Hot Off the Press (A Hailey Webb Mystery, Volume 1)

by Deany Ray

  I set the lunch on Mike’s desk and was about to leave when something caught my eye. On a stack of papers was a bunch of scribbled names—and one of them was Connor’s. A chill went through me as I stared at the messy cursive. Connor Whitacre. My heart began to race. What was going on? It was bad enough that Connor had betrayed me on the night before our wedding. Now I had the feeling his secrets might be even darker than I’d thought.

  Frozen in place, I didn’t even notice when Mike stepped up beside me.

  “Hey Hailey,” he said. “Thanks for the lunch.”

  I turned to him. “Why is the name Connor Whitacre written on that piece of paper?” I managed to get out the words, but part of me would have much preferred to have walked away and never known the answer.

  Mike let out a sigh. He looked uncomfortable. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

  “But I did see it.” I stared at him and for a moment, neither of us spoke. “So? What’s going on?”

  Mike looked me in the eye. “Can I speak with you as an employee of the paper and not someone who used to be involved with Connor Whitacre?”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “You know you can.” Okay, maybe I fibbed just a bit. “He means less than nothing to me.” That was not a fib. Although once he had, and the thought that my ex-fiancé could be mixed up in a murder—two murders?—left me feeling numb.

  Mike hesitated. “And you understand that all of this is confidential.”

  “Of course,” I said, impatient now. What had Connor done?

  He leaned against his desk and rubbed his forehead. “Fine,” he told me quietly. “We’ve had our eye on this company for quite a while. Pearlrover. All of this began when I got the word from sources that they had some shady dealings when it came to their books.” He went on to explain that he now had evidence of tax evasion involving start-ups in the Bahamas that existed just on paper.

  I sank into Mike’s chair. “And you wrote down Connor’s name because . . .”

  “Connor Whitacre is one of the operatives in this whole scheme of theirs—he and others who Pearlrover label as ‘investors.’ The start-ups are in their names.”

  My head began to spin. This was the man I could have married. I had been one day away from becoming that man’s wife! I let that sink in. “How long have you known?”

  “I’ve known for quite a while. I had to keep it quiet. That’s just the way this works, but soon it will all be public. We’ll publish the story on Monday morning. At the same time, the cops and the IRS are set to raid Pearlrover.”

  I felt like I could barely breathe. “Is there a connection to the murders?”

  “Not that we’ve discovered. For now, they’re separate stories, but I’ll dig some more. The murders, tax evasion, it doesn’t really smell like a coincidence to me. The divers could have overheard someone talking, which could have been the reason they were offed.”

  My mind went to Joan, who thought some kind of payment would be coming because of “something Forrest knew.” I ran my hands through my curls. “Wow. That sounds more like the mob than crooked white-collar guys in some fancy office.”

  “Well, those guys aren’t usually the ones who do the killings. They hire other guys for that.”

  Both of us were silent while my mind raced to some pretty scary places. Was there any way Connor could be guilty of much worse than tax evasion? Not that that wasn’t enough. And when the story broke, would everybody know I was once engaged to him? All of those bad decisions had been his, not mine. Still, I felt a little . . . dirty by association.

  Mike seemed to read my mind. “I have asked you to keep my secrets,” he said to me gently, “and I’ll keep yours as well.”

  “Thank you,” I responded, lost in thought.

  “No need to thank me, Hailey. It’s no one’s business but your own.”

  I nodded. Suddenly, I just wanted to be alone. I had to digest the news, and I felt ill at ease with Mike. What must he think of me, almost marrying one of the crooked guys from his investigation? “Well, I’ve got work to do,” I said, “and I know you’re busy too, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Back at my desk, however, I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t stop the questions swirling through my mind. Was the Connor that I thought I knew ever real at all? One doesn’t go from Honest Joe to tax evader overnight. I sighed and tried to get my head back into my research, but I was a mess; I didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, I could take some satisfaction from the ultimate comeuppance for the guy who’d left me shattered. But then again, this was the man who’d had such grand plans for his future, which we used to talk about late into the night. “Seize the day!” he’d tell me in the mornings, pouring me some coffee—back when his dreams involved the pinnacles of publishing and not evading taxes. Had the darkness been there all along behind his crooked smile? Had I been blinded by stupid love so much that I couldn’t see what was right before my eyes?

  Thankfully, my work kept me busy for the rest of the day. I tried as much as I could to push away any thoughts of Connor and the murders and Pearlrover West until I got a headache. When I finally made it to the privacy of my Jeep, I let out a long sigh, closing my eyes against the pain and taking a moment’s rest. My head felt about to burst. I had never had much patience for unanswered questions, and now the questions had turned personal, even more so than before. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling there was something out there that would make the answer clear—to who had killed those guys and why. Something told me I could find it . . . if I just looked in the right place, asked the right thing, thought about the situation in a different way. A new energy inside me wouldn’t let it rest. Letting a challenge beat me had never been my thing.

  On the other hand, this was not my job. There were experts on the case, and I had survived enough without sticking my curious nose in a thing like this. What this was I didn’t know, but there was a knife stuck in one guy and a spear stuck in another.

  I turned on some music, hoping that it could clear my thoughts, improve my mood, just something. Then I drove, as if on autopilot. When I should have made a left toward my apartment, I just kept on going straight. “What are you doing, Hailey?” I talked to myself. “Where are you going?”

  Before too long, I could tell my renegade subconscious was up to something bad; I was almost at the marina.

  I pulled into the parking lot, glad at least it was still light outside. Not that some daylight was going to stop a madman from coming after me. Still, I’d have a warning. Maybe.

  I pulled into a space and stared at the line of boats. Craziness, I thought. I should just go home. Still, something pulled me there. I leaned back against the headrest. This was nowhere close to safe. Was I really doing this? Unbelievably, I was.

  Still half in a trance, I got out and locked the car. To make it easier to move about, I left my bag in the Jeep, tucking it underneath the seat then double-checking that all the doors were locked. I stuffed my keys in one back pocket of my jeans and tucked my phone in the other. Then, with my heart beating fast, I strode toward O’Connell’s boat.

  A family passed me in the lot, loaded down with floats and coolers. I could hear laughter from several of the boats, and I tried to look as nonchalant as I could—just a girl out to enjoy the water after a long day at work.

  As I got to O’Connell’s boat, I checked all around me, but no one was standing close by. Any others I could see were intent on their own business, packing up their cars and talking to their friends.

  I looked down at my bare hands. Gloves. I needed gloves. Surely, though, the cops had already taken prints, so maybe I was fine. I was so not prepared; I didn’t travel with supplies for illegal search and entry.

  With the yellow tape removed, I was able to step easily onto the boat, where memories came flooding back to me. A chill ran through my body as I opened the door and walked into the cabin, stumbling again over that stupid step right at the entrance. Burned into my mind w
as that horrific picture: O’Connell on the floor, his face so white and still.

  The blinds were drawn so it was half dark inside the boat, and the lack of light made it extra creepy, so different from the brightness of the day outside. I needed to make this quick. Get in and get out. But how could I make it quick? I didn’t even have a clue what I was looking for.

  I took a calming breath, and my heartbeat steadied as I looked around to find the reason—if there was one—the universe had called me to this place. There was a dark stain on the floor at right about the spot I had found O’Connell. I forced myself not to think about that ugly stain. I would keep my focus on the task at hand; I’d be methodical and focused in searching every inch, looking for a hiding place or something that stood out.

  A bit of determination began to seep through my fear. I was being weird, I knew, but life was being weird. I was going with the flow. Perhaps there was something in that boat to link Connor with O’Connell, something only I would know had a connection to my ex.

  I looked around at the scattered items and furniture O’Connell left behind, hoping something would jump out at me as a place to begin my search—but no. The darkness intensified as I moved further into the cabin, and I reached for my cell to turn on the flashlight feature. I saw one door near the entrance and one door at the back of the cabin. One must have been the bathroom and the other one probably a supply closet. I decided to start with the cabin.

  The stillness of the place was so profoundly sad. As I passed the jumble of O’Connell’s things, I thought about the adventure seeker who had once occupied the space, a man who had found the courage to just be himself and do the thing he loved. Empty soda bottles and messy piles of diving gear were evidence of a life cut short.

  I grabbed a stack of papers from a table and flipped through them. Nothing jumped out at me. I went through O’Connell’s desk. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. I stepped back and looked at the desk. Frowning, I shed some light on the whole structure. Something about the desk felt wrong. But what? It was more a feeling than a set of facts I could identify. There was some memory that seemed to be connected to the smallish desk. But I’d been through the drawers. I’d checked between the desk and the wall. How could this furniture be keeping secrets from me?

  I was pondering that question when I heard something. Footsteps. My heart began to race as I froze in place.

  Someone else had just stepped onto the boat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cursing, I nearly stumbled as I looked around for any place to hide. My heart hammered in my throat as the footsteps kept on getting closer. There was a forcefulness about them, like the person—who the heck was this person?—had urgent business on his mind. I assumed it was a he.

  I ripped open the door near the entrance. The tiny, crowded closet, I guessed, would have to do. I made a dive for safety, bumping up against some filing boxes stacked on either side. Barely squeezing in, I wedged myself into place, wincing as the sharp corner of a box bit into my thigh. I heard some fabric rip as my top brushed across the corner of a lid. I so had déjà vu. Almost afraid to breathe, I pushed myself as far back as I could go, wishing I could somehow teleport myself to my Jeep.

  Luckily, the closet door was still within my reach, and I pushed it shut just as the door of the cabin opened. Sunlight came spilling in beneath the closet door, and I heard the person stumble over the same step that I had, letting out a string of curses. A man. It was a man, and not a voice I recognized. I could hear him walking through the cabin and not wasting any time while digging through the contents of the desk, just as I had been doing not that long before.

  Sweat poured down my spine, tickling my skin, but there was no way I was going to dare to scratch my itch. Any sound at all could clue this guy in to the fact that he was not alone—and what would happen then? Plus, my arms were wedged in tight against the boxes, as was the rest of me.

  This guy’s search through the desk was quick and violent, then he rummaged loudly through what had to be the fishing stuff. I held my breath as he stomped across the room and unfolded the bed out from the wall. He ruffled through the sheets and pillows. What was he looking for?

  It was not my smoothest move, getting trapped there in the boat with a man who very well could have stabbed two people who had gotten in his way. And I was in his way too. I wanted to throw up, but that would surely send him running to the closet. On the other hand, he was probably coming in the closet no matter what I did. Next time I’d think twice when some instinct from the devil told me to sashay like an idiot onto a murder scene.

  I kept my eyes on the door, waiting for the knob to turn. I had to leave, but how? I racked my brain for a solution, but I came up with nothing as sweat beaded on my skin.

  The man seemed to be finished with his inspection of the bedroom portion of the cabin. An iciness moved through me as his footsteps moved closer to the closet, where I tried to make myself as small as I could. I felt around me quietly, grasping for anything I could use as a weapon. An umbrella handle was about the best I could do, if there was even room to get a good swing and aim it at his head.

  Like that was going to happen. Hailey Webb with an umbrella surely was no match for a two-time killer who always seemed to be armed with something sharp.

  With my other hand, I felt my back pocket for my keys, still being very careful not to make a sound. I prayed to every god I’d ever heard of as the guy moved closer to the door. One loud stomp forward then another, and time began to stop as the door handle moved.

  Then I heard a sharp noise, like from a cell or beeper. That was followed by the sound of fabric being rustled. He must have reached into his pocket, I decided, for whatever the device was that had just gone off.

  I prayed even harder, hoping the loud pounding of my heart would not distract him from his call. Next, I heard him grumble, and the footsteps moved away from me and seemingly off the boat. What followed was an eerie silence in which I finally caught my breath—or at least I tried to. The whole thing had left me breathless, as if I’d run a marathon.

  I could have died, and tears gathered in my eyes. I didn’t dare to move just yet as the sharp edges of the boxes still pressed against my sides. I had never in my life been claustrophobic, but I would be adding a new anxiety to my collection soon.

  Finally, I figured enough time had passed that surely he was gone. I had to leave—and quickly. Still, a part of me wasn’t sure. Was he still out there lurking? He had seemed super desperate to get his hands on something he thought would be on the boat.

  Okay, it was time to go. I couldn’t stay in that tiny space forever. Very cautiously, I wedged myself out of the closet and stepped out of the cabin, half expecting some crazed stranger to be waiting on the dock. That would have been the whipped cream on a crap sundae of a week.

  Still in the bow of the boat, I crouched and looked around. I caught movement down the pier and a flash of blue as two cops in the distance made their way with purpose toward the boat. A part of me was thrilled just to be alive. Another part of me watched those cops in dread. How could I explain what the heck I was doing at the murder scene? This encounter with authorities would not be like the others. It was one thing to happen upon a body. It was a whole other thing to trespass onto the crime scene and have a look around.

  Time to bail. I looked to the left and right and found there was no choice; there was only one way to go. I couldn’t step onto the dock, where the cops would soon have a clear view of their discoverer of bodies, in a place she shouldn’t be. Any minute now, they’d be close enough to zero in on me. So walking up the pier to the parking lot was out of the question. If I couldn’t escape via the pier, I’d have to make my way to freedom by moving from one boat to another.

  I leaped over the side of O’Connell’s boat and grabbed onto the handrails of the one beside it. A few quick steps and I was on, making my way to the other side and jumping onto the next boat in line. Ducking down low and moving quietly, I kept my m
ind on the prize: the parking lot and freedom. At one point, I stumbled but got up and kept moving. I ignored the protests from my aching legs, still strained from the tight fit in the closet.

  As I climbed onto another boat, my arms began to ache as well. This was for sure a tougher workout than I was used to at the gym. I’d have to step up my game, I guessed, for this current job which seemed to be a bit more . . . active than expected. It was breezy as the sun set, and the wind picked up as I moved. Every now and then, I felt for my keys and phone. I didn’t want to lose them in all the climbs and leaps. This episode had been enough of a horror show without me doing that.

  “What the . . .? What are you doing?” A woman about my age peered at me from a porthole as I leapfrogged onto her boat. It startled me so badly I almost fell into the water. Naturally, she had every right to be startled too. She looked more curious than mad. I thanked the universe for small favors. I even caught a twinkle in her eye as she studied me. A look of amusement tugged at the corner of her lips.

  “I am . . . checking out the view?” Nonsensical, I knew, but I had no time to think, and I was still rattled by the whole potential-killer-almost-caught-me thing. “Nice boat. Very nice. Does it have a name?”

  The woman looked at me like I was a crazy person. I guessed in that moment, I was.

  “Yes, this is the Annabelle,” she said. “After my favorite aunt on my father’s side.”

  “Groovy. Well, I have to run, but thank you for the visit,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried on.

  The rest of the boats seemed to be unoccupied as I continued on my journey, ducking and keeping my eyes on the officers, who were now at the farther end of the pier. And I almost reached land.