Clean Getaway (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 13)

by Christy Barritt

  Hanson, on the other hand, didn’t seem all that surprised. He didn’t miss a beat as he asked, “Who’d you get drugs from?”

  Jarrod’s eyes locked on Hanson’s. “Dewey. I met with Dewey.”

  I blanched at that announcement. “So, you’re Dewey’s alibi?”

  There I went talking again. I just couldn’t seem to stop. I had so many questions, though.

  Jarrod nodded “That’s right. I know for a fact that neither of us did the crime because we were together at the time.”

  “Dewey will confirm that?” Hanson held his pen and paper and stared Jarrod down.

  Jarrod nodded. “Yeah. I made a promise not to tell anyone. He was afraid of being arrested.”

  “But he’s been a suspect in a murder!” I clamped down. “He’d rather face that speculation than own up to drug charges?”

  I would stay quiet. I would stay quiet. I would stay quiet.

  “I don’t know,” Jarrod said. “I’m just telling you what he said.”

  “Dewey doesn’t think or react like normal people do, but what I don’t understand is why you would sabotage this investigation,” Hanson said. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. We wasted valuable time and resources investigating Dewey. If you had just come forward with this information, maybe we would have more answers now.”

  For real.

  Jarrod shrugged, that defiant look returning. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to reopen this case.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want us to find answers?” Okay, so I totally gave up on staying quiet. I had too many questions, and Hanson wasn’t exactly hushing me.

  “It’s complicated.” A shield came down over Jarrod’s gaze.

  “You better make it uncomplicated and fast,” Hanson growled. “I’m ready to throw the book at you. Obstruction of justice. Vandalism. Attempted murder. That’s just to name a few.”

  “Okay, everyone. Stop. Just stop.” Jessie’s voice sliced through the air.

  All our attention swiveled to her like the screeching of tires on the asphalt before a huge car accident.

  I had no idea where this was going, but I couldn’t wait to find out. My heart beat with anticipation—and maybe dread. What did she know?

  “This isn’t Jarrod’s fault,” she started, her face noticeably paler.

  “Jessie, what are you saying?” Talmadge asked, concern etched into his features.

  “I asked him to run you guys off,” Jessie said, her eyes—narrow with apology and regret—met mine. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not mature or very bright or very grateful. But this was all my idea.”

  Certainly I hadn’t heard her correctly.

  “Why in the world did you want to run us off?” I asked. “I thought you were okay with this. That’s what you told me.”

  She shrugged and put a hand on Jarrod’s shoulder. “I thought I was. But then I decided: what if the truth is worse than not knowing? Maybe I don’t want answers. My life hasn’t been all that terrible in recent years.”

  “You don’t want the person responsible for your parents’ deaths to have any consequences?” I asked.

  I just couldn’t comprehend that. Justice should be served, and no one should get away with murder.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice cracked as she swung her head back and forth mournfully. “I just don’t know if I want the past opened up. I thought we could just run you off and no one would be the wiser. But you wouldn’t be run off. It didn’t matter what happened to you. You never gave up.”

  It was as Riley had said. I was like a bloodhound on the hunt. There was no meandering with me, deadline or not. Today was one of the first times I’d felt on the brink of giving up. I was glad I hadn’t.

  “Jessie . . .” Talmadge said, disappointment written in his voice and all over his slack features.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Tal.” She dipped her head as a sob escaped. “I know this isn’t okay.”

  I had to look away, torn between compassion and anger, understanding and agitation. A conversation would have cleared all this up, but she’d taken a very different path. A dangerous one.

  Hanson turned toward me. “Do you want to press charges?”

  That was a great question—and a complicated one.

  Jessie and Jarrod had made my life difficult, to say the least. They’d cost me time and money. Had put my life in danger. But Jessie had also been through so much.

  Justice and compassion collided inside me again.

  Lord, what should I do? How would I want someone to treat me if I were in this situation?

  “No, no charges,” I finally said. “I think enough damage has already been done.”

  After Hanson left with Jarrod, Talmadge and Carol asked for a moment with Jessie, and we respected that.

  I didn’t know what to think as I slipped back upstairs.

  Had I made the right choice in not pressing charges? I had to believe that I had. With everything I’d learned, I could hardly believe Jarrod and Jessie were behind those sabotage attempts.

  My thoughts were swirling as my fractured cold case squad reached the landing.

  “Sherman, why did you come outside tonight anyway?” I asked before he could disappear into his room. “Did I wake you when I went downstairs?”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I was working on the computer, and I discovered something that I knew you’d want to hear right away. I knocked on your door and you didn't answer. I became worried and thought the worst.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I didn’t want to mention it downstairs just now because of the sensitive situation going on.” Sherman rubbed his hands together, as if he were still anxious. “You’ve got to see for yourselves.”

  Evie and I slipped into his room and gathered around an old computer that had been set up on a corner desk.

  Friction still sparked between Evie and me like a fire about to be ignited. I hated to end things this way, but tension had been pulling between us all week. I wasn’t sure there was any recovering from it.

  “So, I was able to access a hidden email account on Margie’s computer,” Sherman said, pushing up his glasses and tip-tapping on the keyboard.

  My stomach clenched with anticipation . . . or the remnants of food poisoning. Either way . . . “What?”

  “Everything you do on the computer leaves a footprint,” he said. “It’s just a matter of finding them. It’s one of the advances that has been made in the years since their deaths. Technology has changed at such a rapid pace. I found new evidence, guys. That feeling never gets old.”

  “You’re brilliant,” I muttered.

  “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

  “I would,” Evie said.

  Sherman beamed. Maybe there was hope for the two of them. But I had a more pressing hope at the moment.

  “What did you find out?” I leaned closer, wanting to see it with my own eyes.

  “Well, there are some strange emails.” Sherman typed a few more things into the computer. “In fact, I think Margie may have created this account just so she could send these messages and these messages alone.”

  “What do they say?” I could hardly stand waiting. I wanted to jerk the computer away so I could see what was there. But I would be patient.

  “Someone was threatening to expose Margie.” Sherman pointed to an email on the screen. “This person was going to go public with something unspecified, and Margie wanted to pay money in order to silence this person.”

  “Who’s the person?” I asked, hardly able to breathe.

  “That’s the kicker. It’s a made up name. The email address is ballandchain@zmail.com. He never signed his name. But the emails are pretty intense, and there were more than twenty of them.”

  “So, does it say what she was being blackmailed over?” Evie asked.

  He turned toward us and licked his lips. “I have no idea, but it had to be life-changing. Margie said she’d kill herself if anyone found out about it
.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  We had a lot of choices to make.

  Would we be welcome here at the Banks’s home any longer? Or would they ask us to back off the case since Jessie was in such a state of turmoil?

  If they did, it would be a shame because we were getting so close to answers. My discouragement had blown away, and a fire in my belly had replaced it. However, Evie and Sherman were flying out tomorrow evening.

  As Evie and I left Sherman’s room, the tension was as thick as New York cheesecake between us. Soured, moldy, discount-grocery-store-bought cheesecake.

  I couldn’t let this continue any more. Either we were going to work together or we weren’t. That was it. We were two grown, professional women, and we needed to act like it.

  I wasn’t sure if we could overcome our differences or not. But it would all start with a talk.

  I hoped.

  “Evie—” I started.

  Just as I turned toward her, she blurted, “My family was killed in an automobile accident.”

  My heart hammered in my ears. “I had no idea.”

  Her body stiffened and her hard gaze remained fixed on something in the distance. “I was only five. I went to live with an aunt and uncle as well, but I was just a burden to them. At fourteen, they put me in foster care. This case has hit home with me in ways I wished it hadn't.”

  Compassion squeezed me. That explained so much about Evie and why she put so many walls around herself, not to mention why she’d acted especially awful during this case. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged, her guard going up again. “That’s life. You’ve got to learn to deal.”

  There was a lot more to Evie than I realized, and I’d bet it would take months—if not years—to get through all her layers and to even touch on understanding her.

  “I know I can be a little uptight, and I apologize. You just seem so happy-go-lucky, and I get jealous sometimes. You’re right. People do like you more.”

  “I didn’t say that . . . did I?” I searched my thoughts but came up empty.

  “Not in so many words.” She shrugged, looking even more grim than usual. “It doesn’t matter. The truth is, things have gotten worse.”

  I leaned against the wall, bracing myself for whatever she was about to say. “What’s going on, Evie?”

  She stared in the distance again. “I became close with my foster family. My foster dad left us when I went to college, however. He ran off with another woman. For years, it’s just been me and my foster mom. But about a month ago, my mom stopped calling me.”

  I held my breath, waiting to hear what she had to say next. I could see the controlled pain on her face. She tried to hold it at bay, to conceal it. She tried to be strong, I realized. I wished she understood that she didn’t have to be strong around me.

  “Apparently, she met a guy online. I knew she was feeling lonely, but I had no idea the extent of it.” Her head dipped. “I should have been there for her.”

  “It probably wouldn’t have changed anything,” I said softly.

  I wanted to reach out to Evie, to touch her arm. But I knew she wouldn’t welcome it.

  “I tried to warn her about the dangers of online dating, but she was taken with this guy. She went to go meet him. I haven’t heard from her since then.” The lines on her face grew deeper.

  “Why’d you keep this information to yourself for so long?” I asked. “We could have helped you.”

  A smidgen of her guard went back up. “It’s personal. I wanted to focus on this case.”

  “Is that what you were doing in the hotel room that day? I saw you quickly putting something away.”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t ready to share yet. Anyway, this morning I didn’t have to work. I thought I had a lead on her location, but it fell through. I’m no closer to finding my mom than I was before.”

  “Let us help you.”

  She raised her chin, her gaze only skimming mine. “I’m not good at letting people help me.”

  “You’re never too old to learn how to do it.”

  “Maybe.”

  I lowered my voice. “Thanks for sharing, Evie. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

  “I don’t want our friendship to be affected by my personal issues and poor communication style. And I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t respond as well as I should have.”

  To my surprise, she threw her arms around me in a quick hug. Just as quickly, she disappeared into her room.

  This night was just full of surprises.

  Unfortunately, Sherman’s and Evie’s flights left tomorrow. That didn’t leave us much time to figure this out.

  I went downstairs the next morning, unsure how I would be greeted or what the general tone in the house would be.

  Evie’s and Sherman’s rooms had been quiet, so I figured they were still sleeping. It was just as well. I needed to handle this conversation with the Banks myself—but I wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Talmadge, Carol, and Jessie were all chatting at the dining room table. They stopped and turned toward me when I walked in. The atmosphere of the room was noticeably tense and somber.

  “Good morning, Gabby,” Talmadge said. “Can we have a word with you?”

  “Of course.” I stiffly sat in a chair at the end of the table and prepared myself for whatever they were about to say. I had no idea where the conversation would go.

  “First of all, we’d like to say thank you for not pressing charges,” Talmadge said.

  “It’s no problem.” I’d actually questioned that decision. But there was no need to ruminate on it now. The choice had been made and the matter settled.

  “I’m really sorry for doing what I did,” Jessie rushed. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying all night. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I just wanted to scare you off.”

  “What did you poison me with?” I asked. More questions had simmered in my mind last night, and I was glad I had the chance to address them.

  “I had Hope slip some Visine into your orange juice,” she admitted, keeping her gaze low.

  “So, Hope was in on this also?”

  “She didn’t leave the snakes,” Jessie said, her voice weak and fragile. “She just provided the key that allowed Jarrod to do it. We figured you’d see them before they could bite you.”

  It was a risk I personally wouldn’t have taken.

  “How about the gas line that was cut? It could have killed us.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice but failed. What she’d done could have turned out much differently. We could have died.

  She hung her head. “I was impulsive, and we should have thought it through more.”

  That was the understatement of the year.

  “And the gunshots?”

  Her gaze remained on the table. “They were never meant to hit you. Only scare you.”

  “What about the boat on the water that night?”

  She squinted. “What boat?”

  “A boat shined a light on me at the house my first evening here.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Hmm . . . maybe Evie was right. Maybe that boat was just a coincidence.

  I released my breath. “Well, what’s done is done. I wished you’d just told me from the start that you didn’t want me on the case.”

  I wanted to lecture her. But I hoped she was feeling guilty enough that she didn’t need me to remind her of the seriousness of what she’d done.

  “I was afraid of what everyone would think,” she continued. “Everyone assumes I want answers, but I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do. I knew people would judge me if I admitted that.”

  Talmadge reached across the white linen tablecloth and squeezed her hand. “We would have loved you either way.”

  She smiled at her uncle between watery-eyed sniffles. “Thank you.”

  Talmadge pulled his gaze away from his niece and his eye
s locked on mine. “All this said, we’d like for you to drop the investigation. I think there’s already been enough trouble stirred up.”

  I remembered what Sherman had discovered on the computer about Margie. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Not yet. Maybe there was no need to bring it up now. At least not to Jessie.

  I needed more information before I potentially rocked her world. If I even did that.

  After all, she claimed she didn’t want to know, so I’d have to proceed carefully and really think this through.

  “I understand,” I said. The words pained me to say. I so wanted to finish this investigation.

  “We’re not in a hurry to rush you out of the house,” Carol said, circles beneath her eyes despite that sleeping medicine last night. “Take your time gathering your things. Maybe even enjoy the area a little today before you leave.”

  I nodded, knowing I’d never do that. “Thank you.”

  “What will you tell Garrett?” Jessie’s hesitant gaze met mine.

  That was a good question. I hadn’t really thought about it. “I’m not sure yet.”

  She dipped her eyes. “I’m going to lose my job, aren’t I?”

  “I hope not,” I said, realizing her main problem was immaturity mixed with grief. It was never a good combination, but the mix was especially toxic with her. “I will have to give him an account. He’s put a lot of money into this.”

  “I really messed up.” She dropped her eyes again.

  Talmadge and Carol were comforting her as my phone rang. I excused myself and walked into the living room, grateful for the chance to get away from the tense family moment.

  Detective Hanson’s name popped up on my screen.

  I wasn’t going to mention those emails to him yet. Not until I sorted through my suspects one more time. With Dewey and Jarrod ruled out, Hanson had moved up on my list. I needed to proceed with caution.

  “I thought you’d want to know that I got some news on that DNA,” he said.

  “Already? That was fast.”

  “Someone called in a favor to the crime lab.”

  Evie . . . you had to admire someone with that much pull.