by anna snow
She kissed my cheek, waved at the detective, and made her way back to her desk.
I looked at Detective Black and found him studying me from beneath a fringe of mile-long eyelashes.
"See. I wasn't lying," I said with a touch of annoyance.
Detective Black took another step toward me, and I pressed my back up against the cold wall. He pressed the palm of one hand against the wall above my head and leaned close to me. The smile never left his face.
"I'm not sure what kind of game you and your aunt are playing, but you need to be careful. This is a dangerous case, and that client of yours is no saint."
"Tell me about it," I mumbled.
"Come again?"
I shook my head. "Never mind." I didn't think telling him about my and Jason's rocky past was the best idea. That and it was my least favorite story to tell. I liked to compare my past with Jason to stabbing myself in the eye with an inch-long splinter I just spent an hour pulling from my foot.
He peered at me intensely. "I'm serious, Ms. Jackson." His expression sobered. "If you're going to go through with investigating for Jason King, you need to be careful. We wouldn't want to see you get hurt, now would we?"
It wasn't a threat or a warning to beware of him. He was simply warning me to watch after myself. I could tell from the softness of his voice and the expression on his face.
He let his gaze linger on mine for a moment longer. Then he turned on his heel and strode away.
The joke was on him. Jason had already hurt me years ago. But I understood the detective's meaning and wouldn't let his warning fall on deaf ears.
I watched his wide, retreating back as he waved at Mona then disappeared through the same heavy metal door I'd watched her make her way behind earlier.
My welcome was officially used up at the police station for the day, and I was in desperate need of caffeine, particularly in the form of an iced caramel macchiato.
I hurried out to my car, slid in the driver seat, and cranked up the air conditioning. My mind should've been going through all the things I could and needed to do to get this case rolling, but all I could seem to think about was the handsome, emerald-eyed, six-and- a-half-feet-tall, two-hundred-eighty-pound pain in the butt I'd just encountered.
My mind still raced as I stared off into the distance and asked myself, "What in the hell just happened?"
* * *
I hurried through the office door, drink carrier holding three iced caramel macchiatos in hand, and headed straight to my office.
Kelly spotted the coffee I carried and immediately followed like a baby duckling trailing after its mother.
I found Mandy behind my desk hard at work.
"How's it going?" I asked and sat the drink carrier on the desk. I handed Kelly and Mandy their coffee before removing mine and making my way around the desk to stand behind Mandy.
"Did you get to see any of the case file?" Mandy asked, then took an appreciative sip of her drink.
"No." I shook my head, shoved the straw in my cup, and told the girls about how Mona had tried to get the file. "Knowing Mona, I'm sure she'll keep trying," I said. "But I'm not expecting any success. The lead detective spotted me at the station and was on to me the minute he laid eyes on me."
"I see." Kelly spoke up. "Well, Mandy's been hard at work since the minute she walked through the door."
"What are you digging into first? Are you getting anywhere, and has it been easy?" I asked Mandy.
"Smooth as butter." Mandy grinned up at me. "I wasn't sure if you'd be able to see the case file or not, so I started working on the station's system, you know, just in case. Just one more minute and I'll be in."
"How long can we be in their system before they catch us?" I asked.
"Just a few minutes, five at the most I'd say, and I wouldn't risk printing anything. We'll have to be quick. Extremely quick."
I took a sip of my drink and allowed myself a moment to savor the smooth caramel flavor as it hit my tongue, then swallowed.
"Understood. Let's do this."
Kelly nodded her agreement from her seat across from the desk.
"And it's just. That. Easy."
Three final keystrokes and the police station's database popped up on my monitor. Mandy might be the one doing the hacking, but if anyone was taking the fall should we get caught, it would be me. I knew Mandy understood the risks of what she was doing, but there was no way I'd ever let one of my girls take the fall over a case I'd taken on.
"We're in. Now," Mandy flipped her long, curly auburn hair over her shoulder, "what exactly are we looking for?"
I leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen and placed my palm on the desktop. "We need to see anything pertaining to the Lydia Hatchett case. Police reports, evidence, anything from the medical examiner. If they logged it, I want to see it."
I knew that our particular police usually kept two copies of all the reports. One hard copy and one digital. The police report would be public record, but the evidence and medical examiner's report weren't, and those were the reports I really wanted to get my hands on.
"No problem." She smiled and started typing. Moments later the screen changed, and she nodded. "This is the official police report. Of course, more could've been added to the hard copy of the file since this was logged in, and we won't be able to see it until it's added to this electronic file. So this report might not be complete."
"What does it say?" I asked as I fired up my iPad to take notes. I, unlike Kelly, understood technology.
"It states that Lydia Hatchett appears to have been murdered. No surprise there." She clicked around on the screen. "She was found facedown on her bedroom floor with a single gunshot wound to the back of the head." More clicking and scrolling. "There was no sign of forced entry, and the only fingerprints found at the scene belonged to the victim, her husband Robert, and Jason King."
"Not good considering Jason swears they weren't having bouncy-bouncy," Kelly piped up.
"Exactly." I made some notes. "Anything else against Jason evidence-wise?"
"Yeah." She clicked the mouse around. "They found a jacket and money clip that belonged to him hanging over the back of a chair in the bedroom where the body was discovered. Jason identified them as his, and his prints were all over them."
"He told me about those pieces of evidence when he came in this morning. Was a murder weapon found?"
Mandy scrolled down the screen then shook her head. "No. The medical examiner's report states that she was shot in the head with a nine-millimeter handgun, which was not recovered at the crime scene. The head wound is listed as the official cause of death. Ballistics is still pending."
"And Detective Black is the lead detective on this case?"
"Just a sec." She scrolled to the top of the page again and read. "Yes. Detective Tyler Black. Do you know him?"
I knew him all right. Since our meeting at the station earlier in the day I couldn't get the man out of my head, which was so completely uncharacteristic of me.
"Yes," I finally admitted. "I met him at the station this morning."
Mandy smiled over her shoulder at me. "You sound a little breathless there, boss. Is there something you're not telling us?"
I glanced up at Kelly and found her wiggling her eyebrows and biting her coffee straw with a smile.
"You two are hopeless." I chuckled.
I wanted to lie and tell them that the detective had had zero effect on me, but my ability to lie was nonexistent today, so I bit the bullet and told them the truth instead.
"Let's just say that he wasn't what I was expecting. He was…hot."
And remembering the tall, emerald-eyed, raven-haired detective, hot was putting it mildly. In all honesty, he was walking, talking sex in faded blue jeans, but I didn't have time for that right now, nor was I willing to tell the girls. They'd be playing Love Connection before I could finish the coffee I held in my hands.
Mandy laughed. "I see. Well"—she turned back t
o the computer screen—"what else do we need?"
I blinked away from my X-rated thoughts of the buff Detective Black and tapped my iPad.
"I need an address for the Hatchett residence. As much as I don't want to, I need to pay a visit to the crime scene. I know it's been two weeks since the murder, but the police might've missed something. Maybe Robert owns a gun that the police don't know about."
"An illegal gun?" Mandy asked. "We know the first thing they most likely did was run a search to see if Robert is a registered gun owner. Just let me get out of this system, we've been in too long, and the longer we're in, the bigger chance we have of getting caught. I'll get that address for you in just a second."
"Thanks," I said. "I'd like to do a little snooping. I also need you to do some digging into the background of Lydia and Robert Hatchett and our client, Jason King. I need everything you can come up with. Financials, properties they own, business deals and dealings, the works. Can you handle it?"
Mandy closed out of the police systems database and did some little move that cleared my computer of any evidence that she'd ever been snooping around in their files. She really was impressive. Thank goodness she used her powers for good instead of evil.
"Who do you think you're talking to?" she grinned over her slightly plump shoulder and hiked a thumb at herself. "I got this."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and seconds later I had the address to the Hatchett residence.
"Hold the place down until I get back. I'll check in when I get there."
Kelly tossed a salute at me. Mandy never looked up from the computer but called out, "Be careful."
I grabbed my purse and what was left of my coffee, passed through the office doors, and made my way out to my car.
Now, I know breaking and entering isn't the way every private eye does business, but it was the only choice I had if I wanted to get my hands on any overlooked physical evidence that might clear Jason of any wrongdoing, and to do that, I needed to search every possible avenue, including Hatchett's home.
Twenty minutes and one vanilla shake later (I know, not hip and thigh friendly, but I was hungry, and have you ever tried to eat a salad on the go?), I pulled up to the front of an enormous gated estate ready to do a little breaking and entering. After all, it wasn't like I could walk up to the door and announce that I was coming in to do a little snooping for the guy suspected of murder. And I wasn't as fortunate as the cops who could just wave their warrant in Hatchett's face then come in and snoop as they pleased.
Even if my approach was knocking on the front door, there was no one in the home to question. The Hatchett's didn't have any children, and I doubted I'd get anything out of the maids if they were even working on a Friday, which wasn't likely. Mr. Hatchett had probably demanded the household staff not speak to anyone about him or the murder anyway.
If there was an easier way to discover whether or not Robert Hatchett owned an illegal weapon, I couldn't think of it. Cheaters and liars are my specialty, potential murderers, not so much. As much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, as far as this case was concerned, I was winging it.
I steered my car to the side of the road and stopped. I pulled my purse from the passenger seat into my lap then rooted around inside until I found the slip of paper Mandy had written the address on and rechecked to make sure I had the correct address.
A quick scan of the neighborhood told me all was quiet. From the peeks I'd gotten of the neighbors' vehicles, Mercedes, Bentleys, and one very impressive Audi, my tiny red Volkswagen Beetle stuck out like a sore thumb.
I know. A red Volkswagen Beetle wasn't the most inconspicuous, sensible vehicle for someone in my profession, but I loved my car, and more importantly, it was in my price range. Cheap.
With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, I spotted a tall hedge on the corner of the Hatchett property. I put the car in gear, made a quick U-turn in the middle of the desolate street, and pulled up behind the bush. The hedge was tall enough to hide my car from prying eyes, so I killed the engine, grabbed my gun, a small(ish), very cute .380 handgun, and exited the car. I shoved the weapon in the back waistband of my jeans and pulled my simple blue T-shirt over the grip to conceal it, should I be seen.
As I stepped away from the car, my cell phone buzzed. I slowed my steps, pulled it out of my pocket, and read the display.
Kelly.
I pressed the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"
"Mandy says she just double-checked and confirmed that Hatchett does in fact have a meeting and should be out of the house for at least a couple of hours. You should be clear except for the staff, and considering that it's Friday, they may not even be in today. Mandy couldn't find a schedule for that, but you may not have much to worry about on that front."
"Excellent. I'm outside the gate about to head inside now. I'll call you in ten."
"Got it," she answered and then ended the call.
I put my cell on vibrate and shoved it back into my pocket. The midday sun glared down on me, and sweat started to slither down my back. I took a deep breath and quickened my steps down the sidewalk leading toward the backyard.
When I reached the rear corner of the tall, wrought-iron fence surrounding the house, I checked my surroundings. The rear of the Hatchett estate and the house across from it sat on the end of a dead-end street. Directly behind the houses was a slight hill leading up to a thick, tree-lined area. When I looked about and was certain I hadn't piqued the interest of any nosey neighbors, I stepped around the fence between the grassy hill and the back of the wrought-iron fence enclosing the backyard. Thick, green ivy covered the fence, giving the occupants in the backyard a semblance of privacy. I slid my hand between the vines and pulled them apart, making a gap just big enough to see through.
I pressed my face up to the opening and looked around.
The backyard appeared empty, so I switched my attention to the windows of the house. They too were void of life both upstairs and down. From the looks of it, I was in the clear where the household staff was concerned. I jumped as high as I could and grabbed hold of the top of the fence, hoisted myself up, and climbed to the top.
It took some effort, but I finally got myself into a position where I could slide my leg in between the sharp, decorative spikes lining the top of the fence. Once I'd finally wiggled my way into a sitting position between the spikes and steadied myself atop the fence, I wiggled both legs over to the other side. When I'd made it completely past the spikes and was on the other side of the fence, I dropped quickly down to the ground without incident. While crouched in my ninja position I took a moment to scan the area.
No alarms blared, and no ginormous dogs had me in their sights as their next meal. I was the only one in the yard. I sprinted across the yard just in case I'd missed someone in the house windows. Once on the amazing stone patio I slowed to a jog and then pressed my back against the wall of the house. I was in a secluded area but still worried that someone would see me, so I moved cautiously, back still pressed against the wall, toward the sliding glass doors.
I stepped over a small stone planter and leaned forward to chance a peek inside. From my vantage point I saw that the patio doors led into a well-equipped kitchen. Beyond the kitchen I could see the dining area, and even some of the living area and foyer were visible thanks to the house's open floor plan.
I didn't see any movement inside, so I slid my maxed-out credit card (thanks to my need for a house with food and running water) from my back pocket, just in case I needed to do a little lock-jimmy, but when I gripped the door handle and pulled, the door slid open easily on a set of well-greased tracks.
I released the breath I'd been holding. No alarms blared, which honestly surprised the business out of me. A murder had occurred in the residence only two weeks ago. I kind of thought the house would have a little better security, but apparently I was wrong.
Either Hatchett wasn't worried about a repeat performance because he was the killer, he hired the killer, o
r he just had no idea how lax his household staff was with security when he was away, because I could clearly see an alarm panel beside the main entry door.
I took a tentative step inside and slid the door shut behind me, thankful my shoes didn't squeak on the waxed-tile floor. I stood frozen in place and listened for any sign that I wasn't the only one in the house. When nothing but silence greeted me, I made my way across the state-of-the-art kitchen and into what appeared to be a formal dining room. From there, I tiptoed into a massive living area. The house was so quiet it gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I squashed the feeling, hiked up my big-girl panties, and located the staircase that led up to the second floor.
I figured it would be easier to search the upstairs portion of the house starting with the crime scene and work my way back downstairs. I learned in my training days that most people kept their safes in either the bedroom, home office, or study. I figured that if Hatchett owned a gun, he'd be smart enough to keep it in a safe.
Finding that safe, if it even existed, was my number one priority.
I quickly ascended the stairs and made my way down a long, wide hallway.
Most of the doors along the hallway stood open, so it was easy to see that the rooms were mostly guest bedrooms and bathrooms. When I came to the end of the corridor, the last door was shut tight.
I took another quick glance behind me, then leaned my ear against the door and listened.
Nothing.
I grasped the doorknob and twisted. Locked.
I grabbed my trusty old maxed-out credit card in between the door and the doorframe and began to wiggle it back and forth. What felt like a century later, I heard the telltale click of the lock disengaging.
With a sigh of relief, I cautiously stuck my head inside and peeked around.
Yeah, I knew this entire idea was a crazy move. I knew better than to be sneaking into the house of someone as powerful as Robert Hatchett where his wife had been murdered weeks earlier—and in broad daylight, no less—but what other choice did I have?
