Huffing out a breath, he replied, “I’m only a call away if you need me.”
I certainly didn’t need him, nor would I ever. What I needed was to scream, punch something, throw anything within reach, and stomp my feet all at the same time, but I couldn’t do any of that and keep my cover intact. I settled for clenching my fists until my nails dug into my skin and made ugly red marks on my palms. Shaking uncontrollably, I willed myself to get it together. This was just another instance of Ryder being the horrible, broken man he was, unable and unwilling to allow anyone around him to have a shred of happiness. I’d show him. I’d catch him in his own lie.
Grabbing the new phone I’d had to go out and buy this morning to replace my stolen one (whose signal was “unable to be located” by my wireless carrier, probably because it was in a million pieces at the bottom of the Cumberland River), I dialed Carter, Stafford’s fellow cold case–department detective and friend, at work.
“Detective Hayes speaking,” he said as his greeting.
“Hi, Carter. It’s Juliet.”
“Hey, what are you doing up in the middle of the night? Stafford’s snoring keeping you awake?”
His joke turned my insides into ice. “Um…are you saying he’s not working right now?”
“No, he’s not on duty this shift. Why? Is something wrong?”
Thinking quickly, I replied, “No, nothing’s wrong, except I may be losing my mind. I’m working two jobs right now, and I think I have my days mixed up. He’s working tomorrow night, not tonight, right?”
He chuckled. “Well, if you want to get technical about it, it’s already Tuesday morning, so he is working tonight, just not for another sixteen hours or so. Confused yet?”
“More than you can imagine,” I murmured. “Hey, don’t tell Stafford I called wigging out on you. I don’t want him thinking he’s dating some crazy chick. I’m simply overworked and evidently unable to read a calendar properly.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. And hey, get some sleep.”
“Will do.” I ended the call and added to myself, “Yeah, right.”
—
Those guys were in there forever. I actually managed to get in a catnap, but snapped back to attention when the parabolic mic picked up the box truck’s engine grinding to a start and whining as it pulled away from the loading bay door. Which of course was now closed, and I could see nothing. Still. Wonderlich, Stafford, and Jensen got into their vehicles and drove off as well. It was nearing four A.M., and once everyone involved in tonight’s festivities was safely gone, I called Gentry and woke him out of a deep sleep, insisting he get over here immediately to let me have a look inside that loading area.
Gentry, clothed but with his hair hopelessly disheveled, arrived within ten minutes. He peered at me and asked, “Have you been out here all night?”
I probably looked even worse for wear than he did. “Yes.”
Giving me a sympathetic, fatherly pat on the shoulder, he opened the front doors and led me inside the dark building. He glanced around nervously. “What if Jim comes back? How do we explain why we’re here? That’s why I had you join the cleaning crew, so you’d have a good reason for being here in the middle of the night.”
I waved away his worrying. “Tell him we’re having an affair.”
His eyes bulged out, but he didn’t respond.
We made our way back to the loading area. When we went in, the place was stacked with large cardboard boxes that all said WONDER-GEN in blue lettering across the sides. I fought to control my excitement. If this was the shipment that came in on the truck tonight, I was ready to break this case wide open.
I cleared my throat to steady my voice. “I think this is what I’m looking for.”
Cocking his head to the side, Gentry asked, “What do you mean?”
Gesturing to the boxes, I said, “These boxes. Your partner and some other men spent the last few hours unloading some sort of shipment from an unmarked box truck. This has to be it, right?”
Still seeming confused, he replied, “No, these boxes have all been here since yesterday afternoon.”
Now I was the one who was confused. I read the names and addresses on a few of the shipping labels on the boxes. I recognized a couple of the names from the mountain of POs Maya and I had gone through last week. “So these boxes are all packed and ready to go to your customers and have been since yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes, they’re going out first thing this morning.” He smiled proudly. “They’re our new aluminum chimney caps. They’ve been selling like hotcakes. We finished a big production cycle of them yesterday and finally filled all of our backorders. That’s one load off my mind at least.”
Disappointed, I questioned him further for my own clarification. “So all the boxes in this room are filled with chimney caps?”
“Yes.”
“Are there any boxes that are here now that weren’t here yesterday?”
Gentry made a quick count of them. “No, there are still ninety-eight, just like when I left here last night at five.”
Damn. I was hoping Wonderlich had left his contraband out in the open, but that was probably too much to ask. “I heard your partner making a big deal to his minions about how they all needed to pitch in and help tonight. So where is this big shipment that they worked on for the last three hours?”
Gentry’s face fell. “I suppose they could have stored their shipment somewhere in the building. Unfortunately, there are plenty of places in here where something could be hidden.”
“Enough extra space for a truckload of merchandise, though?” Or human beings? That theory was sounding less and less plausible by the minute. You couldn’t stash people in this place. There was no way.
My phone started ringing, and even though I’d deleted him from my contact list long ago, I knew who it was. “What do you want?” I barked into the phone.
Gentry glanced at me uneasily.
Ryder’s voice said, “I want to know what it would take for you to get me in there so I can poke around.”
Score one for Juliet, getting the upper hand. I hurried away from Gentry and said in a low voice, “I think what it would take to get you in here is called a warrant. I don’t know if you’re familiar with those, given your tendency toward shoddy police work.” If he didn’t blow a gasket over that jab, I’d be seriously shocked.
My phone beeped to let me know the call had ended. I could just imagine him clenching his jaw right now, mad as hell. Snickering, I put my phone back in my pocket and followed Gentry to give the place a once-over, looking for a truckload of…well, something.
—
We scoured the entire building and found nothing. How was I going to be able to figure out what they’d been doing if I couldn’t find a shred of evidence in the place? As we were finishing our fruitless search, the metal shop workers started trickling in through the back door. To keep my janitorial cover intact, I didn’t want any of them to see me here on a non-cleanup day in regular clothes, so I slipped out the front and slunk dejectedly to Maya’s van. When I got there, I had a visitor blocking the driver’s door.
“I’m telling Maya you’ve been stalking me while I’m working and it’s beginning to interfere with my investigation,” I said with as much righteous anger as I could muster, which was practically none.
Ryder pushed away from the van and looked down at me pointedly. “She’s my friend. And because she’s my friend, she’ll understand I did it for a good reason.”
Purposely ignoring his implication, at least initially, I replied, “To piss me off? I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t call that a good reason.” Then I couldn’t help myself from adding, “And I caught your sly little dig. Don’t forget—I’m your ex, not your friend. So don’t even try to play that card.”
He sighed. “I know you’re mad about the Stafford thing. I get it. And I get that you don’t want to take my word for any of it. So I thought maybe you should call down to the station yourself and speak
to some random officer who can confirm the fact that Stafford wasn’t on duty last night.”
I looked at the ground. I’d pretty much drawn my own conclusion that what I saw Stafford doing in the last few hours was not aboveboard and had nothing to do with any kind of case he was working on. I just didn’t know how to react to the idea. I was too raw.
Ryder said softly, “You already called someone, didn’t you?”
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Juliet. I tried to tell you, but…I kept screwing it up one way or another.”
I was able to raise my head and rest my gaze just past his shoulder, but I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye.
He continued, “The truth is…I’ve suspected he’s been doing something he shouldn’t for a few weeks. I got worried somehow you’d get dragged into it, like you do, so I started poking around to find out what we were up against.”
My eyes filling with tears, I said, “I’m sure you’d just love to knock him down a peg or two, wouldn’t you?”
He tried to place his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. He sighed. “That may have been my original intention, yes. I’m a dick. We all know this. But once I realized you and Maya were investigating from the other end, it became more about keeping you safe. That’s why I’ve been following you around like a lunatic. I had no idea whether Stafford’s cronies would try to use you or hurt you for some reason because of him. And right now…after what happened tonight, I’m more focused on making sure this whole thing doesn’t send you over the edge.”
A single tear ran down my cheek. “Too late,” I whispered.
He reached up and brushed my tear away with his thumb. “I know I’m not your favorite person. But I want to help you.”
Angry at myself for crying, I retorted, “Help me put my boyfriend in jail, you mean.”
“No, I want to help you get to the bottom of this case. We’re on opposing sides where Stafford is concerned, so if you add us together, we make up one impartial investigator. I think we should work as a team. I have access to stuff you don’t as a PI, and you have access to stuff I don’t.”
He wanted to partner up with me? “Are you insane? We can’t talk to each other for more than ten seconds without fighting.” I shook my head and pushed past him to get into the van. “It’s a terrible idea.”
Positioning himself in my way so I couldn’t shut the door, he said, “Please think about it, Juliet.” After hesitating for a moment, he added, “You’re welcome to come down to the station this afternoon, and I’ll show you the files of what I have so far.”
Detective Ryder Hamilton, lone wolf and the king of keeping secrets from me, was giving me a personal invitation to peruse his confidential police files. And my sweet boyfriend John Stafford was mixed up in some sort of illegal business dealings and lying to me about his work schedule. It was like I was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. And it certainly didn’t help that I was so mentally, physically, and emotionally spent that I wasn’t confident I could drive home without falling asleep at the wheel, much less begin to process all this.
“I think what I need to do is talk to John.”
Wincing, he replied, “That’s where it gets tricky. You’ve seen enough and you know enough that if you tip him off that we’re on to him, you could get in trouble for obstructing justice. If he runs, or worse, lets his partners know we’re watching them, they’ll close up shop and move it somewhere else. Then all our investigating is down the drain, and the bad guys are still out there.”
I hadn’t considered that. But yes, now that I knew for a fact that the cops were looking at Stafford, if I spilled the beans to him, it made me an enabler at best. And at worst, I could be responsible for “the bad guys,” as Ryder put it, going unpunished and being free to keep doing whatever it was that they were doing. How in the hell was I going to keep this from Stafford, though? If nothing else, I already thought of him differently. His shiny armor was tarnished for me now. I feared it would be written all over my face. I wasn’t exactly good at hiding my emotions.
Ryder placed a hand on my arm. “Look, don’t try to figure it all out now. Get some sleep and we’ll talk later.”
I nodded, afraid if I spoke I’d burst into tears.
Chapter 20
I slept, but fitfully, finally deciding around noon to give it up and try to drag myself into work at Java Jive. I stood in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water work the knots out of my back from where I’d been sitting in the van all night. It was also a quiet place to think about my predicament. Unfortunately, any endgame scenario I could think of was a total stinker. If Stafford had for some dumb reason gotten himself in bed with criminals, there would inevitably be retribution. Did I want to date someone who would cross the line like that? And what if he got charged and ended up with some jail time—could I convince myself to stand by him? On the other hand, if Ryder was wrong, and Stafford was working on a secret police case, me poking around and quite possibly ruining it would implode our relationship as well. I was screwed any way you looked at it.
My head wasn’t in the game that afternoon, so I flat-out forgot orders, over- and undercharged customers, burned my arm with the espresso-maker’s steam wand, spilled two drinks (one all over my jeans), and finally locked myself in the office, lest I do any more damage. As a last-ditch effort to calm myself down, I put on headphones and laid on the couch to listen to some music. It must have done the trick, because the next thing I knew Pete was shaking my shoulder to wake me up.
“Jules, quit snoozing on the job.”
I made a sad face. “But my life sucks, and sleep is the only thing that can cure it. Other than booze. Which I shouldn’t do at work, either, but it’s the next step.”
He sat down next to me. “What’s up? Can I help?”
I smiled. “Thanks, but no. And what’s worse, I can’t even talk to you about it. Confidential PI bullshit, and I’m all alone this week.”
“That does suck. Have you been able to vent to Maya? I know she’s across the pond and probably up to her armpits in poopy diapers, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”
“I haven’t talked to her about it yet. I don’t want to burden her when there’s nothing she can do about it, but I may need to break down and give her a call if only to save my sanity. I’ve been putting it off partly because I don’t want her to think I’m too incompetent to handle things on my own.” And mostly because it would be horrifyingly embarrassing to admit to her that my own boyfriend had become one of the people we were investigating.
Pete squeezed my shoulder. “Want me to make you a chili donut?”
“No. My life isn’t chili-donut-bad yet.”
He laughed. “Okay, but the offer is always on the table. Hey, you know I said I’d come up with a way to do some more digging on Xander Leonidas?”
“Yes,” I replied warily. I didn’t know if I had the energy for one of Pete’s crazy investigative schemes.
“Wanna eavesdrop on me having drinks later with Alexa?”
My jaw dropped. “Hell yeah! But how did you manage that after what happened Saturday night with her mom and brother?”
“Dude, she loves me for it. She’s excited to find someone on her side. Xander is the popular twin, and she’s always lived in his shadow. I think she’s lonely. She doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends.”
I nodded and studied his clothing, which was his daily staple—a vintage rock concert T-shirt and jeans. “You know, she’s used to seeing you in a tux and guyliner. You’ll need to get prettied up before your date. Want me to do your makeup for you?”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Never.”
—
As if this day from hell could have gotten any more uncomfortable for me, I found myself sitting in Maya’s van, listening in on Pete out on a date at Mixology of all places. This was the club Ryder had taken me to
on our first date. And unfortunately, that was the only thing I could ever think about when I came here, so I usually avoided the place like the plague. Ryder and I had had an amazing time, and I could remember every moment like it was yesterday. But in light of all the nonsense that had gone on since then, the memories had become twisted and painful.
As accessories to the sharp black suit and midnight blue dress shirt he’d changed into, Pete was wearing the same tiny earpiece and microphone Shane had used when he went snooping around at the Leonidas office last week. With those, Pete and I could keep in contact and I could record his conversation. We didn’t bother with a camera tonight since he was only going to be meeting Alexa and not snooping around anywhere.
From my parking spot, I could see the entrance to Mixology. A few minutes after Pete got inside, I spotted Alexa walking toward the front door. Although her hair was still a disaster, she had on a beautiful yet of course tasteful black dress, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Even with no makeup, she looked incredible. Irritatingly incredible.
“Pete, she’s on her way,” I said into my microphone.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Hey, hit her hard about Josie. Act like you knew her or something.”
Pete replied, “Chill. We’ve been over this. Have a little faith that I can do this one on my own.”
“Sorry,” I said, frowning. “Of course I have faith in you. Don’t forget your name’s Jeff.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I turned my mic off so any noise I happened to make wouldn’t distract Pete from his task. Although I imagined sitting across the table from a stunner like Alexa would be a distraction for any man.
“Alexa, hi. You look beautiful,” Pete said.
Alexa replied, “Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say.” The worst part of Alexa being so gorgeous was that she seemed not to even be aware of it. Grr.
“Have you recovered from this weekend?” Pete asked.
“Barely. My mother’s sixtieth birthday celebration is on Friday night, so I’m already on to the next crisis. You think she was overbearing and demanding at the expo? You should see her at her own birthday party.”
Brew or Die Page 17
