Deceiver Read online

  I take another sip and consider. “I don’t think so. He didn’t ask me anything about Derek or about you girls. He had legal papers and photos of this other guy, and had already gotten the hospital notes and medical records from when I’d treated him. He even talked to my bosses.”

  “Hm. It just seems strange.”

  I nod. “Maybe, but he seemed to think this guy kidnapped a little twelve-year-old girl.”

  “Kidnapped?” Billie’s eyes sparkle as she takes a sip of her wine.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently, I was treating this guy for a knife wound. He told me he had hurt it on a gate at his farm. The detective thinks the little girl might have stabbed him when he took her.”

  “Is the girl still alive?”

  I shrug. “Don’t know. But she’s been gone for over a month now. So they’re treating it like a murder case, regardless.”

  Billie’s silent for a few moments, and I can almost see the wheels turning.

  “You know, this guy is every bit as bad as Derek was, if not more.”

  I look at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how does a guy snatch a little girl, do God knows what to her, kill her, and then get away with it like that? Is it fair that he walks around free, not a care in the world because the cops can’t find enough evidence to convict him?”

  “I see where you’re going with this. But, remember, we do live in America where everyone is entitled to a trial and a jury of their peers, you know. Just because he’s being investigated doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty. Cops are only human. They make mistakes, too. Hell, just look at Derek. He was a cop!”

  “Maybe. Still, I think you should try to find out more about this guy, like why they think he’s guilty.”

  I take a sip of my wine and sigh. “I do need to call that detective back, anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, a couple of reasons. One, I forgot to tell him about Mr. Stratford’s shoes. They were covered in cement.”

  “Cement?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. It may turn out to be nothing at all, but I think I should tell him about it, anyway.”

  Billie nods. “So, you need to tell him that the guy was wearing cement shoes. Any other reason?”

  “Because he was cute as hell and I think he was flirting with me.” Smiling like a dork, I waggle my eyebrows “Can you believe it?”

  “Oh, really?” Billie chuckles. “Well, normally, I would tell you to call him immediately and proceed to get your groove on. Except in this case, do you really think it’s a good idea to date a detective right now?”

  “You know what they say. Keep your friends close, and all that.”

  “Just be careful. Remember, there are six other women, including me, who are counting on you here.”

  As if I could forget. The constant reminders are irritating. Then again, I know she’s just concerned about everyone.

  “I know. Maybe I should forget about him. You’re right. It’s too dangerous.”

  Yes, I do know this. I also know that it’s all part of the thrill and the excitement. Can I really resist him? I’m not so sure.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey there! Did you girls have practice today?”

  Adam walks across the living room toward us, shucking his jacket on the couch. He really is gorgeous, not to mention rich, nice and obviously totally smitten with Billie. She’s lucky as hell.

  “Oh! Hey, babe.” Billie jumps up and greets him with a bear hug and a kiss that would make a hooker blush.

  I sit there awkwardly for a moment. “Ahem. Get a room, you two.”

  Finally, they come up for air.

  “Sorry. I haven’t seen Betty here in almost eight hours.”

  “Betty?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “He’s got a bad habit of calling me that. Don’t ask.” Billie giggles and then returns to me on the sofa.

  “No, we didn’t have glee club practice today.” I give him a delayed answer to his question. “I just came over to visit.”

  “Oh, well, good. You can keep her company while I grab a quick shower.” He loosens his tie as he heads toward the kitchen. Who goes to work on a Sunday in a suit and tie? “Maybe you two can sing for me when I get out? Billie won’t do it by herself.”

  I look at Billie, my eyes wide and my lips flattened in a straight line.

  “Keep dreaming,” Billie shouts to him, teasing, but her eyes are almost as big as mine. “I told you that you have to wait until we’re all ready,” she adds.

  Adam grabs a banana off the bar and starts peeling it. “Really. I don’t know how you guys can be part of a choir, or a singing group, or whatever it is, and be so damn shy about singing. You realize that at some point, you are going to actually have to perform in front of people. Right?”

  Billie shifts nervously. “Yes. We will. When we’re ready.”

  “And, it’s a glee club, the Southern Ladies’ Glee Club,” I remind him.

  “Glee club, schmee club,” he teases and then disappears down the hall with his banana.

  “He sounds like he’s still suspicious,” I whisper.

  “Yeah. I know. We are going to have to break down and sing something soon, or this whole thing is going to fall apart.”

  “We have been practicing a lot. Maybe we’ll be ready before too much longer?”

  Billie snarls. “You’ve heard me sing. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to sing in public.”

  “You’re no worse than me or Sami. We’ll just have to rely on Gabby and Lora. They’re really good.”

  Billie nods. “I hate to admit it, but Lucy’s pretty good, too.”

  “Yes, she is,” I agree. “Jade is, too, I guess. Oh! Is that guy still coming out to help us Wednesday? That coach or teacher, or whatever. What’s his name?”

  “Luther McKendrick. Yes. He’s a friend of Sami’s and, apparently, the guy is supposed to be pretty good. She said his band just cut a new single. So, we’re lucky he’s agreed to help us.”

  “Well, I wish we would have just said we were in a book club and been done with it. It would have been a helluva lot easier.”

  I lounge back against the sofa, remembering when we first started all this nonsense, when we were planning a nice, simple, old-fashioned murder and we just needed a good cover.

  “Maybe. But then, we would have had to read a ton of books, and I’m not like you. I don’t really like to read. Besides, you have to admit, it has been kind of fun.” She gives me a mischievous grin.

  I smile and shake my head. “I suppose. Has he said anything else about… you know…” I glance around nervously to make sure Adam isn’t lurking anywhere nearby. “Derek?”

  As usual, I whisper his name as if it’s a lethal dirty word.

  Shaking her head, she picks imaginary lint from Adam’s jacket. “Nope. Not even a peep. And I sure haven’t brought it up.”

  “Well, that’s good, anyway.”

  Adam seemed very suspicious at first, asking each of us a lot of questions about where we were that night, what we were doing, and who all was there. It’s like he was trying to catch us up in a lie or something. At least, it made us get all our stories straight early on.

  “What about Josh? Did he say anything else about it?”

  “No, thank goodness. I just knew we were busted, though, when I got home that night and he was there already. Then, we had to turn right back around and head to Gabby’s. It was a chore just smuggling my medical bag out the front door without him seeing. Lora certainly wasn’t any help.” I roll my eyes at the thought.

  “Did Gabby call you on your way home?”

  “No, she texted me saying something about needing to sew some costumes or something crazy like that. I knew what she meant, though. She was trying to tell me that Jade needed stitches. There was no way we could take her to the ER.”

  “I saw her yesterday,” Billie says n
onchalantly and sips her wine.

  “Who?”

  “Jade.” She rubs her forehead as if she’s thinking about Jade’s cut. “You did a great job sewing her up. You can hardly see anything now. Barely even a scar.”

  I beam with pride. “Well, thank you. I tell you, it scared the crap out of me when I first saw her. Gabby was freaking out, and Lora was convinced she was going to die. I still think she had a mild concussion.”

  “She seemed as sane as always. Have you ever seen anyone run that fast or jump that high in your life?” Billie shakes her head. “I mean, I saw it with my own two eyes, and I still can’t believe it.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve never seen a dog have it in for someone like that. I think it would have ripped her to shreds if it had caught her. Where the hell did it come from?”

  “The bowels of Hell. That’s all I can figure. What luck, eh? Here we are in the business district, about to do the darkest deed a body can do, after hours, days of strategizing and careful planning, and fucking Cujo shows up out of nowhere. It blows my mind.”

  “I still can’t believe I shot a dog.”

  “You didn’t shoot a dog. You shot in the general direction of a dog, a dog that was trying to eat our friend,” Billie corrects me.

  “Well, close enough. I was in shock, though. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’ve lain awake nights worrying that they’re going to find that bullet and do all kinds of analysis and stuff on it. They’ll know, and they’ll trace it right back to me or you, or us.”

  “No, they won’t. That gun has no ties to me at all. They can’t trace it,” Billie says resolutely.

  “What about the one that Jade fired? Twice.”

  “She swears she only fired the one shot.”

  “I don’t get it.” I twist my hair as I consider. “She has to be wrong. I know I heard at least two shots.”

  “I know. Me, too, but she swears she checked it, and there was only one bullet missing.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense, Billie. I keep thinking about it. I heard one shot while Derek had you at gunpoint. I know it, because for a second, I thought he shot you. Then, there was another shot just as he was walking you back to his car. That’s the one that wound up hitting him in the leg.” I think about him rolling around on the ground in agony, gripping his knee.

  “You’re right. Maybe she was mistaken? Maybe she really did have a concussion and just didn’t realize there were two bullets missing?” Billie scratches her head.

  “Maybe,” I ponder aloud. “I just keep thinking we’re missing something. I keep going back to him lying there…”

  “Stop,” Billie says, flashing her palm in my face. “We agreed that we wouldn’t talk about that anymore. It doesn’t do anyone any good.”

  “I know.” Even as a nurse with all the trauma and injuries I’ve seen over the years, that gruesome sight still haunts me, his head laying open like—

  “Pizza?” Adam strolls into the living room freshly showered and donning a pair of well-worn jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Sounds good to me. You?” Billie looks at me questioningly.

  “Sure. Pizza sounds great,” I agree.

  “Another glass of wine, too.” Billie smiles as she holds her glass out to Adam.

  At ten, I say goodbye to Billie and Adam. I thank them for the great dinner and the wonderful evening and head down to my car. I want to get home before Josh does.

  In the elevator, I shove my hand into my pocket looking for my keys, but instead, I find Detective Cole’s card. My thumb drags over his name, as if I were caressing him instead of a piece of paper.

  Maybe I should call him now? It’s late. That might be better, though. This way, I’m sure he won’t be there. He probably left the office hours ago. I can just leave him a short voicemail, and there’s no danger of me succumbing to his hotness.

  I dig out my phone and dial the number on the card, ready to tell his recording all about Mr. Stratford’s shoes. I have a civic duty to report this. Right? I’m not just looking for a reason to call him. Of course, not. I debate my motives as the phone rings.

  “Cole.”

  Oh, shit. It’s not voicemail. The elevator dings as I reach the lobby, and I stand there like a deer in the headlights. Say hi or step out. Or, both… But, do something!

  I step out of the elevator. “Uh… Hi. Detective Cole?”

  “Yes. This is Dan,” he says, his voice sounding a little curious or maybe a hint annoyed.

  It’s too late to hang up. I’m committed now.

  “This is Candy. Candy Putnam. I…I’m sorry to call so late. Honestly, I expected to get your voicemail.”

  “Candy. Hi.” I can tell he’s smiling, and my resolve to resist him begins to crumble. “The law never sleeps, right?”

  “I thought that was postmen?”

  “No. They’re the ones who keep delivering in the snow, the rain and the gloom of night. We only deliver if we have a warrant, and it’s between the hours of eight in the morning and five in the afternoon.”

  “So, it’s ten o’clock. You’re saying I’m safe right now?” I giggle.

  “Absolutely. Safe from warrants, anyway. Although, I wouldn’t think you’d have anything to worry about during office hours, either.”

  Great. Just keep thinking that. “Actually, I was going to leave you a message because I remembered something kind of strange about Mr. Stratford. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I should tell you, anyway.”

  “Oh?” He draws out the word, as if it’s a note on a music scale.

  “Uh…Yeah.” Oh, no. He thinks I’m just making stuff up to have an excuse to call him. “Like I said, it may not even mean a thing, but you told me to call if I remembered anything else at all.”

  “Yes, I did. Listen, maybe this would be something better told in person?”

  “In person?”

  “Yeah. Would it be easier to just meet me somewhere? Maybe have a glass of wine? Some place like…I don’t know…Darling’s?”

  Darling’s? That’s a bar!

  “Uh…” Say no. Say no. Say no.

  “Don’t say no. Just one drink.”

  Shit. Fucking mind readers. The last of my resolve is melting away. “Well, I am going to be driving past there in a few minutes on my way home. I’m at a friend’s. Well, actually, I’m leaving my friend’s place.”

  “Great! Where are you exactly?”

  “I’m…” The name of the street eludes me. I step out into the lobby and look out the front windows to see if anything jogs my memory. All I spy is a strip club. “Oh! I’m right down the street from Oakhurst horse track.”

  “Oh. You’re in Hot Springs?”

  “Yeah. My friend lives here.” You already told him that, Candy.

  “Great. So, if you get back on I-30, you can be at Darling’s in like twenty minutes.”

  “Okay.” What am I doing? “I guess I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes, then?”

  “Let’s see if we can make it in fifteen.”

  I can hear him smiling.

  “Well, I don’t want to get a ticket,” I tease. “I’m walking out right now.”

  “Me, too. See you in a few.”

  I hang up and wave at the concierge on my way toward the front door. “Thank you.”

  “You have a nice night, Ms. Putnam.”

  I don’t know why it shocks me that he knows my name. It’s kind of nice, though. I make a note to find out if I’m supposed to tip him. Until I became friends with Billie, I’ve never known anyone who had a concierge or a doorman.

  I rush to my car, hurrying so that I’m not late for my date that I didn’t even know I had until five minutes ago. This is not a date. I was trying to get home before Josh. So much for that. I need to call him and let him know I’ll be late.

  Thank goodness I put on a cute outfit and some makeup before I left the house. What about my underwear? I struggle to remember what drawers I pulled out of my drawers this morning. Oh, c
rap! I barely even looked at them. I hope like hell they don’t have any holes in them.

  What am I worrying about? I just met this guy. It’s not like I’m heading over to his place for sex. We’re meeting for a drink in public, and for me to tell him what I remembered about Mr. Stratford. That’s it. It’s not even a date.

  There will be no pocket pool or hanky-panky of any kind. He will not get a chance to examine my holy or un-holy drawers. Period. I mean, my goodness. I’m a mature woman and mother of a seventeen-year-old boy. I’m not in my twenties anymore, and I certainly don’t do booty calls.

  Oh, God. Is this a booty call?

  Chapter Four

  By the time I get to Darling’s, I’ve already had a nice, long talk with myself about modesty, first dates and the importance of a good first impression, even though his actual first impression of me was in a towel coming out of the shower. Besides, this isn’t really a date. I saved myself the safe sex talk for later. Still, I’m a bucket of nerves. I grab my phone while sitting in the parking lot and dial Josh.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  It always freaks me out that he knows it’s me calling before he ever answers the phone. Apparently, he’s assigned me my own ring tone, “You Talk Too Much” by Run-DMC. I would be offended if it wasn’t so funny.

  “Hey, babe. I’ll be a little bit later getting home than I thought I would be.”

  “Cool. Where are you?”

  I knew he was going to ask me that, and I’m definitely not telling him that I’m meeting a man at a bar, even if the man is a cop. “I’m meeting Billie and the girls for a quick drink.”

  “So, you’re going to drink and drive?”

  Geez. “Of course not.”

  “You just said you were meeting the girls for drinks. What are you drinking? Soda Pop?”

  “One drink. That’s all. I’m having one drink and then I’ll be home.”

  “So, you’ll be home by midnight, then?”

  “Yes. I’ll be home by midnight.” I roll my eyes.

  “Okay. I’ll wait up for you, then. Just be careful. And, Mom…?”

  “Yes, Josh.”

  “Just one drink. Or I want you to call me, and I’ll come pick you up.”