“After I was done at Mara’s. I wanted to give him some of what I found.”
“What did you find?”
“If you don’t stop interrupting me I’m going to kiss you again.”
Silence pounded against her ears. She clamped her lips shut and refocused on her dinner, wishing that didn’t sound so appealing.
“Thank you,” Vince said. “I located a flash drive she had hidden in her desk. I was able to access her private server and download the documents she’d stored before I passed it over to Jack.”
“Something tells me you neglected to tell him about the copying part.” Skirting the edge of the law, just as Jack had warned.
“He followed through and gave me copies of Deputy Russo’s notes and reports. Which in turn gave me something to look for as I went through the school security tapes.” He sorted through a stack of photos and pulled a few out. “Russo’s observations were spot-on. Mara was as predictable as the sunrise, but there were some people that caught my attention. I printed out some stills. Do you recognize him?”
Simone set her fork down long enough to examine the picture. It was dark, had to have been taken in the dead of night, but in the halo of the street lamps, she recognized the blond-haired man and long beige trench instantly. “Cal Hobard.” Well, that sealed it, didn’t it? “He works for my boss.”
Vince blinked as if that was the last thing he expected her to say. “This guy works for the DA?”
“Campaign consultant. Puppet master, take your pick.” Appetite gone, she shoved her plate away and stared at the photo. “When was this taken?”
“That one? About a week before she went missing.”
Recognition dawned. “He’s in more than one?”
“Oh, yeah.” He slipped another free and placed it on top. “A few over the last couple of weeks. This one though was taken around 4:00 a.m. the morning she disappeared.”
Her mind raced. She’d thought there was something off with Hobard, but what possible reason would he have to communicate with Simone’s witness outside the office? Wasn’t he the one who kept reminding her what was at stake should the case against Denton fall apart? The entire reason for him wanting her to cut a deal? It was ridiculous to think he had anything to do with Mara’s disappearance. Yet there he was. Caught on film. The morning she disappeared. “What about Mara? Any sign of her during that time?”
“No. But the apartment building’s parking lot is being paved, remember? She’d have had to park on the street and her car hasn’t been seen in the area for as long as she’s been missing. The neighbor with the fake security camera saw her go downstairs with a thermos, come back, then leave again about a half hour later. Insomniac neighbors,” he added. “A detective’s best friend.”
“So she did leave on her own.” The relief she’d been hoping to feel at the revelation didn’t descend. Not with the heat of his gaze radiating through her. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything, but how could she when she wasn’t sure what everything was?
“Did the neighbor say whether she had a suitcase or not?”
“No. Purse, car keys. Had her cell in her hand. But she was definitely alone. Whoever cleaned up probably took it to make it look like she left town.”
Arguing with Vince’s gut was more difficult than arguing with the man himself. Still, she shook her head. “She knew how important court was. I can’t imagine—”
“Then let’s come at this a different way. She wasn’t a social butterfly, right? She didn’t date a lot?”
“No.” Simone shook her head. “She’d been set up a few times, but said she wasn’t interested in dating right now.”
“Is it possible she was looking for more evidence in the case? Something to cement what you had against Denton? Could she be trying to help you?”
Simone had considered that. “She agreed that there was more to Denton’s case than we’d charged him with. But I told her this would be enough.”
“Because you were hoping to get him to talk.”
“I didn’t tell her that.” Guilt rose up and had her swallowing hard. “I always keep the details of my cases as quiet as possible. I need her to verify where the books came from. I see it as the tipping point. Once I get that on the record—”
“Mara doesn’t agree?”
“She’s angry with him. Not only about the fraud he’d committed and made her a part of, but because he was sloppy and cost innocent people their jobs. A lot of those businesses were only there for show and when he closed them, people got hurt. She thought they deserved more than having to stand in the unemployment line.”
“One of the entries I saw talked about a new offshore account she connected to one of Denton’s shell companies, an LW, Inc.”
“What account?” Simone frowned. “She didn’t say anything about that.” And she didn’t recall the forensic accountant she’d hired for his expert testimony mentioning it in his report, either.
“The entry in the flash drive was dated last week. When was the last time you talked to her about her testimony?”
“Before that. I had Kyla cover all my calls unless it was an emergency. But Mara wouldn’t have done anything that would have jeopardized the case.”
“What do you mean?”
“I needed Mara’s reputation intact. I didn’t want to give the defense anything to use against her when she was cross-examined. If they thought she’d gone rogue and tried to dig up dirt on her boss—”
“And as she’s just lost her job. Okay, I get it. They’d think she had some kind of grudge against him.”
Obviously Mara was even more determined than Simone had given her credit for. “We need to know what she was looking for. What she found. Something important enough that she’d drug two cops and take off in the middle of the night.”
“I’m more interested in why this Hobard guy was lurking around her apartment,” Vince said. “Maybe we can kill two birds.”
She flinched at the image. “Mara’s still got stars in her eyes, Vince. She still believes anyone can make a difference by doing the right thing. She doesn’t know how evil people can be.”
“Let’s hope she hasn’t found out the hard way.”
Chapter 9
“Bad news?” Vince asked as Simone paced the living room, muttering to herself, cell phone in hand. He’d spent the better part of the last day and a half planted either on her sofa or at her dining room table as they sorted through Mara’s files and notes, combining them with the information Simone had on the Denton case. There wasn’t any doubt in Vince’s mind Mara had gone off on her own to delve deeper into Denton’s criminal connections. “Simone?”
“What?” She faced him in the dim light of the loft. “Oh, it’s fine. Allie’s taking a couple extra days in LA.”
“That’s good. She meet someone?”
Surprise erased the exhaustion on Simone’s face. They were closing in on midnight Saturday, more than twenty-four hours since they’d dug in. They were still waiting on the warrant to access Mara’s GPS on her hybrid. The cell phone company was dragging its heels when it came to her records, enough so that Vince had a contingency plan in place if it went on beyond tomorrow morning. He knew Simone wanted everything done aboveboard in case she needed to use it in court, but Mara was running out of time. Bureaucratic red tape had gotten in his way once before; he wasn’t going to let it happen again.
“The only people Allie meets aren’t exactly in a position to date. What she did get was an offer to tour some new psychiatric facility in a prison. I’m betting this time tomorrow she’ll be shoulder-deep in serial killers and repeat sex offenders.” She shuddered.
Yeah, Vince thought, because she and Allie were so different. “It’s always the quiet ones who surprise you.” He got to his feet, stretched and gathered up the empty water bottles
he’d been collecting. “It’s time we called it a night.”
“What?” Simone swung on him, tugging on the hem of her white tank as she shook her head. “No, there’s still more we can—”
“No, actually, there’s not.” Vince tossed the take-out containers and paper plates into the trash, wiped down the counters. He motioned to the scattered papers that had been taped to walls with enough vehemence he felt pretty certain she wouldn’t be seeing her security deposit anytime soon. “We’ve gone over all her notes, all your notes. All my notes. We’ve scoured the websites, and now it’s a waiting game. Unless you want to start driving around while we wait for those GPS records—”
“Jack said he’d have them by morning.”
“Then other than wearing a path in your hardwood floors, there’s nothing more you can do tonight. Tomorrow we’ll hit the ground running.”
“Kyla said she’d be here first thing to do your bidding.” She surprised him by following his lead and cleaning up. “If you’re back here by nine—”
“I’m staying.”
“What? No. Why?”
“Because I don’t feel like driving,” he lied. “And because I’m just going to turn around and come back tomorrow. I brought clothes. You’ve got a spare shower upstairs. I’m housebroken, remember?” Besides, he wasn’t leaving her alone as long as that creep was out there taking pictures of her. “Lock your bedroom door if it makes you feel safer.”
“That’s not what—” She sighed. “Why do you always do that? Make it seem as if you’re less than you are? More dangerous than you are?”
“I’ve always been dangerous.” Dangerous was what kept him alive. “You chose to ignore it.”
“I chose to see through it.” She dumped the plastic bag of trash on a chair and stood across from him, hands planted on the counter. “You are, hands down, one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met, Vince. Why else would I have married you?”
“Because you like a challenge.”
She grinned. “I married you because you were a good man. You still are. Whether you believe that or not.”
“A good man you couldn’t be bothered to come home to.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he held up a hand, shook his head. “We don’t need to do this. Not tonight, and not when I have the brain power of a gnat who’s hit a windshield.”
“Maybe I want to talk about it.”
“Talking won’t change what happened. Besides, neither one of us is who we were back then. We’re older.” And in his case, far more cynical. He’d been a powder keg most of his life, one that had finally gone off last year. They’d survived each other once. He wasn’t sure they would again. “I’m not angry, Simone,” he said. “I’m aware I didn’t make our time together easy.”
“See? Honorable.” He’d have to be blind not to see her struggling against wanting to say more. Nor could he look away as she walked around the counter, stood in front of him and planted both palms flat against his chest. There was nothing he could do to stop his heart from thudding against her touch; there never had been. He’d been hers from the moment they’d met. As if she didn’t know it.
He caught her hands, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through hers and lead her into that sanctuary of a bedroom. “Get some sleep, Simone.” He pressed his forehead against hers, silently willing her to understand. He needed her to go before he brought her into the darkness he fought against every day. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.” She nodded, slipped free of his hold. “But I won’t be locking my door.” The smile she gave him as she disappeared around the corner vibrated through every cell in his body.
“Great.” Vince sighed and stared at the ceiling. “A cold shower it is.”
* * *
Darkness was not a control freak’s friend. The ceiling fan whipped its soft, repetitive noise through the room, and Simone, in a futile attempt to soothe herself, dropped an arm over her eyes and willed the mental carousel of thoughts to stop spinning. It didn’t help. If anything, the whirling only picked up speed.
Mara’s disappearance, her job stability, her ex-husband asleep on her couch...
Maybe what she needed was a good stiff...drink. She groaned and kicked free of the suddenly heavy bedcover.
How long had she been lying to herself? Attempting to convince herself Vince was out of her system? She’d realized it the second she’d seen him standing behind the bar, looking sexy as ever surrounded by bottles and glass, that stolid, determined expression blanketing his face. One look from him, one quirky smile had been enough to short-circuit the control she’d instituted years before when she’d convinced herself she didn’t need him in her life. And that kiss the other day? She blew out a breath. What on earth was she supposed to do with that?
She knew what part of her wanted to answer that.
How he’d put the brakes on her carnal offer confused and enticed her. They were adults. Given their history, no-strings-attached sex made sense. Then again, what didn’t make sense at two in the morning? Hadn’t they done enough damage to each other? What could she possibly be thinking to consider opening herself up like that again? Except the more time she spent with him, the more she remembered why she’d fallen so hard for him in the first place, pushed the lessons she’d sworn never to forget to the side.
Simone kicked her feet on the bed, reminding herself of a two-year-old in the throes of a temper tantrum. Why was she even thinking about this? About him? She’d made her move, however subtly, just as he’d bet her she would and still he’d turned her down. That should have been enough to turn her off. Instead he’d only revved her up more.
“He’s too honorable if you ask me.” She flipped onto her side, pounded her fist into the pillow.
She stared at the clock. At this rate, come morning she’d be lucky if she didn’t rival one of those zombies who survived the apocalypse. Something was barreling toward her full steam, and no matter what strategy she considered, she knew she was about to get run over. She needed to grab hold of something: logic, rationality. Normalcy. If she even knew what normal was.
Chloe. Tears burned behind closed lids as she drew in a shuddering breath. The terror of their friend disappearing lodged anew in her chest; fear, uncertainty and guilt wrapped around her soul.
Most kids grew into adulthood. It was gradual.
Simone and her friends hadn’t had that luxury. They’d become acquainted with the harsh world before any of them could reach double digits. She could pinpoint the day, the hour, even the minute her childhood had ended.
She jumped out of bed, tugging her tank down over her stomach and short shorts before she pulled open the door. Silence welcomed her, not surprisingly since she’d never known Vince to snore. She tiptoed into the kitchen, and cast a quick glimpse toward the sofa that was bathed in the glow from the streetlamps outside. She crouched down, opened the cabinet beneath the island. The hinges squeaked.
“What are you doing up?”
Simone yelped and shot upright. She locked her hand around the bottle of Scotch and pressed the other against her racing heart. “What are you, some kind of ninja?” If she got through this week without having a coronary it would be a miracle. “Honestly, normal people make noise when they move.”
“Normal people don’t skulk around the house at this hour.” He stood there, wearing only his jeans, hands on his hips, looking like some kind of warrior god who had invaded her home. All that was missing was a sword and those leather strappy things crisscrossing those distracting abs of his.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t...she dragged her gaze across his chest, to the six-or was that an eight-pack trailing down to his waistband. She shook her head, trying to erase the image, but it only managed to lock it in place.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She set the bottle down, clicked on t
he light under the stove and grabbed the closest glass. “This.” She tapped a hand against her head. “It won’t stop.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“We’ve been talking all day.” She poured herself a good couple of fingers, downed it in one shot and waited for the buzz to take hold as her throat burned. “The only thing that’s going to stop it is to put an end to it.” To all of it. Her eyes watered as she poured another glass. And Vince was very much a part of all of it. “I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have taken this case.”
He reached over and tugged the bottle out of her grasp. “This only brings up all the doubts and insecurities, leaves you questioning every decision you’ve ever made. Does wonders with guilt, let me tell you. Like fire in the brain.”
“Feel free to join me.” She retrieved another glass, but he shook his head when she handed it over. “What? Wrong brand? I might have some whiskey around here—” She didn’t remember him being so picky before.
“I don’t drink.” He capped the bottle, set it aside.
“This late? Well, make an exception because there’s a lot to drink about if you ask me.”
“At all, Simone. I don’t drink at all anymore. I stopped.”
“Yeah, right.” He’d been known to put a six-pack away without nary a blip of intoxication. “Why? Wait, back up. You’re serious.”
He didn’t respond.
“But you own a bar. How exactly does that work?”
“One day at a time,” he said as if they were discussing nothing more than the latest sports scores. “I had a rough couple of years,” he said. “Things got bad for me after the Walker case. Really bad. In here.” He tapped his temple in the same way she had moments before. “I couldn’t pull out of the thoughts, the doubts. Plus, I didn’t exactly hit the genetic jackpot when it comes to alcohol addiction. Caught sight of myself in the mirror one night and saw my father.” He shrugged. “Not a pretty picture. As far as bottoms go, though, I’ve heard of worse.”
“I’m so sorry.” The aftertaste of the Scotch turned bitter. She was well aware of the violent household he’d grown up in and that alcohol was at the center of it. The military had offered him an escape, a purpose, but not before seventeen-year-old Vince had finally had it and swung back hard enough to land his father in the ER. “I didn’t know—”
Reunited with the P.I. Page 10
