Fatal Fortune

  “Abs,” Dutch said, holding his hands in a time-out. I wasn’t surprised that he was ready to protest.

  “You can’t get involved either,” I said to him. “Listen, you two, Candice has taught me enough over the years to be able to investigate a case on my own. No, I don’t have a PI license, but I can ask questions. And I can use my intuition. I can bring you my findings as hypotheticals—there’d be nothing official about what I’d be telling you, and we could then hypothetically figure out a way to help Candice without jeopardizing everybody’s jobs.”

  Dutch frowned and shook his head, but Brice looked like he was considering the idea. The silence stretched out in the room, so I finally said, “What other choice do you guys have? Any other way you slice it, if either of you goes rooting around for info and finds something out that pertains to the case, if you don’t divulge it to your superiors immediately, you know you could be brought up on obstruction charges. It’d ruin your careers.”

  “I could resign and investigate on my own,” Dutch suggested. “I make enough to live on with the security firm.”

  “No,” I said. He cut me a look and I glared at him. “Seriously, Dutch, no. You love this job. If you let it go and we cleared Candice, how long before you started resenting her for giving up the job you love?”

  Brice moved to his desk chair and sat down heavily. “I don’t like it,” he said. “But Cooper’s right, Rivers. What other choice do we have?”

  Both Brice and I looked expectantly at Dutch. If he said no, then I’d do what I wanted anyway and our house would be tense and awful for the next few weeks. If he said yes, he’d be giving me the inch that he knew I’d turn into a country mile. Poor guy. I felt a little sorry for him.

  At last he said, “Sir, would you mind if I had a private moment alone with my wife?”

  Brice stood up and walked to the door. “Take as long as you need.”

  Once the door was shut, Dutch crooked his finger at me and I moved over to him. He pulled me forward to straddle his lap and after eyeing me thoughtfully for a few beats, he said, “To hell with hypotheticals, Edgar. There’re things you’re not telling us already and I know that you’ll keep more to yourself than you’ll reveal. Which means that if you get into trouble, we won’t know it until it’s too late.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “How about I avoid getting into trouble, then?”

  “This isn’t funny, dollface.”

  I let go of the smile. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Candice needs help, and I’m the only one who can offer it to her without risking my career.”

  “Yeah, well, you were right about the fact that I love what I do, but that pales in comparison to how I feel about you.”

  My smile returned and I cupped the side of his face. “Sometimes you say the exact perfect thing.”

  Dutch sighed again and bowed his head forward until it was touching mine. “Abs,” he said. “There’s something I gotta ask you.”

  Uh-oh. “Okay. But I may not be able to answer it.”

  “It’s not about where you went last night or that bullshit story about you leaving your phone off. I have to ask . . . do you really trust Candice?”

  I pulled my head back away from his. “Do I trust Candice? What kind of a question is that?”

  “An honest one. You saw that video. She murdered that guy in cold blood. What’s to say that she isn’t who we think she is and if you get in her way, she could take you out too?”

  I was so stunned that for a moment I couldn’t think of a reply. Then, I spoke from the place that I knew to be true. “My gut says I can trust her. And, until it says differently, I’m going to keep doing that.”

  Dutch nodded. “Okay, then.”

  “Really?”

  My hubby grinned sideways at me. “If I said no, you’d just go do your thing anyway. This way at least Brice and I will be a little more in the loop.”

  I wound my arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. “Like I said. Sometimes you say the perfect thing.”

  * * *

  I left the bureau a short time later promising off the record to give Dutch and Brice a report on my findings. Brice told me that I couldn’t use any bureau resources, which bummed me out because, as a civilian, you can only learn so much by asking questions and digging around on the Internet.

  Still, I had at least one lead: the file in the Witts’ garage. I just needed to wait until dark to retrieve it. I also needed to get a look at my calendar of scheduled clients and see if I could rearrange a few of them to free up the rest of my week.

  With that in mind, I headed to the office I shared with Candice and braced myself as the elevator doors opened to our floor. I had no idea what I’d find since the police had searched the place. Moving down the corridor leading to our offices, I saw the building manager standing outside our door. He looked nervous and my radar pinged. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant encounter. “Good morning, Mr. Giles,” I said.

  “Ah, Ms. Cooper. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  Giles appeared nervous, and he was fidgeting with an envelope that he seemed to be hesitating about whether to give to me. “That for me?” I asked, pointing to the envelope.

  Giles flushed. “This? Oh, yes, uh . . .”

  I held out my hand. I already knew it was bad news; I just didn’t know how bad. My landlord handed it over and his blush deepened. I opened the envelope and began to read. Giles said, “It’s just that the lease clearly states—”

  “What’s this?” I demanded. “You’re evicting us?!”

  The building manager cleared his throat and tugged on his blazer. “You and Ms. Fusco are in violation of your lease.”

  I stared at him with mouth agape. “We are not! We pay our rent on time each and every month, Giles, and I have the canceled checks to prove it!”

  “I’m not talking about your rent,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I’m talking about section five C, paragraph three of your lease, which clearly states that no unlawful business shall be conducted in this building.”

  “Unlawful?” I snapped. “I’m not violating any laws, Mr. Giles. My business is clean.”

  “I’m not referring to you, Ms. Cooper. I’m referring to your business partner, Ms. Fusco. There’s a warrant out for her arrest, and we do not lease office space to felons.”

  And then I understood. He’d seen the news, and the police in the building serving out the search warrant. “We’ll fight you in court,” I said. I was so angry I wanted to smack him. “Under the law, Candice is considered innocent until proven guilty, Mr. Giles.”

  “That may well be, Ms. Cooper, but I must inform you that we are more than willing to take this matter to court if you insist. We’d welcome that, in fact.”

  The little bastard knew he had me. Filing a claim in court would take weeks or months, and to prove that my landlord didn’t have a claim, I’d have to provide evidence that Candice was innocent, which I couldn’t currently do. “This is bullshit,” I told him, crumpling up the letter and throwing it on the ground.

  He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at me with unfriendly eyes. “You have until the end of the month.”

  “Two weeks from now,” I growled.

  Giles shrugged and turned on his heel. There would be no winning the argument with him. I shook my head and went into the office, only to stop short. “What the . . . ?” I gasped.

  The place looked like a tornado had hit it. No, scratch that. It looked like an earthquake had struck first, a hurricane second, and a tornado third. There was so much debris littering the area that it was hard to see the floor. And the mess wasn’t just contained to Candice’s side of the office. It’d flowed all the way over to my side too.

  For several seconds I just stood there gaping and blinking at the scene. It was like I was having a hard time registering the totality
of it. And then I was in motion, slip-sliding to the left through the paper and broken furniture to my office, where I came up short again. I gasped anew.

  My desk had been overturned and every single drawer had been removed and turned upside down. My filing cabinet was on its side on the floor and all my files were strewn about. The oil painting that Dutch had purchased for me the previous summer when we went to an art fair together had been ripped nearly in half and was lying next to my ergonomic leather chair, which had both a handle missing and a large tear right down its middle. And the wedding photo of the two of us staring lovingly into each other’s eyes was also smashed and lying broken on the floor.

  I felt unbidden tears sting my eyes and I turned away to shuffle through the mess to the room where I read my clients, a fairly small space that I’d so carefully decorated with the softest, most comfortable chairs, a half dozen amethyst, quartz, and citrine crystal geodes placed just so, and little artful touches that wouldn’t distract.

  But when I reached the doorway . . .

  For long moments I simply stood there, my lower lip quivering and tears leaking down my face. And then I couldn’t look at it anymore and turned away to go back to my office.

  Wiping my eyes, I pulled out my new cell, but then thought better of it. Shuffling through the mess again, I managed to find the phone for the landline, which thank God was still intact, and I called 411. “Austin Police Department, nonemergency, homicide division,” I said when the automated recording asked me for the listing.

  * * *

  An hour later Dutch was standing next to me when Detective Grayson showed up. It was hard to tell who was more ticked off between me and the hubby. I think the oil painting was the clincher for him. I’d loved it the second I saw it, but it’d been expensive, and I’d tried to talk Dutch out of buying it, but he’d wanted so much to do something special for me. It was more than just a piece of art to us; it was a sweet moment we’d shared together that now felt ruined.

  “Whoa,” Grayson said as she came through the door. Turning in a half circle, she looked at us and said, “What the hell happened in here?”

  I blinked. I’d had an angry speech all prepared and Dutch had even contacted our attorney, ready to file suit with the APD for violating the search warrant, but Grayson’s reaction to the mess took both of us by surprise.

  Dutch recovered himself first. “Don’t you know, Detective?” he said angrily. “Your guys completely trashed the place and violated the terms of the warrant by tearing apart my wife’s half of the office! I’ve got a call in to my attorney and I should warn you that I plan to personally speak to the chief of detectives.”

  It was Grayson’s turn to blink in surprise. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Agent Rivers, we conducted a search of the place, but none of our guys did this.”

  Dutch and I looked at each other and I could tell he was as shocked as I was. Turning back to Grayson, I crossed my arms and said, “No one else had access to this place, Detective. You guys were the last people in here.”

  She scowled at me. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes!” I said, looking from Grayson to Dutch. “I had to unlock the door when I entered, and this office can only be locked and unlocked with a key.”

  “How did you guys access the office to serve out the search warrant?” Dutch asked.

  “Agent Harrison provided us with the key, which we returned to him several hours ago,” Grayson said, surveying the mess again.

  Dutch turned to me. “Who else has a key?”

  I sighed. This was so frustrating. “Me and Candice of course,” I said, “and you know I keep a spare at home, just like Candice did. But other than the landlord, that’s it.”

  Grayson stepped back to the door and squatted down to inspect the lock. “No sign of forced entry,” she said. “Are you sure no one took your spare?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “No, it was in the dish this morning when I fished out my car keys. I’m positive it’s still at home.”

  Grayson stood up again and leveled her gaze at me. “You sure your partner didn’t come back here and do this?”

  I rolled my eyes. “How stupid do you think she’d have to be to come back here knowing you guys are looking for her?”

  “And why would she tear apart her own office?” Dutch said to Grayson.

  The detective shrugged. “Maybe she was trying to cover up the fact that she took something out of the office.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked.

  Grayson pulled out her notebook. “We cataloged everything in here,” she said. “Down to the number of pens in the pencil holder. If something came up missing, we’d know about it. Maybe Candice wanted whatever she took to get lost in the chaos. Which is why she trashed your side of the office too.”

  For the smallest fraction of a second I took that in as a possibility. My radar kicked it right back out again. “No way. There’s no way Candice did this,” I said firmly. “And if it wasn’t you guys, then somebody else was in here.” A creepy feeling then traveled up my spine and I felt goose pimples line my arms. Dutch seemed to sense what I was concluding and he reached out and took my hand.

  Grayson sighed. “Okay, so some intruder with access to a key came in here and tore the place up. Abby, do you know if anything is missing?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t even looked. . . .” My voice trailed off as I had a terrible thought, and letting go of Dutch, I rushed slipping and sliding on the paper and debris over to my office. Heading around to the other side of the desk, I got down on hands and knees and began to push around in the clutter. “What is it?” I heard Dutch ask as I was frantically searching.

  “My laptop! Dutch, it’s not here!”

  Dutch came over next to me and began pushing aside the mess too. After a few minutes we knew the search was fruitless. I sat back on my heels and used up at least five dollars’ worth of swear jar credit.

  Once I was done, I heard Grayson on the phone out in the lobby. She poked her head in with her phone pressed to her ear. “I’m calling in a B and E,” she said. “I’ll have a detective here in a few to take a report.”

  I nodded, not quite able to say thank you. I was too upset. Dutch helped me to my feet and wrapped me in his arms. “We’ll get you a new computer,” he promised.

  “It’s not just that,” I said, my voice quivering. “Dutch, you saw what they did to my reading room. They destroyed my sanctuary. I feel so violated.”

  “But you’re safe,” he said, squeezing me tight. “Which is what counts. And all that stuff might be tough to replace, but we’ll do it, Abs. I promise.”

  I leaned against him and let his warmth seep into me. Dutch and I had grown even closer since our wedding and we’d been crazy in love before. There was a deeper, more meaningful level to our relationship now, and it was hard to quantify, but it was like we’d let go of any petty squabbles or hang-ups we’d once carried, and now we just felt grateful every single day to have each other to go through life with. And personally, I noticed that I’d stopped thinking of myself as this independent woman in love with a great guy, and more as a part of something greater than the sum of our individual parts. Dutch was my connection to a wondrously secure, safe, and loving existence. It was hard to breathe sometimes because my chest was so filled up by that love, and I felt a wealth of it pass through me as he held me and told me everything would be okay.

  And then we heard Grayson clear her throat. “Abby,” she said softly.

  I lifted my head away from Dutch’s chest and wiped self-consciously at my wet cheeks. “Yeah?”

  “Can you come with me for a sec?” Grayson asked.

  I looked at Dutch and he nodded. He’d be right next to me.

  We stepped carefully out of the room and through the small lobby, following Grayson over to Candice’s office. It was in perhaps even worse shape than mine. Candic
e’s glass desk was completely shattered, and large shards littered the debris on the floor. Grayson pointed toward the closet door, which was open, and the large filing cabinet I’d struggled to move only hours before was on the floor, blocking entry to the closet. But that wasn’t what Grayson seemed interested in. With a stopping motion she indicated that we should stay put, and she moved over to the closet. Taking out a small penlight from her pocket, she shone the light into the interior. I could see the safe door hanging open.

  “What do you know about this safe?” Grayson asked me.

  Thank goodness my eyes were already big and surprised. “Uh . . . nothing,” I said. “I had no idea Candice had a safe back there.” Which was partially true; I hadn’t known about it until she called me at three a.m. to tell me about it.

  Grayson studied me. I kept my eyes big and innocent.

  I don’t think she bought it. “No idea what she might’ve kept in there?”

  I shook my head. “None.” That was also partially true. I hadn’t yet peeked inside the file I’d taken from there. I had no idea what it contained.

  Grayson sighed and I saw her jaw muscles clench. “Dammit,” she said. “We didn’t pull the file cabinet out from the wall, so we didn’t know it was back here either.”

  “Whatever was in there must’ve been what the intruder was looking for,” Dutch said.

  Grayson nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think they got their hands on it.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, nervous that she was onto me.

  Grayson motioned with her penlight to the disaster that’d been Candice’s office. “I think they found the safe, got it open, and when they didn’t find what they were looking for, they took it out on the rest of the office. This is rage induced, which tells me two things: One, that you’re right; it probably wasn’t Candice who did this. And two, that whatever was in that safe was pretty important to somebody.”

  I nodded again. I knew that to be true. No way would Candice risk my neck if it weren’t important. But it also made me really curious about what the hell was in that file.