Fugitive Justice (4 page)

Merrilla gave a weak smile and set her cup down. “I don’t need those kind of pictures. If you’re willing to help me, I only need to know it’s true, and who the woman is, to be satisfied my suspicions are correct.”

Jake wasn’t curious about what she planned to do with the information he would obtain. These situations often led to divorce, but more often than not, after being confronted with their indiscretions, the guilty party would “fess up” and make an attempt to reconcile. At least, for a while. Often, when things were smooth sailing again, they would slip back into their old habits. Jake had caught more than one repeat cheater.

But he’d keep that to himself unless she asked. He wasn’t in the marriage counseling business.

Merrilla continued, seemingly eager to share the details of her suspicions. “My husband’s a real estate agent, and since he’s on the road a lot, it’s hard to be sure where he might be at any given moment.”

Jake could see himself running around the city, chasing a man from house to house in the hopes of catching him in the wrong place at the right time. It sounded like a massive and boring chore.

Merrilla allayed his thoughts of an unpleasant and drawn-out job. “He’s doing it in our home,” Merrilla said. “You only need to watch the house, wait for them, and get some photos of them coming and going. I suspect they meet up there every day, or almost every day.”

“Every day?” Jake asked, an unintended note of disbelief in his voice. He noticed Merrilla Overstone was a reasonably good-looking woman, and he wondered what kind of man would have an ongoing affair to such an active degree.

She nodded. “No matter how careful he thinks he might be, I can tell when someone has been there. It’s the little things. The smell of strange perfume, the way the towels in the bathroom are folded, and his attempt to remake the bed. And there’s more.” She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. “It’s been going on for some time, and a woman always knows.”

“Do you have any children?” Jake asked.

She shook her head and offered a weak smile. “We never had time for kids. We both work.” She sighed. “Even if I wanted children, it’s too late for me now.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “And maybe too late for us, anyway.”

Jake took a long gulp of coffee and set it back down, massaging the edge of the cup with his forefinger. He had half a mind to turn the job down. Sometimes he’d rather be out chasing serial killers and mass murderers than sit in the front seat of a car all day.

He looked back at Merrilla and studied her face. The unhappy look in the eyes of the heartbroken woman was enough to sway him.

“I’ll need a retainer,” he said reluctantly.

Merrilla smiled with relief, then snapped open her handbag, removed an envelope, and slid it across the table. “There’s two thousand dollars in there, as we discussed on the phone.”

Jake opened the flap of the envelope and flipped through the bills with a thumb, then slipped the package into the inner pocket of his jacket. “That’ll do for a couple of days,” he said.

“Let me know if you need more.”

Jake nodded. “We’ll see how it goes. Did you bring me a picture of your husband?”

She rifled through her handbag, produced a four-by-six photo, and held it out. “Here’s a fairly recent shot,” she said. “He still looks the same. His name is Niles. Niles Overstone. And he’ll be driving a Lexus.”

Jake took the photo and glanced at the close-up of a man’s face. He looked pleasant enough, with short-cropped hair and warm brown eyes. The man was a couple of years older than his wife, and rather handsome—not in a rugged square-jawed way, but with boyish good looks—and he sported a cheerful smile on his friendly face. But then, you couldn’t tell a cheater by looking at his face.

Jake tucked the photo into his pocket alongside the packet of bills. “What about the woman?” he asked. “Do you have any idea who she might be?”

Merrilla shook her head. “I have no idea. Originally, I had the thought of setting up some hidden cameras in the house. But then I realized that might not work so well. I had no way of knowing when it would be safe to set them up, and besides, I was afraid he might discover them.”

Jake nodded and figured she should’ve gone with her first idea.

“Where does your husband work?” he asked.

“Richmond Realty. It’s downtown, but like I said, he’s not there most of the time.” She produced a business card from her handbag. “Here’s his card, and his cell phone number’s on there.” She frowned. “It might not be a good idea to call him.”

“I don’t expect I’ll be calling him. Maybe his office. I haven’t worked it all out yet.” Jake drained his coffee and pushed the cup to one side. “I’ll probably watch the house until they show up. So, I’ll need your address.”

Merrilla told Jake her house address, and he wrote it down on the back of Nile’s business card along with her cell phone number.

She pointed to the number. “You can call me anytime. Please, keep me informed.”

“I will,” Jake said, tucking the card into his pocket.

Merrilla looked at her watch and then back at Jake. “If there’s nothing more you need, I’m already late for work, and I’d better get a move on.”

“I have everything I need for now,” Jake said.

“Thank you,” Merrilla said with a smile, then she clutched her handbag in one hand and rose to her feet. “I look forward to hearing from you.” She wound her way past the waiting customers and out the front door.

Jake swooped up the empty cups and dropped them into the recycle container, then headed out to the car. He called Annie and told her he was taking the job, and that he loved her, and he would see her later in the afternoon.

Chapter 6

Tuesday, 10:03 a.m.

JAKE TOOK ANOTHER look at the back of the business card as he turned down Mulberry Lane. According to the information Merrilla had given him, she and her husband Niles lived at number 166.

The houses on Mulberry were of the larger cookie-cutter variety. The subdivision was twenty or so years old—plenty of time to allow each of the similar two-story houses in this mature upper-middle-class neighborhood to develop its own character. Most had a double-width driveway in front of a two-car garage, along with a generous front lawn. Many of the properties were separated from their neighbors by rows of hedges, large shrubs, or blooming flowerbeds.

Jake kept one eye on the house numbers as he eased down the block. Halfway down, he spied the number he was straining to see. He drove past 166, pulled a U-turn, and parked across the street in front of the neighbor’s house. From where he sat under the shade of a maple tree, he had a direct view of the entrance to the Overstone house and the empty driveway in front.

He called Richmond Realty, and a woman with a sultry voice answered the phone. She informed him Niles Overstone was not in his office, but he could be reached on his cell phone or voicemail. Jake said he’d call back later in the day. He decided if Niles didn’t show up at the house within the next couple of hours, he would make an anonymous call to the man under some pretense or another.

He thanked her and hung up, turning his attention back to the house. As he stared at the empty driveway, he thought it strange a man would carry on an affair in his own home. Perhaps he felt safe in the knowledge his wife was at work. He never expected to get caught, anyway, and it was because of his own carelessness he was now under suspicion.

Jake unzipped the sports bag that lay on the passenger seat and pulled out the pair of binoculars and the camera. He laid the camera on the seat beside him and scanned the front of the house with the glasses. There was no visible movement through the limited view he had of the front window.

Setting the binoculars down, he took the camera and got out of the car, crossed the street, and walked toward the front of the house. He glanced around and then strode boldly up the driveway and around to the side of the garage.

Pushing open a wooden gate, he went down a stone pathway between the garage and a high cedar hedge bordering the property. He peeked in the small window of an entrance door and frowned.

A bright red Lexus sat in the nearest bay. The other one was empty.

Niles Overstone was home.

Was Jake already too late? Was the girl in there with him, or would she be coming later, if indeed they had a rendezvous planned for that morning?

Jake snapped a few pictures of the inside of the garage, then strode back down the driveway, crossed over the street, and got into the Toyota. He laid the camera on the seat beside him and picked up the binoculars. He’d have to wait until they left.

Annie had insisted on tinted windows in her new car, making it harder than normal to see through binoculars or take photos through the glass. He wound down the driver-side window, stuck his elbow out, and trained the glasses on the house.

Though a handful of cars had eased up the quiet street, so far he hadn’t seen any pedestrians. Among the area’s residents, like the Overstones, both partners likely worked to maintain their lifestyle in this neighborhood. If they had any children at all, they would be at school or perhaps grown up and moved on.

He settled in, stretched, and yawned. It wasn’t necessarily the stakeout itself he didn’t like; it was the waiting. Sure, he got paid for sitting in a car doing nothing, but it was boring beyond belief. It was all part of the job, though. He moved the seat all the way back, propped his sunglasses on his nose, then slouched down and waited.

Ten minutes of inaction later, he bolted upright, pulled off his sunglasses, and squinted through the binoculars. A man had been strolling up the street from the opposite direction. Jake hadn’t paid him more than a casual glance, but as the man turned and went up the pathway toward the house, he’d caught Jake’s attention.

He grabbed the camera and snapped a dozen photos as the man climbed the steps, opened the front door, and disappeared inside.

Jake wondered if the man was Niles, who’d gone up the street for some reason and was now returning. But the sloppy clothes and ragged baseball cap the newcomer was wearing didn’t look like the casual dress of a real estate agent. He had zoomed the lens in, but he hadn’t been able to get much of a glimpse of the man’s face.

Jake squinted at the small monitor and looked through the pictures, one at a time, zooming in on the head of the man. Even though the subject was wearing a baseball cap, making it hard to be sure, the man in the picture appeared to have short hair. Jake decided it wasn’t Niles.

The strange thing was that even though Niles was inside, he’d left the door unlocked. There seemed no doubt he was expecting a visitor.

And if Niles hadn’t intended to stay long, why’d he bothered to park his car in the garage?

Something was definitely fishy about this whole thing, and it sure didn’t look like there was any kind of an affair going on. At least, not a love affair or a sexual liaison. Unless Niles was bisexual. That was a distinct possibility, although Merrilla hadn’t so much as hinted in that direction.

Merrilla might be able to identify the man once Jake had a chance to show her the photos. When one or both men left the house, Jake hoped he could get some clearer shots of the visitor.

Perhaps everything was on the up and up, but Merrilla had paid him to do exactly what he was doing. And if everything turned out innocently enough, he’d be happy for the distraught woman.

He reached into the sports bag and removed a carefully wrapped package. The ham sandwiches Annie had put together for him would be a pleasant break. He devoured two of the four, polished off a bottle of water, and decided to save the rest of the food for later.

Five minutes later, he sprang to a sitting position and listened intently. Unless his ears had fooled him, and he was sure they hadn’t, he’d heard the distinct sound of a gunshot.

And it had come from inside the Overstone residence.

Chapter 7

Tuesday, 10:46 a.m.

JAKE TOSSED THE binoculars onto the passenger seat and jumped from the vehicle. Something unusual and no doubt lethal was going on inside the Overstones’ house.

Judging by the dubious appearance of the bedraggled visitor who’d entered the dwelling a few minutes ago, Jake assumed Niles Overstone was in mortal danger. He’d only heard one shot coming from the house, but one was all it took, and Niles might be dead or dying at this very moment.

He dashed across the street at an angle, leaped over a hedge, and crossed the lawn, approaching the large picture window in the front of the house. The curtains were drawn halfway, the balance of the window covered by sheers, and he couldn’t make out much of anything inside. He leaned closer, squinting through a narrow gap, and gazed around the living room. It was empty. Whatever had happened, it didn’t appear to have taken place in that room.

With three long-legged leaps, Jake reached the front porch and tested the door. It was unlocked. He eased it open and listened, then pushed it open all the way and stepped into a small foyer.

The living room was directly to his left, and a glance confirmed no one was in the room. To his right was a small door. He poked at it with his forefinger and it swung open. It was a bathroom, and it was empty.

The kitchen stood at the end of a short hallway, dead ahead. He could make out some cupboards on the far wall and, from where he stood, nothing appeared amiss.

To his right and slightly ahead, a set of stairs led upwards, no doubt to the bedrooms.

Then a soft groan came from the direction of the kitchen. He crept down the hallway toward the room, being cautious not to make a sound. His running shoe made a soft squeak on the hardwood floor and he froze. If someone had been shot, and the shooter was still in the house, he didn’t want to be the next victim.

The problem he faced was whoever had fired the shot might be getting away, and the gunman would be long gone before the first cruiser could arrive. But he had no choice. He had to notify the police before investigating further, and he hoped the pictures he’d snapped earlier would be enough to identify the fugitive.