So my dad had seen my mom—or somehow he’d gotten that picture. And not long after that, he’d also disappeared. And now this.
What was going on here?
“Joey?” Jackson peered at me.
I raised a hand. “I’m okay,” I insisted.
I had no idea if I was okay or not.
Because if Billy was connected with the Barracudas, and Sydney was connected with Billy, and my mom was connected with Sydney, did that mean my mom was connected with the Barracudas? My stomach squeezed, and I thought I might throw up.
“We don’t know what this means,” Jackson said.
“You and I both know that this can’t be a coincidence.” My voice held an unusual edge. I needed Jackson to know that he couldn’t just brush this off.
“I’d love to talk to you about this later.”
Later? I remembered everything else going on. The dead body. Leonard arrested. Billy arrested.
This was going to be a very busy night for Jackson.
I nodded. “Yeah, later.”
Jackson stared at me, apology staining his gaze. “I want to stay with you. To talk to you. I know you need me right now. But I can’t walk away from this case.”
“I know.”
He looked at me like there was more he needed to say, for me to understand. He was worried I couldn’t handle this aspect of his life—like Crista might since she grew up around it.
Should he be worried? Could I handle this?
I’d like to say yes. But police work was all consuming. As was acting. Could our lives work in sync with each other’s?
“I want to meet you for breakfast tomorrow, okay? But until then, I need to take you home. There’s nothing else for you to see here tonight. And I can’t imagine what other movies you’re going to act out while you wait.”
That got a little smile from me. “Okay.”
He reached for the hair at my neck as he leaned toward me, his forehead pressing against mine. “I’m sorry, Joey.”
“You have a job to do. Don’t apologize. I don’t expect you to stop everything for me.”
He kissed my forehead. And I realized there was nothing else to say.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackson dropped me back at my place. He checked it out first, deemed everything safe, and then asked me if I’d be so kind as to not leave or go anywhere without him.
I agreed, of course.
Until I remembered that I’d left my favorite lip balm in my car. I figured it couldn’t hurt to sneak downstairs quickly and grab it. And it hadn’t.
My Berry Blossom Bliss was now in hand, and I hadn’t run into any trouble. And my lips were thanking me.
Until I reached the stairwell.
And then I wouldn’t really say it was trouble. Winston Corbina was standing there. I remembered my conversation with Leonard, and a startling thought hit me.
Was Winston behind my whole super-stalker fan-club thing?
I wasn’t sure. But now wasn’t the time to let on that I might know anything. No, it was too secluded. Too late. And Jackson was too far away.
“If it isn’t Joey Darling.” He squinted and looked at my face. “That’s a nasty knot on your forehead.”
“I know. Unfortunate accident.” I touched the spot and cringed.
He grimaced. “I’d say.”
I stared at him a moment, contemplating my words, before finally saying, “Billy is at the police station.”
His eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t sure if he was surprised or another emotion. “Is that right?”
“They’re saying he killed Morty Savage.” I swatted a mosquito. There was usually a nice breeze that kept the skeeters away, but not tonight. Everything was still around me.
Winston snorted. “My son is many things. He’s not a killer.”
Phoebe’s words again echoed in my head, her warning about what drugs did to people. Did Winston have any clue? He was a smart man. I had to think he did. But maybe we were never ready to accept information like that about the people we loved.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Winston continued. “We haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.”
I nodded and processed that. I wondered what had caused their riff, but with the personalities of these two, the possibilities were endless. “You had a falling out, huh?”
Winston’s scowl deepened. “You could say that. But I hope he hasn’t gone out and done anything stupid.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“My son isn’t safe to be around, you know.” He studied my face.
I drew in a sharp breath, wondering what he was implying. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely. I’d stay far away from him. He hasn’t gotten his act together yet.”
“I see.”
“You’re a nice girl, Joey,” he said. “I’d hate to see you get mixed up in anything—especially anything that puts your life in danger.”
A chill bit me down to the bone. “Me too.”
“But I know you have that curiosity. That determination. That sense of justice. Just like your father.”
I gripped my lip balm, my throat suddenly tight and achy at the mention of my dad. “You saw that in my father too, huh?”
“It was hard to miss.”
I shifted, knowing I shouldn’t ask this next question but unable to stop myself. “You know that piece of paper you gave me when we first met?”
His eyes sparkled. “I do.”
He’d handed me a note, and I’d foolishly let the wind sweep it out of my hand and into the water. I’d never stopped wondering what he’d written there.
“What did it mean?” I asked, fishing for answers.
“You don’t know?”
I licked my lips and shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll have to let you figure it out.”
Daggonit! I wondered what the chances were that he might write it again. Slim to none, I’d guess.
“Have a lovely evening, Joey.”
I walked inside my condo after we said goodbye. But something drew me back to the window.
I peered out, and I could see the parking lot. Someone scrambled out of a car there. Climbed the stairs to the third story. I could hear the footsteps echoing above me. Hear a door open.
I’d recognized the woman.
It was Crista.
And I knew where her footsteps had led.
To Winston Corbina’s.
I moved to my balcony overlooking the Albemarle Sound. I had a lot to think about.
Starting with everything Leonard had said.
To say that conversation had shaken me to the core would be an understatement. Whatever was going on with that little fan club had thrown my world off balance.
Someone was actually funding these people? Paying them for information? Why would they do that?
It had started because they’d all loved Relentless and wanted to see it stay alive. How had it morphed into this?
And was Leonard telling the truth about the other members? That he couldn’t identify them, but he knew one was a cop, one was a reporter, and one was a friend?
A shiver raked down my spine.
I didn’t like the sound of that.
I knew one thing for sure. I wasn’t going to extinguish this super-stalker fan club with one swoop. No, there were too many of them. They had too much incentive. And I was in deep trouble.
My thoughts idled over to Billy and then to the dead Australian woman.
So many pieces were falling into place. Yet the main piece was missing. Who had killed Morty? If no one confessed to it, then how would we ever figure this out?
There had to be a way.
And until I figured that out, I was going to watch Celebrity Truth or Dare.
My episode was on tonight.
Chapter Thirty
My phone rang the next morning as I was getting ready for Jackson to pick me up. I held my breath as an electronic voice asked me to accept a call fr
om Zane Oakley. I said yes and waited to hear his voice on the other line.
“Joey?”
“Zane!” Guilt pounded at me. I should have gone to visit him again. “How are you?”
He didn’t answer. “What’s going on with the case, Joey?”
I thought about everything I’d learned and then considered what I might be allowed to say—or not say. “We’ve got some good leads, but we still don’t know who framed you.”
“Was it Billy?”
I froze in front of the bathroom mirror where I’d been applying my mascara and wondered where Zane had gotten that information. “Why would you ask that?”
“He was brought in here last night. I saw him from a distance.”
“He’s a suspect. He’s definitely been involved in some unscrupulous stuff.” I thought about those skimmers and Zane’s impromptu trip to South Carolina. “You weren’t involved in his newest business venture, were you?”
“No! How could you think that?”
“I had to ask. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.” I put my makeup away and did one last check in the mirror. For a girl with a unicorn knot and polka dots, this was going to have to do.
“I was framed for this, Joey. You’re right—I haven’t made great choices, but I haven’t done anything as dumb as getting involved with Billy’s businesses.”
I really hoped that was true.
“Zane, you said you saw a murder while you were out of town and were running for your life,” I started. “And whoever these guys were, they said you had something they wanted.”
“Right.”
I was about to say, “Tell me more about that,” when the truth hit me.
That hadn’t happened to Zane. “You took that from an episode of Relentless.”
The words sounded surreal as they left my lips. How could he do that to me? And then ask for help? He had a lot of nerve.
I waited for him to explain himself.
He was silent for a minute. “You’re right,” he finally said. “That was a lie. I was trying to think of an excuse to justify my behavior, and that episode came to mind.”
My stomach dropped. I hated lies because if a person lied about one thing, they’d lie about anything. Had I mentioned that yet?
“Why would you lie to me about why you came back?” I abandoned the bathroom and grabbed my purse. As I did, I saw I still had five minutes until Jackson arrived. I sat on the couch, needing to find my balance and maybe strangle a pillow in the process.
“I didn’t want you to be mad at me for coming back to this area and not telling you.”
“Why would I be mad?” Okay, I had been a little mad. But I was even more mad because he’d lied.
His voice dropped, and I could tell this conversation was hard for him. “You know I like you, Joey. I like you a lot. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
My heart thudded in my ears. Because at one time I thought maybe Zane and I did have a chance with each other. But it was becoming increasingly clear that we didn’t. Besides, Jackson was already taking up residence in my heart, way more quickly than I thought possible.
I had to say something. “Zane—”
“Don’t respond,” he said, his voice pleading. “Please. Not right now. I know how it all sounds. And I know you and Jackson like each other. I didn’t want to face it. Not really.”
I shut my mouth, but my spirit still felt burdened and heavy. I’d handled plenty of situations incorrectly, so I tried to give grace. But giving grace didn’t mean I’d easily trust him again.
“Just know that I didn’t do this,” Zane continued. “Tell me you believe that. Please.”
The operator came on, reminding us that our time was almost up. Whatever I was going to tell him, I had to do it quickly.
“I believe you, Zane. We’ll talk about this more when you’re released.” I sighed. “In the meantime, is there anything else you’ve been able to think of that might help?”
“There’s one other thing,” he said. “I keep thinking about it, and I think Abe set me up.”
“Why would he set you up? Was he working for Billy?”
Zane snorted. “Billy? No, the two of them can’t stand each other.”
They couldn’t? Did that mean there were two different criminal organizations at play here?
This whole thing was becoming more twisted by the moment.
Jackson picked me up a few minutes later, and we went to Oh Buoy, one of my favorite smoothie bars. We only chitchatted on the ride there. It wasn’t until after we were at a corner table with Mirlo Sunrises in hand that I spoke what was really on my heart—and it wasn’t about Zane.
“Any updates on my mom?” My throat ached as I asked the question.
I watched Jackson’s face for any sign of what he was about to say—any signal that he was going to deliver bad news. Compassion softened his gaze and sent my nerves into a frenzy.
“We tried to call a contact on Sydney’s phone that we thought was your mom, but the number was disconnected,” he said.
My frenzied nerves fizzled with disappointment. The strains of “I Get Around” blared overhead, irritating my already scrambled thoughts. I needed a movie soundtrack that better fit the situation, something like Chopin’s Sonata No. 2 or something.
“Has she turned up on any most-wanted lists?” Words I never thought I’d ask about my mom.
He frowned and kept his voice even as he said, “No, Joey.”
“But she’s connected with all this . . . this . . . craziness. Crime. Murder.” Bile burned my throat as I spoke my thoughts aloud.
Jackson leaned toward me. “Here’s what we know. Billy found someone on the dark web who was selling credit card skimmers. He became this guy’s point person for the area, and Morty became Billy’s right-hand man.”
“Okay.”
“After the two of them did it for a while, they figured they could branch out on their own and keep even more of the profits. They even got this girl—Sydney—to help them.”
“So who exactly was Sydney?”
“She was this Currie guy’s assistant. As far as we know, she was the only one who’d ever really seen him. From what Billy told me, this guy was very careful to keep his identity concealed, in case anything ever went down.”
“I see.” I supposed if you were a criminal, that would be a wise move.
“From what we’ve been able to piece together, Billy and Sydney were supposed to meet with some potential clients tomorrow. They were hoping to make a deal of some sort with them to buy these other skimmers, ones Billy had made. Essentially, they were stealing clients from this Currie guy.”
Double-crossing a criminal? Never a good idea. “How did Sydney die then?”
“The same way Morty did. With a bullet through her chest.”
I flinched at the thought. “And the weapon?”
“It belonged to Billy.”
I blinked at that information. This sounded eerily familiar to Morty’s death and Zane’s presumed involvement in it. “So Billy did it? Did he decide she was a liability?”
“Or someone is doing a really good job setting up local bad boys,” Jackson finished.
He considered Zane a local bad boy? I didn’t even ask, nor did I have time to argue. It was the least of my concerns at the moment.
“I’m assuming you did the same gun residue test?” I asked.
He nodded. “We did. It came back negative—but Billy is smart enough to cover his tracks. He probably scrubbed himself down.”
I leaned back and played with my straw. Traced my fingers down the condensation on my glass. “What does all of this mean?”
“We don’t know yet,” Jackson said.
This whole case was a black hole that swallowed our questions and didn’t allow us any answers, wasn’t it?
I cringed, knowing there was one other thing I needed to bring up. I didn’t know how Jackson would take it or how my words would be perceived. But I was going
to say it anyway because you never knew what information could be significant.
“Crista went to Winston Corbina’s last night,” I blurted.
Jackson squinted as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”
I nodded. “It’s true. And I don’t know why or if it has to do with anything. But I thought you should know, especially since she apparently has a key to your house.”
“What would she have to do with Winston?”
“That’s the question I’ve been asking also. Maybe the fact that she lives beside you is no coincidence.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I went to the station with Jackson, even though I knew it was going to be a long day if I stayed with him there. Still, I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in my condo alone, ruminating on my questions. Thinking about Leonard’s words. How a friend, a cop, and a reporter were in this secret society of sorts. I figured the closer I could be to Jackson right now, the better.
I promised Jackson I would try to stay out of his way.
Try being the key word here.
But he was filling out reports in his office most of the morning. I’d tried to read through some of the scripts Rutherford had sent me, but most of them bored me.
A sweeping romantic saga? No thank you.
A sci-fi with aliens invading earth? Same story, different title.
A motorcycle gang with heart? Nope, not my style.
I continued to read for a while before stretching my legs. I just so happened to be walking down the hall when a conversation drifted from the room like sea-foam on the wind.
“She just got a new text message confirming the location they’re supposed to meet,” Chief Lawson said. “This person obviously doesn’t know that she’s dead.”
“The problem is that we don’t have any officers here who can go undercover and pull off an Australian accent,” Jackson said.
I froze, excitement rushing over me as I ducked out of sight, still listening.
“Sending someone in is the only way we’re going to be able to figure out who she’s working with,” the chief said. “We can’t take a chance that these people will know they’re being duped.”
Blooper Freak (The Worst Detective Ever Book 5) Page 15
