Grafted into Deceit (Intertwined Book 3)

by Sherri Wilson Johnson

  “Yeah, but I’m your partner. You should call me when something huge like this happens.”

  “I was going to call you tomorrow after you got home from church if I connected this to our investigation. If not, I would’ve waited until Monday.” Steven sipped the steaming liquid that was so close to being burnt, it offended his taste buds. He didn’t mind, though. It’d keep him awake.

  “Shouldn’t you be home sleeping, so you don’t miss church tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m so puzzled by this case, I doubt I’ll sleep tonight. Might as well stay here and try to figure out what’s going on.”

  “The church didn’t ask you to pull parking lot duty?”

  Steven laughed. “No, but they did ask me to walk the ushers with the collection plates to the church office. I told them I’d be happy to if I’m there.”

  John followed Steven back to his desk. “Then you had better get some sleep. Can’t have you falling asleep on the job on one of the biggest offering days of the year—next to Easter.”

  “Don’t forget Christmas, John.” Steven rubbed the back of his neck and attempted to relieve the tension that had collected there. “You’re a riot. You know that? What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I arrested a guy who was trying to pass off drugs to some kids at the festival, so I came in to file my report.”

  “What is it with these guys?”

  “Sarge asked me to bring you the Forensics report from last night. There’s a positive I.D. for your missing body too.”

  “Give me that.” Steven held out his hand and plopped into his chair, the force causing it to roll away from his desk a few feet. His heart thundered against his ribs as he scooted back to the desk. This was what he’d been waiting for all day.

  John handed him the file and sat at his desk adjacent to Steven’s. “How many suspects do you have in this case?”

  “There’s the guy who drove the pickup truck who tried to run down me and Marina—Ms. Acres. He’s still in the hospital. There’s the passenger who I think shot at us. He fled the scene, and we haven’t caught him yet. And then there’s this guy.” He tapped on the file. “He’s a victim because Ms. Acres hit him with her car, but he was running from someone when the accident happened, so I count him in with the suspects.”

  “What about being innocent until proven guilty?” John laughed.

  “Oh, he’s innocent until I prove him otherwise, but he’s still involved with these guys somehow, and therefore, worth investigating. Plus, they found a match for his DNA, so he’s no stranger to crime. But we have to find him first. He’s missing.” Steven picked up the pretzel and tapped it on the file as he studied it.

  John scrubbed his chin. “I’m going to head home. Give yourself a break and get some sleep.”

  “I might.” Steven waved at John as he left the room.

  The next gulp of coffee churned his stomach. When had he eaten last? He rubbed his face and yawned again. Food was a priority. Then he’d sleep. But first, he needed answers.

  The report on the marijuana, as he’d suspected, revealed the baggie contained over two ounces, so a felony amount. Now who would he charge?

  He flipped to the next page in the file. The Georgia DNA database had indeed identified the blood from Marina’s victim as belonging to a Jason Burney, a white male who’d been arrested on multiple misdemeanor drug charges over the last several years.

  “Jason Burney, you’re no mystery man even if your whereabouts are still shrouded in mystery.”

  Steven thumbed through to the next page. The report stated the National DNA database had flagged the DNA found on the marijuana as belonging to the driver, Kemar Mejora, who was originally from Kingston, Jamaica. He had a long list of charges against him.

  The fingerprints on the packet of cigarettes and the jump drive were smeared beyond detectability. The DNA found on them didn’t bring up any hits in the Georgia or National database, so that didn’t help determine the owner either. The files on the jump drive contained a list of names and dollar amounts. Were these drug debts?

  “Okay, I’ve got an assumed dead and missing man named Jason Burney. I’ve got Kemar Mejora who’ll be charged with felony possession of marijuana and attempted homicide by vehicle in the first degree.”

  He scratched his head and stretched his neck from side to side. “Now where’s my shooter? More importantly, why were they on Elm Grove Road at Acres and Fields Nursery last night? Why was Jason Burney important enough to kill?”

  Steven’s phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his focus. He tossed his pretzel on top of the open file and retrieved the phone. He didn’t recognize the number on his caller I.D., but with it nearing midnight, he had to answer it. “Detective Pennington.”

  “Detective? It’s Marina Acres.”

  The hairs stood erect on the back of his neck at the sound of her voice. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. My phone works.”

  “Okay, good.” Her voice sounded steady. She must be safe. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ll call you back tomorrow.” Her voice softened into a whisper. “I didn’t even think about the late hour.”

  He leaned back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders now that she’d guaranteed him she wasn’t in danger. “No, please go ahead. I’m at the station investigating the case.”

  She sighed. “I wanted you to know what I found in the files. I don’t think it has anything to do with your case, but it’s interesting.”

  “Would you like me to come by in the morning?”

  “I’ll tell you now. Okay?”

  “Sure, go ahead.” Steven gulped down more of his coffee and regretted it before it hit the bottom of his stomach. He pushed the mug aside, grabbed the pretzel, and chewed as he listened to Marina’s spirited voice.

  “I went through all the files and matched them to the files on the jump drive. Every expense was a usual and customary expense, and everything was well-documented until I got to the last file. There wasn’t a corresponding file on the computer.”

  “What type of account was it?”

  “An advertising account for a company called Blossom Marketing. I found over $150,000 worth of paid invoices.”

  “Why’s that out of the ordinary?”

  “Because we wouldn’t have paid that much for advertising. If we had, Iris would’ve consulted me, and we’d be the top selling nursery and landscape design company in the state. I can’t find any proof of ads. There’s also no website for Blossom Marketing. If we were paying a company that much to advertise for us, I’d assume they’d have a killer website.”

  “True.”

  “The canceled checks weren’t in the files, but Iris would’ve had to approve and pay the expenses. I’m sure this doesn’t have anything to do with your suspicions, but it confirms someone has forged Iris’s signature, or she’s spending money we don’t have.”

  “Don’t be too quick to assume all these things aren’t related.” Not related? No way!

  “How can you be certain? I don’t see how misappropriated or stolen funds have anything to do with what happened last night and today at the nursery or at the hospital this morning.”

  Steven scratched his head and stared out the window to the blackness outside. This woman would make a good detective. She depended on the facts and wasn’t going to cast suspicion on her business partner without hard evidence. “I’m not certain yet.”

  Marina laughed with obvious skepticism dripping from her mouth. “Respectfully, you’re wrong. I’ve never heard of the guy who drove the pickup truck, and I don’t know anyone who’d intentionally try to shoot me.”

  Steven stiffened his neck and squeezed his eyes shut to prepare for Marina’s reaction to the news he had to give her. “Marina, Forensics confirmed Jason as your victim.”

  ***

  Marina couldn’t figure out why Steven was convinced the misappropriated funds and last night’s terror wer
e connected to each other. Why did he think those two things had anything to do with his suspicions drugs were being manufactured and shipped out of her business? Did he know something he wasn’t ready to share with her?

  This conundrum called for something sweet. Along with her confidence that this situation would soon end, Marina dumped the rest of the lasagna into the trash, rinsed off her plate, and put it into the dishwasher. Waiting in the fridge for her were a pint of strawberries and a can of whipped cream, which she grabbed and limped to her chair at the table.

  Wait!

  A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She stopped dispensing whipped cream onto the strawberry in her hand and returned it to the container then set the can beside it. “What did you say?”

  “They confirmed you hit Jason. Tell me again how you know him.”

  Everything locked up within her. Her blood almost stopped flowing. Her heart seemed to halt although that wasn’t possible. Was it? “I don’t actually know him, but Mack tried to fix me up with him a year ago.”

  “Why didn’t you go out with him?”

  Marina held her shoulders back and her chin high although he couldn’t see her. Anything she said would confirm the reputation she’d earned at Steven’s church years ago. “I wasn’t interested.” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for his response.

  “Was he a cop?” Steven snickered under his breath.

  Her eyes popped open in response to his stinging remark which she deserved, sort of. “No, if you must know, he seemed a little too rough for my taste.”

  “I was teasing,” he reassured.

  Marina tried not to let his words cut her, but their truth weighed on her heart. Her pickiness when it came to dating had obviously come across the wrong way, like she thought herself superior to most men. But that wasn’t it at all. She wanted to marry only once for keeps, therefore, she had to protect herself from falling for the wrong guy. Again.

  “He’s friends with Jarvis?” Steven interrupted her thoughts.

  “Oh yeah, best friends.”

  “How did he react when you turned him down?”

  “Mack?”

  “No, Jason.”

  “He seemed disappointed, but he took it well. I never heard from him again. Mack wasn’t too happy I didn’t date Jason though. I guess he imagined double-dating and all that jazz.” She sighed. “I’m freaking out, Steven.”

  A tapping noise came through the phone. He must be using the pretzel rod to calm his nerves again.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re missing $150,000, and last night you hit and possibly killed your business partner’s husband’s best friend—a man who Jarvis wanted you to date—then you were nearly killed probably by the same people he was running from. You still think these things aren’t connected?”

  She grunted. One of her most hated things in life was being wrong. “I have to admit, there are a lot of strange things going on over on Elm Grove Road. How do we figure out who’s behind it all?”

  “We?”

  She nodded like he could see her. He wasn’t about to exclude her from this investigation. Everything she owned was at stake here. Her life was at stake. “Yes, we. This is my company, and if someone’s trying to destroy it and kill me in the process, I’ll do everything in my power to guarantee justice is served.”

  “How about I come by tomorrow morning and we figure out a way to safely navigate this terrain without getting either of us killed?”

  “Can it be after church?”

  “You go to church?”

  She laughed and picked up the can of whipped cream. “Don’t sound so shocked.” With her mouth wide open, she filled it full of the creamy delight. A half a can of this, and her problems might not seem so bad.

  He moaned. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t church material.”

  Swallowing and then squirting the cream on one of the strawberries, she responded, “No offense, really. You reacted predictably. I don’t seem like a churchgoer.” She popped the strawberry into her mouth and licked her fingers.

  “No, you do.”

  “No, I don’t,” she mumbled. “Not that I don’t believe in God, because I do, but going to church isn’t my favorite thing. I grew up going every Sunday and Wednesday, and after a while, church becomes a meaningless ritual filled with lots of rules. Once you graduate from college and return to church without a ring on your finger, the old ladies play matchmaker every time you walk through the door and make you feel like a leper if you don’t have your MRS. degree. Or you get hit on all the time like I did when I came to your church.” Her face warmed. Why did she sound so bitter? She wasn’t, was she?

  Steven chuckled. “If you don’t have a church of your own, where are you planning to go?”

  Man, this guy knew how to pry. But that made him a good detective. “My friend Shelly invited me to her church, and since it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and considering yesterday’s events … well, I have a lot of reasons to be thankful.”

  “How are you going to get there without a car?”

  She frowned and slumped. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I can come by and get you. You can go to church with me, then we can discuss what part you can play in this investigation.”

  “Thanks, Detective—Steven, but I’ll stay in and find a service that’s broadcasted on TV. I don’t think it’d look right if a witness came to church with you.”

  “You’re an old friend. It’s fine.”

  “Thanks, but, I’m so sore. I won’t be able to move in the morning.”

  “Okay, no problem. I’m not sure if I’ll make it to church either. I’ll call you in the morning though to see if you’re okay and set up a time for me and my partner to come by to talk about Jason Burney.”

  He had a partner? Interesting. She’d pegged him as the Lone Ranger type.

  After they ended their call, Marina climbed into her king-sized bed and organized her pillows against her white, quilted headboard, still her favorite purchase from the inheritance she’d received from Grandmother. She switched off the lamp on her nightstand and sunk into the sheets, the hint of lavender still fresh from when she’d changed them Thursday night.

  Weary, she ached everywhere from the impact of the wreck, from landing in the creek, from crashing to the ground with Steven on top of her, and from the paintball pellets. The bruises were ridiculous. Her ankle and ribs throbbed, and her stitches itched. Soon the pain medication they’d prescribed at the hospital would kick in, and she’d finally rest.

  Maybe she’d even be able to forget the ache in her heart from her discovery. How could Iris have spent all that money without consulting her first? What was she hiding?

  Who would Jason have been running from when she hit him last night?

  She closed her eyes and snuggled deep into the mint green covers. “God, I haven’t talked to you in a while. I’ve been a little too self-sufficient. But I need help. I need protection. I need answers.”

  Her phone chimed with a text notification. Marina reached for it on the nightstand and unlocked the screen. Who would text her at half past midnight?

  She opened the messaging app and found a text from a blocked number. She sat up in the bed and threw her left hand over her heart to steady the wild beating which threatened to take away her breath. In the blackness of the room with only the glare of the screen, she opened the text.

  Stop snooping around or you’ll be buried where no one will ever find you.

  Trying to stifle the gasp that ripped from her throat, Marina threw her phone to the other side of the bed where it couldn’t taunt her and pulled the covers to her chin. She wasn’t safe here in her fortress. She wasn’t safe anywhere. Someone wanted to stop her from discovering the truth, and that made her want to discover it all the more. Now she had no choice but to dig deeper to find it.

  Chapter Eight

  “No!” Marina startled herself awake with a scream which caused her to tighten her g
rip on her bedcovers. She raked her gaze across her bedroom, now bathed in morning light. She’d made it through the night alive. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth. “Thank you, Lord.”

  Stiff-necked, she sat up in bed, pulled her hair into one thick strand, and combed her fingers through the mess while she assessed her situation. Shaking off the mental morning fog, she remembered how last night had ended. The text had come in as she was settling down for sleep and had sent a shot of terror through her veins.

  She winced as the incident skittered across her mind. Her phone buzzed at the foot of her bed where it had landed when she’d thrown it last night. She froze. What if whoever had sent her the text now called?

  It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be the victim any longer.

  She leaned over and snatched the phone off the covers. The name on the caller I.D. sent a wave of tranquility through her and a smile to her face. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Acres, this is Detective Pennington.”

  Detective Pennington? “Yes, good morning, Stev—Detective.” What was with all the formality?

  “I’d like to come over this afternoon with my partner to ask you a few more questions about Friday night.”

  Maybe his partner was present, and he had to hide the fact he’d allowed her to call him by his first name. “Sure. That’s what you said when we talked last night. What time would you like to come?”

  “How about 1:00 p.m.?”

  “That sounds fine. It’ll give me time to recuperate from the traumatic night I had.”

  “What happened?” Concern in his voice bled through the line.

  She pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. “I received a threatening text not too long after we spoke. I sat up in my bed with the covers up to my chin until I passed out from the pain meds.”

  “There were no other incidents?”

  She slumped from his lack of concern. “No. Just the text.”

  “Okay, I’ll take an official statement when I come. See you in a while.” He disconnected the call before she had a chance to say goodbye.