Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (130 page)

“Well, at least we can narrow things down. It was a man, not a little green monster from Mars.”

Lucy rushed forward to defend Megan. “She’s a minor. You’ve no right to question her without me present, Gant. Give her a second. She’ll tell you everything she knows.”

Megan gripped Lucy’s hand and took a breath. “I only saw one man. His head was obscured by the top of the cabin, so I’d guess he was close to six feet or taller. He wasn’t black, but wasn’t pale. Either very tan or brown-skinned.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure if he had dark hair or if he was wearing a dark colored ball cap. I just saw a flash of black when he leaned forward.”

Gant took notes, stopped when Megan went silent, and turned his glare onto Lucy. “And you? Sounds like you got fairly close to the boat.”

“Too close—all I could see was the hull, I couldn’t make out the man at all. Does it have GPS we can track?”

“Already checked. It’s turned off.” He narrowed his eyes. “Go change into dry clothes. The chief wants you both down at the station for formal interviews.”

Lucy fished her car keys out of her sodden messenger bag—thankfully, she’d had all the compartments zipped shut before her unscheduled swim. The only thing that might be permanently damaged was her phone. “We’ll be there.”

Mateo’s uncle followed them to the parking lot. “Thank you for trying.”

“I only wish I’d been more help.” Lucy thought for a moment. “Are you going back to the house?”

“Yes. The police want us there in case—” He faltered, obviously thinking of the worst reason on earth why the police would want a family handy.

“I’m sure Mateo’s all right,” Megan said, touching Jorge’s arm.

His worry didn’t ease. “They were talking like he might somehow be involved. When I gave them his phone, they said it was evidence.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean evidence he committed any crime,” Lucy hastened to reassure him. “But he worked at the Flemings’ house on a regular basis. He might have seen something before today and not even know it was important.”

Jorge frowned. “I guess. Maybe.”

“I know you said Mateo didn’t have a computer, but what about social media? Did he have any favorite sites?” Usually, kids Mateo’s age, their online activity provided a more complete picture of who they were and what was really going on in their life than any interview with parents.

“He posted photos—loved taking pictures with his phone, especially of houses. Wants to be an architect some day.”

Photos often had geotagging embedded in them. Which would give some idea of Mateo’s movements. Not much to go on, but in a case like this, you never knew what might help. Jorge gave Lucy Mateo’s access codes, so she should be able to take a look at his emails, texts, and any remotely stored images even though his phone was in evidence. After all, he’d already given her permission to go through everything on the cell. She made a note to grab her laptop from their hotel room. She had a feeling they’d be doing a lot of waiting as the night went on and she could work from the police station as well as anywhere.

“Thanks,” she told Jorge. “I’ll call if I find anything helpful.”

She and Megan got into the car and headed past the shopping center to their hotel. “He’s right,” Megan said. “They think Mateo might be involved, don’t they? Some kind of inside man?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, his mom and aunt told me there was a lot of money in Pastor Fleming’s safe. I mean, a whole lot. Tens of thousands of dollars from these church loans he was going to pay back. Makes it easy to blame someone like Mateo who knew the money was there and had access. But,” she twisted in her seat to face Lucy, “I know he didn’t do it. He’d never have tortured Pastor Fleming to get the combination to the safe. He had the keys to the house—he could have easily have gotten the combination without resorting to violence. And why would he take both the pastor and the money? If he did do it, why not just run?”

Lucy noticed Megan didn’t bring up what was really bothering her. “If he is guilty, would he be foolish enough to set up an alibi with the daughter of a FBI agent?”

“Right. We would have known if he was lying to us, trying to use us. Wouldn’t we? Of course we would,” she answered her own question. “Mateo’s not stupid. He wouldn’t risk you getting the FBI involved.”

“So you don’t think Mateo is one of the bad guys.” Lucy tried to keep the question out of her voice. If she hadn’t met the boy and if he hadn’t gotten Megan involved, it would be so much easier to stay objective and let the facts sort themselves out.

But Megan needed reassurance. Now. Despite her outward confidence and her aura of maturity, she’d be forever shaken if Mateo had betrayed her. If Megan couldn’t trust her instincts about people, how would she ever be able to trust anyone?

That was the path Lucy walked, borderline paranoia. Only, thanks to Nick and Megan, she never made it very far, as much as she sometimes wanted to barricade her family and live by the policeman’s credo of trust no one, assume nothing.

It was a life she would never wish on her daughter.

“No. I don’t think Mateo is one of the bad guys,” Megan finally said. “Do you?”

Lucy thought for a moment, weighing all the inconsistencies of the crime scene. “I think we need to see where the evidence leads. For me, right now, it’s not pointing in that direction. But that doesn’t mean we can interfere with Chief Hayden’s investigation.”

Megan seemed disappointed in Lucy’s lack of commitment, but nodded. “Okay.” She glanced at Lucy. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”

Chapter 12

After she changed clothes, swapping the sodden khakis and blouse she’d worn to meet Mateo’s family for a pair of shorts and a polo top, Lucy stepped out onto the balcony for privacy and called Nick on Megan’s phone—hers was totally soaked and she didn’t want to risk turning it on until it had dried.

He wasn’t happy with the direction their spring break had taken. “She picked this guy up? How could she have acted so rashly?”

Lucy found herself in the unusual position of playing therapist. It wasn’t often that she was the calm one when it came to discussing Megan. “Seems like pretty normal teenage behavior to me. I mean, seriously, do you know any other girl her age whose parents subject their every choice to such scrutiny?”

“With our jobs, we’re not exactly helicopter parents, able to be with her physically every moment.”

“Exactly why we overcompensate. We’re trying too hard to protect her, make sure we’re involved in her life. But she’s fourteen, that’s the last thing she wants from us.”

“So you’re saying she’s making bad choices on purpose? To rebel?”

“I’m saying when I was her age, my choices were a lot worse. To think of my poor mom, raising me alone—” Lucy blinked as her eyes misted. She’d lost her mother only a few months ago and grief still ambushed her at unexpected moments.

“Did you get involved with an older man accused of murder?” Nick’s tone was pure protective paternalism—not a trace of the neutral clinical observer, the professional psychologist, or the Zen-harmony he usually brought to family discussions.

“She’s on vacation, at the beach, not with her friends but with her mother, the FBI agent. Of course she flirts with the first cute guy she meets—it’s totally safe. No friends around to judge her if he shoots her down, no risk of humiliation, and she knows I’d never let anything bad happen if her judgment is off.”

“Sounds like it couldn’t be more off. Violent, vicious, bloody murder.”

“There’s no body.”

“Not yet. And he set her up to walk in on the crime scene? How could she not have sensed something was off with this guy?”

“You mean how could I have missed it? After all, I spent the morning with them. I gave her permission to see him this afternoon.”

His silence was damning. Totally understandable—he wasn’t here, he hadn’t met Mateo, seen how protective his was of Megan while teaching her surfing, heard the caring tone of his voice when he spoke of his family.

“I’m not sure she was wrong,” Lucy finally said. “I think he’s innocent.” There. She’d put her money where her mouth was.

This time Nick’s silence was different. Less judgmental, more consideration. How many times had she trusted her gut instinct about a person and been right?

More importantly, how many times had she been wrong? Not many.

The silence lengthened but wasn’t uncomfortable. “Okay,” Nick finally said. “If you believe he’s innocent, so do I. But what can we do about it? Not like murder in a small resort town is any business of the FBI. Last thing we want is Megan to try to play Nancy Drew because she thinks Mateo is getting railroaded by the locals. After all, she gets her patience from you.” Translation: lack of patience.

“Guess I’ll just have to work behind the scenes myself. Figure out a way to prove his innocence.”

“Without letting Megan get involved.”

“Right.” That was going to be the tricky part.

“You’re the one there. I trust your call,” Nick said. “Want me to come down?”

“I’m not sure what you could do to help—other than provide distraction. I think sheer frustration at how slow a case like this can progress and the reality that we might never find all the answers are going to be the toughest things for her to handle.” For Lucy as well, but that was part of the job.

“Let me see if I can get someone to cover for me.” His tone was doubtful—if it had been that easy, he would have made the arrangements to start with.

Before he hung up, she had one more request. Something had been nagging at her ever since she’d seen the crime scene. “Can you give me Don Burroughs’ home number?” Burroughs was her Pittsburgh Police Bureau friend who used a pump just like the one Pastor Fleming had lost. “I need to ask him about insulin pumps.” Used to be she’d memorize all the contact numbers she needed—now they were all at her fingertips stored in her cell, except of course, when it was out of commission.

“I’ll try my best to get down there,” Nick assured her after giving her Burroughs’ number. “In the meantime, watch out. For both of you.”

“You know I will.”

***

When Mateo woke again, the boat had come to a stop, the lurching motion replaced by a gentle rocking. He felt sick but his mouth was so parched he couldn’t even bring himself to throw up. There was the sound of a small engine then the boat’s rocking grew stronger as someone climbed on board.

“How could you be so stupid?” a woman asked. Her voice was muffled by the fiberglass walls between Mateo’s prison and the deck. He’d decided he was locked inside a storage compartment, either below deck or inside a cabin. “One simple little job, that’s all you had. And you had to go and turn it into a kidnapping? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t feel well.” A man’s voice. Not as loud, harder to make out. “Did you bring it?”

They moved away, only scattered words reaching Mateo. “FBI” was one of them—Megan’s mom, was she looking for him? Or had she and Megan gone to the house to meet him and gotten hurt?

Who did all that blood belong to? Why would anyone want to hurt the Flemings?

“Thank God for my sister. I’ve convinced her—” The woman must have moved closer to the cabin because her voice was clear again.

“You mean blackmailed her.”

“Her fault for letting all those medical bills pile up. She should be grateful we’re cutting her in, letting her help us out of this jam you created. We have one chance to get this right and the timing has to be perfect. They can test for things like that.”

“Like what?” The man sounded exhausted, his voice dragging.

“Time of death.”

Chapter 13

Megan waited impatiently for her mom to finish talking to her dad. She sat on her bed on the other side of the room, but didn’t need to hear a word to know how things were going.

First, Dad was mad—with Megan and with Lucy. As her mom calmed him down, Lucy’s body relaxed as well, until at the end, she was practically curled around the phone as if she wanted to reach through it to be with him. Which meant everything was all right.

Megan bounced to her feet and gestured to Lucy. She finally hung up and came back inside.

“What’s the rush?” Lucy asked. “You know, as busy as they are, we’ll just be sitting and waiting at the police station for the rest of the night.”

“Maybe they found Mateo and were too busy to call us—or couldn’t since you were on my phone.” Which her mom wouldn’t have had to borrow if she had a protective waterproof-shockproof case on her phone like the one Megan had gotten after dropping her phone one time too many on muddy soccer fields. She led the way to the door. “C’mon, Mom.”

Lucy shoved her wallet, still wet from its dunking, laptop, her gun—no worries about it getting wet, Glocks were designed for that contingency—knife, their room key, and Megan’s phone into her beach tote. She frowned at the way everything clunked when she lifted it, but it was better than her soaked messenger bag. “It’s almost six. Maybe we should get something to eat first. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Can’t we check in with the police first?” Last thing Megan could think about was food.

Lucy relented. “Okay.” Then she surprised Megan by hugging her and planting a kiss on her forehead. “That’s from Dad.”

Megan edged away and opened the door. Lucy followed her out.

“He’s mad, isn’t he? About Mateo. Why? I hang out with older guys all the time—at soccer and Kempo and when we go shooting.”

“Older guys that we know,” Lucy said as they waited for the elevator. Megan knew her mom’s ankle had to be hurting for her to take the elevator. Lucy had a cane in the car; Megan made a note to remind her mom that she was supposed to be using it. Not that Lucy would listen. And they called Megan stubborn.

They got onto the elevator. “I don’t think your dad’s as upset about you meeting Mateo as much as he is worried that Mateo might not be who you think he is.”

“I’m not one of your victims, suckered in by some psychopath. I know Mateo is innocent, even without waiting to see where the evidence leads.” She threw Lucy’s own words back at her. “This is still America, right? Innocent until proven guilty, right?”