by Christa Wick
Quinn kept the frown out of her voice and away from her face. Before Naomi became adept at stealing from stores, she had stolen from Quinn. Jewelry, laptops, even CDs and DVDs. Anything that would give Naomi more and leave Quinn with less.
“I’ll coordinate with the Billings police. They can have the local pawnshops be on the lookout. Most of the owners will play along in trying to stall her. The rest should at least kick her out.”
“You still want us to come over?” Barrett asked.
“Yeah. I need a signature on the witness statement identifying Naomi.”
“Okay, see you in about five,” Barrett advised, taking his phone back.
Catching Barrett’s glance at her, Quinn stopped chewing at her lip and smiled.
Reaching across the cab, he took her hand in his and squeezed. “They’ll catch her.”
Quinn hoped so. Telling Barrett that morning that she loved him didn’t solve anything. Getting the State to waive its rights to the land didn’t do anything more than help her financial situation.
Last night’s despair had been driven by the danger Naomi would continue to present as long as she was free to roam and mete out her special brand of hate and chaos. Until her half-sister was in jail, Quinn couldn’t risk endangering Barrett and his family.
Sighing, she slid her hand from his, pulled out her phone and opened up a web browser. From there, she checked on the name availability for the type of businesses that could be found in Billings. Next she checked whether the web domain was taken. Finding it free, she created a Gmail account for “rhinestonesandrodeos” then sent an email to her old business account, the one she had stopped logging into after Naomi’s last boy soldier had hacked it.
The email, complete with a few intentional typos from the fake sender, sought to confirm that Quinn would be able to make their five o’clock appointment to discuss her designing the store’s site in advance of the grand opening. It also referenced an earlier, nonexistent, email from Quinn mentioning the fire and offering condolences.
“What’s that about,” Barrett asked, reading over her shoulder after he finished parking in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Hopefully, I’m setting a trap,” Quinn answered. “There are way too many pawn shops for them to have much of a chance catching her at one. And, if she’s already on her way out of Billings, this could draw her back.”
“You’re not going to Billings,” he mumbled, getting out of the truck and coming around to her side. “At least you’re not going without me.”
Quinn slid from her seat into his arms. Clinging to him, she buried her face against his chest.
“I can’t have her out there, can’t be around anyone I care about while she’s free to set another fire or pull some other crazy, deadly stunt.”
Barrett snorted, but didn’t argue. Threading his fingers through hers, he tugged Quinn toward the building.
“Let’s get your signature on that paper first. Then we’ll worry about what’s next.”
Sheriff Gamble greeted them at the front desk, his lean face looking slightly embarrassed as he pushed the paper across the counter.
“Can’t believe I forgot to get you to sign these. This time of year, things are so slow everyone starts making rookie mistakes.”
“Everyone but the rookies,” Siobhan laughed, leaving her desk where she monitored the chatter on the patrol radios and took emergency calls to the station.”
Gamble rolled his eyes and handed Quinn a pen.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
“Bait taken,” she murmured. Turning her phone around, she showed the three of them the fake Rhinestone query she had sent in the truck, and then the reply that had just come in from Naomi posing as Quinn.
FROM: Quinn Whitaker
TO: Rhinestones and Rodeos
SUBJECT: Appointment confirmation
Rae, can we move to four-thirty? Still dealing with fallout from the fire and have a five-thirty appointment re: that mess.
“I’ve never heard of Rhinestones and Rodeos,” Siobhan said.
Barrett threw a proud wink at Quinn. “That’s because she made the business up on the fly on the drive from the courthouse.”
“Naomi has hacked all of my accounts at one time or another, so I expected her to be monitoring the old one.”
She hooked Gamble’s gaze.
“Question is, if she decides to go to the fake interview, where do I send her?”
The sheriff pulled out his phone. “Can you stall?”
“I think she’ll definitely wait for my reply for at least an hour, maybe longer.”
“Shouldn’t take that long,” he said, gesturing for them to wait at the front desk while he went into his office.
Siobhan propped her elbows on the counter and clasped her hands together like she was praying. “Please let me go, too.”
“You realize it’s not an actual store?” Barrett teased.
“Duh. I told you I wanted to bust that psycho juvenile delinquent.” Taking a step back, she bounced her hip in their direction. “And, as you both failed to notice, I get to pack heat now.”
“Not if I hear you saying that,” Gamble cautioned, returning from his office.
“Got you on speakerphone, Jim. Miss Whitaker, Barrett Turk and…” Pausing, Gamble rolled his eyes at his armed dispatcher. “Siobhan Turk are listening in. This is Detective Jim Barnes with the Billings Police Department. He’s the one who coordinating with Western Union and the pawn shops.”
“Hey folks, always sorry to have to meet people for official business, especially when its gotten nasty like this.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Quinn assured the man. “Oh, and this is Quinn…Whitaker.”
“Thank you, Miss Whitaker. Jude says you need an address. I have an empty unit at a strip mall, nothing inside and there’s paper covering the windows. That sounds like it might work depending on what you’ve already messaged your suspect.”
“Just the store name and time, I can pretty much work anything into the next email,” she assured the detective.
“Good, here’s the address.”
He rattled off the street and suite number, Siobhan writing it all down in a tight, clean script.
“Now,” he warned, “I can’t bring a civilian into this as far as putting you on the property or in the store, especially without higher authorization given the RAP sheet I’m looking at on your sister and this guy she’s rolling with.”
No one had told Quinn the man’s name yet and she didn’t want to know. She just wanted her sister removed as a threat.
“But,” Barnes continued. “If you want to come down here, I can put you in a surveillance van.”
Siobhan’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open and her hands resuming their pleading pose. Gamble cleared his throat and she immediately straightened up, offering her boss a contrite smile that was only slightly more convincing than the ones Quinn had seen Leah fake.
“The process will go faster if I can get you down here to confirm we grabbed the right person. It’s all pro forma, I mean, but the prosecutors like everything delivered with a gold bow on it.”
Quinn glanced at Barrett. He checked his watch and nodded.
“I’d like to see it, like to know for certain. There’s no ‘pro forma’ when it comes to my sister.”
“Great,” Barnes said. “I’m going to get it started on my end, you message her back. Sheriff Gamble will give you my direct number. When you get a reply, let me know so I can finalize having the resources in place.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Gamble said. “Hanging up now.”
“Bye,” the detective answered, beating Gamble to the disconnect button.
Quinn thought for a few seconds then drafted the reply email.
Four-thirty works for me. We haven’t begun moving stuff into the store and papers are still up on the window. If the door isn’t open, just knock. I look forward to seeing your design suggestions.
She a
dded the address then showed it to Barrett, Gamble and Siobhan.
“She might expect a phone number. Add mine,” Siobhan suggested. “It won’t show my name if she tries it.”
Gamble and Barrett nodded their agreement. Quinn updated the email, her finger hesitating over the send button.
“Okay?” she asked.
“Okay,” they replied in unison.
She hit SEND, heart beating loud enough she was certain everyone else in the room, and maybe the lone prisoner or two in the holding cells, could hear it. As soon as the swoosh of mail being delivered sounded, Siobhan started to pace.
Barrett teased her for it. “Sure you’re cut out for this kind of work? Lots of waiting.”
She sniffed, stuck her nose in the air and waved away his concern.
“Lions pace.”
“Okay, Simba,” Gamble chuckled, his amusement turning the young woman’s cheeks a cherried pink.
Quinn’s phone vibrated. She checked the incoming message.
Great, look forward to it. Also, didn’t I already give you my main contact email? This one is old and I haven’t used it in a few weeks. Don’t want to miss any messages from you. :)
A broad grin ate at the corners of Quinn’s face.
“Wait, that’s bad, isn’t?” Siobhan asked.
“Nope, I made two emails on the way over.” Quinn’s fingers flew over the onscreen keyboard.
Right, sorry! I have same provider but QuinnWhitakerMT.
She hit send, Naomi’s new reply almost instant.
That’s right. See you at four-thirty!
“Now,” Quinn growled. “Let’s see if I’ve learned all my little sister’s tricks.”
She switched over to the MT email and waited. A minute later, a new message popped in spoofing the rhinestonesandrodeos email.
“Wow, she’s how old?” Gamble asked.
“Almost seventeen,” Quinn answered. “She picks up a few tricks from each guy she…uh…dates.”
She read the message out loud. “Quinn, I need to move appointment to six. If not possible, we will have to go with one of the designers we’ve already talked to.”
“So is she going to be there at four-thirty or six?” Barrett asked.
Quinn shrugged. “My guess is she goes in and impersonates me at four-thirty then maybe lurks around until I show up at six.”
She chewed at her lips, reluctant to discuss past encounters with her sister.
“She can be violent,” she said after another second’s hesitation. “That’s why I think she’ll wait around until six.”
Gamble picked up his phone. “I’ll tell Barnes to plan for both.”
While Gamble called the detective, Quinn emailed back with an ingratiating, needy tone to her choice of words, confirming that she would absolutely be there at six and how much she was looking forward to showing them what she could do for their business.
Hitting send, Quinn slumped against Barrett. He wrapped both arms around her and rubbed lightly at her back. She soaked in his warmth and the soothing encouragement of his touch.
“Okay, Barnes is set.” Gamble pulled his hat on then fished his keys from his pocket. “You want to drive there in your own vehicle or with me?”
“We’ll get there in my truck,” Barrett confirmed.
Siobhan looked between her boss and her cousin.
“Chill out, rookie,” Gamble teased. “It’s your phone she might call. I very well can’t leave you here, can I?”
Chapter Twenty
Crammed in the back of a surveillance van, Barrett sat on one side of Quinn, Siobhan on the other. Gamble was in the front passenger seat, Barnes next to him, both men wearing plain brown windbreakers with a logo that matched the company name and colors on the van’s exterior.
“Eyes on that gray sedan,” Barnes said over his headset.
Barrett scanned the three monitors in front of them. The detective had been talking to the men and women stationed around the building. None of them were looking at black and white screens and trying to decide what was grey and what was pink.
“There,” Quinn said as a small four-door appeared in the bottom right corner of the center screen. “That’s her in the passenger seat.”
The car backed into a parking space near the door of the shop with its papered up windows. A female detective and another plainclothes officer waited inside. It was a few minutes before four-thirty and Barnes was hoping that Naomi would go inside, separating her from the driver for an easier takedown.
About five parking spaces away, another cop pretended to have engine trouble. Naomi got out of the car and approached him.
“Dang, she didn’t even dress up for the interview,” Siobhan laughed. “You called it right. Maybe you should get some kind of a criminal minds degree.”
“I just know this particular criminal mind,” Quinn sighed. “I don’t want to learn any others and pray I can put this one behind me.”
“Amen,” Barrett murmured, his lips brushing Quinn’s cheek. Putting his mouth up to her ear, he whispered low enough that only she could make out his words. “Either way, you’re staying with me, love.”
Reaching under the shelf, she found his hand and squeezed lightly.
“Hey, you got any cigarettes on you?” Naomi asked the undercover cop working on his truck.
He appeared to eye the sedan with her boyfriend still in the driver seat, the engine running.
“How many.”
She held up two fingers as she leaned against his truck and looked at what he was working on.
“Hey, my old man is good with engines. Maybe he can help you?”
“Yeah? You mean that guy?” He pulled out the cigarettes and handed her two.
Naomi nodded, put one of the smokes in her mouth. “Light?”
The man held up his lighter and gave it a flick. Despite the absence of any kind of a breeze, Naomi wrapped her hand around the flame and stepped up close to the guy.
“Of course, he’s not much good for anything else,” she teased.
“I hope he’s watching his gun,” Siobhan muttered.
“He’s a pro,” Barnes scolded from the front seat. “I’m betting she goes for the wallet.”
“Not likely,” Quinn said. “She does that and she knows she doesn’t get to wait around for me to show up.”
“Keep it.” The cop working on his truck handed her the lighter with a throaty laugh. “Maybe you sweet talk him into fixing my truck, then we ditch him. What do you say?”
Naomi turned coy, picked a tobacco flake from her lip and flicked it from her finger as she pointed toward the papered up door. “First I have an interview.”
Walking away, she moved like she was on a runway, looking over her shoulder at the man as she returned to the car and stood next to the driver side door, the window down. She handed the cop’s lighter and spare cigarette to her boyfriend.
Bending at the waist, Naomi gave the driver instructions while she waved and jiggled her bottom in the direction of the undercover cop. As she spoke, the microphone inside the lighter picked up every word.
“While I’m inside, why don’t you check and see if there’s anything worth taking in the truck.”
“I thought you wanted to wait around and mess your sister up some. Can’t roll him and stay.”
“Let me figure out the logistics,” Naomi growled. “Just get a look inside. Tools, a good spare tire. My mom’s pissed about losing the Western Union money. She won’t send any more today.”
“You think she’d be pissed about you torching that cabin and car.”
“Yasss,” Siobhan hissed, reaching behind Quinn to offer a high-five to Barrett. “I love it when the perps are utter morons.”
Gamble grunted from the front seat, but didn’t order Siobhan to settle down. Barrett figured the sheriff would save the lecture for the ride home.
“Are you kidding?” Naomi snarked. “I think she might have been touching herself as I described how Quinn’s life turne
d to ashes and blew away.”
“Speaking about touching—”
The boyfriend reached for Naomi but she gracefully sidestepped out of reach. “Remember, go give our new friend a hand while I ‘nail’ Quinn’s interview for her.”
“Ready Team One,” Barnes said.
Team one was the inside team. Barnes and Gamble watched the interior feed from a handset up front. Barrett couldn’t see it from where he sat.
Naomi sashayed up to the store’s door. She tugged on the handle then knocked when it wouldn’t budge.
“Take your time, Team One, boyfriend’s out of the car and moving to Lookout One.”
Quinn shifted in her seat. Barrett stopped watching the screens and stared at her. Like a hummingbird’s wings, her pulse fluttered wildly at her neck. He leaned close and whispered again.
“She’s going down, love, and all because of you.”
Quinn flicked a smile. It struck him then that she didn’t want the credit for her sister getting sent off to jail. He should have thought about it sooner. If this was one of his brothers acting crazy and trying to ruin his life and endangering the lives of others in the process, he’d still be torn up about luring him to an arrest.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his arm sliding across the back of her chair to rest gently against her shoulders. “But you deserve to be free and you are keeping her from hurting other people. Who knows what she would do if it was a civilian instead of a cop working on that truck.”
Nodding, Quinn turned and hid her face against his neck for a second.
“Lookout One has contact with the boyfriend,” Barnes advised. “Open the door, Team One.”
On screen, Naomi lifted her hand to knock again. The monitor jumped to the interior view as a tall blonde threw the lock on the door and slowly pushed it open.
“Quinn? I…uh…” The female cop’s voice held a note of distaste and the level of shock a real business owner would likely feel upon opening the door for a job applicant and finding her dressed in a dirty hoodie, the pale foundation and heavy black eyeliner and lipstick making her look like a roadie at a Marilyn Manson concert.
