Horse of a Different Killer (27 page)

It sounds hackneyed, right? Using driftwood as
anything
in a beach house. But my sister made it work. Emma—talented, beautiful, brave Emma. I still wanted to be her when I grew up.

The thought brought on a flush of tears and a wave of anger so cold it burned through my belly like a shot of cheap bourbon. I looked at Boyle, not bothering to disguise how I felt.

“You look upset,” she said with a smirk I would have paid good money to see wiped off her face. Preferably with a porcupine.

“Wow,” I said in a monotone. “It's almost like you're a detective.”

“Sarcasm is the implement of a weak mind. A defense mechanism. You feel frightened or angry and you use sarcasm as a shield.”

“And a psychoanalyst, too. Nifty.”

Her smirk grew into a smile and I winced inwardly.

Okay, so she had a point. So what?

It was clear I wasn't going to be able to stem the flow of sarcasm. “Clearly, you don't understand my humor. So let's get on with your test.”

“The goat. Get it to come inside through the dog door. You have thirty seconds. If you speak or make any movements, you fail.”

I started to open my mouth to tell her she was nuts but I'd be damned if I was going to give her the satisfaction.

The problem was, the dog door, which was easily big enough for Nelly to fit through, had a proximity lock. It would disengage only if the sensor came within a foot of the door, and the sensor was on Moss's collar.

I thought about the one hanging outside just in case I locked myself out. It was dangling from one of the light fixtures hanging over the table.

Nelly was a goat. Goats were climbers—she could reach it.

I let my eyes drift closed, pulled in a calming breath, and reached out with my mind.

Nelly.

The goat was happily snuggled up next to Roscoe on the chaise longue.

Nelly!

I felt it when she focused on me. I pictured where the sensor was hanging and encouraged her to go to it.

It took several precious seconds but I finally heard a
clunk
as she jumped off the chaise, followed by the clop of dainty hooves on the deck.

Come on, Nelly girl, don't let me down.

I focused more intently on the goat. For a moment, I could actually see what she was seeing. Looking at the world from her perspective in real time. It wasn't something I did often or for long—mostly because it gave me a splitting headache—but it had its perks.

I was sure Nelly had seen the sensor, because she was looking right at it.

Yes! That
.

She climbed onto the chair and then the table.

Seeing the movement while stationary brought on a wave of vertigo. I grimaced and pulled my thoughts away from the goat's.

There was another
thunk
as Nelly jumped off the table followed by a clatter when she scrambled through the doggy door.

I opened my eyes and Nelly dropped the hard plastic disk to the floor and let out a loud “
Mbaaaaaa!
” Basically saying,
There. Happy?

Yes! Thank you, Nelly, you are the smartest goat ever.

Kai came bursting into the room just as what was left of the outdoor light came crashing to the ground. Roscoe let out a flurry of alarmed barks.

Nelly hopped back a step and toppled over.

Kai muttered a curse followed by an apology. “I forgot about the fainting thing. Is she all right?”

Nelly?

Whoops.

“She's fine.”

Boyle was looking from me to the door to the goat then back at me, her eyes widening the longer her gaze darted along that path.

Moss, never one to miss out on the action, let out a short yip-howl, wanting to know what was going on.

“It's okay, Moss.”

Okay
?

Everything is fine, big guy. Take care of your kitty
.

I got up to open the back door for Roscoe. The little dog darted inside, tail waving like a flag, ears pricked into twin plumes of dark, feathery hair as he sniffed at Nelly, gave her muzzle a friendly lick of encouragement, then pranced over to me and did his “pick me up” dance.

I obliged, then turned to face Kai. We both looked at Boyle.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She asked me to get Nelly to come inside.”

“But the sensor for the door is on Moss's collar. How did Nelly unlock the dog door?”

I explained about keeping the second sensor outside.

“So she did it.” Kai looked from me to Boyle. I wasn't sure if he was talking about me or Nelly. Either way, he was right. Not that it would matter.

“No,” Boyle said, standing. “It's a trick.”

“Tammy, how can it be a trick? Grace has had the goat less than twenty-four hours. It's never been here.” He looked at me for confirmation but Boyle was already shaking her head.

She'd collected herself somewhat but still seemed to be breathing hard.

Kai noticed. “It's okay. Believe me, I had the same reaction.”

“It's a trick.”

“Tammy—”

“It has to be a trick.”

“It's not.” Though Kai's voice wasn't angry, it had gained a slight edge of impatience.

Boyle searched his face. She didn't like what she found.

Her brows bunched in anger. “What is this? Is this is some kind of joke? Screw with Boyle, the easy target?”

“Come on, I wouldn't do that.”

“You are a scientist, Kai.”

“Yes, which is why you should listen to me. Okay? You think I didn't look at this from every angle I could? You think I didn't question my own sanity?”

“No,” she said. “I think you are either so deep in Sartori's pocket to want out or too wrapped up in her to give a damn. I don't know which, and I don't really care, but I am done listening to you.”

Boyle stalked through the house and slammed the door on her way out.

“I don't understand,” Kai said. “She can't possibly think you somehow rigged this.”

“She doesn't,” I said, feeling oddly calm. “She knows I was telling the truth. It just freaked her out.”

Nelly had recovered and wanted to go back outside. I asked Kai to accommodate her while I went to open my bedroom door for Moss and Voodoo. Roscoe followed Nelly and they settled back on the chaise longue. Moss trotted out of the hall in front of me and started sniffing around, reconstructing who had gone where. He paused for a moment where Boyle had been sitting.

Strong emotions leave a mark. I wasn't sure if it was the scent or something more nebulous but animals were sensitive to it. Whatever Boyle had been feeling made Moss let out a low growl.

“Now that that's over, I could use a glass of wine.”

We went into the kitchen and I poured a glass of whatever Kai had opened the night before. He went for a beer.

“I'm really sorry, Grace.”

“It's okay,” I said and for the first time in a long time I meant it.

“I just don't get it,” Kai said.

“I do. Come on, let's sit. I want to tell you about an idiot I dated.”

Kai gave me a curious look but followed me back into the living room.

We sat on the couch. I took a sip of wine and said, tongue firmly in cheek, “It's a sad story of love and loss. His name was Dane Harrington and I thought he was perfect.”

I told Kai everything. More than I'd even shared with Emma. Dane and I had been vacationing in a private bungalow in the Bahamas. It had been the most romantic place you could imagine. Right on the beach. Filled with candles and moonlight.

Paradise.

Until I'd saved a pod of dolphins and told Dane the truth about my ability.

“So . . .” Kai said. “He just left you there?”

“With a plane ticket,” I said lightly. “You see, we'd taken his family's private jet to the island so it was the least he could do.”

“Jet?” I watched as he made the connection. “Wait.
Those
Harringtons?”

I lifted my wineglass with a nod.

“Damn.”

“Hey,” I said in mock offense. “You're not supposed to be impressed—the guy dumped me.”

“I didn't say he wasn't an idiot.”

“You're forgiven. Anyway, I'm telling you this because you need to understand. Boyle is like Dane. She will never accept that I'm telling the truth about my ability. She can't. I saw the way she looked at me, Kai. She knows I'm not lying. But it still freaked her out.”

“Did it freak him out? The Harrington asshole.”

“Oh yes.”

“His loss.”

“One man's trash is another man's treasure?”

Kai touched my chin and gently guided my face toward his. “Any man who would think you were trash is a fool.”

He kissed me, and I forgot all about Dane Harrington and Detective Boyle.

Wes was coming up the stairs as Kai was leaving for work the next morning.

“Wes, hey,” I said, my cheeks heating slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I'd swing by and check on you, but I can see you're in good hands.”

Kill me now.

“I hope you took good care of her, Sergeant.”

The double entendre was pretty clear. Somehow Kai managed to say with absolute sincerity, “It was my pleasure.” Then, turning to me with a wicked grin, he said, “I'll call you later.” And kissed me good-bye.

Wes managed to keep a straight face until we were inside with the door closed.

He raised his brows, made a show of looking me up and down, and said, “Well, look who's glowing this morning.”

“New moisturizer,” I said lightly and turned to head into the kitchen.

“I'm not touching that one,” he said, following me into the room. Then—“Well?”

“A lady never kisses and tells. You taught me that.”

“
Pfft
!” He waved a hand. “What do I know?”

“Coffee?” I held up the carafe.

“Fine,” he said, shoulders drooping in defeat.

I poured him a cup and we shared a silent toast before turning serious.

“How'd it go with Boyle last night?” he asked.

“It was a disaster.”

He grimaced. “That good, huh?”

“On the bright side, Kai is going to talk to her boss and explain his concerns regarding her conduct.”

“You go, girl,” Wes said.

“I told him not to, but he insisted. I think he finally realizes she's not acting very balanced.”

“I've already spoken to her supervisor. Maybe another cop will help. If it gets enough traction, the state attorney will get involved. There will be a review of the cases she's been involved in, including Emma's. But it won't be enough to get the charges dropped.”

I nodded. Kai had told me the same thing. “You know what's weird? I thought I'd feel all smug, proving I was right about her. But I don't.”

“You feel bad.”

“Not for her. For Kai. Boyle's going to hate him for going over her head. He knows it, but he's going to do it anyway because he's worried about her.”

“Sometimes you have to choose between what is right and what is easy.”

I canted my head. “Did you just quote Dumbledore?”

“I did,” Wes said, taking a final sip of coffee before setting his empty cup in the sink. “Now, I'll quote another great wizard and remind you that there's no place like home.”

“That was the good witch, Glinda.”

He gave me a pointed look.

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry.”

•   •   •

Ever notice how spending all day at home isn't a big deal until it becomes mandatory?

The restlessness set in about twenty seconds after Wes left.

I tried to kill time by focusing on chores, with minimal success. It had taken only twenty minutes to straighten my room, start a load of clothes, and empty the dishwasher.

Drumming my fingers on the counter, I worked on the map for a while, managed to eliminate two more properties, then tried to get more detail out of Nelly regarding Heart's location.

I sat out on the deck, brain growing more numb by the second as Nelly enthusiastically enumerated the various herbage sampled on her adventure.

If I'd had I the slightest idea what plants she was talking about, I might have been able to use the information to locate Heart. Like breadcrumbs but with chlorophyll.

Sometimes the lines of communication become garbled.

Nelly didn't say,
I ate clover
or
the wild dill was amazing.
She didn't know what I called the plants. Her names were all about flavor and smells. Having never munched on most weeds, I couldn't hope to translate.

So I went back inside to the aerial map.

I knew Kai would be out of pocket most of the day. I had leftovers and would survive not getting a lunch delivery.

He called just after ten, sounding a little rushed.

“I'm going to give a deposition this afternoon, so I don't know how late it will be before we can take Nelly home.”

“That's okay. I called R-n-R and left a message on their voicemail, so at least they know I have her. She's fine here for a little while. I'm actually more worried about Cappy.”

“I'll let you know how things are panning out. The deposition is for a major case so it might take a while. I'll be able to check my messages periodically. But if you need something or see anything odd, call Jake. A buddy of mine from Saint Johns is going to park his cruiser at the entrance to your place for a little while—he should be there any minute.”

“You're setting me up with a bodyguard?”

“I want to let these guys know you're protected. If they understand there'll be a backlash if they mess with you, they'll be less likely to try something.”

“I'm touched,” I said, and though it came out a little silly, I meant it.

“I'll see you tonight. Call if you need me.”

I smiled for a while after he hung up, until I remembered my sister was in jail facing a murder charge.

Emma would be ecstatic to know I was happy. But that didn't assuage my guilt.

I had to think of a way to help my sister.

Kai had once explained that in an investigation, connecting the dots would be possible only after I had
collected
all of them. My gut was telling me there were some dots on the USB stick.

I retrieved the drive from where I'd hidden it, grabbed my laptop, and headed out onto the back deck.

Sitting at the table with the ocean breeze to clear my head, I plugged the drive into the USB port and clicked the icon. The box requesting the password popped onto the screen. I drew in a slow breath before starting to type.

In theory, the file had something to do with Ortega.

What did I know about him?

I typed his name, then deleted it.

“Don't focus on theory,” I muttered to myself. “What do you know?”

Emma had wanted me to give the USB stick to Kendall.

With a shrug, I typed the girl's name.

The file opened.

I stared at the screen for a minute, too shocked to read over the contents. Once I started, I wished I hadn't.

There were separate folders, all about Anthony Ortega. One was labeled “Photos Hospital.” I didn't open that one. I'd seen what he'd done to my sister firsthand, I didn't need to see it again.

If that had been the only thing on the drive I would have understood why she didn't want anyone to see it. But the other folders contained bank account information, addresses and phone numbers of people Ortega knew, and dates and location of travel.

Often, the data was annotated with Emma's shorthand.

I slumped back in the chair.

“What the hell, Em?” I wanted to haul my sister into one of those interrogation rooms at the JSO myself and demand to know what was going on.

Why did she have an encrypted file outlining every detail of her ex-husband's life? And why hadn't she ever told me about it?

Anger made me want to snach the USB stick out of my laptop and toss it into the Atlantic.

I didn't, because suddenly I realized what was keeping me on edge.

Fear.

I was afraid.

Not just because murderers had been following me. This was a different type of fear. One that had been growing since the moment I'd heard Ortega's last message. I hadn't recognized it before because it was the bone-deep, pervasive, nagging type of fear that cloaks itself in other emotions. Annoyance and anger. Frustration and doubt.

I was afraid, not only because Emma was in trouble, but because she had been lying to me. For years.

There was an explanation. There had to be.

Logan's words oozed into my mind.

What if she was guilty?

“No.”

It was one thing for Emma to have secrets. Everyone did. But to believe she was capable of murder? I couldn't accept that.

Whatever reason Emma had for keeping this file didn't matter. It was in my hands now. I had to figure out what to do with it.

I started going through the subfiles, starting with the most recent, dated September 1. There were pages of bank statements with certain transactions underlined and notations in my sister's shorthand. I could read most of what she'd written, though little made sense. Several transactions were marked with
CA
, which was my sister's shorthand for cash.

So far, most of the transactions listed were marked
CA
.

Just when I thought I would start going blind and I'd never come across anything that made sense, I saw a name I recognized. Simone Grant. Dr. Simon had an ID in that name.

Next to a payment of $15,000 to Simone was the word
Services
.

Barf.

I redoubled my efforts, looking more closely at the other names on the list and saw a second name I recognized: Yosef Khalil, Heart's trainer. Who'd apparently received $1,000 from Ortega.

I frowned when I realized he could have been paying him for something legitimate. Equipment, medication—it didn't do me any good to make that connection.

Everyone knew Ortega had been in Morocco.

I scanned over the page looking for payment or a record of Ortega's purchase of Heart from LaPointe. But I didn't see any reference to the eccentric billionaire. Could it have been listed as his estate? I delved into the search anew and after almost an hour learned Ortega had, in fact, paid the Pearl of the Sand, a company owned by LaPointe, $20,000 in cash. No notation of what was purchased.

I sat back and glared at the file.

My gut told me there was information in it I could use. But I just didn't know what I was looking at.

I got a pen and a legal pad and wrote down every name listed, from the payment to the Pearl of the Sand to the last entry in the file.

Thirty-six people.

Mostly men.

I started searching the Internet for each name but quickly came to the conclusion that doing so was pointless.

Even starting with the less common names, there were dozens of people with the same name living all over the world.

I tried to narrow the results by adding Tony's name to the search but didn't come up with anything that seemed relevant.

After two hours, my head was pounding and I was ready to give up.

It would take days to research each name and I didn't even know what I was looking for.

Sartori had given Cowboy and Mr. Jingles a deadline to wrap up whatever business they had and get out of town.

Logan would make sure they honored the decree. Soon, the men responsible for two murders would skip town. Even if Kai was successful in his attempt to convince the higher-ups in the sheriff's office to reassign Boyle, it would be too late.

Emma had already been charged with murder. Unless the state attorney was provided with significant evidence to clear her, she would be tried.

As hard as it was to believe, as impossible as the idea seemed, my sister could go to prison.

The truth was, I didn't know how to use the information in front of me, and I couldn't very well ask Kai about what was on the USB drive and couldn't talk to Wes about it either. As much as Hugh would want to help, I was pretty sure he wouldn't know any more about Ortega's criminal activity than I did.

“Think like a criminal,” I told myself. Like a criminal . . . Or I could go with option B and
ask
a criminal. Someone who wouldn't be compromised ethically or feel obligated to turn it over to the police. Someone who knew the identity of the players involved.

Logan.

He had refused to give me information but, in theory, I now had their names. How could he claim telling me more would put me in danger if I already had the information?

It was worth a shot.

I didn't have any more of his infamous cards featuring nothing but a phone number—I had given them to the cops.