Game of Smoke and Mirrors
By Wynter Daniels
Copyright 2011 Wynter Daniels
Smashwords Edition
Published by Wynter Daniels
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
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Chapter One
Jia Tisdale Mason narrowed her gaze at the sight of blue strobe lights ahead. Awfully close to their vacation cabin. Curiosity morphed into panic when she realized all those emergency vehicles were parked around her house.
Two Marion County, Florida Sheriff’s Office cars, one fire rescue truck and two other unmarked cars. And a van marked, ‘Forensics Unit.’
Forensics?
Her hands trembled on the steering wheel of her rental car. Where was Everett?
Two men and a woman, all in dark green uniforms stood on the porch. A stocky man in black pants and a polo shirt emerged from the house and said something to the others. Why were they all at her place?
She parked under a tall pine and hurried out of the car. Her shoes crunched on the dry pine needles on the ground. The group on the porch stopped speaking and one of the men headed toward her, the one who wasn’t wearing a uniform.
Her mouth suddenly felt stuffed with cotton.
Where is Everett?
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The man closed the distance between them, blocking her path. A silver badge was clipped to his shirt pocket but she didn’t see any evidence of a weapon on him. His brown hair was sparse and a little too long for a cop.
“What’s going on? This is my cabin. Mine and my husband’s.”
“I’m Detective Potter, Marion County Sheriff’s Office. And you are?”
She forced herself to suck in a breath. “Jia Mason. Where’s my husband?”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “That’s what we’d like to know, Mrs. Mason. A neighbor found your rowboat near the middle of the lake but Mr. Mason wasn’t in it. Nor is he here at the house.”
There had to be more to this. The boat could have been left untied. “I don’t understand all this.” She swept her hand toward the array of emergency vehicles. “Maybe Everett went…I don’t know, shopping or something. Maybe he’s meeting with our real estate agent, Alexa Knox. Have you checked with her?” She didn’t dare say that perhaps he was with another woman.
“Not yet, but we will.” He set his hands on his thick waist. “We found blood in the boat. And in the boathouse.”
All the air sucked out of her lungs. “My husband’s?”
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
Her jaw went slack and felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. Could Everett be dead? Who would do such a thing? Why would the detective think she had something to do with it? “There must be another explanation.”
“When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”
She recognized that look in his eyes. He already had her tried and convicted.
I hate cops. They’re all the same.
Memories of her time at the Hillsborough County, New Hampshire Jail barged into her mind. She’d never survive another nightmarish experience like that again. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body to quell the chill.
“Mrs. Mason?” He took a step closer and touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She shrugged him off and glanced at the ring on his left hand. “Would you be all right if someone just told you your wife might be dead, Detective?”
His granite eyes darkened. “I’m not about to divorce my wife.”
Her pulse quickened. How the hell did he know she and Everett planned to split up? Nausea swirled in her gut. The creak of the cabin’s front door drew her attention to it. Detective Potter spun around.
A skinny woman with red hair emerged from the house followed by a middle-aged woman. A very butch woman.
The redhead pointed at Jia. “Is that her?” The woman shot daggers at her.
“Who is she?” Jia asked the detective.
Potter faced her. “A new friend of your husband’s.”
A new friend?
Another woman he was sleeping with, no doubt. Heat climbed up her neck and face. Why did she care what these people thought?
“Suzie Carmichael’s her name. Apparently they met at The Rusty Nail two nights ago.”
How many could there be? She suspected he’d bedded the real estate agent here and he’d admitted to carrying on with their cleaning woman in New Hampshire. Had he been cheating their entire marriage or was it only a recent development? Humiliation coursed through her like acid.
“Everett was scared of her. He told me so,” the redhead shouted.
Jia’s jaw dropped and her blood ran cold. What the hell was the woman talking about?
Why would Everett be afraid of me?
Detective Potter lifted an eyebrow. “We already have your statement, Miss Carmichael,” he called over his shoulder. “Please don’t say any more now. You want to take her home, Viv?”
The masculine looking woman nodded then said something to the scrawny redhead, too quiet for Jia to hear. Taking the woman’s arm, the policewoman descended the porch steps. The redhead shook her off but followed her to one of the unmarked cars. Opening the passenger door for her, the officer waited.
The redhead turned and eyed Jia, her lips curling into a snarl. “I know you killed him.” Then she slid into the car.
Hot-cold shivers raced up Jia’s spine. Tears threatened, but she forced them back.
Do not cry in front of these people.
She watched the car back up then drive past them toward the road.
“Mind telling me where you’ve been for the last two days, Mrs. Mason?”
Swallowing against the bile burning the back of her throat, she faced him. “I just arrived at Orlando International. My flight landed around one-twenty. I was home in New Hampshire until I left for the airport this morning.”
He reached into his back pocket and took out a small tablet then slid a pen out from the spiraled binding. “Who can verify that?”
“I have the receipt for my plane ticket in the car.” She gestured behind her. “Do you want me to get it?”
“I’ll need to see it, but not yet. I want to know who saw you before your flight. Who were you with over the weekend?”
She thought about her days in bed in front of the TV. Heart hammering, she met his cool stare. “I was sick in bed, Detective. The only one with me was my cat. Do you really think I somehow managed to come down here and overpower a man who outweighs me by fifty pounds?”
I will not be railroaded ever again.
He wrote something on his tablet. “So there’s no one who can corroborate your story?”
She gritted her teeth a moment, but forced herself to remain calm. “I was fifteen hundred miles north of here, Detective. You think I teleported myself here to kill my husband? Who may or may not even be dead. He could very well be shacking up with another fine citizen of Lake Vale.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Would you prefer we did this at the Sheriff’s Office headquarters?”
This had to be a nightmare. Her knees felt weak, but she refused to give in to her fear. “If that’s what you’d like. But before I answer any more questions I want to contact a lawyer.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Slow down. No one’s accusing you of anything.”
She drew a deep breath then let it out slowly but the tension refused to release its grip on her.
Voices from around the side of the house made her pulse jump. A female deputy rounded the corner of the cabin carrying two plastic zipper bags.
Jia tried to make out the items inside. She gasped at the sight of Everett’s phone. Her throat constricted.
“Recognize something, Mrs. Mason?” Detective Potter eyed the bags.
The possibility that Everett had indeed been murdered hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. She grasped the rail to steady herself. “That’s my husband’s cell.”
He lifted the other item closer to his face and his eyebrows snapped together. “This knife hasn’t been in the water more than a few days.”
“That could have come from anywhere.” Jia instantly wanted to yank her words back. God, she sounded guilty even to her own ears.
Everyone on the porch stared at her. She gripped the railing tighter as panic rushed through her.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
She was innocent the last time she’d been accused of a crime, but that hadn’t kept her from serving a sentence. Only this was different. Way worse. She wouldn’t be offered a plea bargain and a relatively short stint in county jail for murder. All the blood drained from her face and an uncomfortable heat spread through her.
Potter pursed his lips and shifted his gaze to one of the officers. “I’ll drop these at the lab.” Looking at Jia, he said, “Would you mind coming to the Sheriff’s Office with me, Mrs. Mason?” His request seemed innocent enough, yet a new shudder of fear flooded her veins.
She glanced toward the lake. What if they found Everett and she wasn’t here?
Better do what he says.
She cleared her throat. “Of course.”
Heart thundering, she gathered all her strength and fell in step behind him as he strode to a dark green sedan. She stopped at her rental to retrieve her purse and lock the car then continued on to Potter’s car.
He didn’t bother with opening her door. “It’s unlocked.”
At least he hadn’t asked her to sit in the back. She slid into the seat and buckled herself in, praying he didn’t notice how her hands shook. The radio on the console and the Plexiglas between the front and back seat were visceral reminders that she could find herself in trouble again. Would the detective have been so quick to treat her like a suspect if she was white? Or could his less-than-friendly demeanor mean that he knew she had a criminal record?
I’m being paranoid.
Potter started the engine. “It’s about half an hour to the office. May as well make yourself comfortable.”
As if she could ever be comfortable riding in a police car on her way to be questioned. She swallowed hard and realized she had her purse clutched against her chest. Setting it on the seat beside her, she made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders.
This was ridiculous. She had no reason to be so frightened. Upset that Everett was missing maybe, but not afraid of being charged with killing him. She’d been fifteen hundred miles away until a few hours ago, for heaven’s sake.
They turned on to Main Street. “When did you last hear from your husband?” he asked.
“We spoke at the office Wednesday morning. He left the around lunchtime. Far as I know he went straight to the airport for his flight down here.” She thought back to the last moment she saw him. They’d argued about something. Who knew what. Would she have done things any differently if she knew it was the last time she’d see him?
Glancing out the window, she watched the town rush past.
“How come you were getting divorced?” His tone sounded casual, almost soothing, but she knew better.
She thought about her reasons, mulled over how she’d say it to make it sound less like a motive for murder. “We started developing other interests.”
Potter snickered. “In other words he was screwing around.”
Shit.
“I suppose he was, but I don’t know for sure.” She eased her death grip on the armrest.
“Sure you do. He slept with that redhead.”
She stared out her window so he wouldn’t be able to see her face. Or the tears pooling in her eyes. The scenery went by in a green blur.
“How many others was he screwing in New Hampshire?”
She ignored his question.
When his cell rang he answered. Subtly leaning toward him, she managed to catch a few words of the other end of the conversation.
“…Mason…questions…boathouse only…”
She strained to hear more, but couldn’t make it out after Detective Potter switched the phone to his other ear.
“Jones is in Orlando working on that. Thanks, Viv.” He disconnected then shoved the cell into his pocket and sliced a glance at her. “Diver found your husband’s wallet.”
Tears spilled on to her cheeks. Turning away, she wiped them off. Much as she’d come to despise Everett in the past year, she never wanted to see harm come to him. She used to care about him, deeply. Couldn’t really say she’d ever loved him. He’d convinced her to marry him, insisted she’d grow to love him.
But she never had. And he’d resented that. She wondered if she should have lied to him, just said the words to make him happy. Perhaps she’d helped create the bastard he’d become with her refusal to force her feelings.
She shouldn’t be thinking about him as if he was dead. There was still a chance he was alive. “Why haven’t they found his body? Isn’t it possible he made it to shore somewhere?”
“Any idea how many alligators live in that lake, Mrs. Mason?” He turned on to another road.
She cringed at the notion of Everett’s body being torn apart by the creatures. A shudder rolled over her skin. She remained silent the rest of the way, listening to Potter’s many phone conversations.
The car slowed as they passed a three-story building surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. Marion County Jail, a small sign announced. Her stomach clenched.
Potter steered into the lot that sat between the jail and the Sheriff’s Office Headquarters. After he parked, he climbed out of the car and circled to the back of the vehicle, waiting. He led her inside through a set of glass double doors to a sterile looking lobby with a token potted palm. The scent of a pine cleaning fluid hung in the air. They entered a long hallway with countless small offices on either side.
The same female detective she’d seen at her cabin earlier emerged from a doorway and glanced from Potter to Jia and back. “Jones got a hit.”
Detective Potter nodded. “Figured he would.” Setting his hand on Jia’s back, he led her to a door marked, ‘Interrogation Room 1.’
Her knees went weak and she had to lean on the wall so she wouldn’t collapse while Potter unlocked the door. “Wait in here, please, Mrs. Mason.”
Forcing herself to suck in a breath, she stepped inside the room. A large mirrored panel nearly covered one wall. A table and four chairs sat in the center of the small space.
The door closed with a jarring clang that rattled her teeth. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body as painful memories came crashing back.
A room, exactly like this one, accusations thrown at her, a cop twisting her words, her vehement denials—fruitless in the end. And then that awful echoing boom. Metal closing her off in a hellhole.
No. Not this time. She didn’t do anything.
I was innocent all those years ago, too. Didn’t make a damn bit of difference.
She set her purse on the table, opened it and searched inside for her phone. No sense in putting off telling her mother what was going on. She’d want to come down and help.
I need all the support I can get.
Checking the display, her hopes crashed. No signal. She bit her lip to hold back the torrent of tears.
I will not show weakness.
All the tears in the world hadn’t helped her last time. She paced the floor, checked her watch at least once every minute. Nearly forty-five of them ticked past before Detective Potter returned.
He entered the room with a manila file folder under his arm. In his other hand he carried a white bag stained with a few grease spots. “I brought us dinner.” Setting the package and the folder on the table, he sat. “Come on.”
Jia took a seat opposite him then folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not hungry.”
Shrugging, he pulled two wrapped subs from the bag. “You sure? One’s a turkey with Swiss on wheat and the other’s a Cuban. Good stuff. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”
She shook her head. “I’m a vegetarian.”
“Want me to order you a veggie sub or a salad?” He shoved back from the table.
“No. I couldn’t eat anything now. I’m too worried about Everett,” she added.
“Suit yourself.” He unwrapped the Cuban sandwich and the unique pork smell tickled her nose. Grasping the roll with both hands, he raised it to his lips and bit into it. He shut his eyes a moment. “Mmm.”
She looked away as he chewed.
“So.” He took a napkin from the bag, swiped it over his face. “Got some interesting news.”
“About my husband?” She sat up taller.
Potter indulged in another bite, eyed her as he chewed. Was he purposely taunting her? Finally, he swallowed. “Not exactly. But an interesting development.” He tipped his head toward her purse on the other side of the table. “You got a Visa card in there?”
“Yes, why?”
“Mind if I take a look?”
Her mouth grew dry. What could he want with her credit card? “Okay.” She pulled out her wallet and found the slot empty. “It was here last time I looked.” She searched the rest of the wallet but she couldn’t find the card.
“Didn’t report it stolen, huh?”
So choked with terror, she wondered if she could find her voice. “I-I didn’t know it was gone, Detective.”
“Can’t explain it,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“What?” She didn’t dare move a muscle.
He picked up his sandwich, held it near his mouth then set it back down. “Your card was used to rent a motel room outside Orlando. Quite a coincidence. That’s been the only activity on the card this week.”
God, they’ve checked my credit card records?
A jolt of panic washed over her and turned her blood to ice.
“Thing is,” he continued, “it’s sort of unusual for someone to swipe your card then only use it for one thing. They even showed a driver’s license to the clerk.”
Her chest tightened. A stabbing pain started behind her eyes. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
He took another bite of his dinner. “Ever let anyone use your card?”
She shook her head.
He wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Sure you don’t want that other sandwich?”
Her stomach lurched at the thought of food. “I’m sure.”
This can’t be happening.
Someone was trying to set her up. She pushed away from the table and stood. Pacing the floor, she threaded her fingers together so the detective wouldn’t see how badly she shook.
“You need some air, Mrs. Mason?”
She faced him. “Yes, please. I’m a little claustrophobic.”
Nodding, he stood and went to the door. Pulling it open, he gestured toward the lobby. “Restroom’s near the reception area and there’s a vending machine all the way down the hall.”
She picked up her purse and started out of the room.
“My office is three doors down.” He pointed to his left. “Don’t get lost.”
She tried for a smile but feared she didn’t quite accomplish it. “Got it.”
Feeling his eyes on her back, she walked toward the lobby, her shoes clicking on the hard floor. Behind her, she heard Potter close the door. His footsteps receded. Glancing back, she found the hallway empty.
Quickening her pace, she passed the Ladies’ room and slipped out of the building.
What the hell am I doing?
Her heart tattooed a wild beat as she hurried along the sidewalk. She had to get away.
This is crazy.
But so was being framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Part of her wanted to turn around, march back to Potter’s office and find out who the hell was doing this to her. The frightened child inside her won out and she picked up her pace.
Sweat rolled down the side of her face and her breath grew ragged. She had no faith in the justice system. She’d been wrongly convicted before and she refused to be a scapegoat ever again.
The sun started sinking low on the horizon. Her feet ached but she had to keep going. She had no idea where but the more distance she put between her and the Sheriff’s Office, the better.
She passed a bowling alley, a men’s clothing store then a jewelry store. A banner in the window of the jewelry store proclaimed that they bought and sold. She glanced at her engagement ring then headed inside.
The place was empty except for an elderly man with thick glasses standing behind a display case. “May I help you?” the man said.
Sliding her ring off her finger, she headed toward him then set the diamond solitaire on the glass counter. “How much can you give me for this?”
He examined it with a loupe. Then he eyed her with nearly as much scrutiny. “Sure it’s yours?”
Gritting her teeth, she shoved down the familiar indignity. She’d bet he’d have never asked the question if she was white. “Yes it is. My husband and I split up.”
Pursing his lips, he set the ring on the counter. “Best I can do is four thousand.”
A quarter of what it was worth, but what choice did she have? “I want cash.”
He bristled. “That changes things. Thirty-five hundred.”
“Okay.” She left with the money in her wallet. Taking a right onto a side street, she saw an old Honda with a For Sale sign in the window in the parking lot of a small beauty shop. The lights inside the salon were still on. She slipped inside and spoke to a petite blonde hairdresser about the car.
Twenty minutes later she drove away.
Chapter Two
Jia exited Interstate 95 just after she crossed the border into Virginia. Driving west for about half an hour, she found a tiny town with a tired looking motel, a gas station and a fast food burger joint.
Perfect. She parked her car in front of the convenience store then shut off the engine and headed inside the store. Under normal circumstances she’d never indulge in caffeine at seven in the evening, but she had no intention of sleeping tonight.
After she paid for her coffee, she went to the restroom. Shutting herself in the tiny room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the smudgy mirror. The three layers of baggy clothes had added the appearance of a good twenty pounds to her frame and lightening her hair and eyebrows made her skin look a shade or two darker. The severe ponytail coupled with her new bangs and large tinted glasses put her in mind of a popular R and B singer whose name escaped her. No one would recognize her now.
When she left the bathroom she heard the cashier chatting with another man. As she neared the counter she realized that other man was a state police officer.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She had to concentrate on walking as she prayed her suddenly wobbly legs wouldn’t give out.
The officer turned toward her as she passed. “Evening, ma’am.”
She nodded then hurried past. The ding of the door chime as she left made her jump. Passing the police car in the lot, she felt a chill roll over her skin. She tried not to run to her car, but when she got within a few yards of it she couldn’t help herself. Fumbling with the key, she managed to slip it into the lock. Her heart kaboomed so hard she thought she’d pass out any second.
Gripping the steering wheel, she sucked in big breaths and let them out slowly until her pulse calmed down a little. She took a sip of coffee then set it in the cup holder. With a shaking hand, she put the key in the ignition. When she turned it, the car coughed like a diehard smoker. After a few seconds it shut off with a mighty shudder.
Oh God, no.
She tried again. Another anemic sputter then nothing. All the air sucked out of her lungs when she glanced toward the store and saw the cop push through the glass door. Panic enveloped her. Maybe he hadn’t heard the Honda’s sickly groans.
He looked as if he was going to get into his car, but then he glanced at her and started over. Panic constricted her throat.
When he was a few feet away, she rolled down her window and pasted a smile on her face.
“Everything all right, ma’am?” the cop asked.
She concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “Fine. It’ll start up in a minute. Does this all the time. Thanks, though.”
He slid his gaze over the car, then met her stare. Terror snaked up her spine. She had no choice. Her hand shook as she unlocked the door then eased it open.
The officer’s flashlight beam slid over her hands, her face, the front seat.
Be cool.
“It’ll start up in a few minutes. The engine gets flooded. Takes a little while to fix itself.” She’d heard her father say something like that years ago about one of the family cars.
The man nodded but pursed his lips like he wasn’t convinced. “Can I see your license?”
Her throat seized up. A blinding fog filled her brain as she reached across the seat and grabbed her purse. She fished around inside it for her wallet but when she took hold of it, she immediately let it go. Pulse pounding, she looked up at the cop. “I can’t find my wallet.”
“Step out of the car, miss.” He backed away a couple paces, making room for her.
She dropped her bag back on to the seat then climbed out. “I must have left my wallet at a gas station where I filled up a couple hours ago.”
He said nothing, but she could tell from the furrow of his brow that he didn’t believe her. “Place your hands on the hood.”
Run!
Blood pounded in her ears. If she gave up now she’d never have the chance to exonerate herself. The police wouldn’t bother to look for the real killer. She’d end up going to prison. For the rest of her life.
Run!
She moved toward the front of the Honda as if she planned to comply. But then she dashed the other direction.
“God damn it,” the officer yelled behind her.
As she sprinted toward the cloche of trees bordering the parking lot, he took off after her. He was close enough that she heard his panting over hers, felt the pounding of his steps on the pavement behind her.
“Stop!”
His voice is too close.
Gathering all her strength, she raced into the woods. Darkness closed in on her. Her foot caught a branch or root and she hit the ground with a muffled thud. The cop was on top of her in an instant. He centered a knee on her back and one hand on her neck.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
She struggled until his knee pressed harder. She stopped fighting and leaned her cheek against the soft forest floor.
“Give me your hands,” he shouted. “You just added resisting arrest to whatever other charges you have against you.”
A rush of tears filled her eyes and quickly spilled over. All her hope dissipated in the cool air.
This can’t be happening.
Not again. Sobs racked her body as cold metal handcuffs closed around both wrists in turn.
The officer yanked her to her feet then marched her to his car. After he’d seated her in the back, she watched him head to her car and search it. She couldn’t hear what he said into his radio but every few seconds he glanced at her.
If he didn’t know who she was yet, he would any minute. She had to beat this. She wasn’t the same person she was all those years ago when she’d sat back and done what her lawyer and her parents told her she should.
If it was the last thing she did, she’d get out of this. By whatever means she could.
* * * * *
Zack Sizemore peeled open his eyes and glimpsed the boxy red numbers on the digital clock next to his bed. Who the hell was calling him at six-forty in the morning? He reached for the phone more to shut it up than to speak to the caller.
“Yeah?”
“Zack?” a gruff voice asked.
“Maybe. Who’s this?”
A familiar laugh. “Bucky Levinson. Marion County Sheriff’s Office. You’ve done a couple extraditions for us.”
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Zack sat up. “Sergeant Levinson. What can I do for you?” Although he loved not having a boss to answer to since he’d taken an early retirement from the Dade County Sheriff’s Office, his bank account was running dangerously low. An easy extradition assignment would keep him in food and beer for a couple of weeks.
“We have a female we need extradited. Capital murder charges are pending against her.”
Mimi jumped up on the bed and meowed. No matter what time he woke up, darn cat always wanted breakfast immediately.
He focused on the conversation. “Is she coming or going?”
“Coming. She’s in New Hampshire.”
New Hampshire? Flying with a prisoner wasn’t his favorite sort of assignment. He preferred the control a job driving afforded him, but for trips of more than four hundred miles each way it just made more sense to fly.
“You’ll be flying from Orlando to Manchester, then rent a car for the last hundred and twenty-five miles to New Oxford. Then get her back here to Ocala.”
“Let me grab a pen.”
After he hung up, he rolled out of bed and shuffled through his cottage to the kitchen. Mimi tried to trip him several times on the way by weaving around his ankles, but he managed to make it to her bowl without falling on his ass. He started a pot of coffee, extra strong, then headed to the shower.
Before he left, he remembered he still needed to make an important call. He punched in the familiar number then waited.
Henry, his next door neighbor, answered on the second ring.
“I need a favor,” Zack said.
“Answer’s no then.”
He smiled at the older man’s crusty sense of humor. “Are you going to make me grovel? If so, just put Betty on the phone. She’s way nicer than you.”
“What do you need?” Henry said.
“I’m leaving on an assignment in a little while. Should be back tomorrow night. Would you and Betty mind keeping an eye on Mimi? Her food is in the pantry. I’ll drop off a key before I go.”
“The wife is pretty fond of that fur ball. And she makes a great companion for me when I fish off the dock. Don’t be surprised if Mimi’s packed up and moved into our place by time you get home.”
He grinned. “You’d rob me of the only woman in my life?”
“We need to talk about that, kid. Pretty pathetic.”
“No, we don’t.” He hoped his friend didn’t plan to ambush him again. Henry had attributed the fiasco to Betty, but Zack wasn’t convinced Henry didn’t have a hand in it.
Either way, the addition of the pretty blonde to the guest list for dinner the other night hadn’t gone well. The woman was nice enough, but he just wasn’t interested in dating. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He strode to the mantle and picked up the framed photo of Carolyn. His chest tightened. He’d let her down. How could he have not seen the writing on the wall?
He’d loved Carolyn with everything he had and when he’d buried her, a big part of him jumped in after her. Never. Never would he open himself up to that kind of pain again.
“Sarah told Betty she thought you were cute.” He chuckled at that. “But real unfriendly.”
He cleared his throat. “So I’ll bring that key by, okay?”
“I get it, I get it. I’ll tell Betty to quit trying to find a girl for you. Don’t blame me if she won’t take no for an answer, though.”
“Duly noted.”
“Hey, you hear about the murder over at Lake Vale?”
Zack held the phone closer to his ear. “That’s pretty close. Thought I’d escaped all that when I left South Florida.”
“Rich guy from New Hampshire with a vacation cabin on the lake. Before they could charge the wife she disappears.”
“Yeah?” Must be the woman they were sending him to extradite. He wondered if Henry already knew that and was merely fishing for confirmation. Being a retired lawman, Henry stayed tuned in, unlike Zack, who didn’t want to hear anything related to his former profession. He shook his head. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”
Sitting on his bed, he shoved the rest of his things into his bag then zipped it up. Mimi hopped onto the bed and climbed into his lap. “You know I’m leaving, don’t you?”
Meow?
He picked her up and cuddled her against his shoulder. She purred so loud, he didn’t have the heart to put her down. He caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror.
Not exactly the picture of manliness. And he should have gotten a haircut weeks ago. No law enforcement officer would wear his hair this long. He hoped Sergeant Levinson didn’t hold it against him. “Okay, girl. Time for me to go. You behave for Betty and Henry, okay?” He set her on the bed then grabbed his satchel.
Seven and a half hours later he descended the stairs from the airplane onto the tarmac in Manchester, New Hampshire in the frigid cold. It took him nearly an hour to pick up his rental car thanks to a computer glitch in the reservation system. When he finally hit the road he only had an hour or two of daylight left. Traveling unfamiliar mountain roads in the dark didn’t sound like much fun.
Instead of going all the way to New Oxford, he found a hotel outside of Concord. Once he got settled in his room, he phoned Henry.
“Mimi behaving for you?” he asked.
Henry laughed. “She hasn’t eaten a thing since you left this morning, if that’s what you’re asking.
He wished the cat wasn’t so attached to him. He had a bad habit of letting females down. “Would you mind mixing her regular food with a can of tuna? I should have some in the pantry.”
“Quit worrying about Mimi. She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Is it the girl who killed her husband over in Lake Vale? Is that the prisoner you’re transporting?”
Telling anyone the identity of his prisoner was a no-no, especially a high profile prisoner. But since Henry was a retired cop, he knew his friend would keep the information to himself. “Sure is.”
“Something’s not right about that case.”
He switched the phone to his other ear. “What do you mean?”
“I was reading about it in the paper this morning. They said the victim’s body was likely eaten by gators.”
His dinner churned in his stomach at the thought. “So?”
“Gators are dormant this time of year. Water’s too cold for them to move around much.”
He shrugged. “Not my job to figure out the cases. I just move the bad guys around.” A yawn caught him off guard.
“You sound tired, my friend. Better get a good night’s sleep. Good thing that big storm coming off Lake Ontario isn’t supposed to hit there. I can just see you trying to negotiate an icy road. We Florida boys should never be allowed to drive up north, huh?”
“Night, Henry. Kiss that pretty wife of yours for me, would you?”
“You bet.”
He settled into the bed and turned on the TV and switched to the national news. Relief washed over him when he saw the weather map with the storm Henry had mentioned. Looked like it would stay well to the west of New Hampshire. Good thing, too since it looked like a mother of a storm.
Henry was right. Zack had absolutely no experience driving in snowy or icy conditions. He was damn lucky that storm wasn’t coming this way.
Chapter Three
A small measure of relief washed over Jia as she sat on a hard plastic chair across from her mother in the jail’s visitation area. Her face was drawn and pale and her eyes were red rimmed. At least she hadn’t brought along her stepfather.
Her mom took a wet wipe from her purse and scrubbed down the chair and headphones before sitting.
Jia managed a smile. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
Tears welled in her mother’s eyes. Jia struggled to maintain her own composure.
“What the hell happened, Jia?” She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her cheeks. “Why did you run?”
She shut her eyes a moment then met her mother’s stare. “I panicked. All I could think about was how I’d been railroaded ten years ago.” Her skin itched from the scratchy jumpsuit she wore. She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “Can you blame me for having no faith in the justice system? I got screwed last time and I was terrified it would happen again. Still am.”
Her mother nodded. “I understand honey, but that was the worst thing you could have done. It makes you look even more guilty.”
“I didn’t kill him. You believe me, don’t you?” She eyed her, praying for confirmation of her mother’s faith in her.
Without hesitation, she rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I know you could never do something like that, regardless of the problems you were having with Everett. You don’t have it in you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She sat back in the chair.
“What can I do to help? Will they let you out on bond?”
“I seriously doubt it. I’m a flight risk.” She mulled over her options. “Kelly, my assistant, is going to work on hiring a lawyer in Florida and private investigators to try to find the real killer. She was here about an hour ago.”
“Private investigators?”
She nodded. “Professionals will be far better at finding out what Everett was into and who would have wanted him dead.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Give Kelly whatever funds she needs from my account.”
“Okay.” Her blue eyes darkened. “You’re not eating, are you?”
Jia had to laugh. “I discovered that eating well while on the lam is difficult. And I had enough of jail food the last time I was a guest of the state.” Her levity didn’t lighten the mood. Instead, her mother looked as if she were about to cry again.
“I feel so helpless.” She dabbed the corner of her eye with her hankie. “Your father is heartbroken too.”
Jia’s jaw automatically clenched at the mention of her stepfather. Difference was he probably believed she was guilty, unlike her mother. “Dad doesn’t have a heart to break.”
Her brow furrowed and the lines around her eyes deepened. “I know he doesn’t show it often, but he cares deeply about you.”
She was positive her mother actually believed that bullshit. Important thing was he loved her mother. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost eight-thirty, Mom. I know you have to be at work soon.”
“I can be late. That’s the last thing on my mind. Your father says they’ll extradite you to Florida. Who knows when I’ll see you again?” A new crop of tears slid down her cheeks.
A lump caught in Jia’s throat. What she’d give to be able to hug her. “I’m so sorry to put you through this. Again.”
“None of this is your fault.” She squared her shoulders. Her expression was pure Mama Bear. “You’re going to be exonerated. Anyone who knows you would never believe for a second that you’d have anything to do with something so awful.”
Thank God she still had people who believed in her. “I love you, Mom.” Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a female officer move behind her.
“Time’s up,” the woman said.
Jia touched the partition and mouthed, ‘I love you.’
“Me too, honey.”
She had to turn away or else she’d start crying.
The officer led her to the booking area. They entered a small room with loads of shelves behind a high counter.
A male guard looked up from the newspaper on the other side of the counter. “What you got for me, Leslie?”
The woman handed him a slip of paper. “Outside transfer.”
He studied the document a moment then stood and disappeared between the rows. Returning to the desk, he set a cardboard box down in front of Jia. “Here you go.”
She alternated her gaze between the two officers. “What’s going on?”
The female guard looked her over. “Your ride is here, milady. Off to the sunshine state for you.”
That elicited a chuckle from the man. “Change into your street clothes then bring me the jumpsuit and slides.” He gestured toward a curtained dressing area.
The woman went with her. The total lack of privacy had been one of the most humiliating aspects of her last incarceration and she cringed at the thought of dealing with it again. She unzipped the jumpsuit and shrugged out of it under the officer’s watchful eyes. The odor of urine permeated the air and made her sick to her stomach.
Please let this be temporary.
She prayed Kelly would come through. Every moment she had to spend as a prisoner chipped away at her soul. She dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a baggy navy sweater over it. Taking her jacket out of the box, she glanced at the officer. “I’d like to get rid of the rest of these clothes.” She had no need for the camouflaging layers now.
“Can’s over there, princess.” The officer tipped her chin toward a plastic trashcan.
After they left the dressing room, the guard took her to a long desk where she handed her off to another officer.
“Put on your coat.” The man reached into a drawer and pulled out a mass of silver chain and several sets of handcuffs.
She slipped on the jacket but left it unzipped.
“Lift your arms,” he ordered.
Jia tried to hold back her tears as he circled a chain around her waist, locked it behind her then fastened two sets of handcuffs to it at her sides. She looked away and cringed as the metal clicked shut around one of her wrists, then the other.
He squatted in front of her and snapped a metal bracelet around each ankle. A chain between the cuffs hung to the ground. “All done.” He stood and grabbed hold of her arm. “Small steps or you’ll fall and crack your head open. And I hate seeing blood on my floors.”
What a sweetheart.
He took her to a cubicle and pointed to the chair. “Sit.” As she did, he crooked his head around the partition. “She’s all tied up like a Christmas turkey for you.”
“Thanks, buddy.” The disembodied male voice was smooth and deep. Heavy footsteps approached.
“Here’s your paperwork and your keys.” The guard blocked her view, but she caught a glimpse of the top of a man’s head, which rose about half a foot over the officer’s. His hair was sandy brown, thick and straight.
“And here’s the rest of her things,” the guard told him. He finally moved aside, allowing her to see the other man.
Forest green eyes, chiseled jaw and cheekbones, broad shoulders and long legs. He took a step closer and his spicy scent surrounded her in the tiny space, masked all the other institutional odors.
“Time to go, Mrs. Mason.” The man gently helped her up by her elbow. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” Hooking her arm, he waited for her to acclimate to walking with the leg irons.
She shuffled, trying to keep pace with him.
“Take your time.”
The past day and a half had been a blur of various cops and corrections officers pulling her here, pushing her there. Yet this man’s touch was the first that felt human, caring.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this.” Humiliation left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“My name’s Zack by the way.” When he met her stare, an ache started low in her abdomen.