by A M Ialacci
“Becca!” she called after her and jogged to catch up.
“Ms. Fox!” Becca turned around, eyebrows raised. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I just have a couple of questions for you.”
“Of course,” Becca said with a smile. “Should we use Harriet’s office just around the corner?” She gestured up the steps.
“That would be fine,” Allie said and followed Becca up the few remaining steps and around the corner. They closed the door almost all the way behind them. Becca leaned against the empty desk, studying the digital images flashing by on the screen of the camera.
“What are you doing?” Allie asked.
“Looking through photos from the gala before… before they found Harriet. Normally, I’d pick the best ones, post them to social media, and save them for our donor newsletter, but I have no idea what to do with these.” She looked up. “Is it true they took Greg in for questioning?”
“It is,” Allie said. “That’s the reason I’m here.”
“What?” Becca paled.
“You told us that it was you and Greg and Jenny in the NPS boat the night of the murder. I know we came back and asked you about the time, and you said it could have been a little earlier than you first told us, maybe closer to seven.”
“Yes.” Becca nodded.
“Are you certain of who was in the boat?”
“What?” Becca let out a choked laugh. “Of course. It was me, Greg, and Jenny.”
“Jenny was with you,” Allie said.
“Yes. Is he saying she wasn’t?” Becca’s voice went up in pitch.
“He has changed his story.”
“And trying to pin it on someone else. Anyone else! And he picks poor Jenny?”
“I’m not sure that’s his intention—”
“I’ve felt so bad for Jenny. Poor kid. Have you ever heard her speak to visitors? She stutters, confuses her script, starts to hyperventilate. She hates it. I’m sure she’s grieving her family losses, and all she wants to do is work with the horses on Shack, but job assignments are so political.” Becca stopped and took a breath. “So, no, Greg is mistaken. Or desperately trying to save his own skin. I don’t know. But all three of us were on that boat.”
Allie nodded. “Okay then. Thank you for your time, Becca.”
“Sure thing. Keep us posted, okay?”
Allie nodded again, making no promises. “Why don’t you share those pictures with me? Can you upload them to my Dropbox?” She handed Becca her business card and turned to go. “Oh, one more thing,” she said, turning back.
“Yes?” Becca started and turned back around.
“Jenny said something about you hitting on Harriet once. Any truth to that?”
Becca’s eyes narrowed for a millisecond, and color rushed into her cheeks. “What? No. That’s completely untrue,” she said through clenched teeth.
Allie nodded. “Okay. I figured it was just a rumor. Thanks again!” she said and slipped out the door and down the stairs.
When she returned to the conference room, a deputy went to tell Charlie she had returned. “What’d she say?” he asked when he came in.
“I’m paraphrasing here, but she said Greg was obviously desperate and trying to pin the murder on anyone but him. She said Jenny was with them and described Jenny as grief-stricken and having performance anxiety when speaking in front of others, and wanting to work with horses instead of people. She said Greg is either mistaken or trying to save his own skin.”
Charlie nodded. “I wondered if that was the case.”
Cruz narrowed his eyes at Allie but said nothing.
“I also asked her about what Jenny said about her hitting on Harriet. She tried to hide it but was pretty angry about it. Denied it, of course.”
“Interesting. I’ll go share the news with Greg and see what shakes out,” Charlie said and left the room.
“What are you thinking?” Allie asked.
“I still don’t like Greg for this. And he isn’t blond.”
Allie nodded. “Becca has some pictures from the night of the gala that she’s going to send to me. Maybe we’ll see something or someone in those.”
Cruz nodded. “Good. The hair analysis is going to take a few days, and I’ve got a guy who’s good with codes working on the journals now.”
“Charlie isn’t going to charge this kid, is he?”
“I’m pretty sure Kat Matthews would prefer some hard evidence, so he’s hoping for a confession at this point. He’ll have to let him go after a while if he doesn’t.”
“And then we’re back to square one?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Cruz said. “Remember? Marathon, not a sprint.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ryan was hanging out at Frankie’s that evening, so Allie decided to call it a day and head home. The sun seemed to be going down quickly, and dusk was settling on the backroads of Morehead City by the time she turned off Arendell, the main road through town. A bright pair of headlights came up behind her and she rolled her eyes.
Every time someone tries to tailgate me, it’s someone in a huge truck with high beams. She tapped on her brakes a few times to get him to back off. The speed limit was only thirty-five through here, but he seemed to want to go twice that. Each time, he backed off for only a few seconds before stepping back on the gas.
Gripping the wheel, Allie noted the older trailer park on her right. Only about a half mile before I can turn off. The dark was deepening all around her as she got further from the lights of town. The few streetlights along the country road had not yet snapped on. The houses spaced out around her as she passed through a marshy area, and the truck sped up again, but this time bumped her tail and she swerved.
“What the hell?” she said, hearing the panic in her own voice. As she came up to a small bridge crossing a creek that fed into the Newport River, she attempted to slow the truck dramatically, hoping he would pass her, but instead, he sped up and rammed her tail again, this time on the driver’s side corner, and the pickup skidded out from under her control. The front end of the truck struck the short cement barrier at the same time the monstrous truck rammed her a third time. She was momentarily airborne, flying over the barrier and landing front end in the creek.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she screamed as her seatbelt yanked her back into the seat, and the crunching metal and hissing steam sounds from the front end assaulted her ears. The pickup rocked back onto its back tires hard, rattling her teeth, and she found herself holding her breath, still gripping the steering wheel as water seeped into her floorboards.
Allie looked up at the road. The truck that had hit her sat there on the bridge, revving its engine, and then its tires squealed as it sped off into the night.
“What just happened?” she asked aloud. Realizing her feet were getting wet, she grabbed her cell phone and her bag and yanked the truck door open. It groaned at the effort, but she stepped through shin-deep water to get to the bank of the creek, dialing Charlie’s number as she reached solid ground. There was no answer. “Shit, he’s probably still in with Greg.”
Allie hesitated before calling Nick Cruz.
“What’s up?” he answered.
“I, uh, need some help,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice. “Where are you?”
“I think I just got run off the road. I’m on 20th Street in Morehead. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can. And I’ll get some people out there too. Sit tight. Can you defend yourself if necessary?”
“I can handle myself,” she said.
“Okay. See you soon,” he said and hung up.
Within a minute, she could see the blue flashing lights of a sheriff’s department cruiser pull over to the side of the road, and a deputy approached her. “Miss Fox? Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I think so,” Allie said. “Just a bit wet, and a little stressed out.”
/> “I understand, ma’am. Why don’t you come sit in the cruiser for a minute so you don’t get a chill? Then I can get your statement.”
Allie followed the young deputy to the cruiser and sat in the passenger’s seat as he squatted in front of her and took her statement. He paused after her description of the large white late-model truck that had been following her and called it in to dispatch so that other officers could be on the lookout for the vehicle. By the time she had finished giving her statement, Cruz pulled up in his rental car and hustled toward her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, this time not hesitating to put a hand to her shoulder.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” the deputy said. He stood and went to make notes about the position of her truck.
Cruz squatted where the deputy had been and looked up into her eyes. “Scary, huh?”
She nodded. “I felt so powerless.”
He patted her knee. “Any idea who it might have been?”
“Someone from the case? Someone from the Balkan crime syndicate? Kat Matthews?”
Cruz snorted at her last suggestion, and she smiled. “Seriously, though. I don’t like this,” he said. “There was no way for them to know whether or not you’d be killed. Which can only mean that they were okay with it if you were.”
That shocked her into silence for a moment. “Well, whoever it was knows I’m not.”
Cruz’s brows knit together and he cocked his head.
“They waited on the bridge to see if I emerged from the truck or not. When I did, they sped off.”
“Shit, Allie. We have to get you someplace safe.”
“Let me just go home. I have to pick up Ryan in a bit.”
“You should come to my motel,” he said.
“What?” She raised her eyebrows. “No way.”
“I didn’t say my motel room, I said my motel.”
“No. I have a better idea. I have keys to Mike’s apartment and he’s out of town, so I’ll stay at his place.”
“All right, fine. But we’re placing a security detail outside,” Cruz said, standing.
Allie sighed. “Fine. I still need to pick up Ryan.”
“Do you have everything you need from the truck?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’ll give you a ride.” He offered her his hand, and she took it and pulled herself to standing.
“Ow,” she said, feeling sore muscles everywhere.
“Are you all right?” Cruz asked again, eyes wide.
“Yes, just sore. I’m sure I wrenched parts of my body that I didn’t even know existed.”
“Because I can stop at the hospital, if you need me to.”
“Shut up. I’m fine.” She laughed.
“All right. Let’s go pick up your brother,” he said.
“We’d better. If he stays there any longer, Frankie’s parents might never want to let him come over again!”
“I doubt that,” Cruz said.
As they walked to his car, Allie watched the tow truck ramble over the grass and back up to attach to the back bumper of her truck. Several more sheriff’s department cruisers had stopped, as well as a few unmarked cars.
“Those are ours,” Cruz said, watching her gaze travel over the unfamiliar faces.
“Will you be investigating this too, now?” she asked.
“Probably have our hand in,” he said. “Until we’re sure it wasn’t the Balkans. Or someone from this case.”
“So unless it really was Kat Matthews, you’ve got more on your workload now,” she said.
“Anything for you, my dear,” he said and smiled as he opened the passenger door to his car.
Allie rolled her eyes. “Shut up and drive,” she said, chuckling.
“Aren’t you going to call your boyfriend?” Cruz asked as he drove.
Allie bit her lip. “I will later, once we’re settled at his place.”
Cruz looked at her but said nothing.
“He worries. To the point of getting angry. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to,” Allie said.
“I understand his worry,” Cruz said. “If I had a girl like you, I’d do everything in my power to keep her.”
She blushed. “I’m hoping he doesn’t drive straight home from Florida.”
“Would you blame him if he did?” Cruz asked.
“No,” she said softly.
“Why don’t you let me check his place out before we pick up Ryan?” Cruz suggested.
“Check his place out?” Allie asked.
“You know, make sure it’s safe. If it was the Balkan crime syndicate, they’re going to know everything about you. Including where your boyfriend’s apartment is.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “You’re making me feel so much better.”
Cruz chuckled. “Should we head there first then?”
“Yes, please,” Allie agreed. “Hey, did you ever trace the number that was calling Harriet’s phone while it was in Greg’s locker?”
“We did. It was a burner phone.”
“Shit,” Allie said.
“Yeah. Interestingly, it was a similar number to one of the two that Ryan was looking at.”
“Maybe purchased at the same time?” Allie asked.
“It’s possible.”
“Did you find a burner phone in Greg’s house?” she asked.
“No,” Cruz admitted. “People don’t tend to keep them, though.”
“And the day planner?”
“Still missing,” Cruz said. “Hopefully not destroyed. We’ll keep looking.”
“The performance reviews are still missing, too, I’m guessing.”
“Not sure we’ll ever find those,” Cruz said. “If Greg did this, he might have destroyed it all. He would if he was smart. Or…” Cruz sighed. “He might never have had any of it in the first place.”
Cruz pulled into the apartment complex.
“That building over there.” Allie pointed.
Cruz pulled into an empty space. “You stay here. Where’s the key?”
Allie handed him her key and watched as he checked his surroundings before approaching the door to Mike’s apartment. She looked around the parking lot and saw nothing out of place. No idling cars or trucks, no dark figures with faces illuminated by the glowing ends of cigarettes.
Within a few minutes, Cruz came back to the car. “It’s all good. Do you want to pick up Ryan now? Do you need anything from your place?”
“Shit, yeah. We will. And Ryan might get upset at the sudden change of plans,” she said.
“We’ll manage it,” Cruz said, sliding back into his seat and starting the car. “One step at a time.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cruz and Allie picked up Ryan, who was a bit agitated by the change in plans but was distracted by checking out Cruz’s rental car. Allie alerted Peg to the situation who admonished her to be careful and told her she would tell the trailer park watch to keep an eye out for strange vehicles. They grabbed a few things from the trailer and then headed to Mike’s for the night.
“You have everything you need?” Cruz said at the door.
“I think so.”
“No going back to the trailer for now,” he said.
“I understand. Will Peg be okay?” she asked.
“We’ve got a patrol going through there at regular intervals, just in case.”
“Good,” she said with a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s my duty.”
“Well, it’s really not, but thank you all the same.”
“See you in the morning?” he asked.
“Are you offering to pick me up?”
“Of course,” he said. “Eight-ish? Does that leave us enough time to get Ryan to his day program?”
“You bet,” she said. “See you then.”
He nodded, hands in pockets and went back to his car. Allie shut the door, grabbed her laptop, and joined Ryan on the couch. He was drawing, being pai
nstakingly careful with a line.
“That’s looking good, Ryan,” she said.
“I’m not finished yet,” he said, pulling his clipboard off to the side so she couldn’t see it.
“Oh, right,” she said. “Well, I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”
She pulled her laptop open and logged into Dropbox to see if Becca had shared the photos from the gala with her. Her phone rang and she looked at the screen. It wasn’t a number she recognized, but with everything that had happened that night, she thought it might be about her truck.
“Hello?” she answered.
There was no response, but she could hear someone breathing on the other end of the line.
“Who is this?” she demanded.
Again, no response. After a few moments, a soft chuckle.
Holy shit. She jammed her finger down hard to end the call. Then she went through the steps to block the number.
Ryan had noticed her change in demeanor and rapid, shallow breaths. He put a hand to her thigh. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yep, I’m fine, bud.”
He looked at her and didn’t remove his hand for a few moments. She smiled at him and patted his hand. Then he went back to his drawing.
Trying to still her shaking hand, she pushed the icon for Mike’s number on her phone. Again, after a few rings, his voicemail picked up. “Can you call me please?” she said after the tone, unable to disguise the distress in her voice. Where is he so late?
She went to the window by the front door and lifted a few of the mini blind slats to check that the unmarked was still out there in front of the apartment. Satisfied that she was being watched over, she returned to the couch and her laptop.
Luckily, Becca had shared the photos, and Allie scrolled through them. A few of the rangers setting up and then well-dressed guests arriving. She saw herself and Mike in one shot, and all of the Autism Center kids in another. Most of them were people she didn’t know or hadn’t spoken to. She flipped to the next one and saw Tim, the ferry owner.
“Hello, what are you doing here?” she asked aloud. Tim had said he hadn’t been on the island at all. She leaned in to see who he was speaking to, a person in a ball cap and dark running gear? Who would wear that to a gala? she thought. Allie looked through several of the photos around it, trying to get a better look at this mystery person. She saw a blonde ponytail coming out of the back of the ball cap in one shot. A woman, then, she thought. Or more likely a woman.
