“I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend.”
“I know.”
I blinked. “How? I never mentioned it.”
He maintained that boyish grin, then held out his hand. “Excuse me, how rude. I’m Dylan McCormick.”
I ignored his gesture. “Have you been following me?”
“Please let me explain. You might be interested in what I have to say.”
“You can say it right here.”
He shrugged. “Fine.” He crossed his arms over his bulky chest. “I know you’re involved in an insurance fraud scheme.”
I almost laughed in his face. If this was a new pick-up line, I was out of the loop. “Insurance fraud? For what?”
“You and a handful of others will be taken in for questioning over the next few days. It shouldn’t be too rough as long as you cooperate.”
“Cooperate with what?” I asked. “I haven’t filed any bogus insurance claims.”
“Maybe not, but you’re an accessory.”
“Excuse me? What the hell are you, an undercover cop?”
“Care to have that coffee now?”
I followed him to Starbucks and we found an empty table.
“Care to see some photos?” Dylan asked, handing me his tablet phone. “The camera likes you, by the way.”
I looked down and gasped in disbelief. “How the hell did you get these?” I looked back up at him.
“What were you doing at Gavin Cole’s house that night?”
My mouth fell open as I scrolled through the pictures: there was a shot of me limping away from Gavin’s house, clutching the backpack, one of me getting into Carter’s Buick, a shot of Carter’s license plate, me walking into Gavin’s bar. There were so many, it left me feeling sick to my stomach. “You’ve been following me the whole time? Why?”
“I work for Liberty Atlantic Insurance Company. We’ve been investigating Gavin Cole for about two weeks now. We have reason to believe he’s been filing bogus claims for items supposedly stolen from his bar, The Rusty Nail.”
“Like what?”
“Scotch.”
“I have no knowledge of that.”
“When I first saw you and your partner breaking into his house, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I figured you were somehow involved.”
“I didn’t conspire to screw any insurance company out of their money. All I know is that Gavin Cole is a sex offender. He takes advantage of women, some of them under age. So I guess it doesn’t surprise me that he’s a scam artist, as well.”
Dylan searched my face, probably trying to decide if I was telling the truth.
“Why were you in Gavin’s house?” he asked.
“You have the wrong idea. I’m not a thief,” I said. “I can explain these pictures.”
“Okay, fine. Why were you in there?”
I saw no other option but to fess up. “Look, we were working a case. Our client hired us to get some sex tapes back.”
He looked confused. “Sex tapes?”
“He video-taped himself having sex with several women. They found out, and wanted to get the tapes back. He was planning to sell them. That’s all I know.”
“There have been numerous complaints filed against his business in the past few months: health code issues, money laundering, illegal gambling on premises … the list goes on and on. At some point, his world is going to crash down around him. I’m only concerned with the insurance fraud. Would you be willing to help me?”
“How?”
Dylan retrieved a small device from his inside pocket. “Mind if I tape this conversation?”
“I guess.”
“Now, if my notes are correct, you were in his house for about fifteen minutes? You claim to have retrieved sex tapes, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get a good look around the house?”
“I was in a hurry, but I got the gist.”
“Did you notice any bottles of liquor?” he asked.
“There were all kinds of bottles laying around the kitchen. Most of them were empty, though.”
“If I were to show you some pictures, could you confirm they were the bottles you saw?”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
He scrolled through his phone and found what he needed. “These are the five bottles he claims were stolen from his bar. Each bottle of scotch retails for a thousand dollars or more.”
“A thousand dollars for one bottle of scotch?”
“And that’s on the lower end of the finer labels.”
I examined the photos. “I can’t be sure I saw all of them, but yes, they look very familiar.”
“How sure are you?”
“About eighty percent sure.”
He returned his phone and recorder to his pocket and smiled. “Look, here’s the deal. I want to nail this guy, but you were in his house illegally. I can’t use this information. However, there is another way you could help.”
“So, let me get this straight, either I help you, or you report me?”
“In a nutshell.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“We need a recorded confession.”
“A confession?” I laughed. “How do you expect me to do that?”
“Isn’t this what you do for a living?”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but why would Gavin tell a stranger that he’s been stealing from his own bar to collect insurance money?”
“Who says you have to remain a stranger? You already met him the other night. From what I could tell, he seemed quite taken with you.”
I thought it over. “The big issue is trust,” I said. “That doesn’t happen overnight. You’re not suggesting I sleep with him, are you?”
Dylan shook his head, clearly offended. “No, but if you made him believe you were willing---”
“This is insanity. You know that, right? What about Danielle? She knows who I am now.”
“You let me know the plan and I’ll deal with her.”
“A plan? I don’t even have a clue.”
“That’s fine. Take a day to think it over.” Dylan pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the table. “Here’s my number.”
“Can’t you find a better way to nail him?” I asked.
“Look, I’m in a bind and I need your help. If you can get me what I need … Gavin will be arrested and I’ll keep my job.”
“What do I get?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you helped put a creep behind bars.”
“Look, I should discuss this with my partner before I commit.”
“Sure, but call me soon. If Gavin finds out he’s being investigated, this whole thing could go bust.”
“Okay,” I said. “By the way, Carter ran the plates on your Cadillac. Why is it registered to a Muriel Durgess?”
Dylan smiled. “She’s my next door neighbor. She let’s me use her car when I’m in the field. In return, I mow her lawn.”
“Sounds like a fair trade.”
I was no longer in a shopping mood after Dylan left me sitting alone at Starbucks to ponder our conversation. His proposition had my head spinning.
I called Carter and asked him to meet me at the diner for lunch.
Chapter 18
Carter glared at me from across the table. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind to help this Dylan guy.”
“You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?” I asked.
“Depends on what the plan is. How are you going to approach Gavin? And how do you plan to get a confession?”
“I’ll show up at his bar and come on to him.”
Carter chuckled. “You say it like it’s going to be easy.”
“Why? You don’t think I can seduce him?”
“You’re good at a lot of things, Sarah, but lying isn’t your strong suit.”
“I can be convincing when I want to be. Besides, Gavin is all ego and testosterone. I’ll bet he thinks every woman wants him.”
“So you play coy, and he invites you to the house. Then what?”
“Then I get him to relax and open up. ”
“And you secretly record the conversation? With what?”
“I have that covered.”
Carter narrowed his eyes and leaned back. “So let’s say he divulges all his dirty little secrets. How are you going to get out of his house? He’ll be expecting some action.”
“I’ll think of something. I have my pepper spray in case he gets aggressive.”
Carter sighed. “Have you told Max about all this yet?”
“I’ll tell him tonight over dinner.”
“He won’t like it.”
“Believe me, I know.”
We finished our meals and I paid the bill. “So, do you have anything on Hector yet?”
Carter glanced at his watch. “I should be hearing back from my buddy soon. He’s checking out the plates on Hector’s truck. I’ll call you as soon as I hear back from him.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter 19
I decided to get a jump on dinner. Chicken confetti was the only dish I made consistently well; chunks of breast meat, diced vegetables, and tomato sauce with some Italian herbs. Throw it all in a crockpot and it’s pretty hard to screw up.
I was in the middle of slicing the red peppers when Max came through the door.
“Hey,” he said, eyeing me at the cutting board. “You’re making dinner?”
“It’s the least I can do for all your help with Emily’s case.”
His face morphed into a pout. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t stay for dinner. I just stopped by to give you a kiss and grab a few things. I’m leaving again. I’ll be in New York for five or six days.”
“Really? What for?”
“This client wants me to outfit his entire office building with new surveillance equipment. He’s a Fortune 500 geek, but he’s loaded. And of course, he needs me today.”
“It’s so last minute.”
“Have to take the jobs when they come, right?” He popped a slice of pepper in his mouth “But I haven’t forgotten about our weekend getaway. Let’s make plans when I get back.”
“I wanted to discuss something important with you, tonight.”
He ran his fingers through my hair, tilted my head back, and planted a warm kiss on my lips. “I’ll call you when I get to my hotel room. You can tell me all about it then. I have to go.”
“What about Emily? I told her you were going to remove the surveillance equipment tomorrow. She’s leaving to go stay with her parents.”
“Good. She should’ve left days ago. But you could remove the cameras from the smoke detectors yourself.”
“I could?”
“Piece of cake, Sarah. I’ll e-mail you the diagram.”
“Fine, but I will not be held responsible for damaged goods.”
“You can handle it.”
Max swiped another pepper and chewed while gathering up his personal items. Within a minute he was blowing me kisses as he rushed out the door.
I felt drained; physically and emotionally. I was really hoping to discuss the Gavin job with Max.
Maybe it was better that I didn’t tell him.
I thought about giving Linda a call. I could invite her over for dinner and we could talk about Emily and Paul, or talk about nothing at all. The fact that I still hadn’t heard from her, had me worried. I decided not to push it.
After dinner, I poured myself a glass of wine, then set up my laptop on the couch next to me. Since the surveillance was still up and running in Emily’s kitchen, I decided I might as well keep an eye on it. At six-thirty, I didn’t expect to see Paul in the kitchen. It would be another thirty minutes until he got home from spin class.
Just as I put my feet up, Carter’s ring tone echoed through the living room.
I answered the call.
“Hey Carter, you got something for me?”
Carter cleared his throat. “Are you ready for the scoop on your landscaper friend? Hector’s real name is Julio Ramon Medina. And he’s no landscaper.”
I swallowed hard. “Great.”
“He’s been in jail twice in the past year, and he’s currently on probation.”
“For what?”
“Drug dealing and assault.”
“Paul gave Emily a story about how he and Hector were doing a barter; landscape work for tax services.”
“Well,” Carter said. “That seems highly improbable considering Hector has not once filed a tax return since he moved to the states six years ago.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m glad Emily’s getting the hell out of that house.”
“Do you think Hector is involved in some kind of conspiracy to kill Emily?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve been thinking … Paul wants his wife gone, but maybe he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. So he takes eight hundred out of the bank account to give Hector as a down payment, then another installment once he gets the life insurance.”
“Yes, but can you prove it?” he asked.
“I don’t think Paul is stupid enough to call him on his cell phone. Maybe they meet at Paul’s office, but instead of discussing taxes, they’re plotting.”
“If Emily is planning to leave, the case is done, anyway. Unless she wants you to pursue it.”
“I get the feeling she wants to let it go.”
“Anything else I can do?” Carter asked.
“I guess not. But thanks for all your help.”
“No problem.”
I poured myself another glass of wine and continued to keep an eye on the computer screen for any movement. I flipped through the TV channels and found a movie to watch. After a few minutes, my eyelids became heavy, so I leaned back into a pillow and closed my eyes.
I woke up from a startling sound coming from the TV.
When I realized I had fallen asleep on the couch, I shot up to check the time.
7:25 p.m.
I had dozed off for forty-five minutes. Must have been the wine. I rubbed my eyes and looked over at the laptop. What was going on in Emily’s kitchen?
There was some kind of commotion taking place, but Emily and Paul were not among those people gathered. When I realized they were police officers, my stomach clenched.
I rewound the footage and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Around 7:06 p. m. Paul had entered the kitchen, wearing his gym attire. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottled water, and drank most of it in one slug. When he turned around, Hector was standing behind him. And then, just like in the movies, Hector began stabbing Paul in the chest: once, twice, and a third time in rapid succession.
I stood there in complete shock, unable to move a muscle as I watched Paul collapse to the floor, his hands clutching his bloodstained chest.
A gut-wrenching realization took hold as Hector turned and walked slowly toward the hallway—the handle of the bloody knife still clasped in his hand.
And I just knew.
He was going to find Emily.
I grabbed my car keys, my purse, and the SD card from the laptop, then headed for the door.
I sped along highway 202 West and my brain clicked in to overdrive. All I could see in my mind’s eye was Emily’s lifeless body, stabbed repeatedly, lying in a pool of blood.
She was probably dead, and it was all my fault.
I told myself to calm down and think rationally. The police were already there. Paul could still be alive. Emily, too. But deep down I knew.
Fifteen minutes later, I was on Emily’s street. The flashing lights from several police cruisers and two ambulances lit up the night sky. Looky-loos had gathered in small groups on both ends of the block to observe the spectacle.
I pulled up and parked on the street behind one of the cruisers and got out of the car.
A uniformed officer stopped me before I made it to the front door.
“Ma’am, this area is cordoned off. I’ll have
to ask you to stay back.”
I tried to see inside of the house. “Emily. Is she alive?”
“Look, I’m sorry, but unless you’re a family member, I can’t give out any information at this time.”
“I need to talk to the person in charge. I have important evidence pertaining to the crime that just took place here.”
The officer jerked his head sideways. “And who are you?” he asked.
“Sarah Woods. I’m sure your detectives will want to see the surveillance footage I have. The man with the knife … his real name is Julio Ramon Medina. Do you have him in custody?”
“Just ... wait right here a minute.”
I waited and watched for any glimpse. I could barely keep my head straight with all the flashing lights and commotion.
Moments later, I watched as a pair of stretchers with body bags on them were wheeled out of the house.
I almost fell to my knees as a middle-aged man with a badge on his hip approached me. “Ma’am,” he said, “I’m Detective James. Can I see some I.D. please?”
“It’s in the car.”
“How do you know the victims?”
“The owner of this house, Emily Hodges, hired me to run surveillance on her husband. I have footage of the crime.”
He nodded slowly, as if processing that information. “What kind of surveillance?”
“Look,” I said, growing more impatient by the second. “Did you catch the killer?”
The detective turned his head to look over his shoulder. When he turned back, his jaw tightened. “When the medical examiner and first responders arrived, two people were pronounced dead. A third is en route to the hospital. She’s in critical condition.”
I felt the blood rush from my head. “Wait. Are you saying Emily is still alive?”
The detective gave a curt nod, then turned to talk to another officer. When he turned back, he said, “Follow me to the station. I have lots of questions, and I’d like to take a look at that surveillance.”
Chapter 20
The detective wouldn’t tell me anything until he saw the surveillance footage and heard an explanation.
I told him the whole story of why Emily hired me, not leaving out a single detail.
Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set Page 44
