by Gerri Hill
After scooping the clumps into a plastic bag, she was about to add more fresh litter to the box when something inside the lid caught her eye. She lifted the lid off the floor, frowning as gray duct tape hung from the top.
“What the heck?” she murmured.
She pulled the duct tape off, her eyes glued to the object stuck on the tape. She pulled it off, frowning as she fingered the flash drive. Then…
“Oh, my God…oh my freaking God!”
She dropped the lid on the floor as her hand closed around the flash drive. Her eyes darted to Smokey, then back to the litter box.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. When they trashed the Fraziers’ house, they didn’t find it. And unknowingly, Finn brought it here. That’s what it was, right? It had to be.
She turned, dashing to the door. As she jerked it open, she collided with a sturdy body and she let out a scream. Strong arms held her in place when she would have fallen.
“Whoa, there,” Finn said, still holding her. “What’s your hurry?”
Rylee held a hand to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.” She pointed into the apartment. “I was cleaning the litter. I found—”
“I didn’t forget,” Finn said quickly. “Honest. I was coming up now to clean it.”
“Yeah, right. But look what I found.” She opened up her closed fist, revealing the flash drive. “This is it, right?”
“It?”
“It. The thing they were looking for. The thing they killed for.”
Finn frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Rylee made a fist again around the flash drive and slugged Finn on her shoulder. “The thing! They tore your office apart, remember? They ransacked the Fraziers’ house. The thing,” she said again, her words coming faster and faster. “It was in the litter box. Well, taped to the top. Genius, really. I mean, who would ever look in a litter box?”
“Rylee, you’re making no sense.”
Rylee let out a frustrated breath. “For a private investigator, you’re being a little dense right now.” She opened her hand again. “It’s a flash drive. Taped inside the lid of the litter box.” She tilted her head. “You did get the litter box from the Fraziers’ house, right?”
Finn took the flash drive and held it up, inspecting it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “Yeah…yeah, I did.” It was Finn’s turn to fold the flash drive up in her palm. “You found this in the litter box?”
“Yes. Taped to the lid. Duct tape. It had come loose.”
“Wow.”
“That’s all you have to say? Wow?” Rylee tugged on her arm, pulling her down the stairs. “Come on! Let’s see what’s on it.”
* * *
Finn stood with her back to her desk, staring out of the lone window in her office, looking out into the fast dwindling twilight, absently noting that the wind had picked up and rain was beginning to splatter the glass. The window looked out onto the backside of the property, essentially a vacant lot. A lot that was part of her property where the old office building sat. She hadn’t done anything with it. During the summer, it was overgrown with coastal grass. There were no trees at all, unless you counted the three palm trees, one of which was partially uprooted from a past storm.
She closed her eyes to the view, wondering what it all meant. The flash drive contained three files. One was a spreadsheet—a ledger—with a list of names. Members, it was titled. In the column next to some of the names…most of the names…was a monetary amount. The column was titled simply “debt.” The second file was also a spreadsheet. It contained one column titled “account numbers” and there were five accounts, ranging from twelve numbers to twenty-one. The third file was perhaps the most disturbing. It contained photos. Still shots captured from a video feed, most likely. Shots of men—presumably the men from the list—having sex. With prostitutes, she assumed. And judging by the high profiles of some of those men—high-dollar prostitutes to match those high profiles.
“Okay, this is pretty much disgusting.”
Finn turned at the sound of Rylee’s voice, nodding in agreement.
“What does it all mean, Finn?”
“I guess this is some sort of documentation for blackmail or leverage of some sort. I’m assuming the men aren’t aware there’s a camera in the room with them.”
“So this debt is for sex? Good Lord! This one guy owes close to half a million. For sex?”
“That’s Roger King. Largest car dealership in the city. I think he’s got four dealerships up and down the coast. Sleazy guy.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen his commercials. Gravelly voice, kinda yells at the camera.” Rylee pointed to another name. “So I haven’t been in town long enough to recognize these names, but Nathan O’Leary? Is that the Nathan O’Leary?”
Finn nodded. “Yes. Mayor O’Leary.”
Rylee met her gaze. “Wow. And the others?”
“High profile.” Finn moved back around her desk, leaning over Rylee’s shoulder. She pointed to one. “That’s the county judge.”
“Jesus. A who’s who of Corpus? What about this guy? He owes six hundred thousand.”
Finn stared at the name again. She still couldn’t believe it. She let out a long breath. “That’s John Mabanks. My old boss.”
Rylee whipped her head around. “What?”
“Dee’s current boss, actually.”
“Oh, my God! A cop?”
“Captain.”
“How in the world can a captain in the police force be mixed up in this? And for that kind of money?”
“Easy. Whoever’s running the show—whatever kind of show it is—they let the debt pile up. Then they own him. Same with the mayor and the judge. They own them now.”
“We should do a background check on all of them,” Rylee said excitedly as she rubbed her hands together. “Find out what’s going on.”
“You do realize that three people have been killed for this information, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rylee went back to the list, silently reading through the names. “Finn?” She ran her finger along the screen, pointing. “Fredrick Peterson? Any relation to Brett? They’re both on the list.”
“Yeah. That’s his father. I’ve done work for him before. You suggested that he referred his son to me and that’s most likely the case.”
Rylee’s eyes flew to hers. “But I thought we were in agreement that the deal with his wife was fake.”
Finn smiled quickly. “You were in agreement with yourself, just because it didn’t add up. And yes, I tend to see it your way too, but there’s no proof one way or the other yet.”
“So what are we going to do? About this, I mean. Not the Petersons.”
Finn ran a hand through her hair. Yes, what were they going to do? “I’ve got to let Dee know.”
“But if you let Dee know, then your Captain Mabanks will find out.”
And that couldn’t happen. Not yet, anyway. She pointed to the laptop. “Close it down. We need to get out of here.”
“But—”
“Rylee, it’s only a matter of time before they realize that we’ve got this, whatever this is—whoever they are. When they didn’t find it at the Fraziers’ house and if they don’t find it at any of the pizza places, they’ll turn their focus back to me. I was the last person Daniel Frazier saw before he went home to his wife.” She paused. “Before he was killed. Peterson hiring me can’t be a coincidence. The timing’s too perfect.”
Rylee closed the laptop and pulled the flash drive out. “Why do you think they haven’t been to your house yet? I mean, break in and search it.”
“Locked gate, security cameras, alarm system. Plus, I had a patrol unit parked out front, remember?” She held her hand out and Rylee handed over the drive.
“Yeah, but that’s been gone for a while now.”
“My guess is when they didn’t find it here—which is where I met with Daniel—and they didn’t find it at the Fraziers’ house, then they began focusing on the pizza places.
When they don’t find it there, then…” She slipped the flash drive into her jeans pocket. “Come on, we need to get out of here. Let’s go.”
Rylee stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Finn…wait. What about Smokey?”
Finn blew out her breath. The cat. “Okay. Go get her things. We’ll take her to my house with us.”
She went back over to her desk and opened the middle drawer. She picked up the key and fingered it for a second, then slipped it into her pocket.
She put the laptop under her arm and turned out the light, only to put it back on again. She walked over to the credenza and picked up her father’s scotch glass. They’d ransacked the place once already. Surely they wouldn’t do it again. But still…she didn’t want to take a chance that the glass could survive a second break-in.
Rylee had Smokey’s litter box and food by the front door. Smokey was sitting on top of Rylee’s desk, cleaning herself, seemingly unconcerned with the happenings around her.
“Take your laptop too,” she instructed.
“Where are we going?”
“We’ll go by your apartment and get you some clothes, enough for several days. We’ll leave your Jeep, then go to my house.”
“Your…your house?”
Their gazes locked together and in that moment, Finn could see all the memories from that night swirling around in Rylee’s blue eyes. Was she afraid? Afraid Finn would assume they were going to have a repeat? Rylee’s mouth parted, as if to say something else. Surely she didn’t want to finally talk about it, did she? Now?
But no. Rylee closed her mouth and nodded. “Okay. Your house.”
“I’ll call Dee, have her meet us there,” Finn said, hoping that might ease whatever fears Rylee was feeling.
Rylee surprised her by taking a step closer. She surprised her further by squeezing her arm rather tightly. “You’re…you’re really worried, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. There are a lot of powerful men on that list. I would think most of them would do anything in their power to keep that list a secret.”
“Like kill,” Rylee stated quietly.
“Yes. I may be overreacting but I’d rather let my paranoia take over than ignore it.”
Rylee held her gaze again. “I trust your intuition. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Forty
Finn watched as Rylee and Smokey took a walk through her house. Rylee’s gaze didn’t linger on anything too long, looking over the furniture in the living room, then out the large windows that framed the bay. She spun around in a circle, finally turning to face her.
“Either you have a housekeeper or you’re very, very meticulous about cleaning.”
“No housekeeper.”
A quick smile. “Neat freak then, huh? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“Why? My office is tidy, isn’t it?”
“That’s only because there’s nothing in it,” Rylee teased. “Where’s all your stuff?”
Finn looked around the familiar room…the tidy, very neat, very sterile room. She looked back at Rylee. “I don’t guess I have any stuff.”
Rylee came closer, brushing her fingers—causing Finn to tremble at the simple touch—as she took the glass from her hand. It was her father’s glass, of course. The one she’d forgotten she was still holding.
“What’s this? You took it from your office.”
“It…it was my father’s.” She gave a quick smile. “His scotch glass.”
Rylee nodded. “Which is what you use it for.” She held it up, inspecting it, her eyes on the large K etched on one side. “You treasure it, I suppose.”
“I do.” She took the glass from Rylee. “There’s nothing spectacular about it, really.”
“Of course there is. It was your father’s.”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t really have anything. When he died…well, my mother and I…well, I didn’t want anything to do with her. Then the trial, all that.” She shrugged again. “I never went back to the house.”
“How did you get this?”
“I stole it from his office.” She smiled, remembering how she’d slipped it under her shirt when his secretary wasn’t watching.
“Of all the things you could have swiped, you chose the glass?”
Finn went over and set it down on the bar, next to the other glasses there. “At the end of a long day, he loved to have a splash of scotch,” she said, thinking of how many times she’d sat across from his desk as he sipped on his drink. When she got older, he would let her indulge too. “This was the glass he used. Always.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Dee’s going to come by. I’ve asked her to pick up dinner. Do you have a preference?”
Rylee stared at her a long time, as if she had more questions, but she finally shook her head. “Not choosy, no.”
“Seafood okay? There’s a place I use for takeout.”
Again, Rylee hesitated. “Is that what you exist on? Takeout?” She tilted her head. “Or nothing at all?”
“Yes.”
“You’re probably one of those people who forget to eat.” Rylee laughed and shook her head. “And that’s just crazy. I never forget to eat.” Rylee surprised her by walking closer and touching her stomach. “That’s why you’re so thin. Too thin, in my opinion.”
Finn didn’t realize she was holding her breath. The light pressure from Rylee’s hand disappeared and Finn sucked in air, trying to appear nonchalant as she took a step away.
“As a matter of fact, I was quite chunky when I was a kid.”
“Chunky, huh?” Rylee shook her head. “I can’t picture it. I was thin as a rail growing up, but I like to eat. If I’m not careful, five or even ten pounds will sneak up on me in no time.”
Finn couldn’t stop herself from doing a quick inspection of Rylee’s body. She wasn’t surprised that she could picture every inch of it…naked. Rylee wasn’t rail thin, no. She looked healthy…nice curves. Not rail thin, but certainly not fat. She brought her eyes back up, meeting Rylee’s, seeing the questions there. She felt a blush light her face and she was embarrassed for that.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” she managed with a quick clearing of her throat. “So? Seafood?”
Again Rylee had that look in her eyes like they needed to talk. Talk about that night. Which she imagined they’d have to do sooner or later. But apparently not now.
“Sounds good. Do I pay Detective Woodard when she gets here or—”
“It’s already taken care of. I have an account with them.” When she would have protested, Finn held up her hand. “I owe you, remember. Don’t argue. You won’t win this one.”
“Okay.” Rylee pointed at the litter box that they’d left near the entryway. “Where would you like me to put that?”
“I guess in my bathroom. The spare bath is fairly small. There’s room in mine.”
Rylee raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“In the back,” she motioned with her head. “First door there is the spare bedroom. You can put your bag in there. Mine’s in the back.”
* * *
Rylee stood in Finn’s bedroom, slowly shaking her head. Nothing. Not one personal item could be found. A dresser with a large mirror was against one wall. There was nothing on it, not even dust. A chest of drawers was along another wall. An end table beside the bed held a lamp and a digital alarm clock, nothing else. Like the rest of the house, it was almost too tidy, too clean.
The bathroom—at least—looked lived in. A neatly folded hand towel lay on the counter and a soap dispenser was beside the sink. The toilet was in a separate space, the door ajar. She opened that, finding enough room inside for Smokey’s litter box.
She paused to glance around the bathroom. The glass shower door was clear and she spied the few personal toiletries inside—shampoo, a razor and cream, a squirt bottle of liquid soap. As she stared through the glass, an image of Finn popped into her mind. An image of Finn—naked—showering. She could see her clearly. Her dark
hair wet and slicked back from her face. Her small breasts glistening, her nipples erect…her hands lathering soap across her body.
She turned away from the image and closed her eyes for a moment. How long were they going to pretend that neither of them remembered that night? Finn had given no indication she wanted to talk about it. And at first, Rylee thought that was probably best. But they were working closely together now. She was staying at her house, for God’s sake. Surely they should talk about it. Surely Finn could feel the energy between them.
She blew out her breath. Well, if Finn wanted to keep it buried, then maybe that’s what they should do. It would come up eventually. It had to.
She found Finn and Smokey in the kitchen. Smokey was on the counter, eating. Rylee shook her head disapprovingly.
“No wonder she jumps on the counter in our little breakroom. You let her!”
“I’ve never had a pet before.”
Rylee leaned her hip against the counter beside Smokey. “No?”
“You?”
“Yes. We had two outdoor cats and my mother had a dog—Princess—who was queen of the house. She died when I was in college. She has another one now, but since I don’t live there, I’m not really attached to it.”
“I don’t remember ever asking for one,” Finn volunteered. “I guess I knew my mother would have said no.” She moved back into the living room and went to the small bar. “You want something to drink?”
Rylee shrugged. “What will you have?”
“Scotch.”
Rylee shook her head. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“Beer, then?”
The look in Finn’s eyes was familiar. Yes…she’d been drinking a beer that night. Finn had walked over…asked her to dance. She didn’t remember touching the beer again. No, she’d been touching Finn instead.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any wine. I do have a really nice cognac, though. You’d probably like that.”
“Okay. I’ll try it. My dad is a beer drinker. Nothing else. Ever. My mother only drinks wine and only on special occasions.” She smiled. “Her taste in wine is cheap and sweet. I’m not much for wine, myself. I normally stick with beer or a cocktail, if I’m out.” She watched as Finn slid her father’s glass over and poured from a decanter. The decanter was square, with etched glass and a round glass ball on top. By the way Finn held it, it appeared to be heavy. Lead crystal, she guessed. Nice. And expensive. She then opened the cabinet and took out a tulip-shaped wineglass.
