Cracking into Donny’s home security system, Loxley had eyes and ears in nearly every single room. When he lost track of them, he simply switched over to the camera on Donny’s cellphone which usually gave him a nice visual of Donny’s smug little face staring back at him.
Luckily, Loxley knew just how he was going to kill Donny and had done plenty of research beforehand to not only be sure he could complete the task, but confidently get away with it. The excitement built and he could feel the itch in the way his fingers moved over the controls.
A dark shadow moved across his upper right computer monitor.
Loxley tipped forward and squinted into the screen.
Donny was back in the living room and in particularly high spirits. Loxley checked to see Donny was wearing his insulin pump when Rose soon followed close behind. They were both wearing silk robes as they opened another bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. They toasted over plates of expensive looking seafood flown in from the coast and game meats from the mountains of Colorado. Donny was living the high life, a life drastically different from his poor upbringing. It was almost sad to know this American Dream would die a quick death. It had to be done.
The corners of Loxley’s lips tugged as he grinned.
“You see here, Little John,” Loxley pointed at Donny in the screen, “he is planning to disappear and take all the money he stole from his investors along with him.”
Little John flicked his tail and softly meowed in response.
As Loxley stared at his target, he thought it amusing that he would never allow that to happen. He controlled Donny’s future; the man’s destiny rested solely with him.
“Of course, we won’t allow that to happen,” Loxley said to Little John.
Heat traveled down Loxley’s spine and settled between his legs. The intense tingling feeling was back. Loxley knew that tonight was going to be a great night. One he would certainly never forget.
“You said there was another present for me?” Rose asked Donny. Donny nodded. “So where is it?”
Donny laughed into his wine glass before placing it on the center of the island counter between the platters of food. He moved to the edge of Loxley’s screen, told Rose to turn her back, and Loxley watched Donny produce a letter-sized envelope from a drawer near the stove.
Rose covered her eyes, bouncing on her toes with excitement as she laughed.
Donny moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her small body. He pulled her against his chest and held out the envelope for her to take. “Go on, open it up,” he murmured in her ear.
Rose twisted around, glanced at him once, and quickly opened up the envelope.
Loxley held his breath as he intently watched, not knowing himself what it was. He waited to hear Rose squeal with delight when suddenly she surprised him by saying to Donny, “What the fuck is this?”
“First class tickets.”
“I can see that.” Rose was pissed.
“Southeast Asia. It’s where you said you always wanted to travel.”
“One way, Donny?” Rose snapped.
Donny latched his hands onto her hips and tugged her against his pelvis. “Tropical blue waters and spicy Thai food forever.”
Rose pushed him away. “I thought you said you were going to take care of it.”
Loxley chuckled as if watching a comedy on YouTube.
“I did, baby.” Donny chased after her. “I met with him today.”
Rose snapped back and waved the tickets in front of his face. “Then why are we hiding in Thailand?”
“We’re not hiding,” Donny pleaded.
“Oh, no? What would you call it?”
“Retirement.” Donny smiled.
“I don’t know, Donny.” Rose sighed.
Donny scooped her up in his arms and dipped his mouth over hers. “What don’t you know?”
“It seems sudden.”
Donny kissed her. “We have no choice. It’s the way it has to be.”
Loxley sat up straight, laced his fingers together, and extended his arms in front of him until his fingers cracked. Then he hunched forward, grinned, and went to work.
“It’s time, Little John,” Loxley said. His arousal was so hard it hurt. Throbbing against his zipper, Loxley begged for a release. He turned to the framed desk photo and blew a kiss to Samantha, then said, “Say your goodbyes Rose. And don’t worry, you won’t be going to Thailand alone.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time I arrived home and was letting Cooper out to relieve himself. I stood on the front stoop watching him sniff around the two cottonwood trees in my neighbor’s yard as I mentally began putting together a list of who might want to frame me. None of this made any sense, and there were too many potential suspects to even begin narrowing down my investigation.
Cooper trotted his way further up the sidewalk and finally lifted his back leg on his favorite pine.
That was how my day felt. Like I was the pine getting pissed on. Nothing seemed to shake itself free once I said goodbye to the girls. Erin asked if I wanted to come over and talk things out, but I didn’t have it in me. I just needed to be alone and find answers to the questions I couldn’t stop asking myself.
What was my article doing in Richard’s house in the first place? What was whoever put it there hoping to achieve? It wasn’t like they had stolen my story. I still had a copy. It was going to get printed regardless. So how did that explain the digital wallet? It made no sense.
When Cooper finished, he kicked up the grass and wiped his paws as he hurried back to the house. My head was pounding, my eyes blurry with exhaustion.
Thompson’s death had only brought on more headache. It didn’t take me long to circle back to the beginning of where this mess all started, with anyone who had access to my files.
I reached behind me and retrieved my cell from my back pocket. Scrolling through my list of contacts, I quickly found Travis Turner’s number. It was only the IT office and useless this late at night. No one would be in until morning. I thought about calling Dawson, but again, I didn’t have it in me to explain how I was questioned by the police. In the end, I just wanted to get to sleep and start fresh in the morning.
Cooper trudged up the house steps and turned to face the street when sitting next to me. I scratched his head and tipped my own back to stare into the orange glow overhead. There was a chill but nothing uncomfortable.
A pair of headlights turned onto our quiet street and I instantly thought it was Mason. I expected him home from work any minute. I watched the car park behind my Outback and, as soon as the lights flicked off, Cooper leaped from the stairs and bounded toward the driver’s door. King stepped out and greeted Cooper before landing his gaze on mine.
He smiled, but my expression remained deadpan and uninviting. King made his way over to me regardless of my glare. “I was hoping I would find you awake.”
“Not for much longer,” I said.
King leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I closed my eyes and inhaled his masculine scent, appreciating his bravery to drop work and treat me like his lady.
I rolled my eyes over to his. “I hope you’re here to relay a message from Baker.”
King’s eyes hardened—the look of a seasoned professional with too many difficult years on the job. There was so much I wanted to ask him before I allowed him into the house, and I was still a little hot from him advising me not to call my attorney before the inquisition began.
“Can I come inside?” he asked.
“You have something you’d like to share first?” He had to earn his invite.
King gave a single nod of his head and followed me into the house where, together, we kicked off our shoes at the door before falling heavily into the couch. King spread his arms out over the back and I leaned against his chest, settling in for an honest conversation. Then he wrapped his big protective arms around me and instantly melted away my concerns. It didn’t take long for me to clo
se my eyes and listen to him breathe. Eventually, King broke the silence by saying, “Sam, I’m sorry for what you had to endure today. My hands were tied. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
I stared at the wall with round, tired eyes as I chose my next words carefully. “You said you had something you’d like to share with me?”
“I spoke with Leslie at the coroner’s office.” He paused. “Richard Thompson was drunk at the time of death.”
“So that explains how he didn’t get out.”
“It’s the best theory we have.”
Squeezing his forearms, I felt his muscles twitch beneath the pressure. “The key code you found with my article is a Bitcoin paper wallet.”
King’s thumbs stopped stroking, letting me know they hadn’t figured that out yet. Something about that made me smile. “Allison helped me figure it out,” I said. “But you should know that it wasn’t mine.”
“I didn’t think it was.”
“And I don’t know how my article made its way to Thompson’s home office.”
“I never suspected you did.”
“But someone thought I did.”
“Robbins and Zimmerman had to ask, Sam. You know the procedure.”
All too well, I thought as I rehashed my day and started to get angry about it all over again. The fire in my belly was back and I was more determined than ever to find out how I managed to end up dead center in the hottest investigation in town.
“Please tell me that today wasn’t designed to silence me,” I murmured.
“What?” King tipped his head forward. “Is that why you think I asked you to the station?”
I mentioned what Baker said to me on my way out.
“The department isn’t trying to stop you from doing your job.”
I thought King’s words over before I said, “There is something that I couldn’t say to the other detectives.” I felt King stiffen behind me. I gently unwrapped his arms and twisted around to face him so I could look him in his eyes when I told him about the message Erin and I found on our message board.
King sucked in his bottom lip, stood, and shoved a single hand through his hair. I knew he was pissed, feeling betrayed by my silence. We found ourselves in uncharted waters when having to navigate both our professions and our relationship.
“You couldn’t have mentioned this to me earlier?” he asked.
“How could I when I was being treated like the department’s primary suspect?”
King stared with a pinched expression like I had never seen.
“We think LilJon might be responsible.”
King’s cell phone rang before he could respond. He took the call in the kitchen and, without overhearing more than two sentences, I knew he was being called to a potential homicide.
“That was work.” King pointed to his cellphone when he came back into the living room. “I need to go.”
I stood there nodding with my arms folded and my hands tucked under my arms.
“We need to talk more about this message and who you think that paper wallet belongs to.”
I nodded. “Just so long as it’s a two-way street.”
King gave me a look and I kissed him goodbye so he wouldn’t forget who he was dealing with.
He slid on his shoes, opened the door, and left me to watch him drive away through the front window with Cooper by my side.
Without warning, the house lost power.
I glanced to the neighbors to make sure it wasn’t just me standing in the dark. They were out too. When my cell phone started ringing, I stumbled through the pitch-black house and checked to see who was calling, thinking it might be King.
“Erin,” I answered. “Is your power out?”
“No. Why?”
The lights flickered back on. “Never mind. It just came back on,” I said, hearing my computer in the kitchen reboot. Making my way there, I watched with bewilderment as my computer came to life and the printer spit out a piece of paper with a block of text neatly etched on a single sheet.
“Listen, Sam,” Erin said into my ear as I retrieved the printout and began reading what it said. My heart stopped as I finished, and the hairs on my neck raised with absolute fear. “Lil’ Jon just sent another message.”
Chapter Thirty
Joey Garcia was up before the sun, as usual, and back from his morning run by the time his wife, Cecelia, and their three-year-old daughter, Katie, were beginning their morning ritual of stories and oatmeal for breakfast.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Joey entered the room and said, “Good morning.”
His wife’s lips barely broke a smile. He leaned in to kiss his bride and was stunned when she pulled away. “Not know, Joey.”
Looking his wife in the eyes, Joey slowly retreated and felt her rejection stab his heart with the dull pain that seemed to only be getting worse. Nodding, he turned to their master bedroom and stripped the sports towel away from his neck, snapping it down to his side in a rare show of frustration.
Joey was convinced this was only a bump in the road and eventually it would pass. His marriage was solid, or so he thought. It wasn’t like they hadn’t experienced difficult times before, but this one was different. The entire house could feel the change in energy blowing in swiftly like the change of seasons.
Shedding his running clothes, Joey jumped into the shower knowing he was still madly in love with his college sweetheart. As he scrubbed the sweat off his skin, he thought about the relationship he had with Cecelia—both past and present—and still found himself smiling when thinking of her. It was a once and a lifetime type of love and he would do anything for her—and his daughter.
After the shower, he dressed for work—slacks, buttoned up collared shirt, and shined leather shoes—before entering the home office and firing up his laptop computer.
Joey dove into today’s emails with the same enthusiasm as when he first started reporting. As a rookie journalist, he was out to prove himself as one of the best. Slowly, he climbed his way to the top and still held lofty goals for what he saw his career eventually becoming, but seven months ago everything changed, including the steam driving him forward.
Work seemed to be his only escape from the torments of his current life. The fact that his chosen industry was struggling to maintain a foothold in today’s hypercompetitive world of print journalism only made Joey more anxious to know what came next.
He clicked away, knocking out one email after another, responding to dozens of sources he’d been in communication with when, suddenly, he stopped on one particular headline that gave him reason for pause.
A bubble closed around his head.
Joey stared at the screen, debating whether or not to open the email that had his palms sweating. His heart knocked against his ribs in a steady drum of nerves. Though he knew he needed to see what was inside, he feared that he might not like what he was about to learn.
He turned his head toward the door and thought about his wife, his daughter, and the life he wanted to give them. Knowing he had little choice, he turned back to his computer and clicked the email open.
It was short and straight to the point. Though he didn’t move, his heart beat faster as he wiped his face to ward back the pellets of perspiration he felt forming across the backs of his shoulders and over his brow.
Joey couldn’t believe what he read.
Donny Counts was in the hospital.
The email didn’t say how or when it happened, just that he was in critical condition. But that was enough information for Joey to know what he had to do next.
In a moment of panic, he closed his email browser and navigated to his work folders stored on the cloud. It took a minute to load but, as soon as it did, Joey entered his username and password only to receive an error. Joey entered his credentials again. Another error.
“Not now,” Joey said to himself as he cleared his browser and tried again. When his access had been denied for a third time, Joey knew that something was wrong
.
He leaned back in his chair with a perplexed look twisting his brow. Never one to fully trust computers with his most important files, Joey kept his work stored in several places, including an external hard drive. Unfortunately, what he was after today, he could only get on the cloud.
Pushing back from his desk, Joey stood and passed beneath his many journalism awards hanging on his walls, wondering what happened to his once prestigious career and at what point it started to go wrong. He could trace it back to seven months ago when he received the worst news of his life, but he was certain that there were signs even before that fateful day.
Joey opened up a cabinet file and retrieved a thumb drive and other important files before dropping them into his shoulder bag. Closing up his office, he made his way into the kitchen only to find another problem waiting.
Since he’d been gone, Cecelia now had Katie’s medical bills fanned out across the kitchen table. Cecelia heard Joey enter the room and, without looking up at him, said, “They’re threatening to take this to collections if we don’t pay.”
“Let insurance handle it.”
Her tired eyes lifted to his. “No one wants to take responsibility. I’m on the phone with the insurance company and the hospital and both are making me feel like we’re the victim.”
Joey flicked his gaze to Katie. A small smile sprouted on his lips. Turning his attention back to his wife, he could see her holding back the tears that threatened to fall. Suddenly, he felt his gut writhe with feelings of guilt. Katie coughed and got Joey to look at her again. Their little girl didn’t have the appetite she once did, and not long from now her hair would disappear and she would be skinnier than she already was. Her leukemia was affecting them all—forcing their backs against a wall and placing them in front of the carnage neither of them ever saw coming.
Joey turned back to Cecelia. “It will all work itself out.”
Cecelia gave him a skeptical look.
“Have I ever let you down?” Joey stepped to his wife, cupped the back of her skull, and pressed his wet lips between her eyes.
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