Grafted into Deceit (Intertwined Book 3)

by Sherri Wilson Johnson

  Ms. Lottie patted Marina on the back and smiled at Cora. “I sure will. Be right back.”

  Marina grabbed her hand before she slipped away. “Ms. Lottie, if you don’t mind, will you make that a coffee with half and half?”

  “Coming right up.” Ms. Lottie rocketed away, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.

  Cora reached into a green dish shaped like a chicken and plucked out a handful of cashews. “Coffee, huh? I thought you needed something to calm you down a bit.” She popped a few cashews into her mouth.

  “Cora, being here has already done that. This place is something special.” Marina loved her modern townhome, but there was something inviting and stable about exposed wooden beams, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a creek stone fireplace.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  After Miss Lottie brought Marina her coffee and banana bread, Cora got right to the point. “What brings you out here today? I wasn’t sure you were going to get out of the car.”

  “I almost didn’t. I couldn’t decide if I’d made the right choice in coming, but I hoped you and Rex had answers.”

  “Answers to what?”

  Marina exhaled and tried not to sound as desperate as she felt. “Something strange is going on around here—in Southern Hope, and I don’t know what it is.”

  “How so?”

  Marina stroked the soft throw and sipped her coffee. “Well, Friday night I was heading back to the office to pick up some files I needed to work on over the weekend, and a guy ran out in front of me. I hit him with my car.”

  Cora’s mouth fell open, and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Oh my goodness!”

  “I know! Tell me about it. I don’t know who or what he was running from, but the detective who came out to the scene seems to think there’s suspicious activity going on at my business.” Marina cut off a piece of banana bread and popped it into her mouth. As the sweet treat dissolved on her tongue, staying forever at this haven sounded like her best plan.

  “Like what?”

  She shook her head as she nibbled. “He thinks drugs are being manufactured.”

  Cora finished the last of her cashews and dusted the salt residue from her hands. “Drugs? At your place? What kind?”

  “Marijuana.”

  Cora’s eyes widened. “But you’d know if someone was using your facility to grow marijuana, right?”

  Marina shrugged. “I don’t know. I rarely go back to the greenhouses. I stay so busy on the sales end of things and hosting events like the pumpkin patch and corn maze. I have suspicions of my own, but they don’t involve drugs.”

  Cora folded her hands in her lap and tilted her chin. “What’s going on?”

  Marina didn’t know if she should confide in Cora. Was it gossiping if she mentioned her fears? No, not if she didn’t mention anyone’s name. “A bunch of money is missing from our accounts. Iris doesn’t seem to think there’s any reason for worry.”

  “But you’re worried?”

  “Oh yes! But now that the detective suspects drug activity, I’m concerned something else is going on too. Do you and Rex know anything? Have you noticed anything suspicious going on around my property?”

  “I don’t usually go out to where our property lines connect, but Matt and Rex and the ranch hands are out there all the time. Rex hasn’t said anything to me about your place, though. He did say some of our ranch hands have started coming in late every day and aren’t showing up where they need to. He’s been a little suspicious, but I don’t know if he suspects drugs or gambling or plain ol’ irresponsibility. He said he was going to talk to Stephen Pennington about it. He ran into him at your place the other night.”

  Marina finished off the last morsel of banana bread and washed it down with her coffee. “Yes, he’s the detective I was talking about.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “I hope so. He and his partner kind of want me to do some unofficial investigating of my company, but that’s their job. I have to figure out these money issues. And I don’t believe they’re connected.”

  “If you need us at all, we’re here. You can come stay here if you need to. Anything at all, just ask.”

  The door swung open before Marina could respond, and a couple rushed in out of the wind, laughing. Their high-dollar leather jackets and boots, too sophisticated for ranch life, revealed their visitor status. Where were their fancy suits and briefcases? They must be guests of Ms. Lottie’s B&B.

  Cora stood and waved. “Hey, Kathryn and Phil. Come meet my friend Marina. She owns a landscaping company on the adjacent property.”

  The couple joined them in the den. Phil’s hair reminded Marina of Steven’s, chestnut brown and closely cut. His light brown eyes reflected the admiration he obviously felt for the dark-haired petite woman by his side. Everyone greeted each other in unison, and Marina picked up on a New York, maybe Brooklyn, accent from Phil and a super sweet Southern accent from Kathryn.

  Cora continued, “Marina, Kathryn and Phil are here on their honeymoon. I met Kathryn a couple of years ago when my ex-husband was involved with trafficking drugs. She was the Assistant District Attorney at the time in charge of his case.”

  Wait! Cora’s ex-husband was a drug trafficker? How did she not know this bit of information?

  Kathryn added, “That’s right, and when I married Phil, I knew right where I wanted to spend our honeymoon, right here at a working cattle ranch and a bed and breakfast with one of the nicest ladies I know.”

  “You’re making me blush.” Cora laughed.

  Marina tried to process all the information they’d thrown at her. “You’re a district attorney?”

  “I was. I’m on leave. Phil’s a private investigator and a former defense attorney. We’re waiting to see where the Lord wants us to go now that we’re married.”

  Wow, a couple who wanted to serve the Lord together. That was rare. “I’m super glad to meet you guys.”

  Cora returned to her chair. “Marina had a scary experience Friday night. Someone ran out in front of her car down the road here, and she hit him.”

  Phil spoke with deep concern in his voice. “That’s awful. Is he okay?”

  “No one knows. His body was missing when the detective went back to check on him. That wasn’t even the worst of it, even though that’s horrible. We were shot at too. They took me to the hospital with minor injuries. They’re still looking for the guy they think shot at us and the guy I hit.”

  Phil directed all his attention toward Marina. “You let us know if you need anything. You or the detective. We’re here all week, and we’d be happy to help in any way we can.” He turned to Kathryn. “Right, Kathryn?”

  “Absolutely! We can even stay a little longer to help out.”

  “That goes for me and Rex too.” Cora smiled.

  By the time Marina pulled into the parking area of her office, much of her fear and worry had dissipated. She’d managed to drive by the scene of the wreck and pass the creek with the fallen dogwood where the truck had tried to run her over all without having an anxiety attack. She’d even somehow managed to dispose of her earlier anger toward the detectives. Stopping at the ranch for time with Cora and a treat from Ms. Lottie had worked wonders. She was now ready to find out as much as she could about the missing money and was open to the fact she might find something helpful for Steven and John.

  The lies had to stop. The missing money, Jason’s missing body, the missing suspect, and the suspected drug issue had consumed her mind and stolen her recent days, and she wasn’t going to let them dominate her time any longer.

  Once Marina had searched through all the filing cabinets and still hadn’t found anything that explained the advertising costs, she gravitated toward Iris’s desk drawers. Guilt and fear threatened to choke her—guilt over the invasion of privacy she’d commit when she opened those drawers, fear over being caught and what she’d find. But she had to know.

  She found the key to
Iris’s bottom desk drawer taped to the underneath of her pencil cup. She still used this old college trick? With one turn of the key, she unlocked what would hopefully give her the answers to her questions.

  With the care of a watchmaker, Marina sifted through the contents of the drawer. Iris leaned toward the OCD side of things and could possibly know the exact order in which she’d left her belongings. Things had to stay as perfect as possible.

  Marina didn’t care about the coupons for a massage, the menus from Iris’s favorite take out places, or the wrist brace Iris sometimes wore on her right wrist when her carpal tunnel syndrome acted up. Nor did she concern herself with the essential oils, bottles of organic lotion, or the basket of herbal teas. But when she discovered the box of 500 count #10 envelopes filled with duplicates of the checks to Blossom Marketing, her heart raced, and she had to force herself to breathe.

  Why would Iris feel the need to hide this? There was no doubt that was exactly what she’d done.

  Marina scanned the first few checks. Consecutive dates of service on each following check confirmed this was a regular expense Iris paid. This all but ruled out Mack’s involvement. On the fifth check in the stack, her signature nearly jumped off the page at her and slapped her in the face.

  “My signature?” She flipped through the rest of the checks like a poker dealer in Las Vegas with a deck of cards. Her signature appeared on every check. “How?”

  The signatures were printed on the checks which had been printed from online software. How did her signature become a digital file? Who had scanned it into the computer?

  Her hands trembled and she couldn’t stop them as she rifled through the stack of checks. This betrayal would mean the end of their friendship. Iris couldn’t explain this away, couldn’t deny her involvement in whatever this scheme was. The canceled checks were in her locked drawer.

  If Marina left the checks here, Iris could destroy the evidence. But if she took them with her, Iris would know she’d found them. She couldn’t chance that because she needed this information—and more.

  After waiting a few minutes for the bleeding of her heart to subside, Marina slid her phone from her pocket and took pictures of every check, front and back. Then she replaced them in the box and slipped it back into the drawer.

  A manila 9x12 envelope lined the bottom of the drawer, and Marina couldn’t let it go unopened. She slid it out and opened the clasp but paused to glance out into the hall. No one was here but her.

  But still. She had to be cautious.

  As she pulled the papers from the envelope, her stomach ached like someone had punched her in it. Her eyes stung from the tears she’d let escape. Life wouldn’t be the same again for a long time.

  Chapter Ten

  Steven had disillusioned himself long enough by assuming he could concentrate on television while this case nagged and nibbled at his mind like a rat chewing on refuse in a train tunnel. While John enjoyed the evening with his family, Steven sat here alone in his home with nothing but the stale pizza he’d picked up after stopping by the ranch and the memories of failed relationships and unsolved, mind-aggravating cases.

  Marina Acres bombarded his thoughts, too, and not only because of her witness status. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Why did her laugh and her searching eyes keep filling up the empty spaces in his mind and in his heart?

  The setting sun streamed in through his living room windows, dust particles floating in the air. It’d been too long since he’d cleaned house. The walls imprisoned him today, the day that should bring focus on the Lord. He had to get out of here.

  Once changed into his blue jogging suit, he crammed his feet into his Nike running shoes. Maybe five miles would give him perspective. No, it’d take ten miles to make headway in this case and to clear his thoughts of the woman with soul-penetrating blueish-green eyes who he was supposed to look at only in a professional way.

  Ten miles? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t tackle that many miles. His blood pressure was still running too high from his poor eating habits. He’d take one step at a time and process what he could without losing sight of the main goal—putting away drug traffickers. And keeping Marina safe.

  Since experience had taught him drivers didn’t always notice reflectors on clothing and shoes, he kept to the sidewalks this late afternoon. With each dodge of an overhanging tree branch and each guarded placement of his feet on the concrete, he reminded himself progress took time. He’d solve his case the same way he’d bring his blood pressure down—one day at a time.

  What did he already know?

  One: Something odd was happening after hours at Acres and Fields Nursery.

  Two: Rex O’Reilly suspected drug activity strange at his ranch.

  Three: Someone, maybe Kemar Mejora and the escaped passenger of the pickup, wanted Jason Burney dead.

  Four: They wanted Marina Acres dead, too, enough to try to run her over—and send mysterious flowers, shoot her with paintball pellets, and send late-night threatening texts.

  Five: A jump drive contained a list of names. Were they debt amounts?

  Six: Marina knew the source of the missing money but didn’t understand the reason for the expenses.

  Seven: She refused to help Steven and John tie everything together.

  Steven pounded the pavement with each step, his heartbeat hammering in his head. “Come on, God, lead me to the answers, please.”

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he halted with a chuckle. Was God calling? He jogged in place to keep up his heart rate.

  The name on the caller I.D. made him jump—Acres and Fields Nursery and Landscape Design.

  With one swipe of his finger, he answered the call. “Marina? Is every—thing all—right?” Acid from the pizza rose into his esophagus and choked him. He bent and tried to push down the burn, but that only made it worse.

  “I’m at the office.” Her voice was flat, dull. Her fear spread through the phone line like a plague and attacked Steven.

  “What?” The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he bolted upright.

  “I had to come.” Her voice trembled. “I couldn’t sleep unless I had answers.”

  Pacing, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to remain calm. “How did you get there?”

  “I borrowed my neighbor’s car.”

  There was no way he could protect her if she didn’t obey his orders. “Why didn’t you call me before you went? It’s barely been forty-eight hours since the accident, and we’ve still got an escaped suspect out there. You’re not safe there alone. Especially at night.”

  After his rant, she cleared her throat. “Do you want to hear what I have to say?”

  He strode over to the wrought iron fence which lined the street in front of his neighborhood and leaned against it. A mosquito buzzed in his ear, and he swatted it away. “Yes. Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “I found a box full of canceled checks written to Blossom Marketing. Most of them were signed with my forged signature.”

  “Forged?” He checked his pulse. His heart rate had regained normalcy.

  “Printed on a printer, to be exact. Can you believe that?” The trembling in her voice had been replaced with fury.

  He wiped the sweat from his eyes and began walking back to his house. He’d wanted a break in the case. This could be it. “Did you find anything else?”

  “Yes, I found an envelope with a spreadsheet in it which contained a list of every check written to Blossom Marketing. There was also a key to a safety deposit box at the bank. I’m going tomorrow to see what I can find out.”

  “I should go with you.”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to raise any suspicions and have the bank contact Iris.”

  Good point. While he wanted to be there with her in case she found out something which connected to the drugs, his presence might raise suspicions and put Marina in more danger. “You call if you need me, though.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  “A
re you heading back to your house now?”

  “In a minute. I’m about to check the delivery truck to make sure all the orders were delivered. I don’t need my phone ringing at 8:00 a.m. with dissatisfied church administrators because they didn’t have all their Thanksgiving arrangements.”

  “Be careful.” Steven opened his front door and climbed the stairs to his second-floor bedroom.

  “I will be. I’m heading out there now.”

  “I would’ve driven you over there, you know.”

  She laughed. “After I threw you out of my house?”

  He smirked at her honesty. “Yes.”

  “Sure. Right.”

  “I would have.”

  She waited for a few seconds, as if weighing his statement for its legitimacy, then continued. “Why? I didn’t even ask you to forgive my rude behavior.”

  “You don’t have to. My partner and I shouldn’t have asked you to do our job for us.”

  “Hmmm … So you’re still planning to investigate?”

  “Absolutely. Something’s going on within the walls of your company, and we’re going to find out what it is.” He stiffened his shoulders and prepared for her argument.

  Instead, a screech from the other end of the line pierced Steven’s ear and penetrated his heart. “Marina! What’s wrong?” He ran back down the stairs, reopened his door, slammed it behind him, and rushed to the parking lot without waiting for her response.

  “Steven!” The frantic cry of his victim—of Marina—jumped through the phone and grabbed him by the neck. He couldn’t get to his SUV fast enough.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just found—” The phone went dead.

  ***

  Dropping the cordless phone, Marina bolted to the other side of the truck as she slid on pine straw and pieces of mulch along the way and gagged from the odor penetrating her lungs. She stumbled and dropped her flashlight before reaching the truck’s cold corrugated steel wall, and it crashed to the littered floor and rolled out of reach. Breath fled her lungs, and she was tempted to let herself pass out again like she’d done on Friday night. But she couldn’t give in to her desire to escape this nightmare.