Ellie Ashe - Miranda Vaughn 02 - Dropping the Dime (19 page)

"No! That's crazy!" I said.

"Is it? The only spare key to that home office is missing and her boyfriend is one of the few people who knew where it was kept. The key wasn't on the guy who was arrested, but one of them could have gone upstairs and let him in. I'm going to go back and question the guests again—all of them, if I have to—and find out if anyone saw her or Alexi go upstairs last night," he said.

"They were downstairs all night," I said.

His eyes narrowed and mine widened. Well crap, guess I'd forgotten to mention that I'd been at the party.

"I was there. I was at the party," I said quickly.

"You were there?"

I nodded, and his jaw tensed visibly. "How— No, why? I just—"

His eyes closed and he inhaled slowly.

"The photos of the Leonidis contract?" he asked, his voice low.

He opened his eyes, and I wanted to slide under the table. Instead, I just nodded.

Jake swallowed, and I could tell he was wrestling with his temper.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," I said.

"Oh?"

"Well…" How was I going to make this sound less illegal? What would Sarah do in this situation? "I had permission to be there."

Jake stared at me with a glare that they probably teach at the FBI academy.

"From the Leonidis family," I added.

"Simon Leonidis?"

"Not exactly." I bit my lip. I was too far into this story to try and sugarcoat it. I took a deep breath. "Kathryn gave me a key, which she got from Alexi. We were just looking for this contract."

Jake pushed back from the table and stalked to the kitchen sink, resting his hands on the edge of the cabinets, facing the windows. When I didn't say more, he turned and leaned against the sink, his arms crossed in front of him.

"So you were in his office. His locked office."

I gave a short nod.

He ran a hand through his hair, then across his face as he stared at me. "Ah, damn it. Your prints—"

"Yes, I know. I touched Simon's desk, his filing cabinets. The door. The balcony."

"The balcony?"

"It's a long story," I said.

"Then start talking," he snapped.

I crossed my arms in front of me. "Someone tried to get in, so I went out on the balcony."

His face paled. "You were in the office when the burglar broke in?"

"No, not exactly," I said. "I was outside on the balcony."

"Did you see him?"

I shook my head. "No. I saw the flashlight under the door, coming from the hall. Then it disappeared, and I didn't see anyone break in, but then the French doors locked behind me, and I couldn't get back into the office, so I went down the trellis."

Both of his hands were at his face now.

"You climbed down the trellis?"

Apparently, my stupidity had so stunned him that he was unable to do anything but repeat my words.

"Look, it didn't go as planned. But you said you needed corroboration for what Kathryn suspected. Well, I got it."

"I didn't tell you to break in and get it!" He started pacing again, one hand at his forehead. "Jesus, Miranda! What the hell were you thinking? That was dangerous and illegal. You could have been hurt."

"I survived," I said. My feet still smarted from the thorns. But that was nothing compared to the beating my pride was taking. "It wasn't my idea, but you were turning on Kathryn like she was some mastermind fraudster when she didn't do anything. I had to help her prove that. I wasn't going to let you railroad her."

"Do you even hear what you're saying, Miranda? Kathryn is not you! She's not being framed!"

I gasped and struggled to respond, but I could barely breathe, let alone form a defense. My mind went back to the last time we were alone in his kitchen and how
right
it had felt. I'd been fooling myself. The sting in my eyes signaled a flood of tears was on the way, and I knew there'd be no stopping it. I started gathering up the paperwork and stuffing it in my bag, then moved quickly toward the front door, brushing past Jake.

His arm shot out and grabbed me as I reached the threshold to the dining room. "Wait."

I shook my head, the tears gathering. I kept my gaze on the polished hardwood floor that stretched to the living room. I was so close to my exit. To the Golf Ball, where I could cry all the way back to my apartment.

"I need to leave," I gasped. To my surprise and disappointment, he dropped his arm, and I bolted for the door.

I made it through the front door before my vision blurred, causing me to stumble down the steps and the stone walkway. I tossed my bag in the backseat, prayed that the Golf Ball's starter wouldn't give me trouble, and then threw the car in reverse. This was why I couldn't be with Jake. And why Rob should probably fire me. I was supposed to protect Kathryn from Jake. Instead, I trusted him, and now Kathryn was in even more trouble.

The car lurched backward, the right tires thumping up and over a stack of concrete paver squares with a metal scrape that sounded like I was leaving behind an axel or at least a bumper. As the Golf Ball bounced back down to the driveway, I glanced up to see if anyone had seen my ungraceful exit. Jake and Hank were standing on the porch.
Of course
.

I turned away and focused on backing the rest of the driveway and managed to get to the street without taking out the mailbox. Shifting gears, I resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to look back and see Jake one more time. One last time. My tears were flowing freely as I ground the gears, desperate to get away.

Finally, I felt the gear shift give and slide into place and the car started to roll forward.

I hadn't gone ten feet away from Jake's charming, tidy yard when I saw a bright orange and white flash at the side of the house. Out of pure instinct, I ducked, and felt the explosion rock the Golf Ball sideways.

Flames were racing up the side of the house, licking around the front corner and creeping toward the porch where Jake and Hank had stood just seconds before. I yanked the emergency brake and left the Golf Ball parked in the middle of the street and ran toward the house.

Jake was in there
. I leapt over the short decorative fence and ran across the lawn.

"Jake!"

I started up the stairs, the fire radiating an intense heat on the left side of my body. The sounds of snapping and crackling mixed with breaking glass and the roaring in my head and ringing in my ears.

I was at the top of the stairs when the front door flew open and Jake and Hank sprang out, right at me. Jake swept me with him and pulled me back across his yard, away from the flames. He helped me over the short fence to the neighbor's yard, and then took my hand and wrapped it around Hank's collar. He put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in close.

"Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. My relief that he was alive was so great that I couldn't form words.

"Stay here with Hank."

Jake leaned in and brushed a quick kiss across my lips, then ran off toward the fire. Neighbors started coming out of their houses and jumping into the action. A man with a fire extinguisher ran toward Jake. A woman on a cordless phone walked out into the yard and described the scene to a 9-1-1 operator.

I stood frozen in place, one hand on the giant dog's collar, my entire body trembling. I couldn't do anything but shake and watch the flames climb and consume the home that Jake had worked so hard to restore.

More than an hour later, the swarm of fire engines that had initially responded were leaving and were replaced with local fire and police investigators, plus a half-dozen federal law enforcement vehicles. FBI and ATF agents combed over the wreckage and questioned me and Jake, and then spread out and canvassed the neighborhood. An unexplained explosion at an FBI agent's house brought out a huge force.

One of Jake's neighbors had given me a blanket as we had stood in the cold foggy morning and watched the fire, and I gripped it tightly around myself as a tow-truck driver rolled the Golf Ball onto a flatbed truck.

"When will I get my car back?" I asked the ATF agent at my side.

"As soon as our evidence tech can examine it and get a good look at the underside, where the bomb was attached," he said. I shivered at the word. The firefighters who arrived on the scene first had identified that the source was an explosive device, and the ATF agents confirmed that. It still didn't seem possible.

"Are you sure it was a bomb?" Maybe I had rolled over a gas main and dislodged it, or…something. I was no explosive expert, but the thought that someone wanted to blow up my car, well, I just couldn't wrap my mind around that.

"Yes, definitely a bomb. Not a good bomb, or it would have gone off when you started the engine. But you must have triggered something when you knocked it off the undercarriage," the agent said. "It's a good thing you're a terrible driver."

"Maybe it was already in Jake's driveway, and I just ran over it," I said.

He shook his head gently and gave me a sympathetic smile. "No, it was on your car. Special Agent Boylan is going to get a statement from you about who might want to harm you," he said, handing me his card. "I'll call you when we release your car. It might be a couple of days."

I nodded and put the card in my pocket as he left, and Bethany Boylan strode across the yard toward me. Even early on a Sunday morning, she looked put-together and polished. Or maybe anyone would look good next to me—my eyes red-rimmed from crying, then from the smoke, any trace of makeup washed away, wrapped up in a borrowed blanket, and my hair limp from standing in the fog for a few hours.

"Are you up for answering questions?" she asked, looking me over from my flat and stringy hair to my shoes, damp from the grass.

I was well and truly done with law enforcement, but I shrugged. "Sure, might as well get it over."

She sniffed. "Why do you say that? Don't you like cops?"

She glanced over at Jake, in deep discussion with an arson investigator from the Azalea Fire Department. I didn't miss the insinuation.

"What do you need, Agent Boylan?"

"Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would like to see you dead?"

That was a tricky question, given my history at Patterson-Tinker Investments and the events of last summer. There were probably many former employees from Patterson who wished I hadn't uncovered a massive fraud going on there that led to the company's closure. But did they want me dead?

"I don't think so," I said.

She paused before jotting something in her notebook. "You had to think about that."

"Do you want me to answer without thinking?"

"Has anyone threatened you lately?"

"Lately? No."

"Have you noticed anyone around your car? Your house? Anything suspicious?"

I shook my head. "No. My house?"

Next to me, Hank whined and I stroked his head. He'd been glued to my leg since we ran away from the fire, and I was grateful for his company in the midst of the chaos.

"The bomb was probably put on your car earlier, maybe last night. Where were you last night?"

I didn't like the way she asked that, as if I got around. I also wasn't eager to tell her that I had been at the Leonidis party. She'd probably jump to the wrong conclusion, like I was involved in the break-in. The other break-in.

"My car was parked in the alley by my apartment last night," I said, my eyes narrowing.

The lack of sleep and stress was starting to get to me. It was also starting to sink in that someone wanted that bomb to explode when I was in my car. The combination had my nerves on a knife's edge. When I saw the sleek black sports car cruise around the corner and stop at the curb, I nearly collapsed in relief. Sarah and Burton got out of the car and headed toward me. My cavalry had arrived.

"My friends are here to take me home. Are we done?"

"For now." Agent Boylan snapped her notebook closed, spun on her heel, and walked away.

Burton grabbed me in a tight bear hug and lifted me off the ground. "Are you all right, kid?"

I nodded and fresh tears stung my eyes. As soon as he put me down, Sarah wrapped her arms around me in an awkward grip that lasted several beats longer than I expected.

"This is weird," I said when she didn't let go.

"I know. I'm not usually a hugger," she said, still holding me.

When she let go, I saw the concern on her face. "I'm okay, guys. Really."

"Where's the Golf Ball?" Sarah asked.

"At an ATF facility, being checked for evidence by a forensic investigator."

"Do you need to stay or can get you out of here?" Burton asked.

"I guess I can go," I said, looking around the scene.

There were still a dozen people poking around the yard and house. Jake was in the middle of it, talking with the agents and investigators. He looked calm and if it weren't for the fact that he wore an FBI windbreaker over the same sweatpants and T-shirt he'd been sleeping in, he could have been on any crime scene. He looked up and our eyes met. He excused himself from the agents and came over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezing.

"I don't think I need to stay," I said. "Burton and Sarah are going to take me home."

Jake's brow furrowed. "Back to your place?"

"We'll keep an eye on her," Burton said.

"I'll call you later," Jake said, giving my shoulder another squeeze.

Burton put an arm around my shoulders to steer me toward his car, and Hank followed me. "Sorry, buddy, you have to stay here," I said, leading him back to Jake, who took a hold of his collar and gave me a slight smile.

"Thanks for taking care of Hank for me," he said.

"Where are you going to stay?" I asked, looking behind him at the half-burnt structure. It looked like the side of the house that bordered the driveway, including the kitchen and dining room, was completely destroyed.

"I'll stay at my sister's house for a few days until I can figure out how long it will take to gut and rebuild this," he said.

I nodded and patted the dog's big head.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at the ground. "Your house—"

"Hey," he said, and tipped my face up with a finger. "It's not your fault. We'll talk later."

I nodded, but didn't believe him. On either front.

Burton and Sarah peppered me with questions on the twenty-minute drive back to my apartment, but all I wanted to do was curl up in the uncomfortable backseat and sleep for a dozen years. I tried to answer their questions, but I still didn't know what to say—I had no idea why someone would want to kill me.

"Maybe they just wanted to scare you," Sarah suggested. "Maybe they wanted the bomb to go off when the car was in the alley."

"The ATF guy said it was supposed to go off when I started the car," I said.

A long silence followed.

"We have to call Rob," Sarah said, resigned.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Duh!" Burton said. "Why haven't either of you called him yet? He needs to know that one of his employees, and the closest thing he's likely ever going to have to a daughter was nearly killed."

A sob caught me by surprise when I realized Burton was right. I'd been worried about losing my job. But instead, Aunt Marie nearly lost me. A flood of tears and guilt followed, and I was powerless to stop it.

"Ah, damn it, Burton! You made Miranda cry," Sarah said.

"If you haven't noticed, Miranda cries all the time. It's sort of her thing," Burton snapped.

"That's not fair. She's been through a lot," Sarah barked back.

I tried to interrupt to defend myself, but was crying too hard to make sense. So they continued bickering about whose fault it was until the car pulled into the alley.

Burton insisted on searching the yard and the apartment before letting Sarah and me go upstairs. Then he took my key to Aunt Marie's house and gave it a good once-over, too.

Sarah put a kettle on the stove to make me a cup of tea while I washed my face and tried to compose myself. My breath was no longer coming in hiccups by the time Burton came up the steps and into the apartment.

"It's all clear. Except for that hateful cat," he said, pointing to a long scratch on his hand.

"That's Kvetch. Don't take it personal," I said and went to the bathroom to retrieve the antibiotic cream for him.

When I came back, he and Sarah stopped their quiet conversation. Both looked away quickly with guilty expressions.

"What?" I said.

"I'm going to hang out here," Sarah said brightly. Too brightly. We hung out all the time.

"Uh huh."

"Burton's going to drop me off at home so I can get a change of clothes and then I'll be back. An hour, tops," she said.

"And Sarah's going to call Rob and explain what's going on," Burton said.

She nodded. "I think you should let me handle Rob," she said.

I was only too happy to let her do that, but then I remembered about her short call to him before we broke into the Leonidis office. "You're going to tell him everything, though, right?"

"Yes. She is." Burton stood and Sarah followed him to the door.

"Will you be all right?"

"I've been awake since about 3 a.m., and have had a pretty rough morning so far. I'm going back to bed," I said.

Burton made sure I'd locked the door behind him before he and Sarah walked down to the alley. I picked up my phone and saw a text from Kathryn to call her, so I dialed her back. The call went to voicemail, so I left a message and then turned off my phone. A long, hot shower washed the smell of the smoke from my hair. When I finally collapsed on the bed, my exhaustion overtook the adrenaline, and I fell into a restless sleep full of dreams about bombs and flames and bad choices.

When I woke up, the late afternoon sun was streaming through my bedroom window, disorienting me. I heard the sound of someone in my kitchen and sat up. As my brain shook off the fog of a mid-day nap, the morning's events filtered in.

Oh, right. I'd blown up Jake's house.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen, where Sarah was working on her laptop at my kitchen table.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like I just blew up someone's house," I said, slumping in a chair opposite her. "Did you talk to Rob?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes, I told him what happened. I also had to talk to Marie, so she'd be convinced you were fine. You need to call her, by the way, or else I'm pretty sure I'm going to be grounded."

I smiled. "Thanks for doing that. I can't imagine that was easy."

She shrugged. "No, it was better that I do it. I can be detached. It wasn't me targeted by someone who makes crappy bombs," she said, standing and going to the kitchen. "You have no food in here. I say we order Chinese."