Ninja Soccer Moms (9 page)

Or he could be nosing around Chad Tuggle's insurance office. Looking for what? It seemed weird to me that somebody wiped off Chad's home computer to
get rid of
something, while others broke into Chad's house
looking for
something. Was it all the same something? What did Dara hire Gabe for? I had to find out what Gabe was looking for.

One way to find out. I turned left on Broadway, then left on Grand Street, and went up to the signal to make a right on Lakeshore.

Gabe's truck stayed in the same place on the receiver.

I went past the Machado Street stoplight and turned left into the Stater Bros. parking lot. I looked around for Gabe's black truck and didn't spot it. But I did see a thin beam of light moving around in Chad's darkened office.

Bingo. Gabe was using a flashlight to snoop around. He probably parked in the alley behind Stater Bros. and the adjoining strip mall that held Chad's office. I parked in front of the Stater Bros., where Gabe wouldn't spot my car if he looked out Chad's front window. I looked at Ali. “I know Gabe is your good buddy, but this time I want you to stay with me and be quiet. No more stunts like you pulled at Duncan's Nursery today, okay?”

She shifted impatiently on her front paws.

I'd have to chance Ali not giving me away. I wasn't going to be stupid and go in Chad's dark office without her. The beam of light was gone now; either Gabe had turned it off, or he had moved back to the small kitchen area where I couldn't see it.

I held my car keys in my hand. We both got out of the car and went up to the office. Crime-scene tape stretched across the door. I ducked beneath it and reached out to test the door.

It opened.

Briefly, I paused with my hand on the door. Why was it unlocked if Gabe went in the back way?

One way to find out. I touched the fake pager unit filled with defense spray that I had clipped to my skirt and eased the door open. I whispered, “Let's go.” Ali followed me in. The glow of the parking lot lights bled into the office, barely outlining the shapes. No humans, just furniture.

The thought of Chad with his head bashed in and sprawled on the floor froze me.
Where had he been killed?
I wondered.
By his desk?
I shook the thought off. I had to go on—to see if Gabe was here, and why.

I bent down and whispered, “Ali, sit and stay right here.”

She sat. My heart kicked up. I'd checked and double-checked Angel's tracking device. I knew it worked because we'd tracked Gabe to Chad's house with it.

Gabe was snooping around looking for something.

But my heart hammered. That damned answering machine message spooked me. What-ifs played in my brain. What if the killer . . .

Stop it,
I told myself. I needed information from Gabe and I needed to tell him about the threat. I knew he'd tapped his sources to find out about Chad's murder, and I was going to get that information from him. I needed to keep my kids and Grandpa safe. Getting a grip on my fear, I pictured the office in my head like a map and started in, walking softly toward the back.

The deeper into the office I went, the darker it became. The glow from the parking lot lights didn't reach this far. Dark silence surrounded me, giving me that disconnected feeling.

I made it to the divider wall and stopped. My chest hurt and felt raw from my fear. A dull thud drummed in my ears. I checked my pager/defense spray hooked at my waist.

No sound except my breathing and the thudding in my ears. The faint sound of Ali's steady pant reached me. That made me feel safer. Quickly I pictured the little kitchen in my head—a small square about two-thirds the size of Chad's front office. The remaining third was a bathroom on my left, leaving most of the kitchen to my right. Green painted cupboards lined the wall directly to my right, then turned on an L shape where there was a stainless-steel sink next to a small white refrigerator. At least that was how the kitchen looked a couple of years ago. Plenty of cupboards to hide something, like money, in.

I held my breath, determined to find out what Gabe was looking for. I took a step into the dark kitchen.

A hand closed around my arm, yanked, and swung me around. I was stunned, a scream locked in my chest as my car keys flew out of my hand. My butt rammed into a countertop. Before I could move, a solid arm slammed into my neck, snapping my head back into a cupboard. I was unable to breathe; terror washed over me. I stared into the darkness, only able to make out the shape of a man.

A hard man.

The man who killed Chad? Was I going to die? Horrible fear washed a bile taste up the back of my throat. My two sons, TJ and Joel, they needed me. I couldn't die.

A low, vicious warning growl cut through my terror. Relief swept over me.
Ali!

In spite of the pressure against my windpipe, I croaked out, “My dog will kill you. She'll—”

“Shaw?” The pressure on my windpipe eased.

Ohmigod.
“Ali, down girl.” I called out. I couldn't believe this. Detective Vance? Ali knew Vance, which was probably the only reason she hadn't attacked him flat out without any warning.

The growling stopped.

“Let go of me, Vance.”

The pressure on my windpipe lifted completely. A light flashed on overhead.

I squinted through the sudden fluorescent glare to make sure it was Vance.

He stared at me with his hard-cut, lifeguard face. No dimples. In fact, he looked more tired than he had at the doughnut shop this morning. He had on tan pants and a black sweater, his usual casual elegance. He reached behind his back and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Samantha Shaw, you have the right to remain silent—”

“You can't be serious!” I pushed off the countertop. “You can't arrest me! I didn't do anything!”

He took another step toward me. “Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

Panic shoved against my breastbone.

He reached for my arm.

I twisted away to my right. “Vance!” I had my back to a small refrigerator. Ali sat down and watched this show with perked ears. She apparently didn't see any real threat here. Having spent some time in the police-dog academy, she was used to handcuffs.

Vance moved fast, snapping one cuff around my left wrist. Before I could register that, he spun me around and snapped the other behind my back.

My God, he was arresting me! My mother would kill me! Cripes, what was I thinking? I had two sons to worry about. My mother was the least of my problems.

Then I pictured her reaction if I was arrested. No, Mom was my biggest problem.

Vance pressed in from behind me. “If you cannot afford an attorney—”

“Vance! Listen to me!” I rested my forehead against the cool white of the fridge. It hurt my bruise, but that didn't seem important right now. Now that I was breathing actual oxygen instead of my own fear, I knew exactly what happened. “This is a mistake. I thought you were Gabe. He switched the tracking device.”

Vance turned me around so that I faced him. The usual gold flecks in his brown eyes look flat, like floating flotsam. He smelled of male frustration tinged with coconut suntan lotion. “Shaw, what the hell are you babbling about?” His gaze flicked up to my forehead. “Dammit, you're hurt.”

“Nah, that's not from you. Got that earlier from a client.” I felt my mouth twitch and knew I was on the verge of hysteria. I needed sleep and probably a new life. Oh, and a new boyfriend. My old one would be dead soon.

Vance's mouth quirked up so that his dimples made an appearance. “A client?”

“Never mind. But I believe there's a tracking device on your car.”

“What?”

Sure, why not confess all to the police? “It was on Gabe Pulizzi's truck. I thought Gabe was in here and I came in to—” okay, maybe I should lie a bit, “—warn him that it's illegal. But it turns out Gabe's not here. No, it's my favorite detective.” The sarcasm rolled off easily. “I bet Gabe is laughing his ass off.”

Vance's brown eyes sharpened. “I smell trouble in paradise.”

I shrugged. “That's because you're a cop. You always smell trouble. Come on, Vance, you're not going to arrest me.” I tried to inject confidence in my voice. Vance and I had an understanding—we agreed to blackmail each other, use each other, and dislike one another.

A change slid over Vance. His entire stance shifted from angry aggressive cop to—
uh-oh
. Heat flared to life in the gold chips in his brown eyes. Leaning in closer, his gaze skimmed down to my chest. With my hands cuffed behind me, my breasts were prominent in my low-cut, tight sweater. Okay, I'm a grown woman, a businesswoman, a mother of sons—I could handle a man.

But a cop with handcuffs?

My chest constricted like I'd been exercising. I sucked in a deep breath, then realized my mistake when his nostrils flared watching my breasts swell.

Vance dragged his gaze to mine. His voice dropped to a thick whisper. “I can see the outline of your bra.”

I was in big trouble. This was Gabe's fault. He made me so damned vulnerable, and I hated being vulnerable. When I knew things were going well between us, I could handle the sizzle between Vance and me.

But Gabe was keeping secrets from me and protecting Dara's skinny butt. He'd left me in the fishpond.

Vance and I were adversaries that used each other. For information. I ignored the hissing of my libido. “Get these cuffs off, Vance. This kind of abuse might work in the romances you write, but I won't put up with it.” I threw in the romance stuff to remind him I knew of his secret life.

A sun-god grin carved out his dimples. Lifting his hands, he put them against the fridge over my head and leaned down. His black sweater pulled across his swimmer's chest. “Ever read my books, Shaw? Of course you have. You always give them five stars for sensuality. I don't need handcuffs to bring a woman bone-melting pleasure.”

My breath hitched in my throat while my bones tried to melt to his hypnotic suggestion. Caught up in his gaze, his words, some of the scenes Vance had written stirred in my head. He always pitted tough heroes against feisty, smart women. Those women knew what they wanted, and often as not, they wanted the hero. They thought they were in control—right up until the sex scene. Heat and friction did things in my body.

“Ah, I see you remember, Shaw. You know I wrote those scenes. Now you're wondering if I am that good of a lover in the flesh, aren't you?”

I followed his sensual voice, thinking hot sizzling thoughts until my brain slipped in a little icy truth. Vance wrote romances. Most romances were written for women. Detective Logan Vance, aka R.V. Logan, knew the language of women. He was using that on me right now. “Damnit, Vance, knock it off. You can write porn for all I care. I'm more interested in finding who killed Chad than discovering if your dick is as big as your ego.”

His eyes hardened. “Turn around and spread your legs, Shaw. You are under arrest for tampering with a crime scene.”

Shit. He was arresting me.

V
ance couldn't be arresting me. This wasn't happening.

But the angry throb in Vance's voice told me otherwise. “Not only breaking into this active crime scene, but also a dead man's house. What are the chances that the prints on the can of defense spray I found on Chad Tuggle's carpet will match your prints? You are going to jail, Shaw.” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the refrigerator.

Shit, I'd completely forgotten about the defense spray. Rick had kicked it out of my hand. Pushed up against the refrigerator, I desperately tried to think. “I didn't break in anywhere!” Technically true. The doors were unlocked both at Chad's office and at home.

Vance stuck his foot between my shoes and pushed my legs apart. “No one breaks into my crime scenes and fucks with my case.” He ran his hands up under my arms then around beneath my breasts.

“I don't have a gun in my bra!”

“Not enough room with all that silicone? Or is it saline?”

God, I could feel his fury. I was in real trouble here. “Vance, I'm helping out Janie. Call her; she knows I was in Chad's house. She'll vouch for me. The house goes to her as the kids' guardian!” Panic wound through my words and pounded in my head.

His right hand stopped at the fake pager clipped to my skirt. “What's this?”

God, this only gets worse. I didn't dare tell him that it was actually defense spray after he'd found the can of defense spray at Chad's house. “It's just a pager.”

Vance slid it off and set it on the counter.

I struggled to think rationally. Vance was pissed. Tired of his case being fucked with. Things started clicking into place. The front door unlocked, Vance hanging out here in the dark. “You were staking out Chad's office.”

“Little late now to figure that out.”

Did Gabe know that? Had he sent me here on purpose to get me arrested and out of his way? The thought made me sick.

Vance put his hands back on my hips to continue his pat down.

“Look, you gotta believe me. I really thought Gabe was in here. I came in because I needed his help.” The raw truth hurt, but being arrested would hurt more. “Vance, I had a phone message. A threat.” I hadn't admitted it to myself, but I was running to Gabe. Who probably set me up to be arrested. When would I learn not to rely on a man?

His hands stopped and lifted off my butt. “When?”

“Let me turn around.” I was thinking fast. Okay, the truth was out, or some of it. I had to bargain with Vance.

He stepped back.

I turned, leaning against the fridge. The handle bit into a sore spot behind my hip. That was where I slammed into the counter when Vance grabbed me. Sucking up a breath, I told him about getting home earlier today and finding the message.

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“No, it sounded fake. Like muffled and lowered.” My breathing started returning to normal.

He looked at me. “What did you stir up to get threats?”

I summed up my day. “I sort of ran into Sophie Muffley and Rick Mesa and talked to them about Chad. That's it. Otherwise I was at work, went by the nursery, and, uh, the grocery store.”

He pulled his little red notebook out of his shirt pocket and flipped through it. “What did Sophie and Rick tell you?”

It didn't surprise me that Vance knew who Sophie and Rick were. I knew from experience that he did his homework. “They didn't tell me anything, except to stay out of it.” I left out the part about Rick being in Chad's house, probably looking for something.

Vance ran a hand over his face and tucked the notebook away. “Shaw, you broke into a crime scene, a dead man's house, and now you are probably investigating without a license since your boyfriend looks to be protecting the interests and assets of one Dara Reed. How do you get yourself into so much trouble?”

Hormones?
But the real question was how did I get myself
out
of so much trouble? “Are you going to let me go?”

Vance put a hand on the fridge over my head and leaned down. “I think we can work something out.”

Suspicion splashed over my brain. Quickly I tried to figure out Vance's angle. He had people breaking into his crime scenes—that was evident from his little trap. His quick arrest of me showed his anger. But was the anger from something more than crime-scene tampering? I was getting the runaround, and apparently threats, about investigating Chad. If everyone involved in soccer had closed ranks against me, then that probably meant . . . “You want me to spy for you?” I worked hard to summon up indignation. “You want me to talk to the people in town to find out information they won't tell you, the outsider cop?”

He raised both eyebrows and looked down into my face. “Your outrage would have more impact if you hadn't bugged your boyfriend's truck. And need I remind you that he put that bug on my car? If that's the truth, of course—something that I will find out shortly.”

I really didn't like hearing the facts from him. “Look Vance, I don't have a license to investigate—”

“I'm not asking you to investigate. Besides, we use informants all the time.”

I wanted to scream
no,
but I was handcuffed and Vance might be able to make a case to arrest me. I stared up at him and tried to keep my priorities straight, which meant I needed to know what Vance thought about Janie. “Do you think Janie Tuggle killed Chad?”

“I go where the facts take me. Janie Tuggle had reason to be pissed at her ex-husband. He got everything out of the divorce and stiffed her on payments for the house. Then there's the fact that she paid up his life insurance. The evidence shows a struggle took place behind Chad's desk by the paper shredder. It's possible that Janie and Chad had an argument and it got out of hand.”

I tried to process all of that. “You think Chad's death was an accident? But why would the person leave?”

“Could have been a lot of things. According to your story, you got your shirt caught in that paper shredder. How did that happen?”

A thread of deep fear coiled in my stomach. “I told you, it was an accident! Chad was getting me some hot chocolate here in the kitchen, and the bottom of my shirt hit the automatic mechanism on the shredder. Chad had to use scissors to cut me loose. It was just an accident.”

His brown eyes studied me. “You are an accident, Shaw. Look at you now, caught red-handed breaking into a crime scene with a lame story. Hell, if I find a bug on my car, how do I know you didn't put it there?”

Shit. He had me in a corner. “What do you want from me, Vance?”

“First, I want to know what you saw on Chad's computer yesterday morning here in his office.”

I was in a really tight situation here. I had never admitted to Vance that I had a disk of the SCOLE files, so to tell Vance about that now would probably piss him off more. “Uh, can you take the cuffs off first?”

He looked down at me. “No.”

An involuntary shiver rolled between my shoulder blades and sank into my belly. “First Chad showed me his program for the insurance business. Then he showed me his SCOLE files.”

“Soccer Club of Lake Elsinore?” Vance asked.

I wished he'd move back. “Yes.”

“What was on there?”

Okay, time to come clean. “Actually, I sort of have a copy of those files on a disk.”

His gaze flattened. “I want that copy.”

Which meant he didn't have the files on Chad's computer. I thought of the computer at Chad's house. “The computer files—they are all gone, aren't they?” So whoever killed him wiped out the files. That must mean the murder had something to do with the missing soccer money.

“I want that disk, Shaw.”

“Fine, I'll get it for you.” Right after I ask Grandpa to make us a copy of it.

“Do you know who might have had the skills to delete files from the hard drive, Shaw?”

“No.” Maybe. Janie was the one who taught Chad how to use the bookkeeping system, but why would Janie delete the files? For one thing, she knew I had a copy, and secondly, they were her proof that Chad was embezzling. Janie had Chad where she wanted him, so killing him made no sense. Who else could it be? Sophie? She worked with Chad part-time, so she might know how to wipe the computer clean. Rick? I'd seen a side of him I hadn't seen before at Chad's house today. I didn't really know.

“I don't think you get the rules here, Shaw. You are going to start helping me or you are going to jail. Which is it going to be?”

My head throbbed. The fact that I stood here with my hands cuffed behind my back indicated just how serious Vance was about blackmailing me into helping him. The fact that I once used Vance's secret life as an author of romance novels to blackmail him into helping me prove a man innocent of killing his wife proved that Vance held a grudge. I didn't see any choice since I couldn't do a thing for Janie from jail. “Fine. I'll be your narc. Just get me out of these handcuffs and get away from me.”

“I want the disk, too. First thing tomorrow morning, you drop that disk off at the station, got it? If it's not there by nine in the morning, I'll find you.”

Oh, just great. I was now at war with Gabe Pulizzi and working against my will with Detective Logan Vance.

 

 

Gabe wasn't home and didn't answer his cell phone. Ali watched me silently as I drove home and slinked through the front door. It took all my willpower not to take the tracking device Vance took off his car out of my purse and put it through the food processor. Then I could force-feed it to Gabe.

I pulled up short in the living room when I spotted Grandpa and the boys looking over several computer-generated greeting cards laid out on the coffee table. The TV blared a cop show. Ali raced over to check in with TJ and Joel.

TJ petted Ali, then picked up a card. “Mom, I think we should give Coach's family this card.”

The red haze of fury blurring my vision made it hard to see. “Tell you what, TJ, let me make a phone call, then I'll look.” I stormed to the kitchen and yanked the phone off the hook. I punched in Gabe's pager unit.

I watched the boys rolling on the floor with Ali while listening to Gabe's taped voice explaining my options for leaving a message. “You are a dead man, do you hear me, Gabe Pulizzi? Vance damn near arrested me tonight. He handcuffed me and—” I sucked in a breath, fighting down the sensation of sick anger. Of betrayal. I'd let Gabe into my life. I trusted him. “Don't call me!” I slammed the phone down.

Don't call me?
I groaned at my weak finish. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but my forehead wasn't up to the abuse. Maybe I should call him back and say something clever.

I was too mad to think of something clever.

Grandpa walked into the kitchen. “Vance almost arrested you?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” I went to the pantry and pulled out a bag of food for Ali and headed for her dish by the sliding glass door. Ali beat me there and stuck her nose into the dog food bag. “Back up, Ali.”

She stepped back and sat down to watch me pour her food. I smiled at my awesome dog. Husbands and boyfriends should be so well trained.

Grandpa filled up her water dish at the sink and set it down by her food. “I couldn't find much on Dara Reed. Found her son registered at high school. But nothing about her except a driver's license. Couldn't even find a credit card.”

I put the dog food away in the pantry, and then leaned back against the stove. Oh, boy, I was going to have a bruise on the back of my hip from Vance whipping me around in Chad's office kitchen. Thinking about Dara, I said, “Are you sure? No credit cards?” What kind of self-respecting woman didn't have credit cards? It was unnatural.

“No history before she moved to Lake Elsinore.”

Idly rubbing the back of my hip, I met Grandpa's gaze. “What do you think it means?”

“I think Dara Reed doesn't want a lot of info floating around the Internet about her. I suspect she came to Lake Elsinore from out of state, which means I'd have to dig a little deeper. I put out some discreet feelers through my Triple M group.”

That caught my attention. I looked across the narrow kitchen to where he was leaning against the sink. “Discreet?”

Grandpa went to the refrigerator and took out a of couple of beers. “Well, it looks to me like Dara might not want to be found. I don't want to send up red flags if she has a good reason.”

That never occurred to me. A good reason? As in hiding? Dara showed up in town with a son and no man. The first thing that popped into my head was, “Like hiding from an abusive husband?”

“Crossed my mind.” He handed me a beer.

I twisted off the top and took a drink. “This whole case is just weird. Like a huge puzzle with missing pieces.”

Grandpa studied me with his crafty blue eyes. “Who do you think might have some of those missing pieces?”

I ran through my thoughts out loud. “Everyone seems to have secrets. And I think those secrets led to Chad's murder. There's the missing soccer money, which may or may not be what everyone is looking for. Everyone being Gabe, Dara, Rick, Sophie . . . ” I trailed off. Ali barked and gave me her pleading look. Big eyes, ears laid back. I went over and dumped some beer into her licked-clean food dish and added, “You know Vance isn't getting any answers, either.” I gave him the short version of Vance's demand that I help him and turn over the copy of the SCOLE disk.

Grandpa's blue eyes turned speculative and he lifted his beer bottle up to examine it. “He's not asking at the right time. Like, say, at a lingerie party when the alcohol is flowing.”