Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  “Calling in a K-9 unit that is used to sniff out drugs.”

  “Drugs? You think Paula was dealing drugs?” That possibility hadn’t even entered Shandra’s mind.

  “It all points to that. She was a user, Rowan is still a user, and it would account for the monthly payment she received if she was the drop-off site.” Grunts and labored breathing whistled in her ear.

  “Shandra, I can’t get dressed and keep talking. I’ll call you when I learn something.”

  “Wait! Be careful. A gun shot woke me from the dream.” She clutched the phone wishing she could keep him on while he did all his duties.

  “Gunshot? On your property?” Anger and concern laced his words.

  “No, in my dream. There was a gunshot. It shocked me awake. Be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful, and I’ll call.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise. Go back to sleep.” His tone was gentle, intimate, like a lover slipping out of bed in the middle of the night.

  The line went dead.

  His gentle nudge for her to go back to sleep wouldn’t do. There’d be no more sleep. Shandra glanced at the clock. Three a.m., she might as well get up. She clicked the light on the side table. Sheba lumbered to her feet, shoving her large head into Shandra’s lap.

  “Girl, it’s going to take at least an hour for a K-9 unit to travel to Huckleberry, not to mention getting someone out of bed and ready to go.” She stared at the big brown eyes peering back at her. “I think I’ll take a shower and head to Huckleberry. I feel like a breakfast at Ruthie’s.” She kissed Sheba between the eyes and moved the bowling ball sized head out of her lap. “I might just swing by the gallery before breakfast.”

  ~*~

  Ryan shoved his right foot into his cowboy boot as he slipped his cell phone into the belt holster. He’d need evidence before he could call in a drug sniffing dog. The Sheriff wouldn’t be happy if he heard the K-9 unit was called in because a woman had a dream.

  He’d have to prove there was a need for the unit.

  The motel he’d crashed at for the night was across the highway from the Jiffy Mart. Rather than throw suspicion on his vehicle parked by the gallery, he jogged across the highway and ducked into the alley that ran behind the Huckleberry Street businesses.

  If there happened to be someone in the gallery, he wanted surprise on his side. The smell of old food accosted him as he walked behind Ruthie’s. The back door stood open. Heat and a radio talk show drifted out the door. The woman must live upstairs to have closed the restaurant at nine and be back up this early to prep for the morning meal.

  He crossed Second Street. The alley behind the jewelry store, a sandwich shop, and Dimensions Gallery was dark. Ryan slowed his gait and put his feet down lighter to muffle his boot heels hitting the pavement. At the corner of the building, he scanned First Street and the alley behind Doring Gallery. The street and alley were empty. No vehicles parked or moving on the streets. Baylor drove a silver sedan with a Washington plate.

  Brisk steps took him across the street and to the back door of the gallery. He reached to insert the key into the lock. Crashing and scuffling deeper into the alley jerked his hand to his holstered Glock. He crept down the alley, quiet and slow. The noise grew louder. A thump and cat screams rang through the night.

  Ryan stopped in the shadows beyond the light streaming from the open bakery door.

  A man stepped out. “Go on! Get! You filthy alley cats!”

  Something hit the dumpster. The screaming stopped, and two cats leaped out of the metal bin.

  Ryan retraced his steps to the back of the gallery and inserted the key. The lock clicked and he entered. He walked to the opening between the back room and the gallery and shut the door.

  The room had no windows, with the door shut the light wouldn’t be seen from outside. He started in the far right corner and began a methodical search of every piece of shrink wrap, padding, and crates. If he could find a trace of any drug or by-products he could call in the K-9 unit and the drug task force.

  ~*~

  Shandra never dallied while showering and this time was no exception. With her wet hair braided and dressed in old jeans, a light sweatshirt, and moccasins, she slid into her Jeep and headed down the mountain ten minutes after hanging up the phone.

  Half-an-hour later, having driven faster than the speed limit, she cruised by the Huckleberry police station. Ryan’s Tahoe wasn’t there. She turned onto Second Street, drove by the gallery and peered into the alley. Ryan’s SUV wasn’t anywhere. Frowning, she made a circle of the block. As she turned right onto First Street, a silver car parked at the end of the alley behind the donut shop. The bakery had lights on.

  “He could be getting early morning donuts.” She crept past the car, peering into the dark alley. Something moved in the darkness. She parked ahead of the vehicle and peeked in the windows of the bakery. No customers, only the staff was in the shop.

  Shandra eased her door closed and hurried to the corner of the building. Early morning was a bad time to try and rely on any of Mother Nature’s light. The business owners felt safe in this small town and only had street lights on the two main streets, more for ambiance than to guide anyone at night.

  Using the light of the open bakery door, she made her way past that establishment and was pitched into darkness behind the boutique that was between Doring Gallery and the donut shop. Her eyes started to adjust to the darkness. Ahead the squeak of a hinge and light filtering into the alley caught her attention. How did he get in? Did he have a key? She pulled out her phone. Should I call Ryan?

  “How did he get the light on so fast?” she whispered. The light had to be on when he opened the door. Either he had an accomplice in the gallery already or… Ryan!

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Ryan heard the click of the lock on the door and ducked behind the large crate he’d just opened. Whoever entered had a key. I collected all the keys. Did Lida withhold a copy? The way he doled them out to anyone who asked, he could have had an extra one or there was still unknown entities who had a key.

  The intruder walked cautiously into the mess Ryan had made while searching. In his haste, he’d left a lot of debris strung about the room. To sneak up on the intruder would be foolish without a clear path.

  The snick of a safety being released on a revolver rang loud and clear in the quiet room.

  His heart pumped with adrenaline. He hadn’t lived through the attack by gangs to end up dead in the back of an art gallery. Ryan shifted slowly to peer around the side of the crate.

  Baylor.

  He’d studied the sketch enough to know the man anywhere.

  Baylor had his weapon ready as he scanned the room. The moment the man’s head swiveled the other direction, Ryan lunged from his hiding spot and grabbed the arm holding the weapon.

  The revolver went flying.

  Baylor brought his free arm across, catching Ryan in the jaw. Pain shot through his teeth and into his skull.

  Ryan wrenched the arm he had a hold on, down, and around behind the man’s back, using a thumb hold to keep him from swinging again.

  Baylor cried out and tried to grab Ryan with his free arm, but that only brought him more pain. Ryan slipped the cuffs on the wrist he held then snatched the other one. Once both hands were cuffed behind the man’s back, Ryan spun him around.

  His captive’s eyes widened. The fierce fire and menacing frown were replaced by a grin curving his lips. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  Ryan stared at the man. “I’ll be asking the questions. How did you get a key to this building?”

  Baylor continued to grin and shake his head. “No. You have this wrong. I’m a good guy. Like you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  The door jerked open.

  Ryan spun, his Glock in his hands ready to shoot.

  Shandra’s head peeked around the door jamb.

  “What are you doing here?” Exasperation and
terror rippled through Ryan’s body at the thought he could have shot her.

  Shandra’s attention, on the hole in the end of the gun pointed at her, redirected to the face behind the weapon. The tone and glower on Ryan’s face pretty much told her this was probably not one of her smarter moves. But she wasn’t about to let him know she had misgivings. Standing out in the alley she’d gone back and forth over what to do. When the scuffling noise died down, she decided if Ryan didn’t have the upper hand her surprise entrance might give him a tactical advantage.

  She stepped into the building, hands on hips, and stared back at Ryan.

  “Did you find anything?”

  Ryan nodded toward the man who looked like her sketch. “I found this.”

  The man had a rather disarming smile. “I don’t know what you—”

  “I’m taking you to the police station for questioning and trespassing.” Ryan grabbed the man’s arm and led him to the door. “Get the lights and shut the door,” he said over his shoulder to her.

  Shandra stared at Ryan’s back. His gruff attitude was three-sixty from how he’d treated her up till now. Even when he hadn’t completely ruled her out as a murderer. Had her impulse to come to the gallery been that much of a mistake? She turned off the lights, draping the room in black. The gray sky of dawn filtered through the still open door, guiding her. Stepping out the door, she slammed it shut and turned.

  Ryan stood not two feet from her. “Come on,” he ordered and set out leading his prisoner down the alley.

  She’d planned to get her Jeep and head for breakfast at Ruthie’s, but Ryan’s tone irked as much as it commanded she comply.

  The three of them moved at a brisk pace down the alley and out to Second Street. No one said a word as Ryan held the door to the police station open for her. She entered and he pointed to the same chair she’d waited on the day before.

  “Why am I here?” she asked.

  “Because I want a word with you as soon as I deposit Mr. Baylor.” Ryan nodded to the police officer at a desk. “Make sure she stays even if you have to cuff her to the chair.”

  Shandra glared at Ryan’s back. He hadn’t arrested her, so how could they keep her here? I could walk out of here if I wanted. She started to stand, but her gaze on Ryan and Baylor kept her seated. What would Ryan find out from the man? Was he at the gallery looking for drugs? Her curiosity overrode her anger. She sat in the chair watching the man be escorted into a small room. The other officer stood guard on the door when Ryan headed her direction.

  Her guts churned and her mouth went dry at the determined and angry expression on Ryan’s face. He didn’t even stop as he grasped her arm, pulled her to her feet, and led her out onto the sidewalk.

  “What were you thinking?” The words sounded as if his teeth were clenched together.

  “I didn’t want you to be alone while searching the gallery.”

  He dropped his hold on her arm and massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “That is poor logic. This is a police investigation. You need to stay the hell away.”

  “I was afraid the gunshot in my dream was meant for you. I had to be here to keep you safe. I’m the reason you were in the gallery.”

  He pulled his badge off his belt. “I’m paid to put my life on the line.” He jammed the badge back on the belt and grabbed her arms. “I could have shot you when you opened that door.”

  His hands shook, and she felt his body vibrating only a foot away.

  “I’m sorry. I was worried something would happen to you and wanted to be close to help.” She ran a hand over his unshaven cheek. The haunted look in his eyes faded. “I didn’t come here to make your work harder.”

  “Go home. I’ll call you after I interrogate Baylor.” He dropped his hands and took a step back.

  “I have my heart and taste buds set on one of Ruthie’s breakfasts.” Her heart fluttered in her chest as their gazes met. “I’ll be there when you get done with Baylor.”

  Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know how long this will take.”

  Shandra smiled. “I’ll be there whenever you show up.” She drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and pivoted before she did something stupid like wrap her arms around him just to prove he was safe. She’d never been an overly demonstrative person. Putting her hand on his cheek had been uncharacteristic for her. Standing in front of the police station with this person wasn’t the place to have her defenses breeched.

  ~*~

  Ryan watched Shandra’s backside until she turned the corner at the end of the block. That woman had a hold on him unlike any other. How he could want to throw her over his knee and paddle her one moment and want to kiss the living daylights out of her the next had him off balance.

  He rubbed his face with his hands and entered the station. Without making eye contact with any of the other people, he walked to the table in the break room, picked up the file he’d composed on Baylor last night, and headed to the interrogation room.

  He entered the room contemplating the strange behavior of Terrance Baylor. The man was slouched in a non-threatening position in one of the chairs. He smiled and eased up into a more respectful pose.

  “Baylor, you seem to be a very busy person.”

  He spread his hands and leaned back in the chair. “I do tend to get around.”

  Usually a good judge of character, Ryan was getting mixed vibes from his suspect.

  “Before you waste your time—,” Baylor held out his hand as if to shake.

  Ryan just stared at him.

  Baylor shrugged. “Okay, who do you think I am?”

  Ryan plopped the file open and started down the list. “You were in the military, when you were honorably discharged you started up a detective agency. It appears you travel around and have had several scrapes with the law. You are friendly with several people in drug cartels.” Ryan slapped the file closed, “So what were you doing sneaking into a police secured area?”

  Baylor smiled and raised his hands in an apologetic manner. “Looking for the same thing you were…drugs.”

  “At least you’re honest. Did that get you off the hook the other times you were pulled in and questioned?” Ryan slapped his hand on the table, “It isn’t going to work now!”

  “Was that your girlfriend that interrupted our tussle? She’s a looker.”

  Ryan sprang out of his chair and leaned on the table. His nose was only inches from Baylor’s. “Don’t draw her into this conversation.”

  “Relax. We’re on the same side. Call the State Police and talk with the head of the drug task force. Ask him if he knows Terrance Baylor.”

  Ryan’s gut said this man was a DEA agent. That’s why he was getting mixed signals. But he wasn’t going to believe the man until he had it confirmed. “Sit tight.”

  He left the room, pulled up the State Police number on his phone and asked for the captain in charge of the drug task team.

  “Sir, do you know a Terrance Baylor?”

  “I do, he’s on a special assignment establishing the link between the high grade meth and new mix of heroin that is making its way into the rural areas. We’ve traced the source to Seattle.”

  Ryan rattled off Baylor’s physical description.

  “Yes, that’s him. Why?”

  “His description came up as a suspect in a murder investigation. When I caught him trespassing I brought him in for questioning.”

  “If he was sniffing around your murder, chances are your murderer is in the drug scene.”

  “Thank you for your time, Captain.” Ryan pushed the off button and strode back into the interrogation room.

  He took the seat across from the lounging DEA agent. “Why didn’t you announce yourself to the local P.D.?”

  “I’m not sure who in this town could be part of, or being paid, by the cartel I’m after. They have their hooks into several small communities in Idaho and Washington. I can’t always depend on the local police to not be on the take.” Baylor leaned forward. “I didn’t want
to discuss it with your girlfriend around. You never know where the leaks are.”

  He understood the man’s need for secrecy, but it irked he’d think Shandra was part of the drug problem.

  “What do you know about Paula Doring?”

  “I’ve had an eye on her off and on the last five years. She moved up fast from being a user to dealing. The gallery was a front for moving product. I was just getting into her good graces when she was killed.”

  “I have witnesses that say you two were intimate.”

  Baylor grinned like a teenager about to spill his conquests. “That woman felt the need to bed every male she dealt with. I think it came from her background as a hooker. Like it gave her control over them or something.” He raised his hands. “But I never went that far and that made me one of her challenges.”

  “You had an argument with her behind the Quik Mart the day before she was killed. What was that about?” Even if this man was a DEA agent that didn’t cross him off Ryan’s suspect list. There was too much evidence that pointed to this man as being the murderer.

  Baylor finally showed a tic of nervousness.

  “She was surprised to see me in town since she knows me only as a private detective. One that was hired by her husband to dig up dirt on her before he married her.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Which I heard you gave her a clear background. Nothing at all like her police files show.”

  “That was to get her out of Seattle and see if she had really cleaned up her act. We were interested to see if she would work as an informant down the road.” Baylor tapped an index finger on the table top. “I wasn’t keen on the idea, especially when she got wind I’d given her soon-to-be husband such a glowing report. She became suspicious, and I had to do some things I’m not proud of all for the sake of bringing down a cartel.”

  Ryan knew the feeling. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of as part of the gang task force in Chicago. “So what did Doring call you here for?”

  “He wanted me to look into the death of a Joyce Carter.”

  Ryan had felt from the beginning these two cases were connected. “Why?”