The Pursuit of Lies (Book #4, Paradise Valley) (23 page)

“Colin.” Stella’s eyes flashed with surprise. “So nice to see you.” She folded her arms on her desk and smiled up at him. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s okay, Stella. You don’t have to be so sweet to me.”

“I was just—”

“I know, tiptoeing around me. Totally unnecessary.” He shot her a quick grin. “Listen, I’m kind of in a hurry. I’m here to meet with Ernie.”

“Sure, he’s expecting you.” She pushed the button mounted on her desk that unlocked the secure door to the back office. “As a matter of fact, you’re late.”

Colin heard the click of the door unlocking and pushed it open. “Thanks, Stella,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped through it.

He marched down the hall and around the corner to his office. There he found Ernie seated behind the desk, leaning back in the large leather chair with this feet crossed on top of it, and his fingers laced behind his head.

“You’re looking awfully comfortable in my chair,” Colin joked.

“Just keeping it warm for you, boss, ‘til you get back.”

“That should be sooner than later. Emily has dug up some evidence that’ll prove I wasn’t the killer.”

“She has?” Ernie shot up out of the chair. “What is it?”

Colin explained what he had uncovered about Kevin Bates and what his story was. He also described what Emily had discovered. “She’s on her way to Alex’s office to drop the videos off. I’m hoping by end of day on Monday this whole thing will be a done deal.”

“So why did you want to meet with me? I would have thought you’d be out celebrating with Emily.”

“I’m meeting her later, but I want you to help me find this Kevin Bates. I’m hoping he’s staying around to see me get my just desserts, so to speak.”

“You really think he’d stick around after committing murder? ‘Cause I know I wouldn’t.”

“The only reason he killed Allison was to punish me. If he left before the trial, he’d miss out on getting that satisfaction.”

“You might be right. So where do we start looking?”

“On my way over here, I called my contact at the SFPD and asked them to email you a photo of this guy.”

“Let’s see if it came yet.” Ernie sank back down into his chair and began clicking around on the computer. “Here it is.” He opened the attachment and swiveled the monitor toward Colin. “Is that him?”

It was the mug shot from Bates’ arrest. The man had dark blond hair and blue eyes, and he wore the typical arrest-photo scowl.

“Yeah, that’s him, but that was almost six years ago. He could have altered his appearance by now. Put a smile on the guy and a new haircut and no one would recognize him based on this picture.”

“Hmmm.” Ernie chewed on his bottom lip. “Did the guy have any birthmarks or tattoos?”

Colin scanned over the physical description at the bottom of the photo. “Wait a minute! A tattoo.”

Ernie pulled the monitor back in his direction. “It doesn’t say he has any tattoos.”

“The barista.” Colin’s heart rate quickened, thumping in his chest.

“What?” Ernie’s brows grew together into a quizzical frown.

“The killer has a small tattoo on his right hand,” Colin said, remembering the videos. He ran his left index finger over the area on his right hand. “A six and a small flower.”

“How do you know that?

Colin ignored Ernie’s question—he had his own. “Why didn’t I remember it sooner?”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Grab your coat.”

~*~

Colin and Ernie burst through the door of the noisy coffee shop, Moxie Java, and marched up to the busy counter.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Ernie said as he nudged people out of the way. “Sorry, police business.”

Colin squeezed up to the crowded counter next to him. “Is Andy here?” he asked the young woman over the din.

“No, he’s gone for the day,” she replied.

“Is there a manager we can talk to?” Ernie asked.

The woman leaned back and yelled into a small office off to her left. “Sally!”

A thin middle-aged woman with short black hair emerged from the room.

“The police,” the barista pointed at Ernie and Colin, “they want to talk to you.”

The manager waved them back to her office.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ernie said as he pushed past a few customers, trying to get to the manager’s quarters. Colin stayed close behind.

“What’s this about, Officer?” the manager asked.

“It’s Detective,” Ernie corrected. “We’re looking for Andy.”

“He’s gone for the day, finished his shift a few hours ago.”

“Can you tell us Andy’s full name?” Colin asked.

“Do you mind my asking what this is all about?”

“We’re working on a case and he may have some vital information for us. So we need to talk to him as soon as possible,” Ernie said.

She glared at the two of them for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether she should help them or not. “I don’t want to get him in trouble or anything. He’s a nice guy.”

“Are you interfering with our investigation, ma’am?” Ernie asked.

“No, no, not at all. I’ll have to look up his full name. We’ve always just called him Andy. Give me a minute to look in the file.”

She jotted some information down on a small piece of paper and handed it to Colin. “His checks are made out to Colin Anderson, and there’s his address.”

“Thank you for your help, ma’am,” Ernie said, backing toward the doorway.

“Yes, thanks.” Colin rushed out the door and Ernie followed.

Once back inside their vehicle, they drove to the address on the note.

“This can’t be right. The number doesn’t exist.” Colin pulled his Jeep over to the curb and they both got out. They were at the end of the street and the only thing beyond it was an open field.

“Shoot!” Colin kicked a rock across the weeds. “The numbers don’t go that high.”

“He didn’t want anyone to come looking for him.”

“At any rate, we know he’s still in town.” Colin ran a hand over his jaw and headed back to the Jeep.

“Or at least he was.”

~*~

It was nearing six p.m. and the sun was almost set when Emily got home. There was a big pot of red cyclamen sitting on her front porch.

A chill danced down Emily’s spine and she pulled her phone out of her purse to call Colin, but decided it was a smarter idea to get into the house first. She stuck the phone in her jacket pocket and bent down to pick up the pot and lug it into the house. But as she stood up, she felt the point of something sharp press against her back.

“Hello, Emily,” a deep, calm voice said from behind her, one that sounded vaguely familiar. “Don’t make a scene. Smile and take the flowers into the house.”

Her mind raced.
Where’s my gun?
It was in the purse dangling from her arm. Her gaze flew to the right and then to the left, glancing up and down the street as she unlocked the door, holding the pot of flowers in her left arm. She saw no one who could help her.

“What do you want?” she asked as the deadbolt flipped open.

“You’ll see.”

Emily quickly stepped inside and whirled around, working to force the door shut before the man could get in, but his strength was too much for her. He kicked the door open, throwing her back against the hardwood floor, sending the ceramic pot crashing down, and the soil and flowers flying everywhere.

She scrambled for her purse, but the man yanked her up off the floor by one arm before she could reach it. She stuck her boot out and hooked the heel through the handle.

The house was almost dark. She hadn’t yet seen his face. He cupped his hand over her mouth and hauled her to the kitchen, holding onto a knife in the hand slung across her chest. She dragged the purse through the living room, but she wasn’t able to keep a hold of it. Her gaze focused on it until she was pulled around the corner, into the kitchen.

The man tugged a chair away from the table and pushed her down onto it.

“Who are you?” She turned her head and glared up at him. He was wearing a black ski mask. She hoped that meant if she couldn’t identify him, he wasn’t planning to kill her—but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

Her phone began to ring.

The man looked around to see where the noise was coming from. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my pocket.”

He picked it out of her pocket and held it out to her. She saw it was Colin. She knew the masked man did too.

“I’m not here to hurt you, it’s Colin I’m after. Get him to come to the house, or I will cut you.”

He held the phone out in front of her and hit the answer button, putting it on speaker.

As he clasped the cell phone, Emily noticed the small tattoo on his hand—a little number six and a tiny red cyclamen beside it. Fear gripped her and she could hardly breathe. He was Allison Laraway’s killer.

Think, Emily
.

Her head was spinning. How could she tip Colin off to what was happening?

She struggled to draw in a deep breath. “Hello,” she answered tentatively.

“Hey, Babe. Everything okay? You sound a little funny.”

“Oh, I’m just puttering around the kitchen, as usual.”

“I thought we could get a pizza or something.”

“Yes, pizza sounds great. A movie, too. You know, that new one
Mr. X and the Hot Blonde
.” Would Colin catch the clue?

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“Just look for it at the video store. I’m sure they’ve got it.” She fought to keep her voice even.

“Sounds sexy.”

The man nudged her with his knee.

“Uh, well, I’ve got to go. See you soon, Colin.” She stressed his name with more emphasis than usual, hoping Colin would realize she was trying to send him a message.

The man hung up the phone and set it on the table. “What was all that BS about the movie?”

“We always get a movie when we have pizza. Don’t you?” She hoped he believed her.

He huffed. “When will he be here?”

“I don’t really know. About half an hour, I guess.” Her heart was thumping so hard against her chest it was making her head ache. If she could only get to her gun.

“Then we’ll just have to wait for him.” The man pulled out a chair and sat next to her, holding the knife close to her neck.

“What is this all about?” Emily hoped she could get him talking, distract him enough that if Colin had caught on to her clues he could sneak in and rescue her.

“I’m not in the mood to talk about it.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Killing Colin Andrews.”

“Surely there’s some other way to work this out.”

“Not for me.”

“Emily, are you here?” a man’s voice called out from the front entry.

It didn’t sound like Colin, though. Was it Ernie? What was he doing there?

“Who’s that?” The man yanked Emily to her feet and kept the knife at her throat. He slowly moved her toward the kitchen doorway that led to the dining room, pressing his back to the wall.

“Sounds like Colin. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Emily?” the voice called out again from the entry.

“That’s not Colin,” the man insisted.

“I guess she’s not home, Marlene,” the man could be heard to say. The sound of footsteps leaving and the door shutting carried through the house.

“That wasn’t Colin,” the man repeated. “Where is he?”

The click of a gun engaging drew their attention and the man spun Emily around to face the sound.

“I’m right here.” Colin had snuck in the back door and now stood in the kitchen, his gun aimed directly at the masked man’s head. “Let her go. It’s over.”

The man kept his grasp on Emily, holding her firmly in front of him and keeping his blade pressed against her neck. “Not yet, it isn’t.”

She struggled to get free from him, but he tightened his hold. The blade pinched against her skin. Was this how it was all going to end?

“Put your gun down, on the floor, then kick it over this way,” the man ordered. “I came here for you, not for her.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Colin replied.

“Colin?” Emily begged for help with her voice and her eyes—for any hint at their next move.

“Emily, stop struggling.” Colin kept his gun focused on his target as he met Emily’s gaze with his own. “Just calm down and relax.”

“Relax?” she asked.

How can I relax?

“Yes, don’t stiffen up, relax,” he repeated in a calm, even tone, drawing out the word
relax
. Colin dipped his chin and glared at her, standing across the kitchen. “The man is twice your size.”

She gave him a slight nod, realizing what he was trying to convey to her. She let her body go limp in Bates’ grasp and the man leaned over to hold onto the dead weight.

A squeak from the old hardwood floors cut through the tense air. The man’s head snapped in the direction of the noise. In that brief moment of opportunity, Emily grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it, and flipped him over her hip and onto the floor.

She jumped back, but then she was pinned against the wall. The man had scrambled to his feet, and he lunged at her with his knife. Emily flew to the side, the knife narrowly missing her.

Colin put two bullets in him.

He fell to the floor—face first.

Ernie burst into the doorway, his gun drawn, and surveyed the scene. “Whoa. You guys all right?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Colin replied, meeting Emily’s stunned gaze as he lowered his weapon.

“I think we’d better call this in,” he said, staring at the masked man lying on the floor. “Maybe one of you should start CPR.”

“Colin glanced over at his friend, then he leaned down and felt the man’s neck for a pulse. “Too late. He’s dead.”

Ernie pulled his phone off the belt holster. He punched in the numbers as he strode back to the living room.

Emily skirted by the body and ran to Colin as he stood, throwing her arms around him. He winced as he took a small step back to catch his balance before enveloping her in his arms.

“Babe, you’re shaking.” Colin tightened his embrace.

“I’ll be fine. Just hold me. I didn’t know if you’d pick up on my clues when you called.”

“Not at first.” Colin pressed his lips against her temple and rubbed her back lightly.