Author: CJ Birch
Category: Other
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/cj-birch/page,18,517950-an_intimate_deception.html
“How much did he want this time?”
“He wanted a hundred grand. I told him I could maybe find him five, but then he said he’d found someone who could lend him the money.”
“Did he say who?”
“Nah, but he didn’t have to. I was pretty sure he got it from that chick…” Holt trailed off, looking at his socks. There was a hole in the left and his big toe stuck out. “He found it somewhere.”
“You know who he was sleeping with?”
Holt looked over at her and heaved a giant sigh of relief. “You knew about that?”
She nodded.
“Thank God. I didn’t want to rat him out. Even if he is dead. I don’t mean to, Elle. These things just pop out.”
She patted his hand. “It’s okay. Who was he seeing?”
“Her name’s Kitty.”
“That’s it? Just her first name?”
“That’s all I know. I swear.” But he couldn’t meet her eyes. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke up into the air.
“Holt. If you know her last name, tell me.”
He turned to her, his eyes puppy like. It was hard to believe he’d spent most of high school pummeling kids. “I don’t know her last name for sure. I’m just guessing.”
“I still need to know.”
“I’m pretty sure it was Sedona’s wife. Kitty Sedona.”
“Last question. Do you know what he needed the money for?”
“He said it was for bad investments, but I knew better. Guys talk.” Holt shrugged. “He had a gambling problem. Poker mostly.”
Elle squeezed his hand. “Thanks for answering my questions.”
“I bet you look just as good in your uniform.”
Elle laughed, but inside she was seething. She should’ve guessed the money wasn’t for bad investments. But he’d pulled her in again.
Chapter Seventeen
She found Neil in her office sorting through some papers on her desk. He looked up as she strolled in, still in her previous getup. His eyebrows shot up. “We start a vice squad I don’t know about?” he asked.
“Yep. I ordered you a similar outfit but it doesn’t come until Monday.”
“Hardy har.” But he didn’t say it with his usual humor; instead he held up the Ziploc with the note from Jessie’s wallet. “You want to explain, or are you just going to give me some bullshit story?” He dropped it on the desk between them.
“Neil.” The longer his name hung in the air, the harder it was for her to speak up, to come clean like she knew she should. But what could she say now? Was there anything that would make it right?
“I checked the phone records they sent over. He called this number, your cell, the night he was murdered.” His face hardened. His jaw flexed. “And there you are, not saying a word. Just letting Stan and me think we’re actually investigating.” He kept his eyes on the desk unable to look up at her, his hands melded to his midsection, like a pouting child.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it. I’ve got things I got to be doing. Heather’ll fill you in.” He tried to stomp past Elle, but she blocked the door and grabbed his arm. He peered down at her tiny hand wrapped around his beefy arm. If he wanted to he could get by.
“Hold on. Wait. I didn’t…” He was staring at her so intently she knew nothing she said would help remove the hurt behind his eyes.
She knew why Jessie had been staying at the motel instead of his parents’—he didn’t want to worry them. And she knew also why he’d paid cash—he didn’t want his wife to see it on their credit card statement. And yet she’d wasted Stan and Neil’s time chasing down these blind leads. Her gaze shifted to her shoes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Right.” He yanked his arm back and stormed past her, boots slapping on the tile, past Robin standing in the doorway. He didn’t even wave good-bye to Heather as he left.
“Is this come as you aren’t day? Should I have worn my overalls?” asked Robin, she pulled at her immaculate gray shirt.
Elle thought it best to ignore her. She turned to Heather. “I’m going to run home and change real quick. If you need me, I’ll be on channel two.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Robin caught up to her at her truck. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?” She jammed her key in the lock and yanked the door open. The hinges groaned.
“You did manage to suck back a bottle of bourbon last night.”
“Thanks for driving me home. I’m fine.”
“So you do remember.”
With her hand on the wheel, ready to pull herself up, she turned to face her. “What is it exactly I’m supposed to remember?”
“That I’m a good sport.”
Elle rolled her eyes and got in the truck. It rumbled to life after a few tries. She rolled down the window. “How did you get home?”
“Mr. Forrester followed us in his car and gave me a lift back to Sandy’s.” Robin rested her arm on the window ledge, saw the dirt, and thought better of it. “You pretty much passed out the second you got in the truck. Mr. Forrester had to carry you into the house.”
Elle shut her eyes and leaned her head back. She was never going to live that down. “Great.”
“You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk. Argumentative, but cute.”
“Oh, God. What did I say?”
Robin pursed her lips and looked to the sky. A smile spread across her face. “You were adamant you could undress yourself. I had to help a little with the zipper.”
Elle’s face flamed red. She’d woken up in the nude and hoped she’d done that herself. The temperature in the cab rose ten degrees.
Robin leaned in closer. “Not to worry, Sheriff Ashley. You were still in your underwear when I left. Not that I wouldn’t have helped if you’d asked.”
It had been years since Elle had experienced this, but she wasn’t so lost that she couldn’t recognize it when she saw it. “Are you flirting with me?” Looking back on their exchanges, she couldn’t say that she hadn’t sensed an interest. But never in a million years would she have guessed Robin was into women.
“Sheriff Ashley, I’ve been flirting with you since the moment I met you. Don’t tell me you’re just noticing now.” Robin grinned at her as she backed up.
Elle ripped her gaze away before the heat in her chest engulfed the rest of her face. She was so out of her depth. This should have lifted her mood. Instead she felt like she’d boarded a train and there was only one stop. Once she got on, there was no changing her mind. For the first time in years, she was attracted to someone. There had been a few women in college, but not since she’d moved back to Turlough to look after EJ. She’d shut that part of her life off.
As she passed the houses leading out of town, Mr. Weatherby waved from his front garden. She waved back. But then a sudden panic overtook her. Had anyone seen her and Robin. Would they have known what they were talking about? She’d done so well to keep that part of herself hidden all these years. The last thing she needed was for Robin to come in and ruin it all.
Her mood turned foul the second she got home and found Dan and EJ out on the back deck trying to cover up the smell of pot wafting through the air.
“Po po’s home. That’s my cue.” Dan gathered his cigarettes and lighter. When he brushed past Elle in the door, his eyes spent an extra long time on her breasts. He waved to EJ and was gone.
Elle glared at EJ for all of two seconds before trailing Dan out the front door. “Dan, I need to speak with you.”
He had one foot up in the cab, ready to hoist himself up. His eyes roved over her Mr. T. T-shirt and its low-cut neckline. “Giving up the law, Ms. Ashley?”
Elle crossed her arms over the shirt. The words “shut up, fool” were still visible below her arms. She wished for the hundredth time that day she’d worn something a little more professional.
“From now on, I want you to stay away from EJ.” She kne
w it sounded desperate, but the anger that had been building for days was about to boil over.
His eyebrows shot up. He hopped down from his cab to face her, but there was amusement behind his eyes. “Your brother’s a big boy. He can hang out with whoever he wants.”
“There’s a lot of things EJ can do once he graduates. But that’s not going to happen if he keeps getting mixed up in your idiotic revenge schemes.” This was not going well.
Dan nodded. “So you think I’m the problem? Your brother had nothing to do with that fight or breaking into Randy’s car?”
“I think he wouldn’t if you weren’t around.”
Dan leaned his hip up against his truck and crossed his arms. A smirk on his lips. “You want me gone, Elle?”
The use of her first name, the familiarity of it on his lips, knotted her insides on a visceral level. “I want you to stay away from my brother.”
“Is this the same empty threat you used before?” He pushed off, stepping closer. He was taller by several inches. “The one where you said I would regret it if I messed with Randy?”
Elle refused to give him any ground. As much as she wanted to step back and distance herself. Instead she looked up at him in what she hoped was her hardest, meanest stare. “That threat now includes my brother. And if you think it’s empty, just fucking test me. Just test me.” She turned and stomped off toward the house, hoping it looked badass instead of a good imitation of a petulant child.
* * *
A used pile of Lysol wipes lay on the pavement next to the open door of Elle’s cruiser. Inside, Elle scrubbed the upholstered seats, attacking the interior with long methodical strokes. As soon as she’d disposed of one wipe, she yanked a new one out of the dispenser and continued the assault.
Normally a daily ritual, Elle hadn’t cleaned the cruiser in days. Not since they’d found Jessie. The back and forth monotony of the act helped clear her mind. Helped soothe the ache in her heart every time she thought of Neil. It helped calm her fears about EJ and where his life was heading and helped quell thoughts of Robin and what her smile had done to her insides.
So now she cleaned. Each swipe erased the dirt, subduing the threat of her mind, which only worsened the moment Brady strolled up and kicked the back tire.
“Hear anything back from the staties yet?”
She sat back on her haunches, throwing the soiled wipe into the pile. “Pass me the Windex.” She grabbed a handful of paper towels, circling them around her hand, cocoon like, and tore them off the roll.
Brady stooped to pick up the bottle but paused, dangling it on his index finger out of reach. “The results?”
“Ken, don’t worry. I guarantee you will be the,” she stopped, counting a tally in her mind, “fifth person I give the results to. So keep your panties on. They’ll get here when they get here.”
She reached out and snatched the Windex, beginning her assault on the rear windshield. She could tell him that even if they did get the results, it wouldn’t make a difference. They didn’t have anything to compare it to. But she didn’t, knowing he wouldn’t hear a word she said. He’d be back tomorrow with the same questions.
She could feel him standing there watching her. The longer he stood there, the tighter the knot in her back twisted. She could almost feel him breathing down her neck. Was he expecting a different answer if he waited five more minutes? She wanted to turn around and shout at him to go back to his office, but it would only cause a scene.
Finally, she stopped cleaning and turned to face Brady. “Was there something else you wanted?” Her voice had a hard edge to it.
He rocked back on his heels, contemplating.
“You know if you really want those results, why don’t you call up the lab in Jackson yourself,” she said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige. Might cost you next year’s road repairs, but, hey, at least you’ll know. I’m sure the council will understand. Or better yet, why don’t you cut some of our salaries. We don’t need them.” She had to drop the Windex bottle before the urge to squirt him in the face became too great.
He let out a long, slow breath, stuffing his hands in his suit pockets. “You’re not the only one who’s had that thought, you know.”
“Ken, I was joking.” She unfolded herself from the back seat. If he tried to cut her payroll she might actually hit him. He was the only person she’d ever seriously thought about slapping in the face.
“We’re thinking of combining the sheriff and coroner position within the county.”
“What did you say?”
Behind Brady, a young girl with impossibly blond pigtails passed by. The training wheels making her bike tilt to the side, back and forth, creating a staccato effect.
“The council’s voting on it next Monday, the day after the festival. If it goes through, there’ll only be the one position.”
“What does that mean?” Her heart rate accelerated, drawing all her blood to its center. She felt light-headed.
“It means, for now, you would take over Jack’s duties. Most of what he does is paperwork anyway.”
“That’s not fair. It’ll kill Jack. Can’t they wait until he retires?”
“Elle, that man is never going to retire. We can’t afford to wait another week, let alone another decade.” He exhaled loudly through his nose. “Lots of towns are doing it.” He made that sound like justification enough.
“You’re trying to get rid of him is what you’re doing. It’s wrong,” she said. “Was it you who suggested this?” The girl in pigtails made a second round past Brady, digging her heels into the peddles and leaning back to get as much speed out of the little pink and white bike as she could.
“No, it wasn’t me. But I agree with the principle. There’s not much to his job. And if we needed something more than the sheriff could provide, we’d call in a state medical examiner.”
With a clarity Elle hadn’t felt in weeks, she saw how this had played out behind her back. They wanted to get rid of an aging, doddering old man, not because he was incompetent but because someone had sold the council on a way to save money. She wanted to be furious, but she didn’t have the energy. What if it was a way to get rid of her too? There were several members on the council she was sure hadn’t wanted her in office. Could this give the city an excuse to have another vote if they chose?
“This is why he’s been in such a stoop lately, isn’t it?” she said. “He already knows about the vote.”
Brady nodded. “And if you’ll take some good advice, I’d stay out of it. Just keep your head down.”
“Or what? I’ll be on the chopping block too? That’s not how this is supposed to work.”
“No, Elle, it’s not. But it’s politics.” Another excuse. Brady was overloaded with them. It was like he’d packed a suitcase full of them to absolve him when he entered politics over two decades ago and just kept unloading them whenever he needed until he was as light and unburdened as air.
Elle squinted up at him, the sun having moved above the tree line, and said, “If it’s just politics then it can still go the other way.”
“I’ve talked to most of the council members already. Most of them are for it.”
“Who haven’t you talked to yet?”
“You can’t go around bending people’s ears. The voting is just a formality now.” An impatience had crept into his voice, like dealing with small children when they’ve found a hole in your logic but you’re too proud to admit it.
“Why not? Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She had a way of turning a menacing question into the most innocent by tilting her head.
Brady hooked his thumbs into his belt, a clear sign he was about to give up ground, and looked down at her pile of wipes. He sighed. “I’ll give you the names, but you’re not going to like them.”
“Quit screwing around and tell me.”
“Judge Keeler and Sid Derry.”
Elle recoiled at the sound of their names. He was right, she didn’t like those names o
ne bit.
Chapter Eighteen
Elle spent the rest of the day with her head in paperwork, checking statements. Neil had left copies of the Forresters’ financials with his notes on her desk. It only proved what she’d already suspected. They were overextended and living well beyond their means.
When she’d finished inputting all the new information they’d gathered, she went back to the beginning, starting with his wallet and phone. By midnight, Elle had finished sifting through the contents of Jessie’s trunk again. It was all pretty standard stuff—clothes, toiletries—nothing unusual jumped out at her.
No matter how many times she sorted through everything, she just couldn’t make it work in her head. If the money wasn’t in the car or hotel, what had happened to it? It hadn’t been on Jessie, nor in the house, as far as she could tell. Which meant the killer had taken it, which was a thought that would keep her awake for most of the night. If she hadn’t given Jessie the money, would he be dead?
Elle wasn’t sure what she should be feeling at this moment. She covered her eyes. Her headache from this morning had come back worse than before. The fans above cranked away, sweeping the office with tepid air. What she needed was to go home, get some sleep, and tackle this problem with a fresh mind in the morning.
She turned off all the lights and locked up even though Stan was still out making patrols. He wouldn’t be back for hours.
The night air was humid. Laughter drifted down from Finnegan’s, making her wish she had somewhere else to go besides home. But as she climbed into her truck, a new wave of exhaustion washed over her and all she could think about was crawling between her sheets and passing out for the next six to seven hours.
Where the ravine curved was a bend in the road, just before the bridge that crossed over the Red. The trees to the left were painted in a blue and red hue. First red, then blue, like two partners dancing in circles. When she rounded the corner, it was Stan’s cruiser parked on the shoulder creating the light show. Elle pulled up behind him, scanning the forest on both sides of the road for any signs of movement before stepping out of her vehicle. The gravel’s press beneath her boots echoed through the trees as she crunched toward the driver’s side door. She pulled a small flashlight from her belt and raised it toward the window of the cruiser. She flashed the back seat. It was empty.