Shattered Dreams (37 page)

“She said three o’clock and it’s five after. Where the hell is she?”

He pressed the bell numerous times and pounded again. Frustrated, he walked over to the window and peered inside. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he did a three sixty, checking things out as he went. He headed for the backyard, intending to get a better look inside from the rear.

At the open gate, he stopped short as a spot of color pulled his gaze. He sucked in air.

“Shit!”

While running toward the deck, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in 911. The sight of Elise’s inert form, lying facedown in the middle of the pool, chilled him to the bone.

He barked sharp orders into the phone, giving the dispatcher on the other end brief instructions before tossing aside his phone and diving in.

Once he had Elise on the patio, he bent over and pinched her nose, doing CPR. Her warm body told him it wasn’t entirely a useless effort, so he continued working on Elise until he heard sirens.

Within minutes, a Palm Beach County sheriff’s deputy came barreling through the gate.

“O’Malley? Is she responding?” the officer asked as he knelt beside him.

“Barely. I finally got a pulse after three minutes,” he replied, recognizing Charlie Dolan as he took over. “Water’s come out of her mouth, but she’s not breathing on her own yet.”

“Here, I’ll take over. What can you tell me about her?”

“Thanks.” Jimbo stood, and the deputy started CPR. “Like I told the dispatcher, she was floating facedown when I got here. Name’s Elise Roberts. We had an appointment.”

The officer continued CPR until the gate opened, and two medics with a gurney charged past Jimbo moments later.

“She’s got a pulse and breathing on her own, but it’s labored.” Dolan stepped back and let the medics work.

In minutes, Elise’s unconscious body was on the stretcher with the medics pushing it toward an ambulance.

Still dripping water from his dive, Jimbo watched Dolan speak in a low tone into his phone as he paced.

When he was done, Dolan stuffed the phone in his pocket and looked around, gradually pivoting. “Wait out here.” The deputy grabbed his flashlight and started for the house.

“Find anything?” Jimbo asked once Dolan returned and handed him a towel.

“What else can you tell me about her?” Ignoring his question, the officer indicated the direction the medics had disappeared and pulled out a notebook with pen from his pocket. “You said you had an appointment?”

“Yeah. We made arrangements to meet this morning. She was helping me on a case I’m working. Had a cell phone that may or may not be tied to a murder investigation.”

“This the cell phone?” Dolan said, holding one up with a gloved hand.

Jimbo shook his head. “Don’t know without looking at it.”

“Too late. Now it’s part of this investigation.” The officer stuck the phone into a plastic bag and handed him a pair of gloves. “Put these on, and I’ll let you look at her dartboard before everyone gets here.”

“Dartboard?”

“Yeah. You gotta see this.”

Jimbo dried off as best he could, and followed Dolan inside after putting on the latex gloves.

“Looks like she was drinking. Also, there’s a bottle of pills.”

Jimbo picked up the bottle and read the label. “Tranquilizers. Maybe she mixed the two and had an accident.”

“Maybe. Nothing’s been disturbed.”

He nodded, looking around the room until his gaze caught what Dolan had been talking about. Pictures of Claire, her head in the center of a target drawn in Magic Marker, stared back at him. Dozens of photos in various poses taken on various days were tacked to the board, and all with holes made from darts that were sitting on the counter.

“Holy shit!” He moved to take one and inspect it. Yep. Definitely photos of Claire, not Crystal. He could tell them apart. “Looks as if she’s carrying a bit of a grudge.”

“Appears that way.”

Jimbo sighed and shook his head. “Maybe Snyder’s on to something.”

“Snyder?”

“Deputy down in Key Largo. He’s trying to find a murderer who stabbed and dumped a body a couple of weeks ago.”

“I heard about that. I recognize this face. Wasn’t she a suspect for a while?”

Jimbo nodded. “She was cleared. Then her house caught fire. Not accidentally.” He indicated the wall of targets. “Could be Elise Roberts had something to do with it. Definitely some hatred showing here.”

He threw the picture on the counter. “I’ve got a few things to check up on. Do you need me any longer?”

Dolan stood up. “I need a statement. It shouldn’t take long. Let’s go outside. Forensics should be here soon.”

Chapter 53

“What do you think?” Jason asked Jimbo as they sat down to lunch on Wednesday, two days after Elise’s near drowning.

His ex was in a coma at a nearby hospital in intensive care. He prayed she’d recover, prayed even harder she wasn’t responsible for killing Carl or burning Claire’s house. But the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he needed more than prayer.

“Let’s look at it objectively.” Jimbo placed his elbows on the table. “Cut through all the layers.”

“That’s the freaking problem. Nothing about this case has been clear from the very beginning. What would motivate Elise?”

“Don’t know, but the shit Snyder’s uncovered is hard to ignore. He’s been busy.”

Jason expelled a long breath. “That’s an understatement. I wonder if the guy sleeps.”

He took a bite of the salad the waitress had placed in front of him. Snyder’s digging was tunneling directly in Elise’s direction, banishing all thoughts of Crystal’s involvement.

Glancing over at Jimbo, he said, “I feel like I’ve been run over by a bulldozer. It’s so freaking hard to believe Elise is responsible, that she accidentally almost drowned plotting Claire’s demise.”

“If those pictures weren’t convincing enough, what he found in her computer clinches it. We can’t overlook that transaction, the one pointing to Claire, diverting the proceeds from the stocks Carter sold. It came directly from the laptop. How’d she get that kind of information?”

“God only knows,” Jason said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How could I live with her for eleven years and not know?”

And how could she have the pieces to create an incendiary device on hand, much less have the knowledge to implement one? Of course, her computer had links to websites detailing that information. He never thought Elise was capable of such things.

“People change,” Jimbo said sagely.

“But is she a demented killer?”

Jason rubbed his temple, feeling empty, both physically and emotionally drained. How would his girls get through this? How would Claire get through this? Hell, how would he get through this?

“What about that Myers guy?” he asked, grasping at straws, anything to keep from facing the truth about his ex. “You finish checking on their story?”

“He’s uncooperative. So far his account’s accurate. I’m heading over later this afternoon to question the bartender who waited on them, just to tie it up with a neat little bow. But the way I see it, Gwen Anderson’s as big a dead end as the others in her office. Which leads us back to Elise. Dolan let me examine her cell phone.”

“Did I push her to it?”

“I’m still checking on the assistant too.” Jimbo’s voice hardened. “You aren’t responsible, Roberts.”

“If not, then why do I feel responsible? For Claire too, only she won’t let me in.”

“Give it time.”

“Screw time. I’ve given her time.”

Okay. Five days didn’t constitute a
lot
of time. Still, Jason hadn’t pushed, though he wanted to—in a big way.

And now his patience
grew
thin. Silk-thread thin and chafing. Waiting for her to decide what she wanted was killing him inch by inch. Every day he watched, unable to do anything as she distanced herself further.

Couldn’t she see how good they were together? How the girls responded to her stable, warm influence? She fit into his life as if she’d always been there.

The concern Claire showed for Elise over the last two days wasn’t feigned. One might think Elise was a relative, not some crazy person who’d tried to burn her out of house and home.

None of that mattered. What really mattered? This burning in his gut—a desire to have Claire enmeshed in his life. She already owned his heart.

As much as he longed for her, Jason had no idea how to go about getting her.

Chapter 54

Later that afternoon, Jimbo strode into Checkers Bar and Grille.

Once inside, he removed his sunglasses and grabbed one of the last empty bar stools in the crowded room.

A bartender was busy washing glasses. He set the last one down and wiped his hands on a towel at his waist. “What’ll you have?”

“Draft beer.”

When he acknowledged the order and reached for a glass, Jimbo added, “I’m also here for information.” He watched the bartender pull the lever and pour. “Are you Doug Richards?”

When he nodded, Jimbo took the pictures out of his pocket and slid them toward Doug.

“This guy says he was in here with this woman three weeks ago. You remember them?”

Doug placed a beer in front of him and picked up the pictures. “I know him. Name’s Myers. He usually comes in alone. Never leaves alone.”

“What about her? He’d have been with her.” Jimbo pointed to Gwen in the picture.

“Let me think. There was one night he was with someone, but she looked different.” Richards studied the picture again. “The lady I saw had longer, darker hair?”

“You’re sure?”

“I usually remember the ladies, and she looks familiar, but I can’t be certain.” When Jimbo’s eyebrows quirked, Doug grinned and nonchalantly lifted a shoulder. “It’s one of the perks of my job.” He indicated the picture. “Was she drugged?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We watch this guy closely.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Had a couple of complaints. When a woman comes in the next day asking if you remember her because she thinks she might’ve been drugged, you take notice. When it happens more than once, you start watching for guys slipping things into drinks. Bad for business.”

“You think Myers drugs women?”

He shrugged. “Can’t prove it.”

Jimbo asked a few more questions and wrote down the bartender’s replies. When done, he pocketed the pictures and placed a twenty on the bar, murmuring his thanks.

He walked out and headed to his next stop.

“I’m here to see John Myers.” Jimbo flashed his warmest smile at the receptionist. “We were meeting later for drinks. My plans have changed and I can’t make it, only he’s not answering his cell, so I stopped by to let him know.”

“That’s because he’s been in meetings. He just got out. If you’ll sit down, I’ll let him know you’re here, Mister . . . ?”

“O’Malley. That’s okay, I’ll surprise him.” He started down the hallway. At the door with the right name, he pushed inside.

“What the—?”

“Sit down.”

“You can’t just barge in here.” Myers picked up the phone.

“Answer my questions and I’ll leave.”

“How dare you!”

“You wanna call Broward County Sheriff’s Office and tell ’em how you’re drugging women?” His face distorting in disgust, Jimbo leaned forward. “I’m not afraid of a scumball like you. But you’d better fear me because you don’t want me investigating your past.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Then tell me about the night you spent with Gwen Anderson.”

“What about that night? I went out with her.”

“Bartender says you left the bar around eight. What did you do between eight and ten?”

“What do you think?” Myers asked, sporting a satisfied smirk. A knock sounded at the door, and his grin widened. “I’m done answering questions.”

“No problem.” Jimbo presented an unconcerned smile and shrugged before heading for the door.

Just as it opened, he glanced back. “I think I’ll dig a little deeper into your bar activity, though.”

Chapter 55

“I’ll help with those.” Claire rose. Dishes in hand, she followed Amelia into the kitchen, using the diversion to escape Jason’s sizzling gaze. All during dinner, she’d felt it.

“Thanks, Auntie Claire.”

While Amelia stood at the sink readying the water, Claire cleared the table, thankful that Jason and Chloe had headed upstairs.

In companionable silence, she dried, letting her mind wander as the child chattered and washed.

Work on the kitchen had progressed. This was Wednesday, which meant appliances would be delivered tomorrow. Jason planned to work on the countertops over the weekend. He’d spent the last two evenings working well into the night, finishing the floor while she kept the girls company.

Claire could tell he used the work as a means not to think about the situation, clearly not knowing how to deal with his daughters’ questions concerning Elise.

She had easily stepped into the role of confidante, assuaging their trauma, using memories of how she’d felt after her own accident in an effort to add to their normality.

Though she’d fought attachment, she’d failed. Miserably.

How could she remain detached when they needed her so desperately, and she needed to be needed just as much?

“Are you gonna play cards with us tonight?” Amelia asked while Claire folded the towel and placed it on the bar.

On the brink of begging off, of going to her room to disconnect, she stopped when the child grabbed her arm.

“Please? Daddy said he’d play if you did.”

“I guess I could be persuaded.” She ruffled Amelia’s dark hair and smiled into blue eyes too much like her father’s.

Being under Jason’s roof, so close, fighting to keep her distance from him was like resisting chocolate brownies. Adding Amelia and Chloe into the mix created double-chocolate fudge brownies. She could only look at a plate of her favorite dessert for so long without craving a taste.

Often over the past five days, Claire would look up and catch Jason’s contemplative stare, a look so full of stark yearning it sent goose bumps along her extremities before he shuttered it. At those times, she ached to give in to her craving for a hug—
just one hug
.