To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella) (11 page)

 
“Confusing, possibly—if you’re a nervous killer looking for a specific neck to target.” Reese made a few notes on a pad of paper. “Would you have confused them?”
 

“No, I…Parker has a small scar on the back of his neck, and I like to rub my fingers over it.”
 

“Uh, huh.” The detective chugged half her bottle of water. “What else?”

“When I went to the lobby to attend to the chaos of stampeding felines, I climbed on a table to catch everyone’s attention.”
 

“Um-hmm. Bet that worked.”
 

“Yes, but it was tricky for a minute or two. I had on a straight skirt and there were a few things on the desk. I moved them to the side, and I think there was a glass vial…but I’m not sure. So much was going on, and I was focused on clearing the room of too-helpful volunteers that were doing nothing but adding to the chaos.”
 

 
Drew cleared his throat. “That explains how your fingerprints got on the vial. Did anyone see you moving things on the table?”
 

“Maybe, but I doubt they’d remember. It was loud and everyone was focused on the cats.”

Drew shifted his shoulders to face Reese. “Can you get someone besides Detective Stephens to question the people who were in the lobby? See if we can’t find someone who remembers Jayne touching the vial after the alleged murder? And find out if those animals were intentionally set loose. It’s too coincidental.”

Detective Bryant nodded. “I completely agree,” she said moving to use a wall phone by the door.

“Sounds like you’ve decided to accept the offer of protective custody and temporary consultant.” He stood, angling his chin toward Bryant. “I’m leaving you in good hands. Call if you need anything.”

They shook hands, and Jayne wished for the first time that she had some of Everly’s gift. It would be good to know if she could trust Drew. Really know, and not just depend on his reputation and Parker’s knowledge.

After he left the conference room, Jayne leaned her on elbows on the table and squared off with Detective Bryant. “Talk to me.”

“We’ll make a good team. We can learn from each other, and we both want this bastard locked up. Charities, for shit’s sake.”
 

“That’s it?”
 

“I can’t abide a dirty cop.”
 

“I can understand that. Can you get me a shower and some clean clothes?”

“Better than that, I can get your brother and Parker Steele.”

“Not until after my shower.”

“Right. I’m asking them to join us.”
 

“So this is going to be a team effort.”

“Parker Steele can help. He knows more about the inner workings of Steele Management, Inc. than anyone.” She paused. “Your brother will cause more trouble out of the loop than in it.”

Jayne’s lips curled into a full grin. “Yes. That would be Mitch.”

Reese gathered the papers from the table and stood. “How about I take you to your new digs?”

“I assume they come with a shower?”

“And a lumpy bed, lousy food, and long hours.”

Jayne took a long drink of water. “Small price for my reputation and integrity.”

“I thought you’d see it that way.” Reese grinned. “Let’s see if your brother’s had a chance to pick up some clothes and ‘girl stuff’ for you yet.”

“We’ve been at this long enough he could have moved my whole condo to….where is this place?”

“Next door,” Reese answered. “There’s a small apartment for special guests.”

“If my consulting status leaks to the media, I’ll be fair game for whoever killed Tarik.”

“Honey, you’re already on the killer’s shit list.”

FOURTEEN

Everly Gray

I hit the stairs at
full speed, jogged into Detective Bryant’s office, and grabbed her arm. “We need to talk. Away from this building.”

To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just grabbed her messenger bag and led me out the back door.

A brisk wind slapped me in the face when I stepped outside and helped to restore order to my brain. Detective Bryant held the heavy door open until I was clear, then closed it tightly and double-checked that it was locked.

“My car is right over there, the blue Toyota. How about we grab a coffee at the Bean’ry?”

“Any place away from Detective Stephens is fine with me, and something hot to drink would be wonderful.” I held my hand up. Still shaking.

Her brows scrunched together. “I see that. If it helps any, I just got out of a meeting with Ms. Hunt. She’s handling this well.”

“Is she still under arrest? Have they found any new evidence? Did she ask for Mitch or me? Did—”

“Hold it. Stop asking because I can’t say anything yet. You’re going to have to trust me—” she shot me a look— “just like I’m trusting an agitated witness who stormed out of a colleague’s office and requested my help.”
 

She had a point.
 

It took fifteen minutes for us to get settled in a back booth with my palms wrapped around a chai latte, soaking in the warmth. There was a cup of plain green tea sitting in front of Reese Bryant, the cool scent mixing with the spiciness from my chai. It was a happy combination.
 

From our brief handshake earlier, I knew I liked the detective. She was straightforward and honest, and I was almost positive she’d hear me out.

“Talk.”
 

Yep. She was direct and to the point.
 

“Are you okay with the paranormal?”

A frown touched her lips, then dissolved. “Difficult-to-explain phenomena, yes. Vampires, no.”

For the first time since Jayne had been arrested, the knot in my stomach loosened, and I grinned. “I fall into the difficult-to-explain category. Chief Hayes knows about my gift, and I’ve been consulting with Adam Stone, but I’m guessing he told you that.”

“Yes, but without detail.”
 

Okay, then, it was gonna be up to me. “You have a new golden lab puppy who loves to play catch, and your main squeeze is a blond, blue-eyed hunk of goodness. He loves you, by the way.”
 

She sipped her tea. “Telepathy? Mind reading?”

“Nope. Can’t do either. It’s in my fingers. When I touch things, the pads of my fingertips pass images to this internal monitor thing in my head. Can you deal with that?”

“As long as you don’t touch me without permission, we’ll do fine. But I might need a shot of something stronger than green tea.”

I’d wasted enough time on the groundwork, dug the paper from my pocket, and laid it on the table between us. “I swiped this—”

“Do not ev-ver tell me where it came from.”
 

“Right. Sorry. This name, Mary Francis Stephens, is key to…well, I’m not sure what…yet. It’s odd how he separated the letters, grouped them differently.” I sucked in a breath. “Bottom line: Mary Stephens is Detective Stephens’s mother and Parker’s aunt. She must have remarried after Joe’s father died, or they were divorced—something happened to give her a different last name. In any case, they’re cousins, Parker and Stephens. And Parker doesn’t know it, um, didn’t recognize him. Whatever.”
 

Detective Bryant’s gaze crackled along my skin, and I pushed words out as fast as I could.
 

“When I touched the paper, I got an image from my childhood. It was the summer between first and second grade. I was home schooled, so the years sort of blended, but I’m pretty sure I was five and Parker ten. He was just old enough to hate me on sight, so I spent a lot of time alone or with his mother. My parents traveled a lot, and—”

The shatter of broken glass ripped through my recitation, and I whirled around on the bench seat, expecting to see Stephens standing behind me. He wasn’t. An embarrassed customer stood next to a shattered mug, pale brown coffee stains covering her beige chinos.
 

“He won’t find you here, Everly. May I call you Everly?” Detective Bryant’s voice floated through the air, lazy and reassuring.

“Either Everly or El would be fine. I answer to both. So, how exactly do you know Stephens won’t walk through that door any minute?”

“I know things.”

In the interest of time, I let that one go but paid the price of muffling my curiosity with the beginnings of a headache. “Parker’s mother and mine were good friends. Well, until that summer. After that, we never went to their house again.”

I paused, rummaging in my handbag for my cell. “We need to talk to Parker.”
 

Detective Bryant stayed my hand. “Not yet. Give me a chance to work on it—”
 

“If I don’t let him know where I am, he’ll panic. We don’t want that, but I can keep it brief and just let him know our location without adding any details.”

She nodded.
 

I texted Parker.
 

And then Mitch. Am with Det. Bryant. You?

His reply was immediate. At J’s condo getting stuff for her to wear. Can U help?”

“Mitch is getting clothes for Jayne. I didn’t think…well, I figured her wardrobe would be limited to an orange jumpsuit,” I said, typing.

 
Mtg. Impt. Can’t leave. Love you.

“No. She doesn’t get to wear our latest fashion ensemble unless she’s denied bail and jailed. Now, how about you back up a bit, Everly? Why did your parents place you with Steele’s family?”

 
“No clue why they chose the Steeles. One of them usually stayed home with me when the other traveled, but that summer was different. They were away at the same time, and needed to stash me someplace for a few weeks.” I waved my hands, wanting to get on with it. “That part isn’t really relevant.”

Detective Bryant nodded for me to continue.

“I picked up two scenes from this piece of paper.” I flicked it with my nail. “And they were both from that infamous summer. Surprised the heck out of me, seeing myself in an image. In the first scene, my mother handed Caroline Steele a small, wooden box. Their conversation was heated, strained. From memory, I can add that I didn’t understand what was going on. I only knew I should stay hidden behind the sofa.”
 

“Let me catch up.” Detective Bryant held her hand up, stopping my info dump. “What does this box have to do with Jayne Hunt?”
 

“Nothing, per se. But it might clear her of suspicion in Tarik’s murder. In the second scene—I think it must have been a few weeks later—Caroline Steele and Mary Francis Stephens fought over money. Caroline married a wealthy man, Mary didn’t, and she believed that whatever was in the box was worth a lot. She wanted that box.”

I worried that thought for a minute, stalling my dissertation with a swallow of latte. “Joe Stephens was there when they were arguing. I think he might have recognized me since Everly isn’t the most common name. Anyway, that could be why he’s giving me such a hard time. He wants to know what I remember. But more than that, I don’t understand why he’s been assigned to his cousin’s case.”
 

“If Chief Hayes knew they were related, he wouldn’t be on the case. You haven’t given me much to work with here, El, and we didn’t get to finish our conversation before Detective Stephens yanked you from my office. Whatever you saw when you shook his hand must have been startling for you to voluntarily leave with him…”

I cringed, the skin on my face tightening. “The images hit fast, and they were blurry. I’m about to make an accusation, Detective Bryant—”

“Reese.”

“Reese, it is. I have nothing to back up my accusation, but I believe the images I saw were of Emir Tarik talking with Detective Stephens, and then a second one of Stephens manipulating a spreadsheet from Steele Management, Inc. on his laptop.”

“How accurate are your visions, El?”
 

“Usually they’re right on, but sometimes it’s difficult to tell how they fit together. The thing is, I’ve never seen Adam do department work on his personal computer. I know this isn’t much to go on, but I intend to take it to Chief Hayes, and, well, is there anything you can do to help me convince him Jayne needs a new law enforcement team?”
 

“Adam requested that I help you in any way I can, and I’m going to give it my best shot. Homicide isn’t my specialty, but there are a lot of leads I can follow with the information you’ve given me, so I’ll need a few hours. Can you lay low until I come up with something definitive to give the chief?”

I
could, but I knew that neither Mitch nor Parker would buy into that plan.

FIFTEEN

Parker Steele

Parker slammed his hand against
the metal push plate on the front door of the Bean’ry with enough force to irritate an old rotator cuff injury. He strode inside, shifted his shoulder, and felt his muscles bunch beneath his shirtsleeve. He needed to do some of that yoga stuff. A cool, proactive mind would help Jayne more than pissed off reactions.