I set down the phone, disgruntled that he’d ruined my day. I realized that all of the trouble, and all of the times I’d nearly gotten killed, were because of Uncle Joey. It didn’t matter that he had saved my life and sent Ramos to help me when I was in trouble. If he wasn’t in my life, none of it would have happened in the first place. These last few weeks I’d been kidding myself. Without him calling or wanting anything, I’d been lulled into complacency. And what was all that about ‘beautiful work?’ Was it his way of pulling the noose a little tighter by flattering me?
Chris was right. When I came home from Orlando, Chris wanted me to tell Uncle Joey I wouldn’t work for him anymore. That what I’d done for him in Orlando made us even. I would have told him that too, but he never called, and I had put it off so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I figured that the next time he called, I’d tell him to get lost. So what had I just done? I’d agreed to help him! Again! What was wrong with me?
Of course, what could be so dangerous about meeting with a private investigator? Uncle Joey made it sound simple. Could it really be that easy? Maybe this time it would be fine. After I told Killpack my sob story, maybe he really could tell me something about Uncle Joey that I could use to keep him out of my life. Maybe even send him to prison. Uncle Joey’s cleverly laid plans would backfire, and I’d never have to take a phone call from him again.
Thoughts of double-crossing Uncle Joey turned my stomach into a cringing lump of goo. Nope, I didn’t think I had it in me to double-cross Uncle Joey, but I could certainly beef up my negotiating skills. I didn’t know about prison, but if there was something I could use to keep him from calling me, I could do that. Feeling better, I hurried off to take my shower, pushing away the nagging thought that where Uncle Joey was concerned, nothing ever went the way it was supposed to.
Holly and I had a great time at lunch. Talking to her was like having a therapy session, lunch included, without the huge bill. When I told her I was meeting with a private investigator after we were finished, she wanted to come along. Mostly because I’d mentioned Ramos was meeting me there, and she really wanted to meet him. I guess I shouldn’t have confided in her, but darn it, I had to tell somebody all the juicy details of our time in Orlando. That’s what best friends did. Plus, I knew she’d appreciate it.
Of course, I didn’t tell her everything about Ramos and what he really did. Or about me and my mind-reading skills. That would be bad. All she knew was that I worked with him sometimes because of my consulting agency. Still, what I did say about Ramos was just enough to make her excited at the prospect of actually seeing him in person.
But did I really want her to meet Ramos? In some ways, I just wanted to keep him to myself, but in others, it would be fun to see her eyes go all big and catch the “wowza” look she was sure to give me. Then she’d know I wasn’t making any of it up. I knew this was true because every once in a while, I picked it up from her thoughts. She actually wondered if I was telling the truth about him.
But in the end it didn’t matter, because she got a phone call from one of her kids and had to hurry to school. Not only did she not get to come with me, but it cut our lunch time a lot shorter than I’d planned. On the other hand, at least I didn’t have to feel bad about involving Holly in something that probably wasn’t good for her.
That left me with time to spare, and I got to Sam Killpack’s office a good half hour before Ramos was supposed to meet me. After waiting five minutes, and with nothing better to do, I decided I might as well go in and meet the guy. No harm in that, right? And Ramos would be right outside when I got done. I might just pick up everything I needed to know. It would be simple and easy, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it ever again. I might even get home in time to read my book and take a little snooze outside on the deck swing. With that happy thought, I hurried inside.
His office was on the second floor of an older building close to downtown. I took the elevator and wandered down the hall, not seeing anyone else on the floor. Unease crept along my spine. It looked like his office was the only one on this floor that wasn’t vacant. Most of the offices I passed were shut without any identifying markers. Wondering if I’d ever find the right office, I glanced down the hall and sighed with relief. A door at the end of the hall had a glass panel in it with the words “Sam Killpack, Private Investigator” stenciled on the glass in big block letters.
It struck me that in the P.I. business, and with a first name like Sam, he should change his last name to Spade, just for the heck of it. On the other hand, Killpack was pretty good too. I pushed open the door, expecting to find a secretary at the reception desk. No one was there, and the door to the inner office stood ajar. Maybe everyone was still at lunch?
“Hello?” I called. Hearing nothing, I proceeded toward the office door and pushed it open for a quick peek inside. A man’s body lay slumped over the desk from his chair, almost like he was taking a nap. It could have been true, except for the drops of red dripping from his dangling fingertips. My breath froze, and my knees went weak. Blood always made me queasy. “Mr. Killpack? Are you all right?”
I did not want to go over there and touch him, but what if he was only injured and still breathing? Belatedly, I glanced around the room to make sure the killer wasn’t still there and let out a relieved breath to find it empty. I knew if there was any hope at all that Killpack was still alive, I needed to get over there and check his pulse, but making my jelly legs move was another matter. Stiffening my spine, I managed to take a few faltering steps forward until I stood beside him.
With great trepidation, I placed my fingers on his neck, scrunching my eyes shut so I didn’t have to look at the blood. Not feeling a pulse, I snatched my fingers away. Yup, he was dead. My stomach turned into a queasy knot, and I swallowed uneasily. I did not want to lose my expensive lunch all over this guy, but all that blood was making it hard.
Pulling my gaze away from the body, my attention was drawn to his desk where his fingers were still curled around a pen. I bent closer to find that he had scrawled a name on a small yellow notepad. Could he have written his killer’s name before he died? The letters were barely legible, but as I studied them, the blood drained from my head. I blinked my eyes in panic, not sure what I was seeing. First an S, followed by an h, el, b, y with an N, and i, before it turned into a flat line? That couldn’t be right! But the more I studied it, the more I knew it was true.
End of sample. Click here to purchase a copy of Trapped By Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure for your Kindle. Or continue to the next page to learn more about Colleen Helme and her books.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As the author of the Shelby Nichols Adventure Series, Colleen is often asked if Shelby Nichols is her alter-ego. “Definitely,” she says. “Shelby is the epitome of everything I wish I dared to be.” Known for her laugh since she was a kid, Colleen has always tried to find the humor in every situation and continues to enjoy writing about Shelby’s adventures. “I love getting Shelby into trouble…I just don’t always know how to get her out of it!” Colleen lives in the Rocky Mountains with her family. Besides writing, she loves a good book, biking, hiking, and playing board and card games with family and friends. She loves to connect with readers and admits that fans of the series keep her writing.
Connect with Colleen
www.colleenhelme.com
www.shelbynicholsconsulting.com
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Secrets That Kill: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Page 25
