“Do you want to go first?” My flashlight beam darted back and forth in front of us.
“No.”
“Well, you either want to be in front or in back. I prefer not to be in back where I can be easily picked off.”
“But when you’re in front you’ll get attacked first.” Richard stepped on the back of my tennis shoe.
“What?” I glanced at him over my shoulder, my light shining in his eyes. He blinked back at me. “You’re not making this experience any better.”
“Sorry. I’ll shut up now,” he said.
At the top of the stairs I pointed the flashlight in the direction Matthew had gone. “He was the third window over. I don’t know if that means the third room or not. We’re just going to have to open every door on the right and look around inside.”
“Inside the rooms?” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck. “Can’t we just stand in the hallway and shine the flashlights around?”
“That’s not how to investigate a scene.” I was clearly going to have to be the strong one here, even when my knees were a wobbly mess. Chase wouldn’t be around to stitch me up this time if an angry ghost attacked. I needed to keep it together.
The room was a fully furnished bedroom with plain but sturdy furnishings. The dust hung thick in the air, which was interesting since Beverly told me a cleaning crew came in every month to do a full sweep of cleaning from top to bottom. Either the company was stiffing the Garrett Estate, or they hadn’t been paid to come in a while.
The second room’s door squeaked open. My flashlight illuminated two windows.
“This is it, I whispered to Richard.” My voice shook with excitement instead of fear. I was on the verge of finding out something important; I felt it all the way down to my toes. But a part of me was still afraid there’d be nothing inside. No clues, only more questions.
I locked my fingers around Richard’s arm and shoved him inside.
“What the hell, Rox?” He stumbled inside, his arms flailing.
“I’m sorry.” My whisper sounded more like a hiss. “I’m freaking out a little.”
He shined his flashlight in my face. “Not cool.”
I ignored him. My gaze was locked on a huge cage on the other side of the bed. “Holy mother beepin’ shit,” I breathed.
Richard and I knocked into each other in a scramble around the bed. My heart hammered in my chest, my body electrified with excitement.
“Whoa.”
“Bingo, jackass.” The grin was in my voice. “I finally caught him.”
It all made sense now, and with it an enlightening sense of:
I was freakin’ right, hell yeah!
My uncle had always told me to trust my gut; Leo had drilled that into me ever since he agreed to mentor me into becoming a PI myself—and finally, for the first time, my obsession with this jackass was justified.
The cage was big and metal, built into the corner of the room. Inside was a pet bed, large enough for a Labrador or, say, a forty-pound Savannah. A big litter box sat outside the cage, empty, but there was a bag of litter beside it. The cans of dog food and an empty food dish next to the cage’s open door.
I lifted the camera from around my neck and started snapping pictures of the evidence.
“This is where he kept Pretzels.” And all that howling the last time we were snooping around? Not a ghost, but a caged cat. She was here the entire time and I let my own imagination spook me out of the house. I shined the light on the cans of cheap dog food. “That son of a bitch—he wasn’t even feeding her decent food.”
And the new cans . . . “
It’ll all be over soon . . . Tonight. We’ll finish it tonight . . .”
“He’s going to steal Pretzels again!” I ran across the room, waving over my shoulder for Richard to follow. “He and his girlfriend are both in on it. They want Beverly to think she’s crazy, make everyone think she’s crazy.” My mind worked like a ticking clock as it connected the dots, filled in the blank holes. “I bet if he gets her committed, or has the court find her mentally unstable, he takes over the estate, the company, everything. Everything his dad didn’t trust him with he’ll finally have in his dirty, pervy, greasy, greedy hands.”
I didn’t look back to check if Richard followed, I could hear his feet pounding on the wood flooring as we ran through the house. In the mad rush to get to the van, I almost forgot to lock the door behind me. I pocketed the key and we took off down the driveway at a sprint. I was out of breath by the time we reached the van.
There was no time to buckle up, no time to waste. I fired up the van, whipped a U-turn, and dialed Leo’s cell phone.
While it rang, I waved my hand at the computer tablet mounted on the dash. “Check where Matthew’s vehicle is right now.”
“Hey Rox, what’s up?” Leo asked through the phone.
“It’s Matthew Garret,” I barked at the phone in its mount near the radio. “It was him all along. I have the proof too.”
“He’s still at his girlfriend’s,” Richard said.
“He’s going to hit Beverly’s again tonight, and he’s going to try and steal Pretzels. I’ll explain it all later, but I need you to round up some of your men, a surveillance crew, a van, a million Taser guns and we’re going to catch this bastard red-handed,
tonight!”
I yanked the steering wheel into a right turn and a shortcut that would get us to Beverly’s in ten minutes. “Can you meet me there, like, yesterday?”
“I got your back. See you there,” Leo said, and hung up.
The grin was back on my lips. I glanced over at Richard, whose eyes were glued to the blinking red dot. “Are you ready to catch a real life bad guy?
Shit,
this is so exciting!”
“Then afterwards we can get food, right?”
I narrowed my eyes in irritation. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”
He knocked against the door when I turned onto 27th Street. “
Jeez,
okay. We’ll talk about it after.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The rest of the night played out like a scene in an episode of
Cops.
Leo’s men took Matthew Garrett down in a flurry of black gear. No Taser guns necessary, which was too bad, really. The commotion brought out the neighbors, and the girlfriend sped away in Matthew’s sports car. It didn’t matter—the cops would find her.
He sat slumped on the ground, his wrists bound together with plastic tri-fold handcuffs, military grade. With his head hung in defeat, he didn’t look like the same guy who’d sauntered around, lying through his teeth, tormenting a woman who loved him despite everything.
Finding out her stepson was responsible for all the pain, the confusion and fear of the last few months was heartbreaking for Beverly. When she found us all outside her house in the backyard, Matthew in the alien costume, her shoulders wilted and her face paled. I almost tased him.
“So you’re the jerk who’s been making all this racket outside?” Meredith Jensen stood with her hands on her hips in a pale green robe, peering down at Matthew like he was the scum of the earth. Which he was. For the first time, Meredith’s scowl didn’t bother me.
Matthew glared up at her, his lips pressed together in obstinate regard.
Meredith hiked her leg back then landed a hard kick to Matthew’s crotch.
He doubled over, crying out, “You bitch!”
“Matthew, that’s
enough
." Beverly's voice was cold as steel.
“I’ll sue your ass,” Matthew seethed, his knees pressed together where he sat on the damp grass.
“Sue me?” Meredith snickered. “I have cancer. You can sue me for my medical bills.”
“Meredith?” Beverly asked. She reached out and took Meredith’s hand. “I didn’t know.”
Meredith shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“We thought you went bat-shit crazy over Peter Wood,” Linda said.
“Linda,” Beverly admonished.
“What?” Linda said with a shrug. “We did.”
“Peter Wood is an egotistical ass,” Meredith said, tilting her chin up just-so.
“Why don’t we go inside and grab a cup of tea?” Beverly said. “Catch up?”
“This has been a doozy of a night. I could use some tea.” Linda propped her hands on her hips and glared down at Matthew. “I hope you have a long night in the slammer, young man.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back a smile. Matthew was hardly a spring chicken at fifty-seven years old.
Beverly wrapped me in a hug. “Would you like to join us for tea, Roxanna?”
I shook my head. “No, I have a report to write yet tonight. But thank you.
“Thank you so much, dear.” She glanced down at Matthew, whose head rested against his knees. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
Richard’s stomach began rumbling so loud, I felt awful. I sent Richard with one of Leo’s men so he could go home and eat. I stayed with Leo and two other guys until the police loaded Matthew into the back of their squad car. He’d make bail, probably. Lawyer up and try to fight this. We handed everything over to the police, and Beverly gave them permission to search the Garrett Estate for all evidence linking Matthew to the theft of Pretzels, to orchestrating this whole ordeal, and conning Beverly out of fifteen thousand dollars. He was hauled away, claiming his innocence despite the alien costume he wore. A guy like him wouldn’t admit his guilt. A guy like him would find a way to secure the best lawyers in town to get him acquitted.
Maybe he wouldn’t go to prison for his crimes, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him in an orange jumpsuit doing community service for a few years. I’d keep my fingers crossed.
When I finally walked through my front door, I was elated at tonight’s success, but bone tired. The quiet house that greeted me was empty and cold. I wanted to celebrate yet there was no one to celebrate with. I wanted to fall into a warm embrace, but I was alone.
I shuffled to my office and sat down at my desk, staring at the laptop in front of me. I hadn’t written much of anything for three weeks—not since Chase left. My feelings for him weren’t because he inspired me. Our connection had been deeper, that was clear now. He’d given me something I hadn’t realized I lacked—happiness.
And the man had loved me despite my being an emotionally closed off pain in the ass.
I’d solved the biggest case of my life, and the only person I wanted to celebrate with was gone. Because of me. It’s what I told myself I needed—space, independence—but all I’d done was put up more bars around my heart, fearing what might happen rather than opening myself to the love he’d given me.
“I love him,” I whispered in the dark, to the empty silence.
I loved him so much it hurt.
For too long, I’d left my heart closed off from any man who showed interest in me. I shut them out, tortured myself with all the
what ifs
. I even convinced myself I was only using Chase so I could write better—and I convinced him that was true. To him, I was probably the heartless bitch who’d used him and played with his heart.
It wasn’t true, though. It was a lie I’d told myself because I hadn’t been ready for the truth—I’d fallen madly, deeply, impossibly—
reluctantly—
in love with Chase.
Chase was in Africa with his dad. Before I’d ruined things between us, he’d told me about the vaccination mission they’d volunteered for. He’d been gone a week now, and I would have to wait three more weeks before I could see him again.
If he’ll even see me.
Three weeks to plan
Operation Win Chase Back
.
Chapter Thirty
Life is tricky, you know? One minute you’re perfectly fine being single, the kind of woman who goes Dutch on a date and never sleeps over. And then you meet a guy who has piercing blue eyes and this smile that makes your knees a weak mess. But it isn’t even the abs, or his intelligence; it’s his heart that gets you. It sneaks up right under the skin and bites you. Hard. Leaving behind nothing but a bunch of doubts and what-might-have-beens
.
The next three weeks flew by. I didn’t sleep much. I threw myself into writing, living on frozen dinners and carry-out, energy drinks and coffee. I was working on something new, and each page was a surprise. I’d never considered myself capable of writing a romance, but that’s what my story was now. Most of it tore my insides to shreds; I kept a box of tissues at my side. After I typed the last word, I sat back and let out a
whoop
of elation.
Chase’s image flashed through my mind. He was the one I wanted to celebrate with. He’d been back for a week now; Gen had told me so. I’d been putting off seeing him because I was no good at this kind of thing—begging forgiveness, asking for a second chance. This was new to me. I’d never cared so much before. There was a part of me—a big part of me, actually—that was afraid he’d turn away. That he’d tell me he didn’t care any longer. That part of me was the coward who’d chosen to hide out in my office for the last week, writing instead of rectifying the way I’d thrown our relationship away.
I dialed Gen on my cell phone and paced while I waited for her to answer. When she finally did, I said, “I’m going after him.”
“What?” she asked.
“Chase. I’m going after him.”
“It’s about time.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to do it, but it’s going to be soon.” The need to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, tore at me. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Gen was silent a few seconds too long.
“Gen?”
“I heard him talking to Matt earlier. It sounded like he has a date tonight.”
I froze, the warmth draining from my face. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, that’s what it sounded like.”
“I’m too late,” I muttered, mostly to myself. I shouldn’t have waited.
You’re so stupid!
“Maybe you can catch him at home before he goes out. Tell him how you feel.”
“I’ll call you later, Gen,” I said, and hung up. She was right. I needed to go after him. Now. Before everything changed.
Before he falls for someone else.
Regret was a shitty emotion. I didn’t do well with regret. And, apparently, regret made me irrational. I found myself in my car, still wearing my fuzzy pajamas, my hair thrown up in a messy bun on the top of my head, racing across town to declare my love. While I drove, I realized I should have cleaned myself up, at least done my eye makeup, maybe changed into jeans. But all of a sudden there was no time.