Chapter 12
“Hey, you find anything?” I ask even as I lay on the horn at some asshole who almost sideswiped me.
I hate driving and wish I could just fly everywhere.
But since that’s not a possibility, I’m making my way from Seattle back to the posh Emerald Queen Gardens neighborhood.
I got three and a half hours of sleep, took an ice-cold shower, and have basically mainlined coffee for the last hour.
Coffee is my god, so I definitely live in the right place.
“Are you driving?” Foxe asks.
Iris Foxe is one of my favorite people, not that I’d ever tell her that.
Her ego is the size of the moon. But she’s scary smart, and if not for our boss Fallon, she’d likely be in jail.
Or running her own cult. Fallon gave her direction, a purpose in life—kinda like how she did for me.
For everyone who worked for her. Because none of us are cut out for nine-to-five stuff.
And we all need purpose, people to help. For different reasons.
“I’m using hands-free.” I can hear the slight defensive note in my voice. “And someone almost hit me. They deserved the horn.” Which, fine, I’m a bit liberal with it in general. But people are shitty drivers.
“They’d be doing you a favor.” Her tone is dry, if distracted.
She’s usually working various jobs, helping all the investigators at the firm.
“And…okay sorry, had to finish up with something. And yes and no. Nothing from the emails but I found a very angry ex of Cory Powell’s.
Figure you and Alex might want to talk to her, see what she has to say. I’ve already sent you the info.”
Angry exes are the best, almost always willing to spill what they know. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“I know. And you’re welcome. Also, I’ve looked at Ava and Marcus Chesky’s phone records and can’t find anything tying them together other than a few random texts over the years.
Which makes sense if they’re neighbors. But Ava has been texting and calling an unknown number—clearly a burner phone—for the last six months. ”
“Very interesting.” And after what Alex told me about the two of them disappearing upstairs together…
My money is on the two of them sleeping together.
It makes me think of Cara’s last words, about ruining lives.
I thought she was talking about work, but maybe…
it was something else. I’ll figure it out. I have to.
“You don’t have to bother Alex with this,” I continue. “I’ll handle it on my own.” My tone is definitely casual, which I have to be where Foxe is concerned. If she thinks I’m up to something, she’ll narc me out to Fallon in a heartbeat. Damn it, I still need to call her.
“I’m sure you can, but I already sent her the details. Expect a call from Alex in three, two—”
“Oh my god,” I groan as my cell beeps softly with an incoming call from Alex.
“Byyyyeeee.” Foxe hangs up before I can say anything else.
Which is just as well, because fine, I like working with Alex.
I just don’t want to get used to having a partner.
I worry that if I get too used to something then lose it, it’ll be that much harder to readjust. Whatever.
No time for that this morning. “Hey, just heard from Foxe. You good to meet up with me?” I haven’t even looked at the incoming text I saw pop up from Foxe, but I know there’s an address and more information than I could want on Powell’s ex.
“Of course. Where are you now?”
“About two minutes from Cara and Ethan’s place.” It feels too weird to just say Ethan’s, so even though the ache in my chest throbs every time I say her name or even think about her, I still do it.
My sister deserves to be remembered.
“I want to have breakfast with the girls first, and check in.” I know I should just follow up on the lead immediately, but I can spare fifteen minutes with them. They need to see me around, and hell, I need to be around them. They’re the only family I have and they’re suffering more than anyone.
“No problem. I’m headed in from Pioneer Square. The ex is in the Magnolia area. I’ll text you when I head that way. Might be easier if you fly into Bellevue. I can pick you up?”
I definitely don’t need an excuse to fly, and she’s right anyway. I’ll get there a lot faster. Thankfully it’s a relatively clear day. “Works for me, thanks.”
Alex just grunts and hangs up in response, which is about standard for her. Seriously, I don’t know how she landed someone as sweet as Rose.
As I near the Emerald Gardens neighborhood, I frown as I see the same SUV I saw last night parked about a block down the road.
Instead of turning into the entrance, I keep going, looking at the license plate on the front.
Washington is one of the states that requires plates on the front and back, and right about now I’m grateful for it as I memorize it.
I pull a quick U-turn and snap a picture of the plate from the back. Maybe I’m being paranoid (okay, I’m almost definitely being paranoid), but I don’t care at this point. The SUV was there all night from the looks of it and someone is still sitting in the driver’s seat.
Waiting for something or someone.
I wonder if they see me take the picture because they zoom away from the curb, their tires screeching after I’ve pulled my phone up.
Interesting.
I text an image of the plate to Foxe so she can run a search, then turn into the neighborhood.
Maybe this has nothing to do with Cara’s murder, but I don’t believe in coincidences. Whoever is driving the SUV is up to no good.