“Mary never gave you any money?”
He grunted a laugh. “Hardly. Last I heard she was waiting tables. What was I supposed to do? Garnish her tips and wait twenty years to get my forty grand back?”
Declan glanced down at the badges pinned to his uniform shirt. “You’re a marksman,” he observed.
“Yes. But since NCIS said my ex was stabbed, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
In the distance, he heard the opening break of a game of pool. “But you would have gotten K-BAR training as part of your basic combat training.”
“Like I told NCIS, I was on duty from twenty-four-hundred hours until I was relieved at O-seven-hundred hours. More than a dozen people verified that.” Jolsten took another pull on his beer. “Are we done here?” he asked, clearly getting irritated.
“Almost. What did you mean when you said Mary was always working an angle?”
“I mean just that. Look,” he said as he spun his stool. “Mary grew up dirt poor and she was pretty determined to change her lot in life. I was just a stepping stone to something better. And, from what I read about her murder, she had herself mixed up with some rich doctor. Shouldn’t you be grilling him?”
“He’s on my list,” Declan said noncommittally.
“Then we’re done here,” Jolsten said.
Declan placed one hand on the back of Jolsten’s stool. “One last thing. You deposited five grand into your account, in cash, two days before your ex was killed. Care to explain that?”
CHAPTER NINE
Jolsten stopped flipping the matchbook in his hand and balled his fist. A sure physical tell as far as Declan was concerned. “What aren’t you sharing with the class?” he pressed.
“Nothing,” Jolsten insisted.
But in Declan’s assessment, he was a pretty lame liar. “Five thousand dollars’ worth of nothing.”
Jolsten was silent for a few seconds, then he unballed his fist and turned to meet Declan’s gaze. “The money wasn’t mine,” he admitted. “Well, half of it wasn’t.” He shifted his weight.
Declan gave him a hard look. “What was it for?”
Jolsten took a pull on his beer, swallowed, and answered. “My share of a scam Mary cooked up.”
“Let’s go over to a booth,” Declan grabbed the man’s beer with one hand and placed his other on Chasyn’s back. Once the trio was settled in, Declan said, “Explain. And start from the beginning.”
Jolsten rubbed the short-cropped hair on his head. “It started when Mary found out she was pregnant.”
“With your baby?” Chasyn asked.
Jolsten grunted and shook his head. “No way. She never came out and told me who the father was, just that he was loaded and married.”
“And you’re sure she never told you it was Dr. Lansing’s baby?”
“Positive,” Jolsten answered. “But she figured he’d pay big time to keep the pregnancy and the baby a secret. She told me his wife was the one with the real bucks and she’d toss him out on his ear if she found out he’d been screwing around again.”
“That has to be Lansing,” Chasyn said with a small measure of excitement.
“So, Lansing gave Mary five grand?”
Jolsten hung his head and shook it at the same time. “That money came from a couple in Boca Raton. The Wellingtons.”
“I don’t follow,” Declan said.
Jolsten lifted his brown eyes and met Declan’s stare. “Mary’s plan B.”
“Which was?” Declan countered.
“Maybe five seconds after she passed her pee-on-a-stick test, Mary already had an angle. She didn’t tell me everything, but she needed my help with part of her scheme. All I know was she planned to string the baby daddy along but she had no intention of keeping the kid. Mary didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. So.” Jolsten paused and took a sip of his beer. “She responded to an ad in the paper. A childless couple willing to pay for a baby to adopt.”
“That’s illegal,” Chasyn inserted.
Jolsten shook his head. “Mary researched it. So long as the money was to be used for the care, living, and medical expenses of the mother during the pregnancy, it’s all nice and legal. The couple supports her for nine months and then they get to adopt the baby.”
“So, Mary had no intention of keeping her baby?” Declan asked.
Jolsten sighed. “No, Mary had every intention of keeping that kid. Said it was her ticket to an easy life. She was going to screw the adoptive family. She planned on collecting from them during her pregnancy, then telling them she’d changed her mind when the kid was born.”
“So, the five thousand was a down payment?” Chasyn asked.
Jolsten nodded. “Mary said she couldn’t risk the baby’s father finding out about the phony adoption scam. So, in return for me hiding the money, Mary was going to pay back some of what she owed me.”
“Did you tell all this to NCIS?” Declan asked.
“I couldn’t,” Jolsten insisted.
“Why? Especially in light of the fact that she was murdered.” Chasyn pressed.
Jolsten’s shoulders slumped. “Mary had me bent over a rock.”
“How so?” Declan leaned in closer to the man. “What did she have on you?”
“Are you going to repeat this to NCIS?” he asked. “Because if you do, I’m totally screwed.”
Declan shook his head. “I’m not after you.”
On a breath, Jolsten explained, “Mary and I were married for about a year when I found out she was cheating on me. I was so pissed I went out and cheated on her. Stupid, I know, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. Only the woman I cheated with was one of my superiors and she was married.”
“And Mary found out?” Declan supplied.
“Oh, she did more than that,” Jolsten said, resigned. “She managed to get pictures of me and the woman. Compromising pictures.”
Chasyn clasped her hands and rested them on the worn wooden tabletop. “I don’t understand,” she said. “If you were both unfaithful, how was that a problem?”
“Military code,” Jolsten answered. “Adultery is a crime. At the very least it would have ended both of our careers. That’s why I didn’t put up a fight when Mary started robbing me blind.”
Declan stroked his chin. “So where are the photos now?”
Jolsten shrugged. “They must not have been in her apartment or the cops would have found them. Ever since she died I’ve been waiting for them to surface.”
“Did Mary have anyone close to her that she would have entrusted them to?” Chasyn asked.
“Not that I know of. But that’s not unusual. Mary never was very good at making or keeping friends.”
Declan began to slide out of the booth. “Thank you for your time, Captain Jolsten.”
The other man grabbed his wrist. “If you happen to find those photographs…”
Declan felt for the guy. “I don’t see any reason to make them public.”
Relief washed over Jolsten’s face. “Good luck finding evidence against Dr. Lansing.”
* * *
“Maybe Mary has a safe deposit box,” Chasyn suggested shortly after they were back on the road. “If she does, there might be some sort of proof that it was Lansing’s baby.”
“We ran down her financials,” Declan said. “No safe deposit box rentals in her name.”
Chasyn felt frustrated. “Please tell me your team will be able to get his DNA.”
“They’re on him twenty-four-seven, but Lansing isn’t stupid. Last night he went to dinner with his wife and actually took his own silverware into the restaurant. Drank water with a straw and took the silverware and the straw with him when he left.”
“Well, that pretty much screams guilty to me. We have to prove Lansing killed Mary and Kasey, and is pretty determined to kill me, too.”
Declan was smiling at her.
“What?”
“‘We’?” he said with a chuckle.
It rankled. “I have no
intention of sitting around like a target. There has to be something I can do.”
“Stay alive?”
She shivered. “That’s at the top of my list,” she assured him. “I know you have a whole team of people but I am an asset. I’m organized and I have great research skills. Maybe there’s something in Lansing’s past that I can dig up.”
“I have a vehicle database,” Declan told her. “You can try to identify the car taillights.”
“Sounds mind-numbing.”
“Right now it’s one of the best leads we have. If you can identify the car and we can trace it back to Dr. Lansing, we can probably extinguish the threat to your life.”
She rubbed her bare arms. “Probably?”
“I’m pretty convinced the guy after you is a pro. Normally they get half up front and half on completion. If we can prevent Lansing from paying out the second half, the pro will probably walk away from the job.”
“And how do we find the guy to let him know there won’t be any payment on the back end? Even if he does his job?”
She watched as the corners of his mouth turned down. “The only way is to demonstrate that Lansing can’t or won’t be able to fulfill the contract.”
“A public arrest?” she asked.
“That’s one possibility.”
“Is there another one?” Chasyn wondered.
“I get the killer first.”
* * *
It was close to ten by the time they returned to Declan’s fortress of a house in West Palm Beach. Chasyn was a heap of frazzled energy. Declan offered to make her an omelet but she wasn’t hungry. “I’d like to call my parents and check my work email,” she said.
Declan didn’t look up from his task of brewing a mug of coffee. “Call your parents from the burner phone I gave you but make it quick, under two minutes. Stay off your email.”
“For how long?”
Declan turned and rested one hand behind him as he leaned against the counter top. He took a sip from the mug. “I don’t know the extent of this guy’s tech skills but I’m not willing to risk his ability to back trace the IPS to this house.”
She placed a hand on him. “Then how do I keep in touch with work?”
“I took care of that.”
“How?”
“Once I explained that you have a determined killer after you, your boss was more than willing to put you on leave until this is resolved.”
Chasyn blinked. “An undetermined period of leave will probably jeopardize my career. The plan is for me to—”
“Plans change.”
She pressed her lips together, then let out a frustrated breath. “Mine don’t,” she countered. “I could work remotely until this is all cleared up.”
“Too much of a risk.”
She was torn between frustration and tears. She’d worked everything out so precisely. Her life plan was working and she was proud of that. Hell, she lived for it. Her entire focus these last years was now slipping away. It made her angry to think all of her effort, all of her time, might be in vain. Damn Lansing! If this dragged on, she could very well find herself without a job and standing at the starting line again. This sucks, she thought before saying, “Taking an extended period of time off pushes back my timetable.”
Declan offered her an infuriating smile. “Maybe you should lighten up on the timetable thing. Let life happen organically.”
“Food should be organic. People should have goals and purpose.”
He laughed. “Life is a lot more interesting when you take it as it comes.”
“That may work for you, but if I’m working remotely, I can keep up with everything. I prefer a plan.”
“Well,” he began as his expression grew somber. “Right now, the plan is for you to get killed.”
She rubbed her arms. “I’m just saying I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” Intellectually she knew Declan was only concerned about doing his job, but that didn’t stop her from resenting the way he was moving her around like a chess piece. She’d go nuts in about twenty minutes if she didn’t find some way to occupy her mind. Chasyn met his eyes and held his gaze.
Declan appeared to blink first. “I’m not saying you should do nothing.” He paused to take another sip of coffee. “Call your folks and then meet me in the office. We’ll get started on the vehicle identifications.”
Chasyn had a tearful and brief conversation with her parents. She was careful to keep the call under the allotted two minutes and even more careful to keep any hint of her location out of the conversation. When she was finished, she went into the bathroom and gently removed the bandage from her forehead. The three stitches were right at her hairline and barely noticeable, save for the annoying itch. The bandage at the back of her head was more difficult to remove because her hair was stuck in the adhesive tape. Several ouches later, she sat on the edge of the vanity and opened the medicine cabinet, positioning the mirror so she could assess the damage. Again, the wound was healing nicely and covered mostly by her hair. Chasyn opted not to re-cover them.
The house was quiet, save for the sound of typing on a keyboard. She followed the sound and found Declan in his office. There, he sat at a huge mahogany desk facing the wall. On top of the desk sat two computers with incredibly large monitors. There were lateral file cabinets and a credenza, with one executive chair and two other chairs along the side wall. A variety of framed documents and a smattering of photographs decorated the walls. His life in frames included some military citations and several certificates related to his current line of work. But she found herself most interested in the pictures. Based on the hair and clothing styles, the photos were more than a decade old. Probably older. All featured the progression of four young boys transitioning into manhood. It was easy for her to identify Declan, even as a youngster. Those piercing blue eyes were a dead giveaway. She was fairly sure she recognized Jack from their brief meetings, which meant the other two were Michael and Conner. Knowing Conner was the baby of the family, she found herself drawn to the images of Michael. He sure didn’t look like a murderer—not that she knew what a murderer looked like.
“If you’re too tired…” Declan’s comment trailed off.
“Not at all,” she said as he relinquished his seat and indicated she sit.
The screen was open to the dashboard of a database for automobiles. They were in alphabetical order from Acuras to Volvos. There were roughly fifty manufacturers. “I guess I start with the As, huh?” She placed her hand on the mouse.
Declan came up behind her and placed one hand on her shoulder and the other hand over hers on the mouse. He leaned in, close enough that she could hear and feel the warmth of his breath against her ear before it spilled teasingly down her neck.
Chasyn’s mouth went dry and an unexpected lump of desire lodged in her throat. Her skin tingled where he touched her and her whole body tensed.
“Start here,” he said in a low, sexy tone as his hand guided hers.
They went through a series of links until a collection of sedans appeared on the screen. “Just hold the left button and move each car around until you see its taillights.”
She was still back on start here. She was painfully aware of him. His bicep brushed her bare arm and she felt corded muscle against her exposed skin. A series of vivid images flashed in her brain. Declan holding her in his arms. Crushing her against him. Claiming her mouth as his hands wound through her hair. It was sheer lunacy. And yet it was total temptation. All she would have to do is turn in the chair and her fantasy would be reality. Chasyn longed to run her hands across his massive chest. Wondered what it would feel like to strip off his shirt and touch his warm flesh.
Declan’s hand moved up from her shoulder, gathered her hair and set it off to one side, fully exposing her neck. Chasyn went perfectly still. Vacillating between expectation and extrication. Maybe her hair was blocking his view of the screen. Maybe there was just an innocent explanation. Maybe she was going to go insane wondering.
>
* * *
Declan told himself this was a bad idea but his body seemed to be operating without benefit of his intellect. This hadn’t been his intention when he’d lifted her hair away from her neck. But the minute he felt the silken strands of her hair his mind flashed an image of it splayed on his pillow. And her skin was warm, almost flushed. He could tell by the erratic pulse at the base of her throat that she was just as curious. He couldn’t think of a single reason to stop.
Slowly, he dipped his head and took a tentative taste of her. The minute his mouth closed over the sensitive spot near her collarbone, he heard a small moan pass her lips. He kissed her softly, tracing a line up along her jaw, happily drinking in her floral scent. Declan gently twirled the chair so they were face to face. Her blue-green eyes were hooded and her gaze was fixed on his mouth. Her lips were slightly parted. His body was fully alert. Painfully so.
He reached up and cupped her face in his palms. His thumbs made gentle circles on her flushed cheeks. He was about to break off the contact when she lifted her hands and flattened her palms against his chest. He was fairly certain she could feel the racing of his heart. Any notion of stopping went right out the window.
Declan pulled her from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. Careful of her injury, he laced the fingers of one hand through her hair and tugged gently, forcing her head back. She got up on tiptoe and kissed him. There was nothing tentative about it. Her tongue sought his, her body pressed tightly to him. Before he knew what was happening, her fingers were working the hem of his shirt.
It was magical.
It was thrilling.
It was a mistake.
CHAPTER TEN
Chasyn felt stunned and abandoned when he gently set her aside. Had she misread the situation? The mere thought of rejection brought a flushed warmth to her cheeks. No, she told herself, Declan had started it. He’d been the one to trail tiny kisses along her throat. He’d spun the chair and taken her in his arms. So why the sudden change of heart? She was as confused as she was annoyed.
He’d backed a few feet away from her, his hands rammed into the front pockets of his jeans. Chasyn looked to him for some sort of explanation, but his head was dipped so she couldn’t read his expression. His body language, however, practically screamed regret.
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