a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) (27 page)

She wrinkled her nose at me. “Not for this. But I do think some reconnoitering would be helpful.”

“Right. I knew that.” Relief poured through me. No guns. If I touched a gun…well, I got the picture of whoever had touched it, and sometimes what they saw. Nope. Did not want that stuff shuffling through my internal monitor.

Annie grinned. “Un-huh. How ’bout we head to North Construction—” she checked her watch— “in about thirty minutes and see what our girl is up to.”

My nerve endings began to prickle. I loved working with Annie. “I’m in. Oh. Except that Adam probably has her down at the station. Wasn’t he going to question her this morning?”

“Nope. Wasn’t any reason to bring her in. He talked to her at work, didn’t get much because she pulled a meltdown on him. Went all feminine, and sobbed about Shauna. He needs more evidence before he can bring her in for formal questioning.”

“Does he have anyone tailing her?”

“Probably—” she grinned at me— “but whoever he’s got, I guarantee he’d rather have me.”

I gathered our empty bowls and carried them to the kitchen. “You can do things a uniform can’t?”

She nodded, her lips curved in a Cheshire cat smile. “Meet you at my truck in ten minutes.”

I swung into the passenger side of her red Titan nine minutes later. “I have to be back before two,” I said as I fastened my seat belt.

She checked her watch. “It’s almost noon. We should be able to tail her if she goes out for lunch and still get you back by then.”

“She eats out. I’m sure of it, because food would mar the pristine domain of North Construction.”

Annie turned into the parking lot and flicked her index finger at a dark green Jeep Cherokee. “Marcy’s vehicle.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

She shot me one of
those
looks. “You think Adam and I haven’t been on this since last night?”

“Right. What else did you find out?” I asked, digging out my iPad to take notes.

“Shauna died twelve years ago in a camping accident. Don’t have all the particulars yet…” Her voice trailed off as Marcy came out of the building and dashed for her car at a full-out run.

“Looks like she’s in a hurry.” I fastened my seatbelt.

Annie didn’t start the car.

“Hey, she’s backing out,” I said, poking Annie’s arm.

“And?”

“Aren’t we going to follow her?”

“Yep. We are.”

“She’s going to leave the parking lot.” I bounced in my seat, tugged at the seatbelt.

“You wait a block,” Annie said, calmly.

“A block?”

“Yes.” She started the truck and backed out. “When you’re tailing someone, you wait until they’ve traveled a block before you start your car. People, as a rule, don’t pay attention to things a block away.”

“Right. I knew that.”

Annie cracked a grin. “Just don’t forget. I have a feeling with the way you’re going, you’ll need the info sooner rather than later.”

Marcy slid through yellow lights, almost took out an elderly man and his dog when she careened around a corner, and finally skidded to a stop in front of an apartment building. Before I could blink, she jumped out of her car and vanished behind the glass doors guarding the entrance.

“That building looks like it’s been wrapped in plain brown paper. Not a distinguishing mark in sight.”

Annie punched a number on her phone. “Yeah. Pretty dull.”

Her gaze hadn’t left the front door. “Hey, Adam, you got a uniform on Marcy Blaine?”

She looked at me, shook her head.

“Why not?” It came out of my mouth with unexpected force.

Annie held up her hand, ignoring me.

I reached for the door handle.

Bad idea. Annie’s hand clamped around my arm, and her call ended a second later. “Where, exactly, do you think you’re going?”

I pointed at the apartment. “To see who lives there. Check out the names on the mailboxes.”

“And if Marcy comes out? This is hardly the place for an upscale southern bride to be slumming around.”

“Right. She’s only been in there a few minutes. Probably hasn’t even had time to get to…wherever,” I said, shaking my head. “This can’t be where Marcy lives. She’s…too, too—”

“Snooty to be living here?” Annie tucked a curl behind her left ear. It sprang free.

“Uh-huh. And prissy. This place is where normal, boring people live.”

“Like Jerry Applegate?”

I spun to face her. “Are you kidding me? You’ve known all along who lives…lived here? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Adam and I have been following the connection between Marcy and Jerry Applegate since your unauthorized trip to Coffee Time.”

“But there’s no one following Marcy. I don’t get it.”

Annie cleared her throat. “Your intel isn’t official. The department is focused on finding Applegate’s killer, and since you’re the only source connecting him to Marcy Blaine….”

“You’re telling me that nobody knows she’s here, at his apartment? Except us?”

Her nose wrinkled. “You just heard me tell Adam.”

“But she’s here. Right here. Right now. Shouldn’t we go see what she’s doing?” My hand slid to the door handle again.

“Negative on that.”

Damn. I tucked my hand under my thigh to keep it out of trouble. “So nobody is going to check this out?” I asked, waving both hands toward the apartment building. So much for keeping them out of trouble.

Annie checked her watch and started the car.

“Aren’t we going to follow her when she comes out?” I made a few wild gestures toward the apartment as Annie did a U-turn.

“Nope. You have a client. And whatever Marcy is doing is officially in Adam’s court. Applegate’s apartment is an extended part of the crime scene, and neither of us is going to step on Adam’s toes—not until he gives the okay.”

Curiosity screamed through my nerves, and I sputtered all the way home. Annie must have found my discomfort amusing because her lips kept doing a funny twitchy thing. When she pulled into the driveway, she tapped my arm. “This is a big case, El. Adam has to go by the book, or they won’t be able to convict when it gets to court.”

I nodded. Shot her a smile. “Yeah. I get that, but try explaining it to my curiosity. And—”

“Yeah? And?”

“Maybe my fingers would be useful in Applegate’s apartment.”

TWENTY

Katelan pulled into my driveway
a matter of seconds after Annie dropped me off from our follow-Marcy expedition. “Am I early?” Katelan asked, glancing at her Rolex. Her short, blue skirt swished as she approached, and the azure beading on her white tank sparkled in the sunlight.

My mind was still busy with the Marcy Blaine-slash-Jerry Applegate situation, so I stalled. “Nope. You’re good, but I’m running a little late.” I unlocked the front door, motioned her into my office and gave myself a quick once over. The outfit I’d chosen for my trip to Calverton—blue jeans and a dark raspberry, long sleeved t-shirt with a deep vee neck—were rumpled from long hours in the car. Definitely a wardrobe malfunction when I had a client scheduled. Saving grace: a snazzy pair of Jimmy Choo thong sandals—raspberry pink and terra verte green leather ropes intertwined with gold accents.

Katelan interrupted my self-perusal. “If you need a minute, I’d be happy to take a short nap in one of these chairs—”

She bubbled with energy, alternately crossing and swinging her legs as she balanced on the edge of a chair. I didn’t see a “nap” anywhere in her immediate future, but it was sweet of her to offer me the out. “I’ll be quick. Just need to grab us a couple bottles of water,” I said as I headed upstairs.

I took a pass through the bathroom, stopped in the kitchen to grab two bottles of Evian from the fridge, then jogged downstairs.

“How’re you doing with your assignment?” I handed her a water, then perched on a chair to slide my sandals off.

Katelan’s eyes held an amused twinkle. “Really good. I’m amazed at how easy it’s been to figure out what’s in the packages. I’ve been so sure about the contents that I’ve actually opened a few of the boxes, and so far I’ve been right on!”

She flashed me a huge grin. “This is a great assignment.”

It had never been that easy for me. Not in the beginning, heck, not even on my best days. Doubt lodged in my belly. Did I know enough to be Katelan’s teacher? “You’re doing so well, but—”

“You’re such a good teacher. I would never have been able to make this much progress without you.”

Nothing like getting instant affirmation to erase my doubts. I straightened my spine.
Some fortitude would be good here, Everly.
Sometimes self-talk works. “Where would you like to go from here?” I asked, hoping for some creative inspiration to nudge my foggy brain.

“Mmm.” She tapped her neatly manicured fingers against the arm of the chair. “I’d like to put it to practical use and see if I can maintain my success record. It’s one thing to play with this, to practice, but totally different to use it in real life. I’m still nervous about trusting myself in the middle of a multi-million dollar negotiation. The consequences…”

“Are a huge responsibility.” I finished the sentence for her.

Katelan waved her hands at me. “No one knows about the consequences better than you. Your courage is amazing.”

Courage? Where did she get these ideas? “I try to trust my unconscious wisdom to do the right thing. Most of the time. But if my ego gets in the way, things can go downhill quickly.”

She grinned. “Isn’t that the way with everyone? Sometimes, I’m positive I know how a negotiation should go, and then find out my clients have a completely different idea of what needs to happen. It can be embarrassing.” She snagged her water bottle and put some muscle into getting the cap off. “But I’ve never seen you falter. Not even when you were helping me through the divorce.”

“There were moments. I’m just glad they didn’t show.” I reached for my notebook and wrote a few comments on Katelan’s chart. “Where would you like to apply your newfound knowledge? Is there a particular negotiation coming up you’re worried about?”

She tucked her chin in a crisp nod. “Ever since talking with you, I’ve been wondering about the contract with North Construction. There was something in your voice that wasn’t…right.”

Damn. Sometimes it was a pain in the backside to work with gifted people. They always picked up on what you most wanted them
not
to know. “I’m interested in North Construction for…other reasons. Reasons that shouldn’t have anything to do with your negotiations.” At least I hoped that was the case.

She held my gaze, forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think so, El. Something tells me they’re connected. I’m guessing your knowledge about the situation is confidential just like mine is. How do we work around that?”

Nothing like directness in a client. “Carefully. How about if I give you some things to hold, like with the packages?”

She nodded. “Sounds like a good place to start.”

I twisted my chair to reach my desk, and grabbed the stack of papers I’d copied at Calverton. Selecting the picture of Shauna Blaine and Jerry Applegate dancing, I turned it facedown and put it on the table next to Katelan.

“See what you can tell me from that picture.”

She picked it up and set it on her lap, then crossed her arms around her ribcage with her hands tucked tightly against her body. “I don’t know, El. When I worked with the packages, I
knew
what was inside. Maybe because they were things. This—” she waved the paper in the air— “doesn’t feel like anything. Almost blank. And I know you didn’t hand me a blank piece of paper.”

I nodded. “Look at the picture. See if it sparks anything.”

She turned the page over. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Should I know these people? It looks like an old photograph. I haven’t worn clothes like these…ever.”

That was an understatement. No one could snaze up an outfit like Katelan. “I didn’t expect you to know them, but I thought they might trigger a visceral response.”

I took the picture from her outstretched hand and put it back on my desk. “Some people can see things through photographs, and I thought you might be one. But maybe it has to be an original picture in order to sense the energy.”

“I take it you don’t have the original?” She shifted in her chair.

“No. This was copied from a college yearbook.”

“Seriously? There were college yearbooks back then? Isn’t that a high school deal.”

“I thought so, too. Did some research. Calverton College offers an intense journalism program. They publish the yearbooks in-house, use the experience as a teaching opportunity.”

Katelan pressed the issue. “Makes sense, but is there any way we can we get the original of this photo? I’d love to know if I’m one of those people who can ‘read’ photographs.”

The creepies slithered down my spine. “Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“It feels off somehow.” She visibly shivered. “The two of them seem, I’m not sure. Perhaps they’re too intense. Even for college kids.”