needed to call first.

  25

  I didn’t want it to be this way.

  I love him. Loved him.

  As best as I could, anyway.

  But he left me with little choice. Even as he kissed me goodbye after our hours of lovemaking this evening, I felt the sadness and guilt inside him as he left.

  No. If I looked back, I’d known he was going to betray me before then. Wasn’t that why I’d joined him in the shower, cleansing every inch of his skin, not wanting to leave a trace of my DNA on his body?

  Yes, I’d known instinctively that it would come to this. And my instincts were my friend.

  Now, my only friend.

  Almost.

  I closed my eyes, sadness welling inside me as I remembered how surprised he’d looked when I appeared at the car’s window after making sure there were no cameras in the back lot of the coffee house.

  Cameras could be such a nuisance. But they could also be quite handy, especially the tiny ones I placed in strategic places, letting me, quite literally, be a fly on the wall to many conversations.

  “What are you—” Nate had asked as he rolled the window down.

  I fired the gun before another lying word could exit his mouth.

  It was guilt, I knew, that had been eating at his insides. From the beginning, I’d known Nate Jennings would be my greatest strength, or my greatest weakness. In fact, he’d been both.

  We’d had the same goals. Wealth. Not for the monetary things money could buy. At least not only that. It was the power I sought.

  Wealth offered protection. Being vulnerable terrified me in a way I didn’t understand.

  While Nate had wanted wealth right away, thinking he could simply burn his grandparents’ home to the ground, I’d convinced him to wait.

  After all, his mother and aunt died in a fire. One of his making. He hadn’t meant to kill them, of course. At least that was what he’d told me. He’d just been a boy, he’d said, sobbing on my shoulder. The fire had just gotten away from him, and he didn’t let anyone know because he hadn’t wanted to get in trouble.

  I’d soothed him, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

  No…the fault lay at the feet of his grandparents, who had seized control of the fortune young Nate should have received, thinking he needed to be older and wiser before so much money fell into his hands.

  Sixteen wasn’t too young, in my opinion, but the old crow and her artistic goose had clearly not agreed.

  It had been the exact wrong thing to do.

  Guilt from the fire and anger from his grandparents’ strictness had led young Nate down a treacherous path. They gave him enough money for “essentials,” but I was sure it never occurred to them that the most essential thing in his life would go up his nose.

  By college, Nate had been a mess, but I straightened him out soon enough.

  I gave him a purpose. A plan.

  Then…pop.

  The end hadn’t even been so dramatic, the silencer on the gun making Nate’s death almost anticlimactic. But it had been for the best.

  I knew that now.

  Of course, I still had a problem.

  Namely, Kylie Hatfield.

  As I watched Kylie walk from the coffee house, I almost laughed out loud.

  This was perfect.

  Two birds, one stone. Well, officially two bullets, but metaphors didn’t matter.

  Moving from shadow to shadow, I watched her recognize Nate’s flashy sportscar. Another purchase I hadn’t approved of. I watched her approach it. Watched recognition hit her like a brick.

  Little Kylie Hatfield reacted faster than I thought she would. Most girls her age would have screamed and cried or even fainted.

  Yes, fainted. That would have been good.

  She’d been shocked, yes, but had gone into action sooner than I wished. As she headed to her car, I followed, wondering if she simply planned to drive away.

  But instead of starting her car, she pulled out her phone, and began scrolling down the screen.

  So close. One shot through the window and this little problem would be done.

  She tapped the screen and went to put the phone up to her ear.

  I was beside her when the coffee shop doors opened, and a gaggle of giggling girls floated out. Frustration simmered in my every pore as I was forced to back away.

  Later.

  I would simply have to find her later.

  It was okay. I could wait.

  After all, patience was my friend.

  Jacob cursed as his phone rang, and he was tempted as all hell to ignore it. He squinted at the clock on the nightstand.

  Well, that was embarrassing. It wasn’t even eleven p.m.

  He was becoming an old man.

  Not even looking at the screen, he held the annoying thing to his ear. “Yello?”

  “Jacob,” a woman breathed into the phone. “Can you come here? There’s a little problem.”

  Jacob paused and squinted at the screen. “Kylie?”

  “Yes. You really need to come.”

  Sitting up in his bed, he ran a hand over his face. “Okay. Slow down. Where is here, and what little problem?”

  “At the Perky Coffee Shop. I was going to meet someone about an embezzlement case. And he was a no-show. And now I’m out in the parking lot…and he’s here, too…dead! I think he was shot.”

  “Whoa.”

  Typical Kylie. She was talking so fast he was barely able to register the words.

  “Kylie, listen to me. Are you okay? Have you bee
n hurt?”

  She let out a shaky breath. “No, I’m fine. I locked myself in my car.”

  Good. That was good.

  “Okay, stay there. Perky Coffee Shop is in city jurisdiction but…”

  “So?”

  He sighed. They’d had this discussion before. “So, it means it’s in the police department’s jurisdiction. I’m with the sheriff’s department, remember.” He stuffed his leg into a pair of trousers he’d tossed over a chair.

  “I don’t care!” she yelled. “I need your help.”

  He was already pulling on his shirt. “I know. Have you called 9-1-1?”

  “No, I called you first.”

  Of course she did. Kylie Hatfield didn’t follow any rules.

  “When we hang up, call them.”

  “Why?”

  He groaned. “Because I said so.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Where’s Linc?”

  “At his house. I had to take him home from the hospital and he left his truck and then I had to leave and—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. Linc was in the hospital?”

  “Yes! I was at his parents’ house when the call came in.”

  Why had she been at Linc’s parents’ house? He shook his head. That was a question for later.

  “Is Linc okay? What happened?”

  “He was called in to help with that parking garage collapse in Spartanburg and had a panic attack.”

  Shit.

  Linc Coulter panicked? Jacob never thought he’d hear such a thing.

  But then the memory of his best friend’s face the past two times he’d seen him flashed in his mind…he hadn’t looked good.

  In fact, Jacob was worried about him.

  Very worried.

  “People are coming out of the shop,” Kylie said. “Heading toward Nate’s car.”

  Shit.

  He was going to tell her to stay put, but he already heard her door click open and the ding-ding-ding of where she must still have her keys in the ignition.

  “Hey,” he heard her yell. “Don’t go—”

  “Is that dude dead?” someone said. The words were followed by a scream.

  Shit. This was going downhill fast.

  Jacob forced his concern for Linc away and focused on the current situation.

  “Call 9-1-1, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  The police and sheriff departments had a good working relationship. With a phone call, he could be on this case.

  Shit. Did he want to be on this case?

  Another case involving Kylie Hatfield?

  Dammit.

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded weak. Frightened.

  “Sit in your car until the cavalry arrives.”

  “Okay.”

  He disconnected the call and placed one of his own.

  Two minutes later, he was out the door.

  What had Kylie gotten herself in to now?

  Kylie shivered as she sat in her car, even though she had her heat on high blast.

  The first responder had arrived, a policeman who was taking control of the scene, pushing the onlookers and their cell phones as far away from the Porsche as possible.

  Jacob’s truck pulled up a few minutes after an ambulance arrived. She opened her car door as he headed straight to the red car. He spoke to the paramedics, but they were talking too low for Kylie to hear.

  Minutes passed, and Kylie considered getting back into her car for the third time, when he turned and headed her way.

  “Well, shit,” he said.

  Kylie nodded. “He was shot, wasn’t he?”

  He watched another police car arrive. “It appears so, but we’ll need to wait for the ME to get him on his table.”

  Kylie shivered. Too many crime novels and movies had told her what would happen to poor Nate Jennings there. Not that he’d feel anything.

  Jacob frowned. “Why don’t you go wait in my truck?”

  She did as he told her, watching the circus of emergency personnel doing their jobs.

  Her fingers still trembled as she raised them to her temples.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Poor Emma. She would be beside herself.

  And Linc. Kylie cringed just thinking of his reaction. He was going to be pissed when he learned that she’d gotten herself embroiled in something way beyond her capabilities again. Greg too.

  That didn’t matter right now.

  Right now, she needed to solve the case. And if Nate knew something…and someone shot him for it…that meant that foul things were afoot. It wasn’t just Emma’s dementia or paranoia. And it surely must be bigger than a few missing paintings.

  Someone was cheating the old woman, and whoever it was, they were desperate enough to kill to keep it a secret.

  Kylie was scrolling through her phone as Jacob appeared in the window. “Hey, Kylie. Want to tell me what this has to do with the case you’re working on?”

  She nodded. And told him everything. Well, almost. How Emma had hired her to look into possible embezzling, how she thought some of her paintings had been stolen, and how she’d interviewed Nate regarding the possible theft.

  “Then earlier today, he called and said he needed to talk to me about the painting he had in his apartment. We set up this meeting. I was late and he didn’t show. When I gave up and headed to my car, I saw him.”

  Jacob nodded. “And how did he sound when you spoke to him earlier?”

  “Really nervous. Worried. I think whatever he knew, someone killed him to keep it a secret.”

  Jacob let out a big sigh. “Yeah. Maybe. Or it could have nothing to do with you. Nate Jennings was wrapped up in a lot of shady things and deeply in debt. Mostly gambling debt. It’s possible that his loan shark just had enough of him.”

  Kylie shook her head. She didn’t believe that for a second. “Whatever it is…please don’t tell Linc that I was here.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding.”

  She pleaded with him with her eyes. “He has enough to worry about right now. We don’t need to make it any worse.”

  “Kylie, I don’t—”

  Kylie laced her fingers in front of her. “Please. He’d freak if he found out I was in a situation like this. And besides, it might not have anything to do with the case, like you said. So why worry him?”

  She could tell that Jacob didn’t like the idea. At all.

  “I’ll think about it. Right now, you need to retell your story to one of the city detectives on scene.”

  Jacob introduced her to a stern-looking woman by the name of Lisa Dalton, and Kylie told her story again.

  When she got to the part about Jonathan Coulter being Emma’s lawyer, Jacob held up a hand. “Wait. You didn’t mention him before.”

  Kylie gave him an innocent look. “Sorry, it must have slipped my mind.”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes at her. “And you still don’t want to tell Linc?”

  She shook her head. “I especially don’t want to tell Linc about that. He has enough on his mind.”

  “I don’t know if I agree on that, but like I said, I’ll think about it.”

  The police detective stepped in. “I need you to come by the police station tomorrow to give your formal statement.”

  Kylie stared at her. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d been doing? Twice?

  But she didn’t argue. It was well after midnight by then, and with the day and evening she’d had, she was beyond exhausted.

  “You can go home, Ms. Hatfield,” Detective Dalton said. “Would you like one of my men to escort you?”

  “No. I’m fine,” she said, managing a smile.

  But she wasn’t.

  And she wasn’t going to her apartment. Hell no.

  She was going to go back to Linc’s house and beg him to let her spend the night. She’d sleep on the floor or even the porch swing, if she had to.

  But she didn’t want to be alone.

  More than that, she need
ed Linc.

  She just couldn’t tell him why.

  26

  After Kylie left, Linc’d cursed himself.

  Had he had sex with her to prove to himself and her that he wasn’t slowly going insane?

  Wasn’t that insane in itself?

  He wasn’t even sure anymore.

  It all had to do with today. He still felt shitty for putting the Spartanburg emergency personnel through that extra level of hell. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about without having to take care of his sorry ass.

  Linc made himself a late dinner, put some logs in the fireplace, and grabbed a six pack with the full intent of getting drunk. He tried to think more about Kylie’s sexy body and less about what had happened earlier. But when he thought about her, it only made him feel guilty. He could give her the sex she wanted, sure. She’d never asked for anything more.

  But he wanted more.

  And he knew he couldn’t have it.

  Not with the way his brain was.

  Linc tossed back beers, one after another, while Vader and Storm looked on, both with their ears perked up as if to say, You’re doing this again?

  What else could he do? That was the good thing about drinking. When he did it, he usually woke up in the morning with a hangover, but at least it kept the nightmares at bay. At least he didn’t wake up screaming.

  Before long, he’d polished off the entire six pack. He went to the fridge, leaving the bottles on the coffee table, and got another. The room swayed as he turned back, and he stumbled to the couch.

  He closed his eyes…

  It was hot. So fucking hot in Raqqa.

  His team was there. The kids. Storm.

  Austin passed the ball to the little kid with the shaggy hair and the baseball cap. The boy, cute as hell, shouted, “Hey, hero! Try this.”

  He kicked the ball to Linc, which he easily blocked. He kicked the ball back, but the boy missed it, and it raced over the dusty road and into a deep ditch.

  Linc held up a hand. “I’ll get it,” he called and jogged over to retrieve the ball. For fun, he twirled it on his finger like he would a basketball.

  The little one with the shaggy hair and the baseball cap beamed at him. “Hey, hero,” he called. “Look! My sister!” Linc followed his outstretched finger to a woman standing in the center of the marketplace. She was wearing a military vest over her traditional garments. Her eyes were bulging with fear, her body trembling. She was holding something in her hand…