What She Doesn't See (2 page)

He chuckled. “The guy blew his brains out.
The M.E. shouldn’t have any trouble confirming cause of death
without an eyeball. Just toss it.”

“It’s not the eyeball I’m calling about.” She
frowned, studying the lens more closely. “The guy was wearing some
sort of weird contact lens. I’ve never seen anything like it. Maybe
it’s nothing, but I think you need to see this for yourself.”

After the usual joke about how some ladies
would come up with any kind of excuse to enjoy his company, he
promised to swing back by the scene pronto. Alex put her phone
away, stashed the lens in a safe place, and did what she’d come to
do.

Nearly three hours later Hitch showed up.

“Had another call,” he said by way of apology
for his tardiness.

She lifted her shoulders. “No problem. I’ll
be here a while longer.”

He looked around and made one of those sounds
that meant
wow
. “It’s hard to believe it comes this
clean.”

She handed him the plastic bag. “Where
there’s a will, there’s a way.”

His typical comeback wasn’t forthcoming. He
was too busy visually examining the lens or whatever the hell it
was.

“Weird, huh?” Alex couldn’t help feeling a
little vindicated by his apparent interest.

Too preoccupied to respond, he squinted to
make out more details. Finally he said, “It looks almost like some
kind of electronic gadget.” His gaze met hers. “You say this was on
the guy’s eyeball?”

She nodded. “Stuck on the surface just like a
contact lens.” She’d forgotten that Hitch was big into the world of
electronics technology.

“I’ll have it checked out. I’ve got a buddy
over in Morningside who’s deep into computer technology. He stays
on top of what’s new and hot. Maybe he can at least identify what
this thing is.” Hitch shrugged. “He’s done this kind of thing for
me before. He loves this stuff.” He gave Alex a knowing look. “The
kid should be working at the state crime lab. He’s that good and
he’s fast.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

Clearly still in a world of his own, Hitch
nodded as he turned away. “Will do.”

He left without another last-ditch attempt to
entice her to go out with him
.
That was just like a man.
No matter that for months he’d endeavored to woo her to go on
another date, he could still be distracted by a new toy.

After a couple more hours of elbow grease and
a final look around, Alex decided it was as good as it was going to
get. The only thing she hadn’t been able to rectify was the bullet
hole in the paneling.

Now for her least favorite part of the job:
collecting payment. This business was cash-and-carry, no thirty
days to pay, strictly payment due at time of services. She did
accept Visa and MasterCard and, if she knew the individual well
enough, personal checks. As much as she disliked this part, it was
essential to get payment as quickly as possible since it was all
too easy for money to end up spent on the living.

She dropped the hazmat bags containing the
refuse, all the cleaning rags associated with the job, as well as
the suit, gloves and shoe covers she’d worn, at the disposal center
before heading to the landlord’s property office.

A long hot bath was calling her name.
Tomorrow was another day. In a city like Miami, as well as its many
suburbs, where drug deals went wrong and gangs got even, there was
always plenty of work cleaning up after the dead.

Wyatt Murphy maneuvered through the city
streets, keeping the cleaner in his sights. His cell vibrated and
he didn’t have to look to know it would be his superior. Wyatt had
been in Miami a mere three hours and already things had gone
rapidly downhill.

“I’m on site, sir.” There was no need or time
for the exchange of casual greetings. The clock was ticking.

“Have you located the target and secured the
device?”

“I have located the target.” He hesitated
before passing along the rest. “The device was not in place,
sir.”

The prolonged silenced that followed
underscored what Wyatt already knew—this was not good by any
stretch of the imagination. He’d managed to gain access to the
body. It still amazed him what some people would do for a hundred
bucks. Catching a morgue attendant outside the building on a smoke
break had been sheer luck.

“The target had disposed of it in some
manner?”

Wyatt executed a right turn, maintaining the
necessary distance required to ensure the newly acquired target
wouldn’t notice the tail. “I’ve examined the body. Unfortunately,
his left eye is missing. The residence needs to be searched
and—”

“Why haven’t you searched the residence
already? Time is our enemy, Agent Murphy. It is imperative we
recover that device ASAP preferably without involving the local
authorities. I’m certain you’re aware of what’s at stake.”

“Yes, sir. I’m very much aware.” Wyatt
resisted the impatience clawing at him. “The cleaner was on site
before I arrived. One of our team has picked up the waste the
cleaner dropped off to examine anything taken from the scene. The
house is being thoroughly searched as we speak. I have the cleaner
under surveillance right now. If she has the device, I will recover
it.”

A heavy breath on the other end of the line
warned his superior was not happy. Well, that made two of them.

“Very well. Keep me posted. I’m in the hot
seat here, Murphy. We cannot allow this technology to be lost
again
.”

“I understand, sir.”

The call ended and Wyatt refocused his full
attention on the white 4Runner. He’d done a quick background check
on Alexis Jackson. There was no reason to believe she was in the
game.

He hoped she was as smart as she was
attractive. A smart woman would not allow herself to get mixed up
in this unpleasant business.

A smart woman would want to stay alive.

Alex breathed deeply of the summer breeze as
she cruised along Ocean Boulevard, allowing that saltwater essence
to clean the stench of death from her lungs. She loved everything
about Miami Beach. Maybe she didn’t live in one of the upscale art
deco homes in this world-renowned neighborhood, but she didn’t
care. This was home. Stunning, intoxicating, and forever youthful.
The perfect climate and the lush scenery might draw the world to
Miami, but it was the eclectic blend of people that made this city
so unique.

Alex made the necessary turn and headed
toward a less glamorous residential district. The working-class
side of town. Art deco remained the prevailing theme in
architecture, even in her lower rent neighborhood but with a more
Bohemian atmosphere. Her small cottage wasn’t on the water, but
there was a boardwalk nearby that went all the way to the water’s
edge. Almost anywhere in Miami Beach was close to the ocean.

She pulled into the short driveway and slid
out of her SUV. No, it wasn’t much, she thought with a frank yet
appreciative survey of the property, but it was home and it was
hers. Her grandmother had left it to her. Alex grabbed her bag,
elbowed the door closed, and clicked the remote lock.

Occasionally she felt guilty that she’d
inherited the cottage instead of her mother. But her
grandmother—her mother’s own mother—had known that Margie Jackson
would never be able to hang onto much less maintain the property.
Like her grandmother, Alex had recognized the day her father died
that she would be taking care of her mother for the rest of her
life. Some people just couldn’t do it on their own.

As if fate had chosen that memory to warn
that trouble was headed her way, Alex’s cell erupted with the
chorus from “Story of My Life” by One Direction.

She checked the screen. “Damn.” The office.
Had to be Shannon, her office manager and lifelong best friend.
This couldn’t be good. It was almost seven. “Hey, Shannon, what’s
up?” Alex shoved the key into the lock of her front door. If the
news was really bad she wanted to be within arm’s reach of a cold
one.

“We have a potential problem, Alexis.”

Definitely bad. Shannon only called her
Alexis when she wanted her full attention.

Putting off the inevitable, Alex walked
straight through the cozy living room to the equally cramped
kitchen before she responded, “Oh yeah?” She snagged a Corona from
the fridge and twisted off the top. Not wanting Shannon’s
announcement to get too far ahead of the alcohol, Alex chugged a
long swallow. The brew made her shiver as much from the promise of
the relaxing buzz it offered as the cold temperature.

With her hip she closed the fridge door,
leaned against it, and pressed the chilly bottle to the
sweat-dampened skin at her throat. Okay, so maybe there was one
thing about Miami she could live without: humidity. You couldn’t
exist in this city without sweating. Day, night, working out or
just sitting still.

“Brown quit today.”

Oh hell. They were already stretched thin.
“Is he working out a notice?”

“Nope. It was
adios
and he was out
the door.” Shannon sighed. “I’m scanning resumes tonight.”

Damn. Alex shook her head. “Don’t do that
tonight. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” She took another pull
from her beer. “We’ve been down this road before.”

Shannon agreed and they ended the call.

Alex tucked her cell into her back pocket as
she made her way to her bedroom. She was ready for that nice long
soak. She flipped on the bathroom light and started the water in
the tub. Before stripping off her clothes, she stared at her
reflection a moment and wondered what her life would have been like
if things had been different. She thought of Hitch and how badly
he’d wanted to pursue a long-term relationship. Had watching her
parents fight nonstop until the night her father killed himself
kept her single? Or had her mother’s string of failed relationships
since turned Alex cynical when it came to anything long-term?

If life had taken a different turn for her,
would Alex have kids off in college now like Shannon? A husband who
spent his Saturdays watching sports? Sex every first and third
Sunday of the month?

Alex shuddered. “No looking back,” she
muttered.

Determined to relax, she returned to the
kitchen for another Corona, and then she lit all the candles in her
bathroom. She turned on the radio to her favorite station and set
the volume to a whisper. A few minutes later and she was up to her
neck in hot, frothy water. She refused to think about how long it
would take to find a replacement for Brown.

She refused to think at all.

The air was thick with steam and the lavender
bath oil had her relaxing. This moment made the day’s dirty work
worth the effort. A long, hot bath was her favorite way to soothe
away the day’s stress and the smell of death. She closed her eyes
and allowed the water to melt the last of her tension. Her place
didn’t have a lot to offer in the way of amenities, not even a
dishwasher, but it did have this huge tub in the master bath. And
there was no mortgage—a very important asset in any woman’s
life.

The wood floors guaranteed she’d never have
to worry about replacing carpet. The tile roof and stucco exterior
ensured that, outside of being hit by a hurricane, nothing more
than a paint job would ever be required. The lack of fancy
appliances promised nothing expensive would break down. The
furniture was the same overstuffed, worn pieces her grandmother had
owned forever. And the tiny apartment over the garage provided the
perfect place for her mother.

Alex was pretty sure her grandmother had
planned it that way, and her mother didn’t really seem to mind. She
evidently understood on some level that she couldn’t be trusted as
a homeowner. Besides, the whole setup gave her total freedom from
responsibility.

The creak of a floorboard somewhere beyond
the half-open bathroom door jolted Alex from her mental ramblings.
She sat up straight and listened.

Another squeak had her climbing quietly out
of the water and reaching for her robe. She slipped into her
bedroom, grabbed the can of pepper spray from the bedside table,
and eased closer to the door.

Since she didn’t carry a gun, pepper spray
was her weapon of choice. It hadn’t been that long ago that Miami
was the murder capital of the nation. She had no intention of
becoming a victim. She damned sure wouldn’t go down without a
fight.

When she heard no other sounds, Alex moved
into the short hall that separated the two small bedrooms and tiny
hall bath from the living room-kitchen area. Being careful not to
make any noise, she padded through each room to ensure there wasn’t
an intruder. Doors, front and back, were still locked. Windows were
open, the night breeze shifting the curtains but nothing looked out
of the ordinary. Slowly she let down her guard. With the windows up
the sound could have carried from next door. The houses on either
side of her had wooden porches.

Frowning at her wet tracks, Alex returned to
her bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer. When she would have
selected a clean pair of underwear, she hesitated. Something wasn’t
right. Her pulse skipped as she checked drawer after drawer.
Everything was there but different somehow… as if someone had
riffled through her things.

She shook her head. Evidently her mother had
been borrowing her clothes again. The jangle of her cell prevented
Alex from marching up to her mother’s apartment and demanding an
explanation. She hoped it wasn’t a potential client. Alex was beat,
she was ready for bed and a couple hours of mindless TV
watching.

“Alex Jackson.” She’d stopped answering with
hello years ago. It seemed her regular customers, various
landlords, cops and whoever, assumed she was available at any
hour.

“Hey, Alex, it’s Louis.”