They were there – on the other side of the door!
The pills clinked against the bottle. Shit! He wrapped a hand around the plastic to muffle it and let one pill slide down to the opening. He popped it in his mouth and waited for the inevitable. They would come in and find him. Victor would press charges, and he’d lose his job.
I shouldn’t have come in here. I shouldn’t have come.
CHAPTER 17
ONCE HE HAD arrived at the front entrance of the Algarotti factory, Jeff went to work on the stainless steel lock on the glass front door. From his messenger bag, he retrieved a home-fashioned L-shaped strip of copper and a custom-made pick with a tulipwood handle and aluminum blade. Thirteen seconds after working the lock, he turned the tumbler and opened the door. The lobby reminded him of a credit union office – white walls, grey carpet, fluorescent lights and clear plastic racks with printed collateral. After a quick snarl of his nose, he sprinted to the administrative offices.
He rummaged through Scot’s desk drawers, finding nothing of interest until he reached the largest one. Instead of files, he found personal items – toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and a gi, a garment worn for mixed martial arts. Explains the cauliflower ears. Closing the drawer, Jeff grabbed a couple of sample bottles of water on top of the desk and stuffed them into his messenger bag. For the road.
He decided to check out Victor’s office. Before he could head down the hall, however, he saw the door to that office opening.
Jeff bolted into the bathroom. What the hell? No one’s supposed to be here today. He texted “SOS” to Virginia and Emory. He was about to text more when he heard someone at Scot’s desk.
He inched the bathroom door open just enough to see who would be coming from Victor’s office. It was Scot. Victor’s assistant was now sitting at his desk, typing at the computer.
Great! No telling how long he’s going to be there. How am I supposed to get out? He closed the door and texted Virginia and Emory again. “Scot’s here. I’m stuck in bathroom near his desk. I could use a distraction.”
As the minutes droned by, Jeff kept his ear to the door, waiting for an opportunity to escape. What’s taking them so long? I left the front door unlocked.
At last, the keyboard tapping stopped. Is he finally leaving? Jeff cracked the door again.
Now turned away from the computer monitor, Scot touched his desk in several places as if he were killing ants. He opened the large desk drawer.
Damn! He must’ve realize someone went through his desk. Or, stupid me, that I took his water.
Scot’s eyes darted around the room, and they landed on the bathroom door.
Jeff let the bathroom door close all the way. He stood against the wall, hoping he could hide behind the door when Scot opened it and sneak out while he was checking the stalls for the intruder.
He could hear Scot coming closer. He flattened himself against the wall as much as he could and held his breath. The handle to the bathroom door turned. The door cracked open.
CRASH!
A distant sound he couldn’t decipher made Jeff jump. What was that?
The door closed once again.
Jeff released his breath in a quiet sigh as he realized Scot had left to investigate the source of the noise. He opened the door a crack, and saw no one around. He stepped out of the bathroom and sprinted to Victor’s office.
Jeff walked past the small desk in the corner and glanced at the only thing on it – a photo of Victor and Ian smiling within a white frame. He continued to Victor’s desk and rifled through the drawers. He discovered that one was locked. No problem. He opened it in one swift motion of his lock pick. “Well, look what we have here.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and took a picture of the .32 caliber revolver inside the desk drawer.
As his thoughts flagellated him for his poor choices, Emory realized that he no longer heard voices. Did they pass by? They must have. He waited a moment longer before creeping from the break room in search of a way out. I should’ve asked him where he planned to go once he was inside.
He found his way to the lobby. From where he stood, there were three corridors, including the one that he had just walked through. He peeked down the other two – one leading to the administrative offices and one to ancillary offices – looking for any signs of Jeff.
Maybe he’s trapped somewhere, hiding like I was. Emory pulled out his phone to see if Jeff had texted again. He had! Emory noticed the time the message was sent as he opened it. I must’ve been on the truck. I didn’t even feel it.
The message read, “Scot’s here. I’m stuck in bathroom near his desk. I could use a distraction.”
Emory pocketed his phone and eyed a standalone display that held an assortment of company brochures. He kicked out one of its legs, and the plastic rack crashed to the ground, fanning brochures across the floor.
Emory ran out the front door and into the surrounding woods, hiding behind a thick pine tree. He peered to the side of the trunk to see if anyone followed him out. Two seconds later, he saw Scot exiting the building. Emory watched as Victor’s assistant stood in place and pushed up his glasses to look around for a brief moment before returning inside.
Emory leaned his back against the tree to calm himself, but he yelped when he saw a man now standing in front of him. “Jeff! You startled the crap out of me.”
“You came. Thanks for the distraction.”
“You’re…” Emory gasped. “…welcome.” He grabbed at his heart, which was again banging against his ribcage.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Let’s go. Emory’s fingers dug into his pec, trying to keep his heart in its place.
Jeff could see the tremor in Emory’s hands and the rapid rise of and fall of his chest. He placed his hands on the special agent’s shoulders. “No, you’re not. Are you having a panic attack?”
Emory nodded.
“Can’t you hold it in until we get to the car?” When Emory growled at him, Jeff had his answer. “Forget I asked. Your pills!”
“Took…a pill. Has…hasn’t…kicked in yet.”
“All right. I’ve been reading about this. I need to calm you down.” Jeff took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes.” He calmed his voice to a soothing tone. “Picture yourself at a beautiful beach on a remote island, gentle waves lapping at your heels as you lie on the white sand, mojito in hand.” Jeff waited for a few seconds but heard no change in his breathing and still saw the trembling in his hands. “Okay, what’s your happy place?” Emory couldn’t answer, so he took a guess. “Imagine you’re at a shooting range, having a grand old time blowing the heads off targets one after another. You can’t miss. Now imagine your fears, anything that scares you or holds you back, have become the targets. Just like before, you can’t miss. You’re taking them out one by one until there are no more targets. All of your fears, every little thing that causes you stress, they’re all gone. All that’s left is the elation over what you’ve accomplished.”
Jeff stopped talking. Emory was no longer gasping or clutching his chest. He grinned and squeezed Emory’s shoulders. “It worked!”
“Yeah, it did.” Emory smiled as his body relaxed. Actually, I think my pill just kicked in.
“I’m the Miracle Worker. You know, you should consider getting that medication in injections. That way, I could just shoot you with a dart gun the next time you have an attack.”
Emory sneered at him. “I’ll consider it.”
“Are you okay to walk now?”
“I’m fine.” Emory started back to the car with Jeff at his side.
“Who told you this place would be empty today?”
“Scot. Did he see you?”
“Almost. Hey, did you know Victor has a door to the outside?”
“He does? I just remember seeing a closet door in his office.”
“It’s not a closet.” Jeff took out his phone and showed him the photos he had taken. “Look what I found in Victor’s desk.”
&
nbsp; “That’s a .32 caliber. The same type of gun that was used to kill Rick’s dog.”
Jeff scowled at him. “Holding onto that bit of information, were you?”
Emory didn’t respond.
“I thought we were partners.”
Emory stopped and pointed at Jeff’s chest, shy of touching it. “You’re not my partner. I have a partner.”
“And where is he?” Jeff looked around with his hands spread. “He’s certainly not here helping you.”
“Helping me what? Helping me by trying to talk me into breaking the law?”
“I hate to have to tell you this, but you did break the law.”
“Technically, I didn’t.” Emory started walking again.
“What, because I picked the lock and you didn’t? You know as well as I do that’s a bogus argument.”
“No. I entered through the back door, which was wide open.”
Jeff grabbed Emory’s arm. “Stop stealing from my playbook, and get that smug look off your face.”
“I’m not smug. I’m just right.” Emory jerked free and continued walking.
“You know, this whole helping-each-other-out thing was a big mistake!” Jeff hastened his stride to get ahead of Emory.
“Agreed!”
The PI hurled himself around and jabbed his finger into Emory’s chest. “You think you’re hot shit because you have a badge. We do the same thing, but you look down on me because I’m not employed by the government. Big deal! I’m you without the badge!”
“Why do you do it?” asked Emory.
“Do what?”
“Your job.”
Jeff threw out his arms. “Why do you think?”
Emory explained, “I joined the bureau to help people – to be part of the greater good.”
Jeff rolled his beautiful eyes. “You’re such a saint.”
“I’m not saying I’m a saint, but my reasons are at the very least bordering on altruistic. Yours are greed and, in this case, competitiveness.”
“I’m done here.” Jeff started walking again. “We’ll take you into town, and you can rent a car or hitchhike or take a bus or whatever. I really don’t care.”
Emory followed a few steps behind Jeff as they plodded through the remaining woods to Virginia’s car. The PI dropped and crouched behind a tree, motioning Emory to do the same. Emory complied and stayed low as he made his way forward to see what had alarmed him. Once he was behind Jeff, he could see a truck on the road just above where Virginia parked her car. Virginia was now standing outside her car talking to the foreman.
CHAPTER 18
VIRGINIA HANDED HER keys to the foreman, and he slipped behind the wheel of her car. He drove it toward the road and, as he did, she scanned the woods with frantic eyes.
Jeff whistled like a mockingbird and waved when Virginia looked his way. She put up her hand in a signal for them to stay put. She met the foreman at her car, now parked in front of his truck. He got out of her car and handed her the keys, and the two exchanged some pleasantries before he returned to his truck and drove away. Virginia slipped into her car and texted Jeff that the coast was clear.
Jeff dropped into the passenger seat. “What was that all about?”
Virginia waited for Emory to climb in and shut the back door. “That was the foreman at the water factory. He said he was looking for someone who had broken in, and he thought I might be an accomplice. I told him I had hit an icy patch and was too scared to try driving the car back onto the road.”
Jeff put a hand on her shoulder. “Quick thinking.”
“Thanks. So what did you two find out?”
Jeff filled her in on his experience in the factory, and when he was finished, Virginia asked, “Emory, did you find anything?”
The PI snorted and answered for him, “Oh, don’t ask him. He’s too altruistic to help us crime whores.”
“Okay, what did I miss?” She looked in the rearview mirror, and Emory diverted his eyes. “Fine. Someone at least tell me where to go next.”
Emory answered, “The sheriff’s station.”
Virginia was the only one to acknowledge Emory when he thanked them for the ride. As he walked toward the front door of the trailer, he noticed a truck parked beside the sheriff’s in the tiny parking lot. It was the same truck the foreman at the water factory was driving when he stopped to help Virginia.
“Crap!”
Emory about-faced. He saw a coffee shop across the street and decided he’d wait there until the foreman left. With a pull on the glass-paned door, he smelled the sweet caramel of grinding coffee beans, and he took a deep whiff as if he expected his lungs to absorb the caffeine. Behind the counter, he noticed Britt Algarotti’s best friend. “Tati. I didn’t realize you worked here.”
Tati stopped scooping coffee into the large paper filter long enough to offer a smileless greeting, “Hi Agent—”
“Rome.”
Her eyes rolled up and down his plaid shirt and faux-fur-lined denim jacket. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” She topped off the filter and dropped it into the brew basket of one of the coffee makers. “What can I get for you?”
“Just a plain coffee.” He looked at the clock on the wall behind her, which read half past noon. “Why aren’t you at school?”
Tati placed a cup in the coffee dispenser and pushed the button. “I took the day off to go to Britt’s funeral.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
Her eyes dashed toward the opening door and three new customers. “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes. I normally work in the afternoons, right after school, so I had to switch shifts today.”
Emory nodded and handed her money for the coffee. “Are you doing okay?”
Tati snarled at him. “You sure are asking a lot of questions.”
Emory brushed off her tone with a friendly laugh. “It is kind of my job.”
“Well, you’re keeping me from mine.” She nodded to the newcomers, who were standing behind Emory, waiting to be served.
Emory looked behind him and back at her. “Sorry.” He grabbed his coffee and sat at a small table by the window, facing the sheriff’s station. He spent the time in between sips going over the case notes and pictures on his phone. When he was three-quarters done with his drink, he saw the foreman exit the building. Finally! Downing the rest of the coffee, he got up to leave but stopped after a hand touched the crook of his right arm.
“Agent Rome.” Tati released her grip when he faced her. She was now wearing a white, quilted coat and on her way out.
“Tati, what is it?”
“I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Emory smiled at her, appreciative of the apology. “That’s okay. It’s not a day you should be experiencing so young.”
“Thanks for understanding.” The pale skin surrounding her numerous freckles reddened. “I’ll walk out with you.”
Emory opened the door for her. Once outside, their icy breath intermingled as they said their goodbyes. Tati walked down the street to her car, while Emory stepped over a blackened dune of snow to cross the street.
Emory’s father greeted him as soon as he entered the station. “Is Wayne with you?”
“Just me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Come on into my office. I want to talk to you.”
Emory followed his father and closed the office door behind him. “What is it, Dad?”
The sheriff leaned against his desk and waited for Emory to sit before speaking. “There was a break-in at the Algarotti factory today.”
“Really?” Emory asked in his most innocent tone.
The sheriff crossed his arms and glared down at his son. “You want to tell me why the description of the intruder I was given matches you to a T – right down to that shirt and your size fourteen boots?”
“He could tell my shoe size?”
“No, that part came from me,” the sheriff growled. “I’m the one who bo
ught them for you. Now what on Earth would you, an officer of the law, mind you, be doing breaking into a business that was closed?”
“I didn’t technically break in. The door was open.”
“Stop with the justifications!” Sheriff Rome’s wrinkles dropped from his forehead to center around his squinting eyes. For the next nine minutes, he lectured his son about following the letter of the law, a lecture that ended when Emory apologized and promised not to repeat the transgression. The sheriff said that he would accept the apology and make sure the case ended there but added, “Now they think this intruder might have something to do with the water thefts over the past few weeks, so you best avoid contact with whoever saw you today.”
Emory held up his right hand. “I will. I promise. About the thefts, what do you know?”
“They thought it was an employee, and they fired him, but we didn’t have enough to arrest him. A fella named Charlie Claymon.”
Emory’s ears perked up at the name. “Claymon? As in Dan Claymon, Britt Algarotti’s ex-boyfriend?”
“The same family. Charlie is Dan’s father.”
“Scot Trousdale told me that Dan pulled a knife on Victor the day before Britt died and threatened him.”
“He did? No one reported it.” The sheriff cupped his chin in his hand. “You think he was seeking revenge for his dad getting fired?”
“I’d bet on it. I wouldn’t doubt if that’s why he and Britt broke up.” Emory stood and looked his father in the eyes. “Dad, we need to bring him back in. We need to talk to him and his father. Separately.”
“You can’t interrogate the minor without a parent present.”
“Then get his mother to come too. You take one, and I’ll take the other.”
The sheriff scuffed his foot at the floor. “Fine. We’ll try it your way.”
CHAPTER 19
THAT AFTERNOON, DAN Claymon entered the sheriff’s station with his parents in tow. The teenager unzipped his brown leather jacket as he nodded to Emory. “’Sup, Fast and Furious?”
Murder on the Lake of Fire Page 10
