My phone dropped to the ground with a quiet thump. I went still, my shoe in my hand, cold dirt soaking through the knees of my jeans as I listened through the interminable pause that followed.
“Wait,” Trina said, her chair scraping against the floor, “that one sounds familiar.” My pulse skyrocketed as she stood and turned toward the sink. I grabbed my phone, muting Vero’s tinny shouts with my thumb as I scurried under the open window and pressed back against the siding. Papers rustled above me, as if Trina were rummaging through the envelopes and magazines I’d seen stacked on her kitchen counter. “I know it’s here somewhere.” A zipper whined. Her purse? Was one of Louis’s photos inside it? A note from Marco with my name and address? The tag number of my minivan along with Vero’s outstanding balance?
“Here,” she said triumphantly. “I knew I’d heard that name before!”
Something heavy thudded down.
Oh, god.What was it? An entire file? A dossier? I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. I rose up and peeked through the crack in the window. The three of them huddled over the table with matching bewildered expressions. My phone vibrated against the siding. Nick’s eyes lifted at the sound, narrowing on mine through the window.
Garrett and Trina looked up to see what had captured his attention. Trina lifted a tattered paperback off the table. She opened the cover and held it aloft in front of her, studying the inside flap, her eyes ping-ponging between me and the book. My name stretched across the front in hot-pink script, framed by a hunky cover model’s armpit. I cringed, praying for the ground to swallow me up as Garrett studiedmy headshot over Trina’s shoulder. It was the first romantic suspense novel I’d ever published, before I’d started using a pen name.
The kitchen door swung open, banging into the siding beside me.
“I knew I recognized you!” Trina said, leaning out and pointing her vape at me as I tugged on my sneaker and brushed the dirt from my pants. She shook a finger at the dog and waved me inside. “I found your books at the thrift shop next door to the hair salon where I work. Got three of them for a dollar! Ike loves ’em. He don’t actually read too well, but he likes when I read him the juicy parts out loud.”
I smiled tightly at her choice of words. Considering what I remembered of Ike’s final moments, I was pretty sure we weren’t picturing the same juicy parts.
Nick raised an eyebrow as I stepped, red-faced, into the kitchen, his astute gaze clearly registering the tangled hair escaping my ponytail and the damp, filthy spots on the knees of my jeans. “We were just playing a little fetch,” I said, answering the question on his face. The dog flounced down beside me and rested her muzzle on her paws. She looked woefully at my chewed-up sneaker. I just hoped she didn’t get indigestion and puke up a gold tooth.
Garrett checked his watch as Trina handed me a ballpoint pen. “Would you mind signing this for Ike?” she asked, holding out her book. “Maybe you could write him a special message. You know, like,To Ike, my biggest fan. Love, Finlay Donovan.Or something like that.”
Becausemy flattest fan,while accurate, would probably not be the wisest choice.
I scribbled out the message and signed my name, hoping my novel wouldn’t wind up shelved in an evidence locker as I handed it back to her.
Nick passed her a card with his phone number on it. “We don’t want to hold you up, Mrs. Grindley. We know you have to be at work soon. Can you tell us where we can find Ike’s boss? We called the cell number for Mr. Toscano in the case file, but we can’t seem to reach him. Does he have an office number we can try? Or an address?”
Her laugh was raspy. “Take your pick. Marco could be in any casinoin Atlantic City. The only person who might know where to look is his nephew, Ricky. He used to schedule appointments for his uncle.”
“Any idea where we can find Ricky?” Nick asked.
Trina shrugged. “Last I heard, he was parking cars at the Royal Flush.”
CHAPTER 12
My heart was still pounding when we left Trina’s house and got into Charlie’s car. Nick’s head fell back against his headrest. It rolled sideways, his face breaking into a grin. His pulse beat fast in the dip at the base of his throat, as if his heart had been racing a little, too. “She really had me going for a minute when I asked her if she recognized your name. I would have bet my life someone put a price on your head and Ike had taken the job.”
My laugh felt brittle. “That would be a stretch.”
Nick cocked an eyebrow. “I haven’t ruled it out. Either Marco Toscano was lying about sending Ike to Virginia, or Ike was lying to his wife about who hired him to go. There’s only one way to find out which.” He started the engine and set the navigation on the fancy touch screen to take us back to the Royal Flush. Agent Stokes waved as we pulled away from the curb and passed his SUV.
Nick was quiet as he drove us back to the turnpike, listening to the monotone instructions of the turn-by-turn guidance coming through the speakers. I sent Vero a quick text, letting her know I had survived the ordeal and was on my way back to the hotel. The Atlantic City skylinewas already visible in the distance. I’d have to keep Nick from talking to Ricky once we got there.
“Does that happen a lot?”
“What?” I asked, startled from my thoughts.
“People waving your books around and asking you for your autograph?”
I laughed. I could count on two fingers the number of times it had happened to me, and both times, I had been with Nick. “Only when I’m with you, apparently.”
My cell phone vibrated in my lap. I peeked at the screen.Incoming Call from Sylvia.Nick stole a sideways glance at me as I let it roll to voice mail.
“It’s just my agent. I can call her later,” I explained.
He looked surprised. “Isn’t she your boss?”
“I’m an independent contractor. I don’t have a boss.” Sylvia was more like an advisor. Or a gatekeeper. Definitely a menace.
