Crash and Burn (25 page)

She studied his eyes. “You’re certain.”

“Yes.”

Krista headed for the door. “If she contacts you again, tell her she
must
call me. It’s a matter of life and death.”

~ ~ ~

It was one of those white-hot days where the air didn’t move and everything looked bleached by the sun. No wind, not even a hint of breeze. Krista pulled into the parking lot of the taco stand where she’d staked out Diane Stark’s philandering husband what seemed like a lifetime ago. She called Mac and asked him to trace the email. Then she called Walker.

“You’re late, Ms. Hart. I’m on my way into court.”

“I’ve got good news and bad news. Good news is she isn’t at the morgue.”

Pause.

“You thought she was?”

“I checked Jane Does,” she told him. “They had a possible candidate, but the physical description doesn’t match.”

“What’s the bad news?” he asked briskly.

“One of Lily’s friend’s was murdered last night while dropping by her house.”

“Who?”

“Amber Sandusky. They used to be roommates.”

“I don’t know her.”

Krista’s temper sparked. “Well, you missed your chance. She’s dead now, possibly because someone mistook her for Lily.”

Krista looked down at the picnic table, reading the graffiti. Walker had two seconds to say something appropriate or she was hanging up.

“The lead detective on this case is Kevin O’Quinn,” he said. “Former LAPD. You remember him from your cop days?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you pretend you do and give him a call? It would help us to know who’s behind all these… threats. He might share something with you, maybe another suspect they looked at or a hunch about the case.”

Unbelievable. An innocent woman had died, a witness’s life was in jeopardy, and all he cared about was his fall guy.

“My focus is Lilian Daniels right now,” she said. “I intend to find her.”

“My point is, maybe O’Quinn could help.”

“Sure, maybe I’ll call him, see if he wants to grab some doughnuts, talk about old times.”

She heard muffled voices as he covered the phone and talked to someone. Then he was back.

“As we speak, I am entering Espinosa’s courtroom. Do I need to remind you of the urgency—?”

“I’m on it.”

She hung up and called Scarlet. She’d been dreading this call more than Walker, and as she heard her friend’s voice, she suddenly realized why.

“You’ve had a busy night,” Scarlet said.

“Mac told you?”

“He’s whining for overtime. Catch me up.”

Krista gave her everything. All of it. And she managed to keep her voice steady when she talked about Amber.

“You okay?” Concern, but not coddling. Scarlet knew her well.

“I’m fine.”

“Actually, I don’t think you
are
fine, or you wouldn’t have had all these interviews without a lawyer.”

“It’s okay.”

She sighed over the phone. “So… in addition to having a B and E hanging over you, you’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”

It was a loaded statement. And a true one. The B and E put Krista’s P.I. license in jeopardy, and hence, the agency.

And Scarlet was right. She probably should have called a lawyer by now. But her sole focus was Lily.

“I’ve got a few leads working,” Krista said. “Mac’s confident he can trace the ISP of her last email.”

“What can I do?”

“You could give O’Quinn a call. You were friends with his partner, Rick Sykes, and you were on the job longer than me, so maybe he’ll give you something. You have time?”

She scoffed. “To get you off the hook on a murder rap? Think I can make the time. What else? You need me to help you bring her in?”

“I’ll let you know. Possibly.”

“In the meantime, here’s the number of a good defense attorney.”

Krista dug through her purse for a pen and something to write on. She found a scrap of paper.

“What’s his name?”

“It’s a woman and she’s a ball-buster. Don’t talk to them again unless she’s with you.”

Krista got off the phone and stared down at the number. A defense attorney. Like everything else, the phone call would have to wait. She needed to focus on finding Lily. She started to tuck the note away when she realized what it was.

The yellow sticky note. From the pad in Lily’s kitchen. She’d grabbed the top sheet of paper to examine later and forgotten all about it. Krista felt a rush of adrenaline as she placed it on the picnic table. It might contain traces of the last words Lily jotted down before she left her house.

Krista saw some indented writing.

“Son of a bitch,” she murmured. She rummaged through her purse, looking for a pencil. No luck.

She got up and went to the food window, where people were lined up for tacos. The woman at the register scowled at her, probably not happy about having one of her tables occupied by someone who wasn’t eating.

Krista handed her a five and asked in Spanish for a pencil. The woman gave her the one tucked behind her ear and motioned for her to keep her money.

Krista sat back at the table. She used a napkin to create a smooth surface and then carefully, cautiously rubbed graphite over the note. The faint white traces of a phone number appeared.

Krista dialed the number.

“Falls Creek Cabins.”

Her breath caught. No way. A break, finally, after all this time.

“Did you say ‘cabins’?”

“That’s right. Would you care to make a reservation?”

~ ~ ~

Krista pulled up to the town’s one intersection and looked at her prospects. A dusty gas station. A ramshackle wooden restaurant that had been added onto a bunch of times. A white clapboard building tucked against the hillside with a sign over the driveway: Inn on Falls Creek. Just beyond the inn was a cluster of weathered cottages that might or might not be Falls Creek Cabins.

Krista pulled into the restaurant’s lot and parked under an apricot tree. The restaurant had a mix of vehicles out front and a row of motorbikes. The inn looked a bit more upscale, with two BMWs and a black Range Rover in the parking lot.

Her gaze veered back to the cabins. Was Lily staying there? Was anyone? The only car was a beat-up green Honda parked beside the front office.

Krista looped back toward the gas station and pulled up to a pump. She needed gas and it wouldn’t hurt to wave Lily’s picture at the store clerk in case she’d stopped in for groceries. She slid out of her car just as a woman emerged from the diner.

Krista’s heart lurched.

Five-ten, slender, brunette. A ball cap was pulled low over her face, so Krista couldn’t see her eyes, but her movements gave her away. She darted a furtive glance over her shoulder before hurrying across the parking lot and stepping into the building beside the Honda.

Krista ducked back into her car and grabbed her gear: cuffs, Taser, cell phone. The phone vibrated as she picked it up. Scarlet.

“I got her,” Krista said.

“Where are you?”

“Falls Creek, northwest of San Juan Capistrano. She’s right here.”

“Crap, I’m in Bel Air. You need help bringing her in?”

Krista shoved the cuffs and spray into her pocket. “What’s in Bel Air? I thought you were free for this.”

“I am. I was. But I’m at least an hour away. Can you stall her?”

Krista glanced at the wooden cabins, where a group of cyclists had pulled over for a break. They leaned against the split rail fence, stretching muscles and guzzling water.

How had Lily gotten here? The Honda? Or maybe she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t want to wait,” Krista said, not knowing precisely why. She felt an urgency, and not just because she’d been tracking this girl for days. There were too many unknowns here. She couldn’t wait for Scarlet to fight traffic all the way through the valley. “I’ll make a few calls, see if I can get a sheriff’s deputy to help me in case anything goes sideways.”

“No!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t call the sheriff,” Scarlet said. “No police. That’s what I called about. I just left a meeting with a P.I. I know up in Bel Air. Alan Sheffield’s sister hired him to investigate her brother’s murder because she wasn’t happy with the police work. You know the wife’s phantom boyfriend you were asking about? They could never prove it, but Sykes’s name came up.”

Krista froze. “Rick Sykes?”

“O’Quinn’s former partner, that’s right. LAPD. He left the force three years ago, not long after we did, amid some sort of scandal.”

Krista’s mind raced. Her gaze fixed on the cabin. She wondered if Lily had noticed her and slipped out a back exit.

“Rick Sykes,” she repeated, still not sure she believed it. “That doesn’t make sense. A cop and a
doctor’s
wife? How the hell did they meet?”

“Former cop. Now he’s a security consultant, apparently. And I’m still working on how they came together. The sister says her brother had a new security system installed at his house a few years ago. Maybe that’s the connection.”

“So it sounds like Sykes and the wife could have murdered Alan Sheffield,” Krista said. “Probably for the insurance money.”

Lily emerged from the office. Krista stepped into the shadow of a tree to keep from being seen.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Scarlet said. “Stay on her until then—”

“I don’t want to wait. Listen, I’ll call you back.”

“Krista—”

“I’ll call you.” She stuffed her phone in her pocket and glanced across the street at Lily, who was walking head-down across the parking lot toward the cabins.

A black Range Rover whipped into the lot. Krista’s heart stuttered.

“Lily!” she yelled, but she was too far away.

The Range Rover screeched to a halt. An instant later, there was a spray of gravel as it peeled away.

Lily was gone.

Krista stared at the empty lot, stunned. Then she jumped behind the wheel of her car and thrust the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

“Come
on!
” She slapped the dashboard and tried again. A faint cough, then silence. Another bitch slap. She turned the key again. The car sputtered to life. She managed to give it a full two seconds in idle before she jammed it in reverse and rocketed out of the space. She shoved it into drive, then skidded onto the highway and gunned the gas.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she said, checking her fuel gauge. An eighth of a tank. She had to catch up with them soon. She gripped the steering wheel and eased her foot off the gas to take an S-curve. Her pulse spiked as she swerved around a cyclist peddling furiously up the hill.

Cursing, she rounded another curve. She darted a longing glance at her phone, but didn’t want to risk letting go the wheel to make a call. Finally, the road straightened out. She snatched up the phone and called Scarlet.

“He grabbed her.”

“Who?”

“Sykes. Someone. I’m not sure, but he grabbed her right in front of me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I need backup.” She swerved around another cyclist. “Find someone we can trust in the sheriff’s office.”

“Stay with that car.”

“I’m trying.”

She floored the gas again, then abruptly slowed to take a hairpin turn. A flash of taillights ahead, but then they were lost around the next corner.

She let off the gas. She had to
think.
They probably didn’t know she was onto them, and maybe she could make a surprise approach. She glanced at the rearview and her heart lodged in her throat.

The black Miata. The car from yesterday. And the driver was wearing a purple Lakers cap.

“No freaking way,” she muttered.

He’d been on the ferry. He’d been following her. She’d
felt
that someone was following her, but she’d chalked it up to R.J. It was probably someone from Sykes’s security company. Someone he’d hired to track down the witness who was going to blow the case.

A sharp turn jerked her attention back to the road. She skidded into the left-hand lane. When she regained control, the Miata was in her mirror again, only closer now, creeping up on her bumper. She couldn’t see his face, just the Lakers cap. And his lips were moving, even though he looked to be alone. Probably on the phone with someone.

Her gaze snapped ahead the instant realization dawned. Glowing red tail lights. She stomped on the brake and instinctively swerved, missing the Range Rover but skidding into the far left lane as a truck rounded a corner. She yanked the wheel right, but it was too much, too quick. She corrected again and her muscles seized as the tires skidded. Metal crunched as she careened into the guardrail. Her stomach dropped. Icy panic seized her as she sailed over the ledge.

I can’t die now. I’m not ready.

Utter helplessness as the front of the car dipped. A wall of trees rushed up at her. A violent
smack
as the airbag burst open and she smashed into a wall.

For a moment, only blackness. And then an ear-piercing shriek that she realized was coming from her own mouth.

Silence.

Krista’s heart jackhammered. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive at once and she felt like she was on fire. She batted at the plastic and little puffs of powder floated before her eyes. The windshield was a web of ice crystals, shattered but still in place. She blinked and looked around. She was surrounded by green.

She tried the door. It didn’t budge. She threw her shoulder into it and slid out, startled when her foot dangled in the air before touching ground. She grabbed a tree limb to catch herself as she stumbled from her car, which was now poised atop a flattened sapling.

“Krista!”

She glanced up, stunned, to see someone rushing down the hill toward her.
R.J.
She staggered away from the car and he caught her by the shoulders.

“Jesus Christ! Are you okay?”

She blinked up at the hillside and saw the nose of his Porsche peeking over the ledge beside the mangled guardrail.

“We have to get out of here.” She pushed past him, but he grabbed her arm.

“Are you
all right?
”

She shook him off. “Come on. They’re getting away.” She scaled the hillside, grabbing at bushes and vines as she scrambled for footing. At the top, she grabbed the trunk of a baby fir tree and pulled herself the last few feet to the gravel shelf beside the roadway.