Unbreakable Bond Page 6

  "So, my turn to pry," I said, shooting Aiden my best flirtatious smile as I leaned my elbows on the table. "The judge that was killed. Did you know him?"

  Aiden cocked his head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

  I shrugged. "You both run in judicial circles. I thought maybe you've bumped into each other before at social events. Maybe he and his wife?"

  Aiden paused, eyes scrutinizing me, wondering, I could tell, how much to give up. "I'd met him once or twice."

  "What was he like?"

  "Judicial."

  "And his wife?"

  "Sorry, we weren't that close," he said, cutting off that line of questioning.

  "I saw something on the news," I said, flirting with dangerous territory. "Something about video footage from the night the judge died?"

  "Careful, Bond," I heard Danny whisper in my ear.

  While I appreciated the concern, careful was getting me nowhere. I was on borrowed time, I knew. How long before Aiden tired of the flirtation-slash-interrogation game and pulled out the handcuffs?

  I watched him carefully as he answered. "Yes. I saw that, too."

  "So, it's true? You have video of the judge from that night?"

  "We do."

  "Where did it come from?"

  "Bond..." Danny warned in my ear. "You're treading on thin ice."

  But I ignored him, watching the muscles in Aiden's jaw move as he decided just how to answer that question.

  "Where it came from isn't as important as what's on it," he said.

  "Huh," I answered, sitting back in my seat. "Odd."

  "What's odd?" Aiden asked, taking my bait.

  "Well, it's just that..." I paused, giving him my most innocent smile. "On Law & Order they always considered the source of the evidence as the main factor in how valid it was."

  Aiden sat back, giving me a perfect poker face. "Are you saying the footage we have may be faked?"

  I shrugged. "I'm saying things aren't always what they appear to be."

  He gave me a long look that was completely unreadable. Then just when the silence was starting to make me sweat, said, "Channel Four."

  "Excuse me?"

  "The footage was sent to a local news station. Channel Four. They forwarded it on to us just before it aired."

  Bingo.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but before I had the chance, Danny piped up in my ear again.

  "I got bad news, Bond," he shouted. "A couple of squad cars just pulled up. You need to get out of there. Now!"

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  _____

  I froze. It was all I could do to keep the smile pasted on my face as my body launched into fight or flight mode. Mostly flight.

  "I need to use the restroom," I said, forcing myself to rise slowly from the table, despite instant panic urging me on. "Excuse me."

  "I’ll meet you at the side," Danny said, his voice mirroring my panic.

  My hip knocked into the table, jostling the dinnerware. A butter knife slid off, and I caught it midway to the floor. I tossed it beside the bread plate and half-walked, half-sprinted to the foyer.

  Once around the corner, I dropped the walking bit and just sprinted to the restrooms.

  I would’ve preferred using the delivery doors, but accessing the kitchen from the dining room would’ve made Aiden suspicious. So I settled for Plan B. The ladies’ room window. Danny and I had cased all outside exits before he dropped me off. This one was our best bet.

  I tugged on the restroom door handle. It didn’t budge.

  Shit. Occupied.

  I glanced to a second door beside the restroom. The men’s room. I hadn't actually checked it out, but it stood to reason there was a window in there, too. But as I reached for the handle, the Maitre ‘d appeared in the hallway, wearing a scowl.

  "May I help you?"

  "No, thank you."

  He stood firm, his grimace unwavering.

  "I need to use the restroom," I whispered. I didn’t need to fake the urgency in my voice.

  "That is the men’s room, Madame."

  A scream, somewhere deep in my core, spiraled toward my throat. I was running out of time. It was all I could do to not push the old guy aside.

  "I’m aware, but I really need to go."

  I glanced at the front doors, expecting to see two uniformed officers with their guns aimed at my pretty head. It was clear but wouldn’t be for long.

  I grabbed the handle and pushed, but the door didn't budge. Occupied.

  Something inside me fell, passed my other organs and landed at my Achilles heel. If I did the potty dance, could I convince this guy to let me use a back bathroom?

  Unlikely.

  Just then a stout woman in a royal blue, chiffon dress stepped out of the ladies’ room.

  A huge sigh escaped my mouth, and I almost threw my arms around her in a fierce hug. Instead I tossed a smirk over my shoulder to the Maitre d’ and hurried inside.

  I choked on a cloud of cheap perfume and breathed through my mouth. Not bothering to latch the door, I ran to the window. The frosted glass pane lifted with ease, and I used the trash can to hoist myself up.

  Danny’s van idled in the alley. He leaned out the driver’s side window. "Hurry."

  As if I was moving slow on purpose.

  Legs over the ledge, I shimmied my torso forward. My dress caught on the sill, but I didn’t care, didn’t want to take the time to gingerly untangle the fabric, didn’t want to add silver handcuffs to my accessories. I jumped and only hoped the ripping sound wouldn’t leave my ass exposed.

  As my feet touched the asphalt, one heel snapped, and I fell onto hands and knees. Scraped and bloodied, I hopped up with the grace of a drunken alley cat.

  I waddled around the front of the van, temporarily blinded by the headlights, and scrambled into the passenger seat.

  "That was close." Danny spun the vehicle away from the restaurant, turning left at the end of the alley.

  To my right, I could see red and blue lights flashing against the front signage of the restaurant. I felt that panic slowly melting into relief as I pictured the look on Aiden’s mouth, when he realized I’d escaped.

  * * *

  I paced the length of my desk, back and forth, grinding my heels into the carpet and my molars into enamel dust. Staying here, cooped up, while the girls were out talking to our source at Channel Four made me want to shred off the vanilla striped wallpaper with my fingernails.

  Since I was too much of a control freak to relax and wait, Danny hooked the girls up. Microphones, cameras, the usual, but this time he managed to stream the feed, from Caleigh’s chest to my laptop. Any minute now I’d be able to watch.

  From the sidelines.

  This was the first time I hadn’t taken lead on a case so important.

  Maya knocked on my door and entered. "Here. I thought you could use this." She handed me my usual—a grande, nonfat Caramel Macchiato.

  She eyed the indentations my heels made in the carpet. "Maybe you don’t need the caffeine."

  "Thanks," I muttered and took a long, scalding sip.

  Then to Danny, on speakerphone, I asked, "How’s it going there?"

  As if on cue, the black screen on my laptop grew static then flickered in and out.

  "You got a picture?" Danny asked.

  I made out double glass doors with the Channel Four logo. Maya and I moved closer.

  "It’s kinda fuzzy."

  "Hey, it's the best I can do on short notice, kid," Danny replied.

  I watched Sam and Caleigh walk into the lobby. I cranked up the volume on my speakers and sat in my chair. Maya pulled an imitation leather one over, and we huddled by the screen.

  Our view sashayed across the burgundy carpet. Except for a young girl watering a nearby plant, the room appeared empty.

  "Hey. I’m looking for Elaine," Caleigh said in her sweet as molasses drawl.

  The girl turned, displaying a top row of barely detectable Invisalign braces and a set of d
ouble Ds that would put Dolly Parton to shame. She had light brown hair, feathered at the sides, channeling the original Charlie’s Angels, and large green eyes. She wore a tank top that barely contained her non-bouncing boobs—clearly the work of a talented plastic surgeon.

  "I’m her. Who are you?" Her smile appeared innocent, but her smoked-a-pack-a-day voice shattered that image.

  "Whoa. Way to ruin a hottie." Danny’s shock traveled across the phone line.

  The girls must’ve felt the same way because it took Caleigh a moment to respond. "Hi, we’re friends of Derek. He said you could help us."

  Elaine set down the watering can and took a seat behind the long, counter-height front desk. It practically swallowed her whole.

  "So what can I do Derek for?" She cackled.

  I envisioned him and this child-like woman on his bed, in positions a daughter should never imagine. I shuddered.

  Sam leaned down and rested her arms on the top edge of the desk. Her dark curls bounced into view. "The station received a package. A video of Judge Waterston on the night he was killed. We’re hoping you can tell us about it. Like who sent it."

  Elaine pursed her lips. "I wasn’t here when it arrived. I didn’t see who delivered it."

  "Maybe someone else did?" Caleigh prodded.

  "Or you can show us the envelope it arrived in," Sam suggested.

  Elaine leaned back. "Why would I do that?"

  "Derek said you were ever so helpful." Caleigh added extra syrup to her words.

  Static buzzed in and out, and the picture skipped a beat. I prayed the feed would stay up. I trusted the girls. They were the best at what they did, but since this morning, I’d been a mass of anxiety. A rough night of tossing, turning, and thinking had me frazzled.

  "Aww, Derek’s just the sweetest man I’ve ever known," Double D purred.

  Derek Bond? As in the man who shared half my DNA?

  She leaned closer. "And the dirtiest old kook."

  Ah, yes. That sounded about right.

  "He once tied me up and slathered..."

  I grabbed my ears, pressing my palms against my head with enough force to pop the top off a stubborn pickle jar, and held on for dear sanity. "La-la-la-la-la."

  Maya smirked and kept her gaze on the screen. A moment later, she gave me the thumbs up, and I cautiously lowered my hands.

  "Wait here," Elaine said then sprung out of her chair and hurried down a narrow corridor to a back office.

  Static interfered, and when it cleared up, Elaine flounced back into view. She carried a pink, blue and yellow striped envelope.

  The video arrived in that?

  "I really shouldn’t show you this, but I’d do anything for Derek." Another cackle set the hairs on my arms erect. "I pulled it from the trash for you."

  Caleigh took the envelope and held it at an angle for the camera. Other than the postage corner and address label, it was devoid of any identifying marks.

  "Damn." I punched the top of my desk. A cup of pens rattled. Maya flinched.

  "It was a long shot," Danny said.

  I rolled my eyes, wanting to hang up on him. I knew that, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t set my expectations high.

  "It obviously came from a woman," Elaine chuckled. "Unless some man likes pink stripes and designer envelopes."

  Designer. That was it.

  "Danny, tell Caleigh to flip it over and look for a brand."

  Maya scooted closer to my laptop. "What are you thinking?"

  "You can’t buy those at the post office. If she had them custom-made or even used a credit card, maybe we can find her identity."

  Caleigh flipped the package and held the bottom left corner closer to her bosom.

  Advent Paper.

  The phone in the reception area rang. Maya scrambled up front, and I sat back in my chair, proud of our accomplishment. I watched Caleigh and Sam thank Elaine, who asked them to tell Derek she’d be calling soon for another wild ride. Gag. Then the reception went to permanent static, and Danny signed off.

  "We’re on our way."

  Before I got a second to instruct Maya to search the name, my office door opened again. This time Levine stuck his head in.

  He pointed behind him. "Maya was busy, so I let myself in."

  Fab. Just what my day needed. A lecture on either a) criminal defense or b) firing an employee.

  He lowered himself into the chair Maya had occupied, folding one leg over the other. "So I heard about your narrow escape last night."

  "From whom?" The girls knew better than that. If one of them had talked to Levine, I might reconsider the firing thing.

  "Danny mentioned it," he said.

  Traitor.

  "So, was it worth it?" Levine asked me, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  "Yes, absolutely," I answered with confidence that I didn't quite yet feel. "We're following up a lead right now."

  He narrowed his beady eyes, twitched his nose. I almost offered him the chunk of Munster in the back of the office fridge. Instead, I filled him in on the package.

  When I finished, he finally said, "I’ll set up an appointment with Mr. Prince, and we’ll tell your side of the story."

  Were brain cells leaking through his bald spot?

  "So then he can have police and handcuffs waiting? I don’t think so."

  "Jamie, we can settle this with one meeting."

  "How? Do you possess a magic wand I don’t know about? My face is on that video."

  "They only want you in for questioning. There’s no proof to tie you to the murder, no DNA or fingerprints." He paused. "Right?"

  Did he doubt me?

  "Of course not, but I’m not taking that chance. We’ll track down this package and find Faux Mrs. Waterston. Then we’ll take her on a visit to the ADA."

  He shook his head. "As your attorney, I don’t agree. But, you're the client. I can't force you to do anything you don't want to."

  Damned straight.

  "So, you want to ignore the colossal legal mistakes you're making? Fine. Let's talk business instead. Which girl are you letting go?"

  "Ha." I rose and walked to the door, signaling the end of this conversation. "I still have over a week to get us into the black."

  "You're kidding me, right?" He stood and walked to me. "You're a suspect in a murder, Jamie."

  "I’m aware."

  "If your true identity leaks, this agency may as well hang up its shingle."

  I straightened his tie. "They’re letters painted on glass. Not a shingle."

  The left corner of his mouth lifted. "You’re just like your father."

  I gently swatted his arm. "Of all the insults."

  "Same determination. Same stubborn-streak." With that bit of indigestion, he turned and walked out. "We’ll talk tomorrow."

  Not if I solved this today.

  I watched Levine leave, nearly colliding with Caleigh as she walked in with a proud smile. Danny followed a step behind.

  "Where’s Sam?" I asked.

  "On the way back, she got a call from her sitter. Something about a stomachache, so she went home."

  Watching Samantha load and shoot a gun like Rambo sometimes made me forget her other job was titled "Mom".

  "Hope her kid's okay," I said.

  Maya struck the keys on her keyboard with her French-manicured acrylic tips. "So I found Advent Paper’s website. As it turns out, they’re an online store that specializes in envelopes, stationary, parchment. Who knew there were so many paper choices?"

  Caleigh walked around the reception desk and stared at the screen. She tapped Maya’s shoulder with the back of her hand. "Let me at it."

  Maya stood and gave up her seat.

  "It shouldn’t be too hard to get into their database and find their customer list."

  While she attacked the keys, Danny grabbed my elbow and pulled me out of their earshot. "I saw Levine drive off as we pulled in."

  "Yeah. Thanks for ratting me out, by the way."

 
At least Danny had the decency to look sheepish. "He called me last night after I got home. He said he wanted to help you."

  "Yeah, well, he's delusional. He thinks talking to the ADA will be enough to clear me."

  Danny paused, chewing on that thought. "I can't say I totally agree with that strategy. That Prince guy was shifty last night. I don't trust him."

  "That makes two of us," I mumbled.

  "But, Levine is a good lawyer. If he says you should turn yourself in..."

  I stared at him as he trailed off. "Really? Et tu, Danny?"

  "Got it," Caleigh cried, saving him from answering.

  Damn, that girl was fast. We hurried to the desk. She clicked the mouse, and the printer hummed to life.

  "There are five customers who purchased this paper in the past year."

  "Not a big seller," I mumbled.

  Caleigh walked to the end of the desk and lifted the page from the printer’s tray. "Crystal McKinley," she said, reading the first name from the list.

  Maya slid back into her chair.

  I circled the desk as she brought up Google. Links to a Crystal McKinley’s Facebook and Tumblr appeared at the top of the page. Maya clicked the Facebook link, and we were taken to a page of a teenaged redhead sporting a duck-face and inch-thick black eyeliner under her eyes.

  "They really should offer cosmetology classes in high school," Caleigh said.

  "That’s definitely not her," I said.

  "Okay, how about Edgar Washington."

  Maya’s fingers flew across the keys as Caleigh spoke, so by the time I could remind them we weren’t looking for a man, an image of a wrinkled guy with skin the color of ash sprang up.

  "Pass."

  "Well, I guess we can also cross off Timothy Weiner. That’s leaves Donna Martinez and Gail Baxter."

  Maya clicked a few more keys, typing in the names. A moment later a picture of Faux Mrs. Waterston filled the monitor. Instead of the Audrey Hepburn look though, she wore her long, dark hair down. It flowed over her shoulders and she appeared softer, more angelic than the woman I’d met.

  A flood of anger hit me.

  She definitely had a talent for disguise. If she wasn’t a murderer or trying to frame me, she’d make a great Bond girl.