“And?”
“And the soles of her feet were dirty, but they weren’t scraped or bleeding.” I frowned. “If she had run all the way from the Malone place to town without any shoes, they should have been a bloody mess.”
“And that’s why McGowan’s car wasn’t at the house,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Gabriella drove it and parked it somewhere close to the town square.”
“And I bet the clothes she wore all week are in the trunk.” I sipped my now cold tea. “She probably changed just before pathetically staggering down the main drag.”
“That sounds about right. I did notice Gabriella smelled more like some tropical drink than perspiration when I carried her inside,” Jake said.
“Boone found a bottle of cologne called Virgin Island Water, and its scent was sort of like a rummy coconut and lime.”
“And the only blood on Gabriella anywhere was a smudge on her forearm, which was probably McGowan’s.” Jake chugged the last of his beer. “If she wasn’t the one who planned the kidnapping, she would have just told us she took the keys from McGowan after she shot him and drove herself to freedom. Why claim she had to run?”
“Which leads us to the million-dollar question,” I said slowly. “Was the shooting an accident or was it her plan all along to kill Mac? But why would Gabriella do any of it? Why fake her own kidnapping?” I asked, then answered myself. “Because she wanted to prevent her husband from spending all his money on the wildlife park, and as Elliot mentioned and the letter he found from her attorney confirmed, Gabriella had no legal recourse to stop her husband from using his trust fund anyway he chose.”
“We need to find McGowan’s vehicle before she has a chance to move it.” Jake waved over the server, asked for our entrées to be packaged to go, and requested the check. “I doubt she tried for it yesterday, and Winston probably hasn’t left her side today, but he texted me that she was getting restless and going out for a drink with her friend Muffy tonight at six thirty. It’s six fifteen now. I bet she isn’t really meeting her pal. That’s just the excuse she gave her husband to get away from him. I bet that she’s going to move McGowan’s car. Maybe dump it in a lake somewhere.”
“And my guess is the ransom money is in that car. We need to catch her in the act, because once she has the cash, we’ll never prove she was behind the whole kidnapping scheme.” I snatched the remaining pot sticker on my plate and stuffed it into my mouth as Jake paid the bill.
He and I raced to his truck, threw ourselves inside, and he hit the gas. I held on to the grab handle above the door as he squealed out of the parking lot.
Eyes on the road, he said, “Our best option is to follow her from her house to wherever she’s got McGowan’s vehicle stashed.”
“Won’t she notice a huge pickup on her tail?” I asked as Jake took a corner without braking and I tightened my grip on the handle.
“She won’t be expecting anyone to be following her.” Jake grinned, then winked at me. “And I was a deputy U.S. Marshall, so I damn well should be able to keep her in sight without her noticing.”
I nodded, but wasn’t as confident as Jake that Gabriella would be as careless as he expected. I sure hoped there were at least a little traffic to conceal our presence.
It was six twenty-nine when we got to Country Club Estates. There was only one way in or out of the development, so Jake tucked his pickup behind a billboard that advertised lots for sale starting at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He turned off the lights and the ignition, grabbed his phone, and his thumbs flew over the device’s screen.
“What if she left early?” I was worried we’d somehow missed her.
“I just texted Winston to see if the coast was clear for me to stop by.” Jake paused when his cell buzzed, read the message, and smiled. “Gabriella is leaving right now. He advises that I wait thirty minutes.”
“Shouldn’t we call Chief Kincaid?” I asked, knowing the chief was going to be ticked we hadn’t notified him of our suspicions and were following a suspect on our own.
“Probably.” Jake grabbed two pairs of compact binoculars from the glove box and gave one to me. “But we really don’t have time for the police to get here and take over.” He arched a brow. “And do you really think anyone on the Shadow Bend force would be able to follow her undetected?”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “But shouldn’t we at least let him know what we’re doing?”
“We’ll notify him as soon as Gabriella leads us to McGowan’s car.” Jake tensed, then said, “There she is.”
He pointed to a red Lexus that was pulling out onto the main road from between the development’s pillars. I watched through the binoculars as her taillights faded in the distance, then, at the last possible second, Jake eased the truck into the road and drove after her.
When Gabriella headed toward the country club, it looked as if we were on a wild-goose chase. But then she made an abrupt U-turn and took the route into Shadow Bend. At first it seemed as if she were just aimlessly driving around, but finally she turned into an old Sinclair gas station. And no, my family had no connection with the Sinclair Oil Corporation.
The station was a few blocks over from the town square and had been closed for at least twenty years. No one wanted the property because of the prohibitive cost of removing the underground storage tanks, which meant it was now a derelict eyesore.
Jake parked in front of a dance studio a couple of businesses down. We quickly got out of the truck, and, keeping in the shadows, we crept toward the station. Concealing ourselves behind a huge fiberglass dinosaur statue, we watched Gabriella’s movements through our binoculars. She was at the far side of the building, tugging off a tarp from what looked like a compact car.
I stared as she loosened the canvas cover, then whispered to Jake, “Did you say that path between the Malone land and ours led to our old barn?” When he nodded, I said, “Gran stored Dad’s Jeep in that barn while he was in prison, and she had it covered with a tarp.” I pointed to Gabriella. “I think that that’s the same one. I bet if we could see the inside, there would be SINCLAIR printed in red marker.”
“Well, that would explain why Gabriella walked between the two properties,” Jake said softly. “She must have been trying to find something to conceal the vehicle. Maybe it took her a couple of field trips before she found something.”
“I wonder if she forgot that she’d need to hide the car when she plotted the fake kidnapping or if originally Mac was supposed to drop her off.” I kept my gaze on Gabriella. The vehicle was nearly uncovered. “Maybe killing her lover wasn’t in her original plans.”
As the tarp slid to the ground, I whispered, “That’s the car I saw Mac driving.” As Gabriella walked to the rear of the vehicle, I tensed and tugged on Jake’s sleeve. “Shouldn’t we call the chief now?”
We watched while she lifted the duffel containing the ransom out of the trunk.
As she dragged the bag toward her Lexus and hoisted it into the backseat, Jake said, “Now we call the cops.”
While Jake dialed Chief Kincaid’s cell, gave him our location, and explained the situation, I kept an eye on Gabriella. Carrying a black plastic garbage sack, she returned to Mac’s car, and, using a flashlight, she began to examine the interior, occasionally tossing things into the trash bag.
I nudged Jake and pointed. He nodded and said into the phone, “She’s making sure there’s nothing with her prints in the car. I need to stop her before she wipes down the interior.” He thrust his phone at me and ordered, “Stay here and talk to the chief.”
As Jake sprinted toward Gabriella, I could hear the chief speaking into his radio, instructing all officers to report to our location. We were so close to the police station that sirens immediately filled the air.
My heart thudded louder and louder as I watched Jake and Gabriella arguing. Cold sweat trickled down my sides. The woman
had killed once before. What would stop her from doing it again?
I wiped my damp palms on my jeans and sucked in a ragged breath. The cops were close, but I was closer. There was no question; I needed to get to Jake.
Rushing forward, I saw Gabriella nod and drop the garbage bag. Jake took a step toward her, but she darted to the rear of the car and reached into the trunk. I tried to swallow the fear clogging my throat and tell Jake not to follow her, but before I could speak, Jake ran around the fender, and she swung a tire iron at his head.
Jake crumpled to the ground, and I launched myself at Gabriella. Apparently, the surprise that there was another person around caused her to freeze, and as I grabbed her by throat, she fell backward onto the dirty asphalt. I landed on top of her and used the fact that I outweighed her by twenty, or forty, pounds to keep her down.
I risked a glance at Jake and saw that his eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. Tightening my fingers on Gabriella’s neck, I snarled, “If Jake’s dead, so are you.”
CHAPTER 25
When my cell trilled late Saturday morning, I glanced toward my bed. Jake’s eyes were closed and an occasional soft snore puffed from his slightly parted lips. I had been sitting in a chair watching him sleep for the past eight hours, all the while fighting the urge to wake him just to see if he was really okay.
Lucky for Gabriella, Jake had regained consciousness a few seconds after being knocked out, and the police had arrived before I could beat the crap out of her for injuring the man I loved. The cops took the pseudo kidnap victim into custody, and, despite Jake’s protest, I drove him to County Hospital.
After hours sitting around the ER while Jake was given a variety of tests, we were finally sent home. The doctor prescribed Tylenol, ice, and rest, then instructed us to come back immediately if Jake experienced headaches, short-term memory loss, dizziness, sensitivity to light or noise, fatigue, change in personality, or sleep difficulties.
Still shaken from seeing Jake unconscious even for only a few seconds, I brought him home with me, stripped him down to his boxer briefs, and put him in my bed. Then, after Gran helped me drag the lounger into my room for me to sleep on, Jake and I spent our first night together. It wasn’t exactly as I’d pictured it, but just hearing him breathe was better than any sensation I’d imagined.
When my cell dinged again for the second time, I cursed myself for not silencing the ringer.
By the time I fumbled the damn device from the pocket of my sweatpants, Jake’s eyes had popped opened and he said, “Good morning, sugar.”
“Any symptoms?” I asked, ignoring the phone, which chimed again.
“Nope.” Jake nodded to my cell and said, “You’d better get that.”
Noticing that it was the chief, I agreed and put it on speaker.
“How’s Del Vecchio?” Chief Kincaid asked.
“So far, so good,” Jake answered.
Pleasantries over, Chief Kincaid said, “The forensics are back, and we’re going to begin questioning Gabriella Winston as soon as her lawyer gets here. I thought you two might want to watch.”
Jake said, “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Happy that I had showered last night, I changed from my sweatpants into jeans, scraped my hair into a ponytail, and washed my face. While Jake cleaned up and dressed, I wrote Gran a note telling her where we were going—she and her friend Frieda were hitting up the garage sales today.
Gran had been a trouper last night when Jake and I showed up and told her what had happened. She’d called Tony to let him know where Jake was and that he was okay. And she hadn’t blinked an eye when I led Jake into my bedroom. In fact, I think she was disappointed that I was spending the night in her chair rather than sleeping with Jake.
We took my car to the PD, and Jake was not happy squished into the Z4’s compact interior. It was all I could do not to dissolve in a fit of giggles seeing his knees up around his ears and the adorably grumpy look on his face. Considering I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet, I was in a pretty good mood.
When we reached the station, the dispatcher told us that Gabriella’s attorney had just arrived, and he and his client were in the interrogation room. Jake and I were directed to the area behind the one-way glass, where Elliot Winston stood with a thirtysomething brunette.
Elliot was deathly white and barely acknowledged our presence. The woman next to him was the county prosecutor. I’d met her before, but couldn’t recall her name. Evidently, Chief Kincaid had told her that he’d invited Jake and me to watch and she wasn’t happy, because she scowled at us before silently turning her attention back to the scene in the next room.
The chief was seated across from Gabriella, and he tapped the file in front of him. “It’s all here. You might as well confess.”
“I’m the victim.” Gabriella fluttered her lashes. “I have nothing to confess to.”
“You assaulted Jake Del Vecchio.” Chief Kincaid crossed his arms.
“I was defending myself.” Gabriella cringed theatrically. “He came at me out of nowhere.”
“He wasn’t armed, and he was working for your husband.” The chief raised a brow.
“It was dark and I didn’t recognize him,” Gabriella explained.
“Right.” Chief Kincaid’s tone was disbelieving. “Moving on.” He pulled out a piece of paper and put it in front of Gabriella. “We have your prints on the steering wheel of McGowan’s car and on the handle of the duffel bag containing the ransom money.”
“I drove the car to escape my kidnapper.” Gabriella’s voice was breathy.
“If you drove, why did you originally state that you ran all the way?” Chief Kincaid’s expression was impassive. “And why did you tell your husband you were going for drinks with a friend?”
“You’re confusing me.” Gabriella frowned at the chief’s first question, then to his second said, “I wasn’t sure the money would be there until I opened the trunk, and I didn’t want to disappoint Elliot if I didn’t find it.”
“I see.” Chief Kincaid selected another page from the folder. “Although you claimed to have been kept in the basement, we found your prints all over the Malone house, and the lab is checking the sheets for your fluids.”
Her lawyer whispered furiously into her ear, but Gabriella waved him off. “Mac forced me to have sex with him. We had been lovers, and he wanted to resume that relationship. I felt it was safer to go along with him.”
I heard the prosecutor murmur under her breath, “That’s right, sweet cheeks, ignore your attorney and keep talking.”
“Which brings us to this.” Chief Kincaid took a third sheet from the file and showed it to her. “This is your credit card statement. You, not McGowan, purchased the inflatable bed, pillows, and sheets.”
“Elliot and I were going camping.” Gabriella widened her eyes. “Mac stole them out of our garage when he kidnapped me.”
“We’ll ask Mr. Winston about this so-called camping trip, so you might want to reconsider your answer,” Chief Kincaid warned.
I glanced at Elliot, who shook his head and whispered, “There was no camping trip. Gabriella considered an unheated pool roughing it.”
“I . . .” Gabriella bit her lip. “The stuff might not have been for camping.”
“So you admit you lied about that and running from the scene rather than driving the car?” Chief Kincaid pounced.
The prosecutor muttered, “Strike one.”
“But let’s get back to my other questions.” The chief glanced at his notes. “Why did you conceal the vehicle and why steal the tarp from the Sinclairs’ barn?”
“Uh.” Gabriella seemed belatedly to realize she was being backed into a corner, but again waved off her attorney’s urgent whispers. “I told you. I was confused. I think I have PTSD.”
“Don’t worry, the prisons have counselors you can talk to
about that,” Chief Kincaid assured her. “However, let’s put that all aside for a minute and talk about you killing McGowan.”
“That was self-defense!” Gabriella cried. “I had to shoot him to get away.”
My stomach clenched as she whispered to her lawyer. Damn! That couldn’t be a good sign.
Gabriella’s attorney abruptly stood and said, “We’re done here. My client has nothing more to say.”
Was Gabriella about to wiggle out of everything? I looked at Elliot. He was expressionless and made no move to go to his wife.
“You better sit down,” the chief said in a conversational voice. “Did you know that the angle and distance of a gunshot can be determined from the crime scene?”
“No.” Gabriella shrugged, sweat glistening on her forehead. “How would I know something like that?”
“I guess you don’t watch any police dramas on TV.” Chief Kincaid smiled grimly.
“I only watch educational television.” Gabriella wrinkled her nose. “Not that trash.”
“For which the Shadow Bend Police Department is eternally grateful.”
“Why is that?” Gabriella’s beautiful eyes held a flicker of unease.
“Because, according to the forensics, there is no way in hell you and McGowan were fighting over the gun when he was shot,” Chief Kincaid thundered. “And while you wiped your prints from the weapon, you were too much of an ignoranus to wipe them from the bullets.”
“I was not,” Gabriella snapped, as her lawyer tried to shut her up. “And don’t you mean ignoramus?”
“Strike two.” The prosecutor’s smile was fierce.
“No. An ignoramus is someone who’s both stupid and an asshole.”
“Are you going to let him speak to me that way?” Gabriella whacked her lawyer on the shoulder.
The man shrugged.
“You’re just a shallow woman who should have been happy with what she had.” Chief Kincaid’s face was red. “Were your wedding vows ‘I will love you forever or until I get bored’? ‘Whichever comes first’?”
Lions and Tigers and Murder, Oh My Page 23
