Tampered

by Stella Bixby

  “She got a call the night the fire department showed up at our house. The night Desmond was murdered,” Shayla said. “She told me it was Garrett. But it wasn’t. And the number that called her was the same number that called 9-1-1 about gunshots at Shadow Trail.”

  “If she killed him, why would she call 9-1-1?” Luke asked.

  “I don’t think she killed him. I know Rylie just as well as you do. But my TO and Bryant don’t.” She paused. “We also found something in her bedroom.”

  My first reaction was anger. I couldn’t believe they were going through my room.

  My second was panic. They’d found the check.

  I had to get out of there.

  I slipped back inside the crowded bar. There had to be a back exit. Through the kitchen or something.

  I pushed through the groups of people laughing and drinking. If only I’d have stayed out of it. They all warned me. But I had to be a stubborn idiot.

  When I found a door, it was rigged with an alarm system. In big red letters it said, Push in Case of Emergency. The door may or may not have been connected, but I couldn’t just stand there and get arrested. I had to go somewhere.

  I couldn’t go to our apartment or Garrett’s. Those were the first places they’d look. My parents’ house was off the table too.

  I’d figure it out once I was safely behind the wheel. Of the car Shayla knew I was driving. Damnit.

  Surely, they had someone watching the car in the lot just in case I slipped by Shayla.

  I’d have to walk. There was a light rail stop not too far from the bar. I could determine where I was going if I made it that far.

  “Here goes nothing.” I sucked in a breath and pushed the door open.

  Nothing happened. No alarms. No flashing lights.

  I let out the air in my lungs and slipped outside. When the door was nearly closed, the alarms blared.

  Panic inside the bar was loud enough you could hear it beyond the closed door and cinderblock walls. I could just imagine all the cops reaching for their concealed weapons.

  I had to get to the light rail before they found me.

  I looked around to make sure there weren’t any cops in view before hobbling away from the building and onto the sidewalk.

  It wasn’t the nicest part of town. People loitered on the streets drinking and smoking and doing who knew what else. But at that moment I didn’t care, the people meandering down the sidewalk gave me somewhere to hide. If I was the only one walking down the street, I’d be easily recognized.

  The train arrived just as I reached the stop.

  I hopped on and prayed no one would check me for a ticket.

  I pulled the hood up on my jacket and sat in one of the seats furthest back.

  I had no phone. No car. Nowhere to go.

  Part of me considered turning myself in. I had nothing to hide. I hadn’t killed anyone.

  But my actions made me look suspicious.

  Very suspicious.

  And if they could pull the data from my phone, they’d know I was at the scene of Desmond’s murder.

  I glanced up at the sign that showed the rail route. It went all the way to Denver International Airport.

  The ticket to Florida was still in my pocket.

  24

  Sleeping in an airport sucked. Sleeping in an airport knowing the cops were looking for me sucked even more.

  My flight didn’t leave until nine in the morning, making for a long night. By the time the sun peeked up over the horizon, I was in full freak-out mode.

  Every person seemed to be watching me. Even the barista at Starbucks gave me a weird stare.

  I only had a little bit of time left before I’d be on an airplane and out of the state. I had to find something in Florida that would exonerate me. Maybe Cedric could confirm that Elodie killed Selena too.

  Or maybe I could find proof that Cedric did. They looked awfully cozy in the photo I’d gotten.

  Could he have killed her because she wouldn’t leave Jacob? Guilt would explain him setting up a non-profit in her memory.

  “Rylie?” Luke’s voice startled me so badly I nearly spilled my coffee down my front. I turned to run, but he caught me by the arm.

  So much for me being vigilant. Now I was going to jail.

  “Luke, look. I didn’t kill anyone. Please don’t arrest me.”

  Luke stood in front of me, a single bag flung over one shoulder. He wasn’t there to arrest me. He was there to leave.

  He dropped the bag to the ground and pulled me into a hug. “I know you didn’t kill anyone. Bryant’s on a witch hunt.”

  “I’m not a witch,” I said, trying to lighten the mood even though tears were blurring my vision.

  He let me go. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help more.”

  “I was stupid. But I’m going to get this figured out. I’ll clear my name.”

  Luke shook his head. “You’re impossible. I hope marriage settles you down a bit.”

  The mention of my marriage coming out of Luke’s mouth made me nauseous.

  “My flight’s boarding,” Luke said. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  He opened his arms, and I fell into them. The tears were flowing now.

  Luke pressed his lips to the top of my head. “You know, I always thought we’d end up together. Somehow.”

  I nodded. “I did too.”

  He pulled back and looked down into my eyes. For a moment I thought he might kiss me. And for a moment I thought I might let him.

  “Garrett’s a lucky guy. Don’t ever let him forget that.”

  Emotions flooded through me like a tidal wave. I sobbed as Luke turned and walked away.

  I cried the entire flight. My thoughts were all over the place—sadness for losing Luke, guilt for feeling the way I did about Luke while I was engaged to Garrett, anger for being a wanted fugitive.

  By the time I landed, the man next to me couldn’t get up quickly enough.

  I didn’t care.

  I stared out the window until I was the last person on the plane.

  “Ma’am, are you going to get off the airplane?” a female flight attendant asked.

  I stood on shaky legs.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll all work out,” she said as I passed her.

  “Thanks,” I managed.

  When I got past security, I headed in the direction of where the taxis sat anxiously awaiting their next customer.

  “Rylie Cooper?” A voice to my left said.

  I turned to find a woman holding a sign with my name on it. She was probably in her fifties and looked not the slightest bit intimidating.

  “Who’s asking?” I said.

  “I have a car waiting for you,” she said, directing me toward the doors. “Do you have any luggage?”

  “Nope, just me.”

  “Very good.”

  She led me to a black Escalade where another woman stood holding the door open.

  “Who do you work for?” I asked her before getting into the car.

  “Ah, yes. I assumed you would have questions. Mr. Walden asked me to give you this.” She handed me a large envelope.

  “Who is Mr. Walden?”

  “He’s a private investigator hired by Mr. Pratt.”

  “As in Desmond Pratt?”

  “Yes. May his soul rest in peace.” She made the sign of the cross over her chest.

  “Did Mr. Walden send me the plane ticket?”

  She nodded. “On Mr. Pratt’s direction. Mr. Pratt was convinced you’d come.”

  “I guess he was right,” I said.

  I stepped into the car, and the woman chauffeur closed the door. But she didn’t make it to the driver’s seat before the car lurched forward.

  “Whoa, slow down,” I said, looking at the driver.

  “What are you doing here?” Cedric asked, his face filled with rage.

  25

  Cedric raced through Tampa traffic dodging cars, narrowly miss
ing their bumpers.

  “I asked what you’re doing here,” he said again.

  Panic flooded me.

  “I got a note and a plane ticket.” Why hadn’t I told anyone I was coming? Or at least gotten a replacement phone?

  “From who?” He dodged between two semi-trucks making my stomach clenched.

  “No return address,” I said. I wasn’t about to give up the PI’s name.

  “That little twerp needed to learn to mind his own business. If he had, he might still be alive.”

  “Desmond?” I asked. “But you didn’t kill him, Elodie did.”

  Cedric glanced at me in the rearview mirror, surprise on his face. “How do you know?”

  “Maurice told me,” I said. “He was driving me home when he spilled.”

  “You really don’t know how to stay out of other people’s business, do you?” He looked back at the road. “I can’t believe out of all the women Garrett could have chosen, you’re the one he wants to marry.”

  “All the women? What are you talking about?” His comment took me aback. I wasn’t expecting him to bring up Garrett.

  “Women have always loved him. He’s a handsome guy with a steady job.” He turned another corner. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

  “Of course, I see it. That’s why I’m with him. Well, that and because I love him, of course,” I added quickly. “I just didn’t realize other women were banging down his door.”

  “He would never tell you. He’s a gentleman like that.”

  Cedric’s anger seemed to have faded.

  “Is this your car?” I asked.

  He laughed. “From the look on that woman’s face, did it look like this was my car?”

  I imagined the chauffer’s shocked expression as her car drove away without her.

  “You shouldn’t steal other people’s cars.”

  “Where was she going to take you?” he asked.

  “How am I supposed to know? All the photograph said was go find the truth.”

  “Photograph?” Cedric’s eyes narrowed. “What photograph?”

  “The one of you and Selena,” I said.

  “So he did get it to you.”

  “Is that what you were looking for?”

  He turned a corner too sharply, running over a curb. “What are you talking about?”

  “When you trashed my car. Were you looking for the photograph?”

  He didn’t answer right away. We turned down a couple more streets and then onto a bigger highway.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “My phone was still recording audio. When you freaked out about the pepper spray, I knew. You also went to Desmond’s house, before he died, I presume?”

  Cedric didn’t respond.

  “But why didn’t you go to my apartment?” I asked. “You would have found the photo there.”

  “Break into a police officer’s apartment? I may be crazy, but I’m not an idiot.”

  I’d have to thank Shayla when I got back. If she didn’t arrest me.

  “What else do you know?” Cedric asked.

  I was torn. Did I tell him the information I had? If I did, he’d know what I didn’t have. But maybe he could fill in some of the gaps.

  “Jacob was abusive,” I said. “He told me himself. He and Elodie were having an affair long before Selena died.”

  Cedric didn’t make any actions to confirm or deny.

  “The night of the gala, they fought. I don’t know whether it was about his affair with Elodie or her affair with you.”

  Cedric didn’t say anything.

  “But I’m guessing it was about her and you, and that’s why he hit her. And why he wouldn’t let you drive her to the gala. Instead, he made you take him to see Elodie—even though she’s refuting that now.”

  “What?” He looked slightly panicked.

  “That’s why they arrested Jacob for murder. She told the police she lied about confirming his alibi.”

  “I knew we couldn’t trust her,” he said. “I’ve hated her from the moment he hired her.”

  “That’s the night Selena died.” I hesitated. “Or went missing. Desmond seemed to think she was still alive, but from what I’ve heard, the scene wasn’t one someone would walk away from.”

  Tears hung in the corners of Cedric’s eyes.

  “And since you and Selena were involved, you started a non-profit in her honor.”

  His gaze shifted to me for a long second and then back to the road again. I didn’t dare bring up the idea that he might have killed Selena.

  “Years went by. The police dropped the investigation after finding no evidence that led them anywhere. But Desmond wasn’t okay without answers,” I said. “At some point, he broke into the Marquez residence and stole Selena’s extra prosthetic and possibly a pair of red shoes.”

  Cedric nodded, confirming at least part of my theory.

  “He planted them at the reservoir where Jacob runs every day.” I paused. “I’m not sure if he did it to frame Jacob or just to get the police to investigate again, but after he tipped off the press, the police had no other option but to reopen the case.”

  I took a breath before continuing. Outside, palm trees lined the highway along with various strip malls, car repair shops, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

  “At this point, I’m not completely sure what happened,” I said. “For some reason, Elodie killed Desmond after Jacob had taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed for the night. She and Maurice followed him to Shadow Trail Reservoir—where he planned to meet me. They rammed his car over and over before he jumped out, hopped the fence, and was shot. Elodie must have shot him through the fence.”

  “Any idea why she would have killed him?” Cedric asked.

  “Probably like you said, he was annoying. He was probably harassing them, and Elodie is filled with hormones. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my boyfriend’s ex-wife’s murder surfaced just before I was about to have his baby.” I paused. “I mean, I wouldn’t kill anyone, obviously, but you know.” I shrugged. “She does seem kind of crazy.”

  “Any other thoughts on the matter?” he asked. “Any idea who killed Selena?”

  “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know who killed her. I’m leaning toward Elodie, but I think she and Jacob were together that night.” I sucked in a breath. “I also considered you.”

  He nodded.

  “But I’m starting to think that might not be the case.”

  The car was silent for a few miles. Cedric wasn’t speeding anymore.

  “Have you given this information to the police?” Cedric asked.

  “Not all of it,” I said. “Though I think they know more than I do.”

  “They’re not the ones in Florida right now,” Cedric said. “They’ve never come down here.”

  “I probably wouldn’t have put any of it together if I hadn’t seen you at that restaurant,” I said. “When Garrett said you were going to Florida, I knew.”

  “How?”

  “Desmond’s board had four things circled—Shadow Trail Reservoir, Gala, Jacob, and Florida.”

  “He knew about the non-profit?”

  “Looks like it,” I said. “I just don’t quite understand how that fits into the whole thing. I mean, I get that you’d start a battered women’s shelter after what happened to someone you cared about, but how does that have anything to do with Selena’s death?”

  “She left a sizeable chunk of money for it in her will,” Cedric said. “I think Desmond thought—or at least hoped—she’d leave him some money.”

  I thought about the tiny house he had lived in with junk everywhere compared to the Marquez mansion. “Is that why you think he tried to get back into her life? For money?”

  “I’m sure some of it was about relationship,” Cedric said. “But I’m guessing he thought if he could prove Jacob was responsible for her murder, her money would go to
her next of kin rather than her murderer husband.”

  “Would it have?”

  Cedric shook his head. “She left precise instructions that all of her money was to go to this.” He motioned to a sign in front of a dilapidated strip mall that said Neleas. “And wasn’t to go to Jacob or Desmond.”

  “From the looks of things, she didn’t have much money to give.”

  He parked in front of the building and turned off the engine.

  “Do you think this is where Desmond’s people were going to bring me?”

  “Why don’t you open that and find out.” Cedric pointed to the envelope the woman at the airport had handed me.

  I hadn’t wanted to open it in front of him, but my curiosity outweighed my caution. Inside the envelope were several additional photos of Cedric and Selena together—all taken by what looked like someone hiding in bushes. Probably Mr. Walden, the PI. The images were grainy and hard to make out, but there was no mistaking the couple.

  I handed them to Cedric, and he thumbed through them with a smile. “He was watching us.”

  “Either that or he hired someone to watch you. But why?”

  The next document looked like a copy of Selena’s will, leaving three million dollars to Cedric to create the non-profit. It had been updated several months before she died. The date was circled in red ink.

  “Does this date mean anything to you?” I asked, showing him the paperwork.

  “That’s the day Selena found out she had cancer.” He took the papers. “How did he get these?”

  “This looks like a copy of her life insurance.” I moved onto the next document. “The policy was also left to you. But this statement is dated a month ago. Why haven’t you cashed it out?”

  He reached for the papers, and I willingly handed them over. “I don’t need the money. I’m sure Garrett told you he thinks I’m related to the Queen.”

  I laughed. “He did.”

  “I’m not, but don’t tell him that. It’s fun to keep him on his toes.”

  “But you could have used the money for the non-profit.” I pointed to the building, which looked old and outdated. “Especially if this is all three million dollars will afford a person in Tampa, Florida.”