A guy’s voice came with static through the speaker. “Yeah?”
“Hi...” she began, stumbling through what she was trying to say. “You don’t know me...but I’d like to...place a bet?”
Nothing but static blared through, and Kate could almost see the young man thinking things through.
He asked, “What’s the password?”
She cursed under her breath and began racking her brain. Should she guess? Thinking fast, she said, “Drag race,” and then waited nervously.
He didn’t respond, but after the longest fifteen seconds of her life, the inner door buzzed. She grabbed the handle and flung the door open, making her way inside.
There was a bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. As she crossed through, one of the elevators opened and Holly and Gillian stepped out together.
Kate knew both of them fairly well. Though Gillian was a parolee from the local prison, she had turned her life around, and Kate had helped both women get jobs at Over the Moon, not to mention that Gillian and Maxwell had been dating for quite some time.
The women looked distraught and when Gillian noticed Kate, she said, “Can you believe this?”
Confused, she asked, “What?
“About that jerk, Lance Langley,” Holly supplied.
And Gillian went on, “He wouldn’t hire us. We worked at Over the Moon for years. How could he not take us on at Rock Ridge Roses?”
Irate, Holly added, “He hired people. It’s not like he doesn’t need the help.”
“So now we’re out of work.”
Kate didn’t know what to say. Business had been picking up around town, but she wasn’t sure any of the shop owners were looking to hire, so she went with, “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” grumbled Gillian. “Back to the drawing board.”
“You could try the amusement park,” Kate suggested.
“Dean’s only paying minimum wage, though,” countered Holly. “But it’s something.”
As they crossed through the lobby on their way out, Kate yelled, “I’ll let you know if I hear of anything!”
“Thanks, Kate!” said Gillian, holding the door for her friend.
Kate slipped inside the elevator before the doors could close and then pressed the button for the seventh floor. The ascent was so fast that the change in pressure clogged her ears, so as she stepped onto the seventh floor, she pinched her nose and blew, causing her inner ears to pop.
She had to hand it to Justina, the high-rise was high-tech and Kate was happy on behalf of the ex-cons that lived there.
As she neared the door for 715, her chest tightened and her heart rate quickened. If Marcus and Hunter had in fact killed Nathan Robillard, then spending time with them alone in their apartment where no one knew where she was wasn’t her smartest idea.
She knocked on the door anyway and stepped back in case they needed to spy her through the peephole. A moment later the door drew inward, revealing the kid that Kate had encountered at Vape Mods.
“You again,” he said, looking her up and down as he adjusted the red baseball cap on his head. “How do you know about our...hobby?”
“You really want to discuss this with me standing in the hallway?” she challenged.
He narrowed his eyes at her but couldn’t argue. He widened the door and Kate stepped into what looked like a poorly decorated bachelor pad. The furniture was leather and extravagant, but the walls were covered in tasteless posters of women wearing bikinis and drinking beer that Kate was sure no woman would drink. It was as if Hunter and Marcus had spent all their money on an entertainment system with a giant flat-screen TV and lived in squalor otherwise.
The kid shut and locked the door then said, “I’m Hunter.”
“Kate,” she told him, turning three hundred and sixty degrees around to really get a good look at the space.
Another young man lumbered out of the bathroom and seemed to be surprised they had company. He was tall, about 6’1” with an unkempt beard, skateboarding t-shirt, and tight-fitting jeans.
Hunter said, “This is Marcus,” before he plopped onto the leather couch and stared up at her. “So you want to place a bet?”
Marcus didn’t let her answer; instead he cut in with, “How did you hear about our races?”
Nervously, Kate said, “It’s a small town. People talk.” But neither of them seemed to buy it. To get them to warm to her and trust her, she said, “Robillard wasn’t taking care of that car of his, and leaving it with Rory was an even worse move.”
The guys exchanged a look of agreement and Hunter laughed to himself.
Guessing at what had appalled him, Kate said, “Parking under a tree like that. Did he not know that bird droppings would damage the paint?”
“Thank you!” said Marcus as though he had discussed the very issue with Nathan a million times.
“But the Thunderbird could race,” she went on. “That’s for sure. Cleaned you guys out good, didn’t it.”
They frowned, admitting it was true.
She continued. “I hear it won’t be racing any longer. Finally, the playing field is level.”
“So let’s get down to business, Red,” said Hunter. “You want to bet? On which car and how much?”
Buying some time, Kate took a slow lap around the living room and sat at the far end of the leather couch, scanning the room all the while. She noticed a black duffle bag resting on the floor near the entertainment center, and unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, she thought she saw a black, knit...something poking out. Is it a ski mask?
“I have a few questions first,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want word getting out that I’m invested.”
“Hey,” said Marcus in a salesman’s tone. “We keep things totally confidential.”
“Then how did I find out about you?” she challenged, and then drove her point home, “Nothing in Rock Ridge is confidential.”
“It is now,” said Hunter with a knowing smile.
Kate could only infer that with Nathan dead, he could no longer blab to his lovers. And Sandra was now in jail. To confirm this, she stated, “Because he’s dead.”
“That’s right,” said Hunter, his expression turning serious.
“You know,” she went on, “the cops think that whoever stole the Thunderbird from Rory is the one who really killed Nathan.”
Anxiously, Marcus asked, “What do you mean ‘the one who really killed Nathan’? Sandra Conway really killed him.”
“I know things,” said Kate. “I have ways. And I happen to know that the cops locked Sandra up to make the killer think it was all over.”
Hunter and Marcus exchanged another look and a silent conversation seemed to ensue, one that Kate couldn’t entirely pinpoint.
“Why are you telling us this?” asked Hunter.
“Because,” she said in a firm tone, “I want to get in on this. I want to bet and win, which means if the killer is my racer, I’ll do everything in my power to keep it quiet—cover it up if need be—if there are any loose ends, that is.”
Marcus seemed skeptical, but his eyes were glued to Hunter, which told Kate that Hunter was at the helm of this thing. However, what he said next contradicted her theory.
“We might take you up on that,” he said. “If the price is right and if our associate is down.”
Kate stared at Hunter, asking, “Associate?”
“That’s right.”
“Kiernan Kirkland?”
Marcus laughed. “She’s good. She does know things, I’ll give her that.”
“So what’s the bid, Red?” asked Hunter.
Given that Kate had no idea how high or low these bets could go, she was reluctant to say a number. What if she said a thousand, but most of the bets were only in the low hundreds? They’d see right through her. Yet she didn’t want to low-ball them. Being conservative would get her nowhere.
“A grand,” she said, eyeing each of them.
Hunter’s poker face held
strong, but after two seconds a grin spread across Marcus’s face.
Hunter asked, “On which car?”
“On whoever was the guy who stole the Thunderbird,” she said, cleverly.
Maybe she had pushed her luck. There was no real logic to her statement other than to learn who had really killed Nathan, and it seemed the guys were catching on.
So to convince them, she said, “Let’s just say this first round of bets has more to do with my thanking whoever wiped Nathan out. He and I had...history. My future bets will be more straightforward.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes at her, and then he grabbed Marcus’s arm, leading him out of the living room. “We need a minute to discuss.”
When they disappeared down the hallway and began whispering, Kate popped off the couch and tiptoed to the black duffel bag. Quickly, she yanked the knit garment out. She was right. It was a ski mask.
She cursed her jean shorts and tight t-shirt. She wanted to take the mask with her. Maybe there were hair follicles that Scott and his forensic team could test and have hard evidence, but she had no way of fitting the thing into her pocket. If only she’d brought her tool kit.
Thinking fast, she rushed to the window, unlatched it and threw it open, tossing the hat. She’d find it later.
She had barely enough time to close the window, as they strolled back into the room. Her butt met the leather couch just as they returned, and the fact that she hadn’t locked the window made her mouth go dry.
Hunter explained, “We have to bounce this off the boss, but we’ll be in touch.”
He asked for her cell number and she recited it, and then said, “I really need to use your bathroom.”
Hunter seemed annoyed but pointed the way.
As soon as she shut the door, she ran the faucet loudly and began scanning the sink area.
To her surprise and unlike the living room, the bathroom was neatly organized with Hunter’s belongings clearly marked with his name on the left side of the sink, while Marcus’s occupied the other side.
Quickly, she grabbed a comb from Hunter’s side of the sink and noted a few stray hairs. She wrapped it in toilet paper and tucked it into her back pocket. From the right side of the sink she searched for something to steal, but it was slim pickings. She needed something, so she stole his toothbrush, knowing full well he would notice but not be able to do a thing about it. She wrapped it in toilet paper as well and slipped it beside the comb in her back pocket then tugged her t-shirt down as low as it would go over her waist.
Next she flushed the toilet in case they were listening, turned off the faucet, and exited the bathroom.
When she reached them in the living room, she was sure to square her shoulders toward them, hiding her back pocket, and said, “You have my cell. I’ll wait for your call.”
She tried not to seem too awkward about sidestepping to the door and backing out into the hallway. As soon as the door closed, she booked it to the elevator and didn’t exhale until she was outside.
Now was the tough part. Her heart was pounding as she attempted to get her bearings in terms of where the black ski mask might have fallen.
Visualizing the layout of their apartment, she figured the mask would’ve fallen around the left side of the apartment building so she walked briskly around.
It took a fair amount of wading into the shrubs that lined the building’s exterior, but she found the ski mask, and with it in hand, she jogged to her truck and jumped in.
“Phew!”
She felt exhilarated. In her possession was all the evidence she needed to link the killer to his true identity. This case was as good as solved.
As she twisted the key in the ignition, firing up her truck, her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. Terrified it might be Marcus calling about why in the hell his toothbrush was missing, Kate stepped on the gas and peeled out into the street. It wasn’t until she had driven a full block that she glanced at the LCD screen and saw Carly’s name and number flashing.
She answered, placing her cell against her ear, “Dare I ask how it went?”
“Kate!” Her friend exclaimed. “It went great. Lance agreed. I’m going to sell his flowers and he’s only going to sell gifts in his shop, gardening books and stuff, but no flowers!”
“Congratulations!” said Kate.
It looked as though everyone’s luck was turning.
Chapter Nine
When Kate reached the Municipal Building for the second time that day, pulling her truck into the parking lot and squeezing between a Volvo and a beat-up truck, she knew it would be a trick to sneak past Scott.
Part of her wanted to bring her husband into the loop and explain her reasons for believing Sandra Conway. She wanted to detail for him her encounter with Hunter and Marcus and the fact that she now had evidence, but Scott had a long history of asking, warning, and begging her not to get involved in his investigations. She felt like she was so close to catching the real killer that she couldn’t afford to be stopped. And once the forensics department matched the black ski mask with either the toothbrush or the comb, Scott would have nothing to argue against. It would still be over, just as he thought it was now, but the correct murderer would be behind bars.
The real trick was going to be convincing the forensics department to use its funding and resources to test DNA for a case they fully believed was closed, and to get their help without her husband finding out.
But Kate had been in tighter spots than this one...
She pulled the key from the ignition, grabbed the evidence from the passenger’s seat and found a spare plastic bag in the pocket behind her seat. She tucked the ski mask, and toothbrush and comb, both of which were still wrapped in toilet paper, into the shopping bag.
After glancing around the parking lot and then at the glass entrance door to check that Scott wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, she climbed out of her truck and made her way into the building.
The forensic department was on the second floor, so she had a decent shot of avoiding the cops in the precinct since the bullpen was on the ground floor, but getting all the way down the hall to the stairwell meant that anyone who lifted their eyes from their desk inside the station might catch sight of her.
So she walked fast and kept her head down, not that the particular hue of her hair wouldn’t be a dead giveaway.
When she reached the stairwell door, she threw it open and began climbing quickly up to the second floor.
Once there, she traveled the hallway, checking the signs on each door until she came to one that said, Forensics in bold lettering across the glass. She hadn’t been up here in ages, it seemed, and she couldn’t recall if she’d ever ventured into the actual forensics lab.
After slipping through the door, she was met with an assistant dressed in a white lab coat sitting behind a desk. He lifted his gaze, adjusting the thick-rimmed glasses on his face, and seemed surprised to have a visitor though he recognized her right away.
Everyone at the Rock Ridge precinct knew the police chief’s wife.
“Hi,” she said quietly, as she glanced around the anteroom. Luckily, there were no others, though she could hear analysts conversing behind closed doors. “I have a rather unusual request.”
“Okay...” he said, eyeing the plump plastic bag dangling from her fingers. “Kate, right?”
“Yes, but if I can do this anonymously, I’d really appreciate it.”
“It depends on what it is,” he told her.
His desk phone rang so he held his finger up, answering it. The call was brief and he mostly listened and then returned the phone to its cradle.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
She waited a moment, expecting him to explain that he would have to race off, but it didn’t come so she said, “I have three items here.” She indicated the bag. “I need to know if the toothbrush or the comb matches the black ski mask.”
“Matches?” he asked then quickly caught on. “You mean you want to know if it’s a D
NA match.”
“Yes,” she said through a sheepish smile.
He looked momentarily dumbfounded, mumbling, “Just a sec,” as he began typing on his keyboard and scanning the monitor. “We can do it,” he finally said, “but not for free.” Without looking up, he added, “You know a hospital could also do it if you tell them it’s for paternity testing.”
Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“It might be cheaper,” he mentioned. “And in terms of this department, if the test isn’t for an active case, then we’ll have to give priority to our open cases.”
“Do you have any active cases at the moment?”
“Well, no,” he allowed. “But you never know when the next crime is going to be committed.”
He had a point, but still she preferred to get this over with here and now, rather than drive over to the hospital where she would have to fill out endless forms and probably pay just as much.
“Do I need to fill out any paperwork?” she asked, implying using his department suited her just fine.
“I’ll take your information,” he told her and began asking her for her contact information.
After telling him, she asked, “Will this be confidential?”
“I mean, we won’t alert the media,” he said casually and with a smirk.
“I’m more concerned you’ll alert my husband.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. The assistant stared at her as though she had given him an idea that wouldn’t have otherwise occurred to him.
“Oh, please keep this between us,” she said, pleadingly. “Scott is about to have his vacation, and if he were to find out about this it would only distract him, and he might decide not to take his days off.”
“I hear you,” he said. “It can stay between us, but I can’t guarantee the lab assistants won’t mention it to him.”
“Well can you put a note in the file telling them not to?”
Again, he looked lost as he scanned the monitor, and then his eyes snapped up to her. “Is Scott not Josie’s father?”
“Oh, God no!” she blurted out. “He’s the father!”
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