Deceptive (3 page)

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Z
OE felt like she’d been tucked away behind a curtained alcove around the hospital bed for hours. The curtains fluttered, and she expected to see Helen stepping into the bay in the ER. But it wasn’t Helen.

“Jack. What are you doing here?”

“Helen called me. Sorry I missed your call earlier. Are you okay? What did the doctor say?” He was frowning, scanning her from head to toe.

“That I’m fine,” Zoe said, distractedly, her thoughts racing back over the crazy afternoon. She’d called Jack? When? “Don’t look so worried. It’s only a little bump. No big deal.”

“How do they know that?”

“They did a scan. I’m fine. Really.”

“Should you be standing up?”

“Yes. I should. I’m going to find the nurse with my discharge paperwork so I can get out of here.”

“I’m sure they’ll be along in a moment. Why don’t you at least sit down on the edge of the bed?” He took her arm and tried to move her backward.

She pulled away. “I’m
fine
. I just want to get out of this place.”

Jack scanned her face, his head tilted to the side. “Don’t like hospitals?”

“Let’s just say I feel the same way about them as you do about heights.” Zoe had recently discovered that Jack hated heights, or as he’d said, he hated the thought of
falling
from heights.

He handed her the ice pack she’d left on the bed. “You stay put. I’ll take care of it.”

Helen swept into the room. “Okay. I’ve got your after-care sheet.” Jack nodded to her on his way out.

“Where’s he going?” Helen asked.

“Supposedly, to get me out of here, if he can find a nurse. They seem to have disappeared.”

“Oh, I have a feeling he won’t have any trouble getting some attention at the nurses’ station. Here’s your phone and messenger bag.” Helen had arrived at the ER shortly after Zoe, and Zoe had handed all her personal belongings off to Helen.

“You called him?” Zoe asked. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you did, it’s in your call list. You called him before you called me. I figured you wanted him to know you were here.”

Zoe frowned at her phone as she checked the list. “I called
Jack
? First, before anyone else? Even before I called you?”

Then it came back to her like a fuzzy dream that didn’t make sense in the daylight. In the car, after she’d called 911, she had dialed Jack’s number, but he hadn’t answered.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Helen raised her eyebrows and nodded her head in a knowing way. “What does that say? When you needed help, you called him.”

The same thought was reverberating through Zoe’s mind. Was she coming to...
depend
on Jack? No. That would never do. “It proves I was disoriented and confused,” Zoe said briskly. “Did you tell him about Lucinda?”

“Only that you’d found her. He said he’d get here as soon as he could.”

Zoe transferred the ice pack from one hand to another and rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t told Helen that Lucinda’s body was missing. The more she thought about the whole situation, the crazier it made her sound. Now that she was away from Lucinda’s house, the entire afternoon seemed like a strange hallucination.

Jack reentered the room with a nurse. Once Zoe signed the forms, they made their way to the parking lot where Helen and Jack decided that Jack would drive Zoe home, and Helen would coordinate with Tucker so they could pick up Zoe’s car and drop it off at her house after Tucker got off work.

“Excuse me, but don’t I get a say in any of this?” The sun hovered at the horizon, but the brightness of it made her pulse throb in her head. Zoe found her sunglasses and slipped them on. “I’m standing right here. Helen can drop me off at my car. I’ll drive it home.”

“Nope.” Helen tapped the paper. “No driving for you. Rest and ice. That’s all that’s on your agenda tonight.” As Jack moved some paperwork out of the passenger seat of his car, Helen added, “Oh, and being woken every few hours tonight. I think that’s Jack’s department.” She winked at Zoe then handed off the sheet with the after-care notes to Jack. She turned back to Zoe, all teasing gone from her tone. “What a horrible, horrible thing to happen. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Zoe gave Helen a quick hug. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

Helen patted Zoe on the arm. “Of course. Rest up and don’t forget to ice that bump. Later, I want all the details about what happened. What a shock. I can’t believe Lucinda McDaniel is dead.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Zoe murmured as she slid into the passenger seat and waved to Helen. The air in the car was scorching and thick with the fragrance of flowers.

“It smells great in here. Is that one of those air freshener things?” Zoe checked the rearview mirror for a dangling cutout of a flower, but there wasn’t one. “I think I need one for my car.”

“No, dang it, it’s the real thing.” Jack switched the air conditioner to high then reached in the back seat. “I forgot about these and left them in the car. They’ve wilted. Pity.” He handed her a bundle of flowers wrapped in green tissue.

“Jack, these are gorgeous.” The bouquet was a burst of color: delicate pink tulips, yellow snapdragons, deep blue hyacinths, orange mums, and tiny wild roses in red, white, and pink. “But you didn’t have to get me flowers. I was only in the hospital for a few hours. Thank God.”

Jack pulled into the traffic. “They were for our date.”

“Our date? Oh, our
date
.”

Jack kept his attention on the road. “Which I can see you were anticipating with baited breath.”

“Sorry. With everything that’s happened, I’d completely forgotten.”

“Understandable.” Jack sent her a quick smile before he changed lanes. “A dead body and a blow to the head would override dinner plans.”

“But these really are beautiful. I’ve never seen a bouquet like this before.”

He lifted one shoulder. “A dozen red roses didn’t seem like your style. Too trite. And boring.”

Zoe fingered one of the petals. “I’d never turn down flowers of any kind, but you’re right. I’m not exactly a hothouse flower kind of girl.”

Jack stopped at a light then held her gaze. “No. You definitely need something more...exotic.”

Zoe felt a blush spreading across her cheeks again. What was it with these blushes lately? The car behind them honked, and Jack slowly transferred his attention to the road. “So, dinner? Do you want something to eat?”

“Yes. I’m starving.”

“How about Chinese? It’s not the dinner I had planned, but...”

“Oh, egg rolls and sweet and sour chicken. Excellent idea. We can call in an order when we get home.”

“Okay.” Jack merged into traffic on the freeway. “So you want to tell me about the other half?”

“What?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder before changing lanes. “When Helen said she wanted all the details, you said she didn’t know the half of it. What’s the other half?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Zoe rubbed a hand down her jeans. “The police think I’m some sort of mental case.”

“Try me.”

She blew out a breath. Even she was beginning to doubt what she’d seen. She’d been so sure of what happened when she first came to in the car, but the more time that passed, the more uncertainty crept in. How could Lucinda’s body be there, then gone? It didn’t make sense.

Could it have been some elaborate trick? But who would play a trick like that? She could almost see it being part of a prank reality show and, normally, she wouldn’t put anything past her mom, who had been the driving force behind her family’s appearance on a reality show when Zoe was in her tweens. But Donna had a steady gig as a retirement lifestyle correspondent for a morning show with a major network now. The producers were strict about what Donna could and couldn’t do—appearances and promotions—and Zoe was pretty sure that the producers of the morning show would nix any idea of Donna pranking someone with a dead body or being involved with a show that did that.

“Zoe?”

Zoe shook her head. “It seems surreal now. Unbelievable.”

“I’ve had some unbelievable experiences myself, and they were true. It can’t be worse than someone taking out a hit on you. That’s not exactly common.”

“It’s worse. Lucinda’s body is gone.” Zoe cringed as she said it. It sounded even more absurd when she said it aloud. The evening rush-hour traffic swished around them, all those normal people hurrying to get home and fix dinner or get the kids to soccer practice.

“What do you mean gone?”

“Gone. Disappeared. Not there. Taken. I don’t know. She was sprawled on the chaise lounge with a knife in her back. I was staring at her when I was hit on the head. I woke up in my car and called the police. When I led the police into the backyard, Lucinda’s body was gone. Nowhere in the backyard or the house. Not even a drop of blood on the chaise cushions. I can tell the police think I’m either some odd person bent on getting attention, or someone who needs some medication.”

Jack watched the traffic, smoothly shifting into the fast lane to pass a car, but Zoe could tell his thoughts were on what she’d said. “Hmm...Yes, that is bad. Not particularly worse than the hit man, but a definite tie.” He shot her a quick smile before sliding into the exit lane, and she felt the knot of anxiety loosen a bit. He hadn’t scoffed or written it off as a side effect of the head injury.

“So you believe me?”

“Of course.”

“Why? I’m beginning to doubt it myself.”

“Well, you’re not a liar, you’re not prone to psychotic breaks, and,” he hesitated, his voice turning serious as he said, “because when I couldn’t count on anyone else, you were there for me. The last thing I’m going to do is doubt you.”

“That’s overly generous. I only helped you because I’d been pulled in as deep as you and wanted answers.”

“That was true in the beginning.” He sent her a piercing look with those silvery blue eyes.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. I did believe you, especially about the hit man. It wasn’t exactly a leap of faith to believe when someone was taking potshots at you. This is totally different. There’s no proof that I saw Lucinda. There’s no proof that Lucinda was even there.”

“Why do you fight me, on everything?” He grinned. “Let me believe you, if I want to. Go through everything that happened again for me, will you? I want to get it straight in my head.”

Zoe blew out a breath. He was right. Why was she trying to talk him out of believing her? She should just be glad he did and go on.

By the time she’d recounted the series of events, they were turning into their subdivision, Vinewood. The sun had set, but the horizon still glowed orange in the twilight. Their neighborhood was established, and the mature cottonwood trees lining the street blocked out most of the dusky light. Zoe took off her sunglasses as she finished reciting what had happened.

Jack flicked on the headlights. “There’s one thing that doesn’t fit.”

“Just one?”

“The flyers. You said you dropped them.”

“Yes, they went everywhere.”

“How many?”

“Ah, let’s see. There were three houses, so three hundred. One hundred copies for each house.”

“And they were gone when you went back in the yard?”

“I didn’t see a single one.”

“That’s a lot of paper to disappear.” Jack’s mouth quirked down. “I wonder if the police checked Lucinda’s trash?”

“I don’t know. I’d assume they did. They looked everywhere for her, even under the deck. Hey, who’s at our house?” They were still half a block away, but Zoe could see there were two pickups parked in front of their house. A long trailer was attached to one of the trucks.

“Looks like a yard service. Maybe for one of the neighbors?” Jack asked.

Zoe read the magnetic sign attached to the pickup’s driver door as they drove by. “I’ve never noticed Green Lawn Care around here before.” Now that they were closer, Zoe saw a riding lawn mower, a small bobcat, and other lawn maintenance equipment like shovels, rakes, and edgers in the trailer.

A man in a lime-green shirt with the words GREEN LAWN on the pocket and straw hat with a wide brim came down their driveway, gave them a little two-finger salute, and climbed into the pickup with the trailer. By the time Jack parked the car beside the second pickup, which was in their driveway, the pickup with the trailer was already lumbering down the street.

Another man closed the gate to their backyard and came across the driveway toward them. He moved with a stiff-legged stride, rocking his shoulders from side to side in a way that reminded Zoe of a penguin. The fact that he wore black pants and had a stripe of a white dress shirt showing between the edges of his open black leather jacket only added to the impression. “Just finished up.” He waddled toward them. “I think you’ll be pleased with the new landscaping.” His voice had a nasal quality and the quick cadence of his words indicated he was from another part of the country besides Texas.

“You must be at the wrong house,” Zoe called. “I don’t have any landscaping scheduled.”

The man scratched his cheek and consulted a clipboard that had been tucked under his arm. “Zoe Hunter? Five-two-five-one Vinewood Avenue?” His thin salt and pepper hair must have once been shaped into a crew cut, but it had grown out several inches and spiked up above ruddy cheeks and watery brown eyes.

“This day just gets weirder and weirder,” Zoe muttered to Jack. She tucked the flowers into the crook of her arm and reached out to take the clipboard the man held out. “There’s got to be a mistake. I didn’t—” she broke off as she looked at the clipboard.

One of Lucinda’s flyers was pinned under the shiny metal clip. For a second Zoe couldn’t say anything. A gust of wind flicked the edge of the paper back, revealing more identical flyers.

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"W
HERE did you get these?” Zoe demanded.

The man lifted his chin in the direction of the house. “Why don’t we step inside and talk about it.”

“No, I think we should call the police.” Zoe turned to Jack. “These are the flyers that disappeared.” She could tell Jack had picked up on the tension in her voice. If someone had given him a quick glance they wouldn’t see anything different from a few moments earlier, but Zoe knew him well enough to recognize well-disguised wariness as he slowly circled the hood of the car.

“That is why it’s important we talk.” The man pulled back the edge of his jacket, revealing a handgun tucked into a holder at his hip.

Jack halted.

“Don’t worry,” the man said with a little laugh. “I don’t want to use it. All I want to do is talk.”

Zoe and Jack exchanged a glance.

He let the jacket fall back over the gun. “Just a simple conversation, and then I’ll leave. I promise, you want to hear what I have to say. Otherwise, I
will
contact the police.”

“Let’s do that now.” Jack pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

The man shrugged. “Fine by me, but I don’t think you want her to go to jail, do you? Or, did I completely misjudge your feelings for her?”

Jack’s finger hovered over the keypad.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything wrong.” Zoe shook the clipboard at him. “I have nothing to be afraid of,” she said, but she could feel blood pumping through her veins. A surge of nervousness hit her as she remembered the doubtful looks the police had sent her way this afternoon.

“You know that.” The man extended his hands then brought them into his chest. “I know that. But it is a question of perception, isn’t it? The police already think you to be...unbalanced. A few interesting details could push their opinion of you to seriously disturbed. And when there is evidence to support that view...” He trailed off then shrugged again. “Again, it doesn’t matter to me. I simply want to talk.” He held up his hands, palms out. “In fact, I will leave the gun in the truck, if it will make you feel better.” Jack tensed as the man removed the gun from the holster, but he didn’t seem to notice. He opened the door on the driver’s side, shoved the gun under the seat, and slammed the door. He activated the lock with the key fob and turned back to them. “There. Now, surely we can talk.”

Zoe swallowed. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Jack looked like he wanted to disagree.

“Excellent.” The man headed for the front door.

Jack fell into step beside Zoe and said in a low voice, “Not a good idea.”

“I don’t love it either, but I want to know what information or...evidence...he has that he thinks he could take to the police.”

“You know he could still be armed? He might have another gun—or something else—on him.”

“I know, but I have you on my side. He’s probably twice your age, not to mention that you’re nearly twice his size. I think you can take him, if you have to.”

“Oh, so now you’re happy to have me on your side?”

“I’m always happy to have you on my side. Sometimes I just have trouble showing it.”

The man had stepped to one side of the front door. Zoe juggled the clipboard and the flowers as she unlocked the front door. She noticed that Jack stayed back from the man, giving him a wide berth. Zoe led the way through the hallway and into the formal living room, snapping on lights as she went.

“What a lovely home.”

Neither Zoe nor Jack answered him, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He took one of the armchairs across from the couch, sprawling back with a sigh as if he was glad to be off his feet. Zoe put the flowers and the clipboard along with her messenger bag on one of the end tables then went to stand across from him, behind the couch, arms crossed. Jack stayed on his feet as well, moving to the side and slightly behind the man. “So what is this about?”

“I suppose I should introduce myself. I know you, but you do not know me. It is unfair for you to be at a disadvantage.”

Zoe could see Jack practically grinding his teeth together. She didn’t blame him. She wanted the guy to get on with it, too. “And you are?” she asked.

“Oscar. I work for Mr. Darius Gray.”

He paused as if they should recognize the name. Zoe didn’t. She looked at Jack, and he raised his shoulders in a slight shrug.

“I’m afraid we’re not familiar with this Mr. Gray.”

Oscar sighed. “I thought as much. Otherwise, why would you...well, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He rearranged his body, sitting up straighter. “You have something that belongs to Mr. Gray. He wants it back.”

“Ah, no, we don’t. How could we have something that belongs to him when we don’t even know him?”

“Let me be more specific. Mr. Gray wants you to return his painting. Now, I’m sure you didn’t realize it was his because no one takes what belongs to Mr. Gray. He’s giving you the opportunity to return it before he...takes action.”

“He’s accusing us of stealing,” Jack said from the back corner.

Oscar swiveled to him. “Not stealing. At least, not intentionally. You saw an opportunity and took it. I’m sure you had no idea you were taking Mr. Gray’s property. That is why he’s willing to show some latitude.”

“What is he going to do? Press charges?” Zoe rubbed her forehead. Her head was throbbing again, and she wished she’d taken the nurse’s offer of pain medicine. “This conversation is absurd. He can talk to the police all he wants. We don’t have any paintings, so we can’t have one that belongs to Mr. Gray.” Zoe gestured to the collage of snapshots she’d taken in London. “A few photos like those, but that’s it. Our budget doesn’t run to anything on canvas.”

“You can protest all you like, but Mr. Gray knows you visited a dealer in Paris four days ago and inquired about selling the painting.”

“Paris? That’s crazy. I haven’t even been outside Dallas for months.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “I wouldn’t bother denying it. You’re very memorable with your long red hair.”

“But it wasn’t me!”

“Like I said, you can deny it, if you want. Doesn’t matter to me. No matter how discreet you thought you were, information can always be bought. If you look hard enough, there’s usually someone who saw or overheard something. The shop assistant, a very attractive young lady, was very willing to provide your name and description once she realized she’d be amply—and discreetly—compensated.

“But—”

“Yes, I know. I know.” He waved his hand in a circle. “You weren’t there.” He slapped his palms down on his thighs and prepared to stand. “That is of no importance now. All that matters is that Mr. Gray gets his painting back, seeing as how it’s payment for services he’s already rendered.”

“What kind of services?” Jack asked.

“That’s not what matters here. He knows you saw an opportunity in Germany and took the painting. He wants it back.”

When he said the word
Germany
, everything clicked into place as if someone twisted a key in a lock and opened a door. Her gaze flew to Jack’s face. She could see he remembered, too. Zoe swiveled back to Oscar, who was now standing.

“You’ve got the wrong person. Yes, we were there in Germany, at the castle, but we didn’t take the painting. We saw who did, though. It was the woman who was there—the secretary. What was her name?” Zoe looked to Jack.

“Anna. Anna Whitmore, I believe.”

“That’s right.” Zoe turned back to Oscar. “We saw her. She came in the room where we were and switched contents of a leather carrying tube, which had been in the room, for the contents of a cardboard tube she’d brought with her. After the switch, she took the cardboard tube away with her.” Zoe glanced back at Jack. “It must have been a painting. It wasn’t stiff like a roll of paper. It was softer, with some flexibility, like canvas. She left with it. We have no idea where it is.”

Jack nodded, but Oscar spread his hands. “This is a good yarn you’ve spun. Not bad, especially considering that you’ve come up with it on the spur of the moment, but it doesn’t change the fact that you contacted Gallery Twenty-Seven about selling
Marine
.”

He held up a hand as Zoe opened her mouth to speak. “Mr. Gray has also seen the financial transactions involving Verity Trustees. We all know that Mr. Costa purchased the painting, but, interestingly, he had the financial records altered so that your name is listed as owner of the company that paid the invoice for the twelve million dollars to buy the painting. Quite a merry little chase he put Mr. Gray’s computer experts through, but, in the end, financial records show you bought it. I suppose you uncovered the set-up and took the painting, not realizing it was intended for Mr. Gray?”

Zoe felt lightheaded. “Twelve million dollars?” She never thought she’d dislike a number like twelve million dollars, but that was the amount of money that had gone missing from Jack’s business account and set off a fraud investigation. She and Jack had found proof that neither one of them were involved in the financial slight-of-hand that made the money disappear, and last she’d heard, the FBI was running down all the accounts the money had been sifted through. Her heartbeat spun into high gear. What if this guy was right and the money trail did lead back to her? That sounded exactly like something Costa would do. Unsavory didn’t begin to describe his character, and Zoe didn’t doubt for a moment that he would set up a scheme to implicate someone else to hide his activities.

She closed her eyes briefly. Costa was dangerous and ruthless, but the FBI knew all about him now, and if he’d set up some sort of scheme to finger Zoe for using stolen money to buy a very expensive painting, wouldn’t the FBI have come knocking on her door? They’d never been shy about asking questions before. “That can’t be true. If it were, the FBI would be here, asking me about it.”

Oscar snorted. “The FBI is bogged down. Budget cuts, you know. Their tech services division has been cut in half. Also, I believe higher priority cases keep bumping yours down the stack, so to speak. I’m sure they will get to it. Of course, if you help Mr. Gray, he would be willing to make sure all of Verity Trustees’ transactions disappear. In fact, he could make it as if Verity Trustees never existed. Records can be lost...”

Oscar reached in a pocket of his leather jacket, and Jack tensed. “No need to be so jumpy.” Oscar removed a business card and reached across the empty couch to hand it to Zoe.

A single phone number with a Dallas area code was centered on the heavy white cardstock.

Oscar took a few steps toward the hall. “You have three days. Mr. Gray understands that you probably have the Monet in free port in Geneva or Singapore and that it will take some time to retrieve it. Call that number when you have the painting in your possession. You will be informed where to bring it.”

Zoe shot a desperate look at Jack. This guy would not listen to them.

Jack said, “You don’t seem to understand. We
can’t
do this for you. We don’t have any idea were the painting is. We can’t help you.”

“Oh, I think you will.”

“Those financial transactions will be disproved, once the FBI digs into them,” Jack said, and Zoe knew he was saying it for her as much as he was to make a point to Oscar. Just hearing the words in his steady, reasonable tone made her feel better. “We’ve already proved to the FBI that we weren’t involved in the fraud and that we didn’t have access to the money. They’ll know the transfers are faked.”

Oscar’s lips puckered as if he’d eaten something tart. “That could possibly be the case,” he allowed. “But I think you will still help us.”

“Why?” Zoe asked. Did this guy ever quit?

He looked toward the clipboard on the end table. “Because of Lucinda McDaniel.”

The flyers. It seemed like it had been hours since she’d first caught sight of them on the clipboard. “What does this have to do with those flyers and with Lucinda?”

“Lucinda—or more precisely—her body is the incentive for you to give the painting to Mr. Gray.”

“What? What are you talking about? Her body is missing.”

“No. Her body is buried in your backyard under a new row of hedges along your privacy fence. They look quite nice.”

“That’s absurd,” Zoe said, but inside she felt a curl of doubt as Oscar stared at her impassively.

“I assure you. It’s true.”

Lucinda was missing. The man had been in the backyard. There had been a backhoe on the trailer of the other truck. No one was home for several hours this afternoon...

Everything seemed to blur for a moment—Oscar’s voice faded to an indistinct murmur, and the room went hazy. The walls seemed to curve around her. She braced her hand against the back of the couch.

Jack’s voice cut through the murkiness. She felt his hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

She breathed deeply and the room settled back into its normal orientation.

Jack slipped a hand under her arm. “I’m not going to faint or anything, but I’m not okay if someone I know is buried in my backyard. How could that even happen? Someone would see you.”

“Your six-foot privacy fence allowed us to work unobserved. Collecting the body unnoticed wasn’t difficult at all. Once we put you in your car, we simply pulled into the driveway of Ms. McDaniel’s home. A lawn maintenance crew is unremarkable. All we had to do was gather up the flyers and the bloody lounge cushion, zip everything into a body bag, place it in with the hedges, flowers, and bags of mulch in the trailer, and bring it here.”

“So what about before? You killed her?” Zoe felt a warning pressure as Jack’s hand tightened on her arm, but she had to ask.

Oscar shook his head. “No, that was my associate. I am a little slow for a job like that.” He chuckled, and Zoe could only stare at him. He cleared his throat. “You see how it is now. You will collect the painting and call us. You are connected with Ms. McDaniel’s death. You were at her house shortly before she died. You had an argument last week, and—”

“What? No. We never argued.”

He shook his head, his expression pitying. “You really don’t understand how this works yet? One of the employees in McDaniel Realty overheard the argument and will be happy to speak to the police. Remember what I said about information being bought for the right price? It can be created, too.”