Callie shot her a curious look, then dutifully input
the message. Then frowned. “What’s this one from this morning?” She raised
angry eyes. “Did this Buckland poser text you?”
“Yeah.” And Eve was still shaken from it. “Look, I
know how he found out about me. He was following Noah and I happened to be
there. But how did he find out about you?”
“I don’t know. A hell of a cool-headed attorney I’m
going to make. He just made one false allegation and I bought it, lock, stock,
and barrel.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Cal. You can hardly be
expected to be objective when it comes to your best friend. How did he contact
you?”
“My cell at first, but I had it turned off because I
was in class. He left me a voicemail asking if I knew you, but I didn’t hear it
till after I saw him.”
“He approached you? Did he touch you?”
“No. He was waiting for me when I came out of my last
class. Then he stuck Noah Webster’s wedding picture under my nose, told me you
were having an affair with a married man. I told him no way, you weren’t seeing
anyone and definitely not a married man. He gave me his card. Told me to call
if I heard anything.”
Eve leaned forward. “But he called you. On your cell.”
Callie’s brows went up. “Who would give him my
number?”
“That would have been the guy you were talking to
yesterday,” a voice behind them said, and Eve and Callie twisted to see who
spoke. It was the barista Eve had talked to the day before, when she bought the
copy of
MSP
while she’d waited for Noah to come.
“What did he look like?” Eve asked.
“Short with round glasses,” he said. “The one who was
giving you a hard time before your boyfriend came in and kissed you.”
Jeremy Lyons. Eve started to ask more, but Callie
jumped in. “What kiss?”
“One of the cops from the magazine article,” the
barista told her. “Not the cover guy. But one of the guys inside the article.”
Eve felt her cheek grow very warm when Callie started
to grin. “Never mind that,” Eve said briskly. “So after we left, the reporter
talked to the short guy with glasses?”
“He did. The short guy was all too happy to dish. He
told the reporter he didn’t believe you and the cop were really a couple and he
could prove it. He said he’d get your friends to tell the truth. Even said he’d
get your phone number.” He directed the latter statement to Callie. “The
reporter gave him his card and took off.”
“Took off where?” Eve asked.
“He got in his car and started driving the same way
you all went.”
Eve frowned at him. “You saw which way I went when I
left here?”
“Sweetheart, when you two left,
everybody
watched which way you went.”
Eve covered her burning face with her hands. “Oh my
God. How embarrassing.”
“How fascinating,” Callie said with relish. “What
happened next?”
“She and the Hat guy left, his arm around her, real
tight,” the barista said, conspiratorially. “And that yummy Detective Phelps
was in the passenger seat. That made my day.” He gave Eve a mock glare. “You
never said you knew him.”
Eve shrugged, still mortified. “Sorry, but I don’t
think you’re Jack Phelps’s type.”
“I figured as much. What a waste. Look, I gotta get
back behind the counter. I saw how upset you were and I wanted to let you know
what I saw.”
“Thank you,” Eve said, sincerely. “Truly.”
When the barista was gone, Callie said nothing, just
sipped her coffee and waited.
Eve rolled her eyes. “I wanted to throw Jeremy Lyons
off the trail. He was sure I was cooperating with the cops or the papers or
both. I wanted to give him the wrong idea.”
“So it was a ruse,” Callie said, obviously enjoying
the moment. “Just one kiss.”
Eve dropped her eyes to her fidgeting hands and Callie
crowed in delight.
“More than one?”
Eve’s lips still tingled from it. As did every other
square inch of her body. “Oh, yeah.”
Callie sighed. “And you’re going to find a reason it
can’t work. It’ll be a stupid one and you’ll cling to it like a drowning man
clings to one of those… circle… things.”
Eve had to smile. “You mean a life preserver?”
“Shut up,” Callie said, but without heat. “Tell me
you’ll give him a chance.”
“Now you sound like David.”
“Who appears to be as smart as he is sexy. So what is
your reason, Eve? Why have you convinced yourself this thing with Webster won’t
work? Don’t you trust him?”
Eve shrugged uneasily. “That’s the problem. I trusted
him the first time I saw him.”
“How is this a problem?” Callie asked, exasperated.
“Because… I don’t just trust people. Especially men.
Who look like him.”
“Which is how? Impossibly handsome?”
“No. Trustworthy.” Eve winced. “I know that sounds
stupid.”
Callie’s expression softened. “Maybe you trust him
because he’s the one.”
“I’d like to believe that.” She thought about what
she’d really wanted to do when he’d kissed her in that office and her face
heated. “It’s not wise.”
“Since when have you ever been wise? Which is what you
said, not two days ago.”
“That was about my roof, not…” Not about gobbling Noah
Webster in great big bites. She was still overheated, thinking about the kiss
that had consumed every breath of air in the room. And she’d agreed to have
dinner with him.
What was I thinking?
That she wanted more. A whole lot
more. “Never mind.”
“I’m getting hot just watching you get hot,” Callie
said. “So what was it like?”
Eve was spared a reply by the ringing of her cell
phone. “Noah,” she answered, ignoring Callie’s delighted grin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I got your text. And I needed to
make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine. Noah, that Buckland person contacted
Callie, too.”
“How did he get her to talk to him? Did he threaten
her, too?”
“No. He was trying to get information from her. He
told her you were married, that your wife’s name was Susan, that I was the
other woman. He wanted Callie to confirm we weren’t together, that I was lying
yesterday when I… when we… you know.”
“Yes, I know. And you were right.” His voice was
tight. “This is personal. He had to dig back a lot of years to find out about
Susan. Sonofabitch.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.
He sighed. “I know. I also wanted to tell you that I
don’t think you need to worry about Donner. He told me to tell you he was
sorry.” She heard a car door slam on his side of the line. “Did you ask Sal for
time off for dinner tonight?”
“Not yet.” Eve glanced up at Callie, who was still
watching with avid curiosity. “But I think I can find someone to cover for me
for a while.”
“You need me to cover for you tonight?” Callie asked
when she’d hung up.
“He wants me to go to dinner with him.”
“Then I’ll cover for your shift. I need the money and
you need the romance. Of course, if you’re really not interested, I’d be more
than happy to stand in.”
“That’s all right,” Eve said dryly. “Although your
sacrifice touches my heart.”
Touches
. “Hey, did that guy posing as a
reporter give you his card?”
“Yes, he did. I have it here.” She opened her purse.
“Don’t touch it. I pitched the card he gave me. Maybe
they can get prints off yours.”
Callie’s brows rose. “Why not just give it to Noah
Webster?”
“Because he’s a little busy right now.” Eve dug in her
backpack and came up with an empty envelope. “Put on your glove, then drop the
card in here.”
Callie obeyed, then sat back, amused incredulity on
her face. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” Eve admitted. “It’s been awhile since I
did anything clandestine. In the real world, anyway.” She gathered her things.
“It always was kind of a rush. Gotta go.”
Wednesday, February 24, 12:00 p.m.
“So Jeremy Lyons is missing?” Abbott asked.
Noah slumped into one of the chairs at Abbott’s table.
“We stopped by his house. His wife was there. He didn’t come home last night
and she hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. He didn’t pick their daughter
up from day care and he hasn’t called, texted, emailed, nothing, which she said
was unusual.”
“She let us search,” Jack added, “but we found nothing
suspicious.”
“What about Donner?”
“I’d put my money on Lyons before Donner,” Jack said.
“Donner didn’t appear to be in good enough physical shape to do these murders.”
“And Lyons is AWOL,” Abbott mused. “Pull Lyons’s
financials. See if he’s gotten any big payoffs lately.”
“You’re thinking he sold the list?” Jack asked, then
shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Follow the money,” Abbott said. “I requested Girard’s
financials yesterday. We’ll look for links to Lyons, anything to explain why
Axel was picked as a fall guy.”
There was a light knock on Abbott’s door and Faye
stuck her head in. “I’ve got the police report on the Millhouse woman for you,
Noah.”
“Thanks, Faye.” Noah flipped through the report and
frowned. “I read this one, Jack, that first night after we found Martha. We
read so many, I didn’t remember Amy Millhouse by name, but I remember reading
this suicide note. ‘I’m sorry. God forgive me for the pain I’ve caused my
family and my church.’ ”
“But we didn’t see any other reports that had the
shoes and the open window.”
“Because this one doesn’t. When the investigating
officer got there, someone had already cut Amy Millhouse down and laid her on
the bed. Look at the picture. Modest clothes, clean face. No makeup.”
“Her eyes?” Abbott asked.
“No mention of glue,” Noah said.
“Who found her?” Jack asked.
“Her mother.”
“Go talk to the mother,” Abbott said. “Then pay a
visit to the Girards. I want to know why our guy picked Axel.”
“I’ll meet you at Amy’s mother’s,” Jack said. “When
we’re done I’ll go get a phone.”
“I thought you did that this morning, before we met
Donner and Lyons.”
Jack jerked a careless shoulder. “I went by the store,
but the line was too long then.”
Noah watched him walk away, wondering how long it
would take them to fall back into step. He glanced over his shoulder. Abbott
watched him with keen eyes.
“Figure it out, Web,” was all Abbott said.
Wednesday, February 24, 12:20 p.m.
Eve found Olivia Sutherland with her boots propped up
on her desk, looking so much like her sister, Mia, that Eve had to remind herself
who she was talking to. On the corner of Olivia’s desk was a bust of a Greek
goddess wearing her Hat Squad fedora, charmingly askew. The rest of the desk
was almost painfully organized.
“Hey,” Eve said.
Olivia looked up, smiling when she saw Eve. “Evie.
Sorry. Eve.”
“It’s okay. An old friend’s in town and he’s been
calling me Evie, so I’m getting used to it again. You remember David Hunter,
don’t you?”
“He’s kind of hard to forget,” Olivia said wryly. “We
were in Mia’s wedding together.”
“He walked you down the aisle,” Eve remembered.
Olivia grinned. “I felt my life was in danger from all
the daggers shooting from the other women’s eyes. So why is David here?”
“He’s fixing my roof. It leaks.”
“Well, tell him I said hello.” She leaned back in her
chair. “What brings you here?”
“I actually came to see Officer Michaels, but he
wasn’t there and I have a class in an hour, so I can’t wait.” She explained the
events of the evening before.
“This guy assaulted you?” Olivia asked, blonde brows
crunched.
“He did. Anyway, he gave his card to my friend.” She
took it out of her bag, along with a folded sheet of paper. “His prints should
be there. He said he’d print it if I didn’t tell him about the dead women
yesterday morning.”
Olivia opened the folded page and flinched. Then
sighed. “Geeze. I’m sorry, Eve.”
“It’s okay. That’s how I looked. You can still see the
scar if you look hard.”
“I know.” Olivia shrugged uneasily. “After your last
surgery, I couldn’t help but look.”
“I know,” Eve said. “Everybody thinks I don’t see them
looking. Anyway, I thought you could give those two things to Latent. Maybe see
if any prints pop.”
Olivia’s lips twitched. “You’ve been watching too many
cop shows.”
Eve smiled back. “So you’ll submit them?”
“Sure. I’ll take them down to Micki Ridgewell and make
sure Officer Michaels knows I did it. If this guy bothers you again, call me.”