Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  He shook his head. “Said she couldn’t see what I had in my hand. She said she was nervous and walked off before either of us spotted her.”

  “If she was worried about a man’s life, she would have called the police.”

  “That same point was made in court,” Jason said. “In the end, it didn’t matter.”

  “Don’t look now,” Angela said, “but two policemen are making their way in here.”

  The second he heard the door open, he stiffened, couldn’t help it.

  Angela forced a smile, then touched his arm as if he’d just given her some good news. Before he knew what she was up to, she moved closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. It took him a minute to catch on, but he did, and casually slipped his arm around her.

  For the next few minutes, he forgot about the cops standing in line behind them and instead got a wonderful glimpse of what it might be like to live an ordinary life…just hanging out with his girl in a coffee shop.

  Chapter Nine

  That night, still wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, Angela kept her gaze straight ahead as she walked past the pool to the motel room. They had made it as far as Provo, Utah, where they had found a Motel 6 right off Interstate 15 for thirty-two dollars a night. Free WiFi and a mall two miles away.

  She knocked on the door, and said, “It’s me.”

  Once the door opened, she slipped inside. It wasn’t until she put the pizza box on the table by the window and dropped a plastic shopping bag on the bed that she noticed Jason seemed upset. “What happened?”

  He plowed his hands through his hair as he paced the room. “I was hoping I had another day before they figured out which body bag I ended up in, but the feds are in Vermont.”

  “How do you know?”

  He gestured across the room.

  She moved closer to the television for a better look. “Oh, my God! That’s the Montpelier morgue! And Rob! What’s he doing on the news?” She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

  “The last time I saw Angela,” Rob told the reporter, “she was upset with me for breaking up with her.”

  “Why don’t you tell the world where I found you!” she shouted at the T.V.

  “I’ve been worried sick,” Rob continued. “I called her several times in hopes of talking things through. It never crossed my mind that she’d been abducted by an escaped convict.”

  Christine stood in the background, sobbing.

  “Give me a break,” Angela said. “I had no idea she was such a good actress.”

  After the clip ended, Jason walked over and shut off the television. “Do you think anyone recognized you at the pizza place?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  She looked at the bed. His belongings were neatly packed. He was ready to shove off. “We need to stick with the plan,” she told him. “You need to get some sleep.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Maybe so, but we need to set off early. I want to confront Mike before the police get to him.”

  “Maybe they won’t think to talk to your lawyer since they have no reason to believe you have a beef with him, right?”

  “No telling. Either way, I want to talk to him within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Jason continued to pace the room, back and forth, like a caged animal. His eyes possessed a wild look, his shoulder muscles tensed as he took long strides across the carpeted floor.

  She planted herself in front of him, stopping him from taking another step. Then she reached upward and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You need to stay calm. It won’t do you any good to get worked up.”

  He took in a deep breath. After a moment his eyes finally began to lose that haunted look. “You shouldn’t be here with me.”

  “But I am. I’m going to help you find the truth, Jason. And this time the truth shall set you free.”

  He took her hands in his. “If we get caught, Angela, you need to tell the authorities that I kidnapped you and you never helped me in any way.”

  “We need to stay positive. You can’t think that way.”

  “Just promise me you’ll tell them you had nothing to do with any of this. I forced you every step of the way.”

  “I promise. Now sit down while I get the shaver ready.” She grabbed the bag of items she’d bought when she went out for pizza. Hair dye for her and a shaver for him.

  “Shaver?”

  “You need a better disguise. All that thick hair of yours needs to go.”

  ***

  Less than twenty-four hours later, at ten p.m., they were parked at the curb across the street from Mike Gabaldon’s house, a large bungalow on Finch Street in Davis. A traffic accident had prevented them from arriving sooner.

  She looked at Jason. “What now?”

  “I need to get inside.”

  “There could be alarms. We need to get him to open the door and let you in.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “We’ll park the car further down the road. You stay out of view while I knock on the door.”

  “When he opens the door, if he opens the door, I’ll step inside and tell him we need to talk. Is that what you were thinking?”

  “Yes, but are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning?”

  “I’m sure. I think it would be best if you stayed in the car though.”

  “He’ll never open the door if he sees you. I’m going.”

  She made a U-turn. She was stubborn and seemingly more determined than ever to find the truth. He didn’t bother arguing with her.

  Without coats, the air had a bite to it as they stepped out of the car. A low fog had settled around the neighborhood. He pulled the baseball cap over his head. It felt strange not having any hair, but she’d been right about shaving it off.

  Angela knocked on the door.

  No lights came on inside. No footsteps sounded.

  She knocked again and a few seconds later, a light came on in the entranceway.

  Jason kept his back flat against the wall.

  “Who is it?” a voice called out.

  “Cynthia Baxter. My car broke down and I was hoping I could borrow your phone. I’m sorry to bother you so late at night, but I was afraid to walk alone in the dark.” In case he was checking, she stared directly into the peephole and gave him a meek wave.

  Bingo. The door came open.

  She smiled at the man as she stepped inside. “I can’t thank you enough for—”

  Before the man could shut the door, Jason stepped inside behind her.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Jason shut the door.

  It took a few seconds for recognition to light up Mike’s face. “Jason?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I heard about your escape, but they said you were in Vermont.”

  “I was,” Jason said matter-of-factly. He looked at Angela. According to plan, she turned and left, headed for the car.

  Mike looked suddenly nervous. His eyes darted from the front door as it closed, and then to the kitchen, where Jason could see a telephone. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What are you doing here, Jason?”

  “I need answers.”

  Mike suggested they take a seat in the other room.

  Jason followed him across the entry into a nice-sized family room. An over-stuffed leather couch, coffee table, and a big-screen TV took up half the room. A round table and four leather seats were set up next to a bar in the far corner. Mike headed that way and picked up a bottle. “Scotch?”

  “None for me.”

  It had been five years since he’d seen Mike Gabaldon, but the lawyer looked at least ten years older. His hair had thinned. The lines in his face were much more prominent.

  Mike poured himself a drink, then took a swig. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “Well, you
better get a clue real quick, because I’m not leaving here without answers. Now tell me who paid you off before I get angry.”

  “Paid me off?” He forced a low rumble of laughter. “Let’s get real, Jason. Every bit of evidence pointed to you. What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I didn’t murder my friend. I know it and you know it.” Jason walked toward him. “For the past eight years, I’ve had nothing better to do but think about the one day that changed my life forever. It always came back to the same thing—someone went to a lot of trouble to set me up. If you think about it, the evidence was flimsy at best. My DNA, my fingerprints, my hair were all in Dirk’s office. Well, guess what? I bet everyone who worked for the company had DNA and fingerprints in Dirk’s office.”

  “Only your prints were found on the knife,” Mike said.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  The lawyer took another gulp of his Scotch. Despite the chill in the room, a light sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

  “That knife was taken from my home! What sort of idiot would plan a murder and then grab a knife from his own kitchen? Of course it’s going to have my fingerprints on it. So, what do I do? I hire the best defense lawyer in town. Three years later, after it became clear that you were going to leave me to rot in that place, it dawned on me that whoever set me up was doing their best to make sure I stayed in prison for a good long time. And to do that, they needed to go through you. So here I am.”

  Mike set his glass down with a clank. Instead of pouring another drink, he stepped out from behind the bar with a gun pointed at Jason’s chest. “You should have stayed where you were. Being in prison has to be a lot better than being dead.”

  Jason gritted his teeth. “It took me way too long to figure out that you were bad news, Mike, but I never pegged you for a killer.”

  Jason walked his way.

  “Stay where you are. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”

  Jason took another step before he stopped and raised both hands in the air.

  When the lawyer glanced at his phone lying on the bar, Jason lunged. He grabbed Mike’s arm, twisted it behind him, and pinned him to the ground. Mike didn’t have the strength to fight him. The gun dropped from his hand.

  Jason grabbed the gun and held it to the lawyer’s head. “I’ve already spent eight years in prison and I’m not going back. In other words, I have nothing to lose. Talk or you’re dead.”

  When no words were spoken, Jason jabbed his knee into the center of Mike’s back, making him grunt in pain. “You’ve got ten seconds to talk or I’m pulling the trigger. One…”

  When he got to eight, Mike said, “I don’t know who wants you dead, I swear.”

  “You’ve got five seconds to give me a name.”

  “You’re right,” he blurted. “I was paid off, but I swear on my mother’s grave I have no idea who was behind the bribe.”

  “Bullshit!” Jason pulled back on the trigger.

  “No! I swear! Whoever it was paid me in cash. Left the money in a locker at the airport.”

  “How much?”

  “A quarter of a million dollars.”

  Anger lit up his insides. Who would pay the sleaze ball that much money to see him hung up to dry? He wanted nothing more than to blow the man’s brains out. “So when did this mystery person make contact with you?”

  “A few days after I read about the murder in the newspaper. I found a note on my car…pinned under the windshield. I thought it was an advertisement. Almost tossed the note without reading it. But then I saw my name scrawled across the paper.”

  “Where’s the note?”

  “It’s long gone.”

  Jason pushed his knee deeper. “What did it say?”

  “I don’t know.” Mike whimpered. “It’s been a long time…short and sweet…something about representing a guy named Jason Caldwell.” He tried to breathe. “Can you let up a little?”

  “Just keep talking.”

  “If I were asked to take on Caldwell’s case, I was to do it. I was told I’d be paid for my efforts.”

  “Why you?”

  Mike struggled for a breath.

  Jason didn’t care. The man was lucky he was going to get to live. He lifted his knee just enough to allow the lawyer a breath or two.

  “Someone had to have known I was in trouble. I was in over my head,” Mike said, his voice strained. “My wife had just left me. My business was failing. Whoever wrote the note must have known I was struggling. That’s all I can figure. The deal was that I take your case and make sure you were convicted.”

  “And what about the money? When were you paid?”

  “Half upfront,” he said between gasps for breath. “The rest after all appeals failed.”

  “You must have talked with this person at some point.”

  “They used a throw-away phone and a voice synthesizer. It was robotic…or maybe computerized, I don’t know.”

  “Male or female?”

  “I have no idea. I couldn’t tell.”

  “When was the last time this person made contact?”

  “Five years ago…after your final appeal was shot down. Another money drop was made, left in a locker at the San Francisco airport. We never talked again.”

  “You’re going to need to testify.”

  “No way. You might as well kill me now and be done with it.”

  Jason sucked in his frustration and said, “Well, you might just get your wish. Tell anyone I was here, Mike, anyone at all, and I’ll come back and take care of you once and for all.”

  ***

  Jason’s adrenaline was still soaring when he found Angela sitting in the car a few blocks away. He tapped on the window and must have given her a start because she put a hand on her chest and took in a breath before she finally unlocked the door.

  He put the gun in the glove compartment.

  She looked at the gun. “Where did you find that? What happened in there?”

  “Start driving. Let’s get out of here. We’ll take I-80 east toward Sacramento.”

  After she cleared the neighborhood, he told her everything that had happened back at the lawyer’s house.

  It was quiet for a moment before he said, “Who would go to so much trouble to pin the murder on me?”

  “A desperate person, more than likely the killer himself,” Angela said. “So you’re convinced the whole thing was a set-up? Someone was out to get you?”

  “I can’t figure any other explanation,” Jason answered, still trying to process what the lawyer had told him.

  “Whoever killed your partner had to first steal a knife from your house. And then, I would imagine, they needed to wait for the right moment.”

  “At the time of the investigation, the F.B.I. agreed that whoever killed Dirk was someone he knew personally. Someone pissed off enough to stab him multiple times. Like I said before, Dirk had a different woman waiting for him in every city he visited. The detectives knew that. Hell, they would still be interviewing potential suspects if they hadn’t decided to pin his murder on me.”

  “Whose idea was it to meet for drinks and discuss selling the business?”

  “I don’t remember. And I’m not sure if it’s important.”

  “Why not?”

  “Since the instant Dirk was killed, the focus was put on me. During the investigation and at the trial…always on me.”

  “Who should they have focused on?”

  “Dirk,” he said. “It should have been about Dirk.”

  She nodded her head in understanding.

  “Investigators should have put their efforts into tracking who might want him dead. At the time, I thought Mike was working on researching Dirk’s finances and romantic interests, but obviously that didn’t happen.” Jason pointed to the next exit. “Get off there.”

  She did as he said. He pointed to a strip mall and told her to park in the back where they couldn’t be seen from the main street. Once she found a parking spo
t and shut off the engine, he reached over and pulled out the keys.

  “What are we doing?”

  “It’s been a long day. It’s late. Time to get a few hours of shut eye and continue this before the sun comes up.”

  He tossed the keys into the middle console, pushed the seat back as far as it would go, and then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  ***

  Angela watched Jason for a long while. She’d never known anyone who could fall asleep in the blink of an eye. She kept waiting for him to sense that she was staring at him and open his eyes, but that never happened. His breathing was deep and even. The man was down for the count.

  Already feeling the chill creep in through every door and window, due to rotted insulation, no doubt, she rubbed her arms in an attempt to keep warm. Remembering the blanket and pillow she’d brought, she climbed into the backseat and made herself as comfortable as possible. From where she lay, she could see Jason’s profile.

  She peered out the window into the dark and wondered what she was doing here. Not only was she cold, she was completely out of her comfort zone. But there was something about Jason Caldwell that compelled her to want to continue to help him. He was a desperate man, but she never once felt threatened. She’d tried to escape multiple times, and yet he’d never lashed out at her or made her feel as if she was in danger.

  Call her crazy, but she believed in him.

  Everything about him, his words and his actions, pointed to his innocence. If he were guilty, he wouldn’t be running toward the crime scene, he would have run for the hills. He certainly wouldn’t have come back to California right now. Not when every federal agent in the state would be after him. Maybe later when things calmed down. But definitely not now.

  She was convinced that he was an innocent man. And even if he didn’t think so, he needed her help.

  Chapter Ten

  Jason woke up at 6:45 the next morning. His foot was numb and a crick in his neck made it difficult to sit up straight. The driver’s seat was empty, and so was the backseat.

  Angela was gone.

  He scrounged around for his hat and sunglasses, wondering where she would go without telling him. Just as he grabbed the keys, he saw her heading down an alleyway toward the parking lot.