by Toni Leland
“You’re working. I’m not.” Kim hoisted her case out of the trunk and turned toward the building. “Talk to you later.”
Out of habit, she glanced up at the deck.
“Oh, no.”
Miss Kitty peered through the railing. The door was open.
Dixie grabbed Kim’s arm. “Don’t go in.” She unzipped her duffel and pulled out a small handgun.
Kim shivered, listening to the familiar sound of the clip sliding into place.
Dixie cocked the gun, then gestured toward the garage door. “I suspect whoever broke in is long-gone, but we won’t take any chances.”
Unarmed, Kim felt vulnerable, her instincts fighting to surface and direct her actions. She stayed a little behind Dixie as the door rolled up. The garage was small, but there was no place for a person to hide, so they moved toward the door to the apartment.
Dixie tried the door, then whispered, “It’s still locked. I’ll bet they came in through the slider. Those doors are old and easy to jimmy.”
The living room and kitchen didn’t show any signs of intrusion. The minute they stepped into the room, Miss Kitty came bounding toward them.
Dixie touched Kim’s arm. “Stay right here while I check the other rooms.”
She moved down the hallway while Kim waited, heart hammering.
A minute later, Dixie called out, “All clear, but you’d better come look at this.”
Kim stopped at the door to her studio and gasped.
“Oh, my God.”
Every drawer, every cupboard and closet, every bookshelf had been ransacked. Papers and books and boxes covered the floor.
Her computer and laptop were gone.
~~
Washington, D.C.
Quaid sank into a chair in the Georgetown motel room and watched Ricky examine the television, coffee maker, and fridge.
“Hey, we can buy sodas and stuff and keep ’em in here!”
“Yeah, but how will that help while we’re out sightseeing?”
Ricky looked blank for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Duh.”
“What do you want to do first tomorrow?”
“Smithsonian. I want to see every part of it. Then if we have time, we can go look at old buildings and stuff.”
Quaid laughed out loud. This would be a real experience.
“Okay, but right now, I’m hungry. How about you?”
“I’m in the mood for fried chicken.”
“Good choice, let’s go find some.”
Half an hour later, they tucked into a pile of Popeye’s crispy fried chicken and buttery biscuits.
Quaid smacked his lips. “Boy, I’d forgotten how good this tasted.”
“Did you eat here a lot when you were in the Army?”
“Not this particular restaurant, but when the guys wanted fast food, this is what we always chose.”
“What was it like, being in the Army?”
Quaid gazed at the boy, remembering his solemnity about heroes, and his almost heart-breaking stoicism at his father’s funeral. Ricky might already be thinking about a future in the military, a possibility that made Quaid proud and sad at the same time.
“Just like any other job, only a lot more exciting. We all had our jobs to do, our time off, a paycheck every month.”
Ricky nodded. “Yeah, it must have been neat to drive those Humvees.” His eyes sparkled. “Did you ever get to drive a tank?”
Quaid grinned. The private sector had an interesting perspective of military life. Except, of course, that of the troops fighting overseas in some Godforsaken desert. Then, the public could see on television what it was all about. But the day-to-day stuff? No clue.
“Never drove a tank or a Humvee.”
Ricky’s face fell. “Well, what did you do?”
“First I was an MP, then I was transferred to Arlington to the Caisson Unit because of my experience with horses.”
“Did you ever shoot anyone?”
Quaid frowned. “Jeez, Rick, why so many questions? No, I never shot anyone. Can we talk about something else?”
Ricky looked crestfallen, but nodded. He took a long drink of soda, then wiped his mouth.
“How come you never got married?”
Quaid almost dropped his drumstick.
“I just never met the right girl. Well, I did have one close call.” He grinned wickedly. “My job got in the way and she decided she wanted to marry someone who came home after work.”
Ricky pinned him with an earnest look. “You could marry my mom.”
All the breath left Quaid’s chest. The kid was serious! What else was going on in that small brain?
Quaid tempered his tone. “Listen, Rick, it’s not that easy. A man and a woman have to fall in love and want to be together. They need to have something in common, and like each other too.”
“You don’t like my mom?”
“Of course. I like her very much. She’s my sister-in-law. She’s family. It’s different.”
Ricky’s voice softened. “I don’t think Dad would mind.”
Quaid’s throat ached. He could see that Ricky didn’t understand at all, but what could he say to change that?
He stacked the trays, then stood up. “C’mon, Sport. Let’s go see the lights of the city.”
As Quaid drove toward the core of the nation’s capital, his thoughts churned. Ricky was lonely and at an awkward age. Maybe it would be a good idea to consider moving closer to Dayton. I could be a little more connected to him, help him through the coming years. Yeah, like I know anything about kids. But would making that move give Ricky the idea that his uncle was interested in his mother? Not that Jenna wasn’t attractive and a nice person, but Quaid couldn’t imagine being romantically involved with his dead brother’s wife.
Ricky pointed through the windshield. “Look! How cool!”
The Washington Monument illuminated against the black sky was breathtaking, the white obelisk mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of the dark reflecting pool. Quaid had never tired of seeing the buildings and monuments in their night-time splendor, so much more impressive than the towering marble and stone structures of the daytime. As they drove along Constitution Avenue, Quaid pointed to the far end of the pool.
“There’s the Lincoln Memorial. We’ll see that tomorrow after we’ve done the Smithsonian. Then on Friday, we can visit the Capitol building and the Library of Congress.”
“When are we going to see my dad?”
Quaid laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “Whenever you want to.”
~~
The police officers finally left Kim’s apartment after almost two hours. She sank onto the couch, her brain spinning. She accepted the cup of coffee Dixie offered.
“Dix, those computers are old. Why would anyone want them? It isn’t like they have any pawn value.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the computers they were after.”
“Then why take them? There’s nothing but—ohmigod, I’ll bet it’s the guy Quaid found!”
Dixie paced back and forth, hands on her hips. “If Garrett thinks the man might be a threat, then it’s a reasonable idea that the guy thinks you have something that will incriminate him.” She stopped pacing and looked at Kim. “Do you?”
“If the photos with him in them are tied to any of the thefts, then yes. But someone would have to be quite clever to put all the pieces together based on some random photographs.”
“Garrett Quaid is about as clever as they come and I suspect that, even though he says he’s done with the case, he wants to know the truth. That’s where the danger lies.”
“I’d probably better tell him about this.”
“Especially in view of the fact that he warned you about this guy. Garrett might know more about him than he’s telling.”
Kim snorted. “Yeah, that would be right in character. He’s a game-player.”
Dixie’s voice softened. “And he also likes you. A lot.”
Kim stood up. “I think you’re wrong,
but I’m too tired to think about that right now.” She looked at her watch. “And it’s too late to call him. I’ll do it in the morning.”
Dixie stepped close and slipped an arm around Kim’s shoulder. “Get some sleep if you can. I’m right next door if you need me.”
A few minutes later, Kim stared at the deck slider and shuddered. Someone had invaded her home, touched her things, stolen her livelihood. She could think of no more horrible feeling than the one roiling through her head at that moment. Alone and vulnerable, she didn’t want company or sympathy. She scooped up her cat and headed for her bedroom.
~~
When Kim awoke the next morning, a few seconds passed before she remembered the robbery. Nausea pooled in the pit of her stomach and she took two deep breaths, trying to dispel the feeling. What on earth would she do? Every aspect of her photography business was stored on those two computers. Every client photograph, every commercial collection, every business transaction, all her contacts. She’d been wiped out. Why? Could Dixie be right? Had Wade Warren instigated the robbery because he knew she’d been watching him? He appeared in almost every show photo and, if he was involved in the horse thefts, then it stood to reason that the pictures might incriminate him.
Kim climbed out of bed and padded to the studio door. An involuntary shudder crawled over her body as she scanned the shambles, wondering if the police were finished with the room. She couldn’t look at the mess for long. Her assessment stopped at the desk. Her phone still sat in the charger. Games. She’d been playing games and look where it had gotten her. She moved into the room and picked her way through the clutter on the floor.
As she scrolled through the phone numbers looking for Quaid’s, she realized that every person she’d dealt with in the past two months was logged right there in her phone. At least she could call her clients and explain the situation. If that was any consolation.
A deep ache began in her thigh, reminding her that she’d lived through worse.
Chapter 35
Quaid’s feet were killing him by noon and Ricky showed no signs of slowing down. They’d only visited half of the exhibits in the National Air and Space Museum, a process that took a long time since Ricky wanted to look at everything and read each sign.
Quaid took charge. “Okay, we need to eat. Let’s grab a bite in the café, then we can finish. At this rate, we’ll never see anything but this museum.”
Ricky pulled out the guide he’d picked up at the motel. Poring over it, he nodded. “No, we’re good. I don’t wanna go to any of the art museums, so that will leave plenty of time.”
Thank you, God. “How about the Arts and Industries Building, and the Castle?”
“Yeah, we can do those too.”
“Then we need about twelve more hours in this day.”
Ricky grinned. “Let’s eat.”
After waiting half an hour in a line that bordered on ridiculous, Quaid and Ricky carried their ham sandwiches to a tiny table by the window. Ricky read a brochure while he ate, and Quaid simply enjoyed the short respite. About three bites into the sandwich, his phone rang.
His work assistant sounded tense. “Hey, Garrett, admin wants to know if you got those pictures.” He chuckled. “You know, the ones of the horse’s—”
“Yeah, I know which ones. I wasn’t able to get down there, but I’ll have them by Monday.”
“Why so long?”
“I’m out of town. Family emergency.”
“Oh, gee, sorry. Okay, I’ll talk you next week then.”
Quaid disconnected, irritated by the reminder that Kovak had messed him up. And he didn’t appreciate her attitude about whether Wade Warren was a threat. Certainly, her law enforcement background would—
His phone rang again. Speak of the devil.
“Quaid?”
Something in her tone set his alert system on high.
“I have bad news. My house was broken into while I was away and...well, those photographs you need are gone. The thieves took my computers.”
“Jeezus, really? They take anything else?”
“Nope, just my entire business.”
“You had it backed up somewhere, right?”
A long silence.
“I’ve been meaning to get one of those external hard drives to use for just that, but it never happened.”
Quaid’s brain was on fire. It could be no coincidence that Kim had photos of Wade Warren and Talisman and Bandit—and now everything was gone.
“I think you’ve shown up on our theft ring’s radar.”
“Dixie thinks so too. Any ideas about the next step?”
“I think I’d better advise United Equine that this case shouldn’t be closed.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m out of town right now, but when I get back, I think we need to meet and put all the cards on the table to see where we are. Deal?”
“Deal. Talk to you later.”
Quaid pocketed the phone. His gut had been right about Wade Warren. If Teri’s pillow talk had revealed Kovak’s interest in the Talisman switch, then it stood to reason that Warren would know who Kovak was and where she lived. And if Warren could kill the woman he’d been sleeping with, he’d easily kill anyone who could link him to a crime.
“What’s the matter, Uncle Garrett?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing, just work.”
“What about? You look mad or worried or something.”
“It’s nothing you’d understand.”
“Jeez, Uncle Garrett, you treat me like I’m a little kid or something. I’m almost thirteen.”
Quaid laughed. “You only just turned twelve.”
Ricky scowled. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand.”
Quaid exhaled in surrender. “Okay, I’ve been working on this case where someone is stealing valuable horses and substituting look-alikes in their place. Then the horse owner calls the insurance company and says his horse is stolen and he wants to be paid. Lots of money.”
Ricky nodded, looking thoughtful. “That would take a lot of planning, wouldn’t it?”
“You got that right. We think there’s a network around the country that has the whole thing plotted out from the time a horse is stolen or gets transported somewhere, to the place where the switch is made. Using a look-alike buys time for the crooks and when the switch is discovered, the original horse is long gone and impossible to trace. What we can’t figure out is how the thieves know where to pull off the switch.”
“They could use a transmitter, like the ones the Air Force uses to keep track of drones.”
“Yeah, I thought of that, but it would have to be implanted under the horse’s skin before it left home. Which means the owner would be purposely scamming the insurance company. We don’t think that’s true for most of the cases, especially the horses that were stolen from horse shows.”
Ricky nodded, taking another bite of sandwich. “Can just anybody plant a transmitter in the skin?”
“Most folks, no. It would require a veterinarian or a specialist trained with the technique. Which adds more people to the theft ring.” Quaid grinned. “You’re pretty sharp, you know that?”
“I like spy stuff.”
~~
As Kim listened to the New Albany police officer outlining the process for recovering stolen goods, her heart fell. If the computers were taken to a pawn shop, they’d be photographed and catalogued, then put into a safe for the required ten days. Photographs would be available to the local police, but the process could take many days before Kim could try to identify her property. That was if the computers were pawned. The officer thought a more likely scenario was kids, bold teenagers who’d rather have the computers than the money. In which case, thought Kim, she’d never get them back. What’s more, she’d been warned that, either way, the hard drives would probably be wiped clean.
She laid the phone down and looked at Miss Kitty.
“What should I do now? Call the Burbank show mana
ger, or wait to see if, by some stroke of luck, I get my stuff back?”
Miss Kitty blinked her big green eyes and moved the tip of her tail ever so slightly.
“You’re right, I should call my customers, get this over with.”
She turned her gaze to the deck slider, thinking about the conversation with Quaid. He’d been decent about the situation, and she was glad that they would have a chance to talk about the case without sparring. One thing she needed to be careful about was revealing exactly why she’d put off sending him the photographs. He didn’t need to know about her plans for Bandit, either the original one or Dixie’s Plan-B.
Kim’s heart warmed. Through all this mess, Dixie had been wonderful and supportive, like a good partner.
Whereas Kim had wondered about the delicate balance of their relationship, it now seemed so simple. Dixie wanted nothing more than to make Kim happy, care for her, be there for her. What more could Kim ask of a friend?
Later, as Kim climbed into her car, she glanced toward the empty spot where Dixie’s vehicle usually sat. Dixie’s enthusiasm for her job almost made Kim sad. Once upon a time, she’d been the same, greeting every day with joy and excitement. Why had all that changed? Shouldn’t she feel the same way about what she was doing now? Did intrigue and danger have to be part of her life in order to satisfy her? She clucked her tongue. Like the past twenty-four hours hadn’t been exciting. A fake cop tailing her and a home invasion seemed enough to stimulate a zest for life.
The fake cop. She’d actually forgotten about him. Was he part of the plot to steal her computers? Maybe he’d been hired by Wade Warren to follow her. Had she been so wrapped up in her own little world that she’d missed seeing him until the day of Teri’s burial? She wracked her brain, trying to remember if she’d been anywhere else he could have been watching her. That coil of uneasiness crept into her gut again. Someone had watched her closely enough to know she’d gone out of town.
Driving through the pretty countryside toward Delaware, Kim thought about getting her hands on Bandit. Dixie’s idea of asking Reggie might just work. If he agreed, she’d need to pay the outrageous board bill, but that was doable. As far as Reggie knew, she was connected to the insurance company. Was there a way to make that work for her?
