Chapter 22
Link
I hold my breath as the man pulls out a case from a pile of rubble in one of the bedrooms. It’s what I need, I can tell; I’m just not sure if it is the right one. He opens it, and I temper my reaction. It’s Cheryl’s necklace. Mrs. Harper’s necklace is still missing, but at least it’s a part of the puzzle. Sparing a glance in Cassie’s direction, I hope she’ll follow along.
“You didn’t tell me the necklace was stolen. That thing is all over town. The police are even in on it.” I run a hand over my face, doing my best to look nervous and jumpy. Pulling Cassie close, we turn toward the man. “We’ve got to get out of here. If the cops come, I don’t want to be anywhere near this.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is they hurt the woman who owned this necklace. Chances are, whoever stole it is going to jail. Was that you?”
“Me? No, no. I didn’t steal this.” He looks flustered and adjusts his oversized coat. “I wouldn’t risk that.”
“Jail time. That’s what they’re saying. Whenever they find the person who has this necklace, they’ll send them straight to jail.”
“Jail? I can’t go to jail. Just buy it off me.”
“Buy it off you? You’d have to pay me to take that thing. Come on, darling. We’re getting out of here.” I steer Cassie toward the hallway that led us to the back room.
“Wait, don’t just leave. Maybe we can work something out.”
I stop, waiting an extra minute before I turn around to look at him. “It’s too dangerous, man. Everyone in town is upset about what happened to Cheryl. Just having that necklace in this house, the police could take everyone in here down to the station.”
I’m getting to him because he looks terrified. After a second of hesitation, he extends the case toward me.
“Look, why don’t you just take it? If you manage to flip it, you can come back and give me my part of the profits. I trust you.” I’d like to tell him not to give it to me, but I really need him to. I have no money to buy this necklace and no idea what connection it has to the Harper crime.
“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get anything for it. Maybe you should give it back to whoever gave it to you.”
“Can’t risk that.” He shakes his head, a little fear on his face. “He was already angry when he gave the necklace to me in the first place. That man has no idea what he’s doing. I know better than to hurt anyone.” He scratches his head as if thinking. “Kids who grow up rich never truly think things through because they have no life experience.”
So, whoever gave him the necklace was a rich person or at least someone who grew up rich. A new theory slowly takes form in my head.
“Fine, I’ll take it off your hands and share the profits if I make anything from it. No guarantees, though. I might just have to ditch it. I’ll have to wait for things to cool down before I even try because I’m not looking to end up in jail.” I take the case from the man, ignoring his sad, reluctant look.
Some of our thoughts about the robbery might have been right. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make us look at Phineas. However, the more I think about it, the less sure I am that he was responsible for any robberies.
Everyone in town has a grudge against Phineas. Knowing somebody wants to frame him doesn’t make it any easier to figure out the actual culprit.
“You should tell whoever gave you the necklace to be a little more careful,” I say, walking toward the hallway.
“You bet I will. People like that throw everyone under the bus to get what they want.”
He doesn’t follow us down the hall this time. I notice all kinds of scraps here and there against the wall: a couple of boxes of copper wiring, old food wrappers, and bundles of blankets. I can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for squatters or people in their position.
Although we are away from prying eyes, I keep Cassie close. There’s no telling who might stay inside these walls. Just because a person is homeless doesn’t mean they’re necessarily harmless. Closing the door to the station wagon, I lean back against the seat. We’ve been going about this all wrong. Someone wanted us to think the robbery was Phineas, and we were so focused on it that we forgot to look into everyone else involved in the case.
“What do we do now?” Cassie asks. “We’ll take the necklace back to Cheryl, right?”
“Sure, but first, we need to visit the crime scene.”
“You mean Mrs. Harper’s house?”
I nod. “That’s exactly right. I think we need to re-examine the wealthy people in her life who might have a motive to steal that necklace and make us look in the other direction.”
The first day we questioned Mrs. Harper, she seemed adamant the culprit was Phineas. How did she come to that conclusion? Of course, there was a long-standing disagreement between her and Phineas. However, it is possible someone put the idea into her head so she wouldn’t be looking inside her own home. It should have been my first order of business, looking at everyone who had a chance to commit the crime. I’d allowed my hate for Phineas, paired with my distractions, to keep me from investigating properly.
We pull up to the enormous house, and I park the car. It looks just like the last time we were there—a picture of wealth, everything opposite of what the office looks like.
“You want me to come in?” Cassie has her hand on the door but looks hesitant for some reason. Maybe she’s changed her mind about enjoying conflict.
“Why don’t you wait here? If they’re home, I’ll come get you.” I want to verify my suspicions first. If I’m wrong, there’s no need to drag Cassie into the middle of it. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Hurrying toward the front door, I remind myself that my past with Phineas is something I need to deal with sooner rather than later. It’s gotten so far into my head that it’s keeping me from focusing properly on my cases.
I ring the doorbell and wait, tapping my foot with impatience. I’m close to discovering something big; I can feel it. After a few moments, the door opens, and Mrs. Harper stands there, leaning on a black cane. Shockingly, she answered the door herself. The last time, a butler did it for her.
“Lincoln, what brings you here?” she asks, looking me up and down, evaluation in her eyes.
“I need to ask you a few more questions about the robbery, Mrs. Harper. Do you mind if I come in?”
“Still no real sign of it? I have to say, I expected more of you. You came highly recommended. All though, it always was Robby who carried the business.” She shakes her head, and my blood boils. Forcing my composure, I follow her into the house, closing the door behind me.
Mrs. Harper sits down on the sofa, motioning to one of her leather seats for me. “So, what is it you need to know?”
“Who in your immediate circle wanted your necklace?” Taking a moment, I look around the room. It’s grand; I’ll grant her that. She has money and seems to enjoy flaunting it. I wonder how many secrets the mansion holds.
“It’s been in our family for generations, and I am sure anyone who has ever seen it might have wanted it. Are you insinuating someone I know took it? Why would they do that?” She shakes her head. “I refuse to believe it. Phineas, he’s the one who always wanted my money. He wanted to hurt me.” Her voice shakes as she waves her cane about.
“Anyone who had a particular interest? Or money trouble?”
She thinks a moment, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration. “No money trouble in my family.” She shakes her head, determination on her face. However, I notice a slight falter.
“You sure about that?”
“My son had a couple of run-ins with gambling and the like. Nothing like what you are insinuating. He has all he wants. He’d have no use for the necklace.”
I frown. Now that I think about it, Miles was a good candidate from the first day. He had motive, opportunity, and resources. A working theory forms in my head as I lean in to ask more questions. It’s time to get serious about candidates other than Phineas. Candidates like Mrs. Harper’s son, Miles.
Cassie
Lincoln seems on edge; he's hiding something. It shouldn't surprise me at this point. After all, he's been hiding things this whole time. My eyes stay glued to the front door, where he disappeared inside. I should have insisted on going in with him. I stayed behind because I have a phone call to make, which I'm not sure he would appreciate. Lincoln still has some strange need to step in and solve all my problems. I think he's forgotten I've taken care of my own problems for quite a while now.
I pull out my cell phone and dial a number I never thought I'd be calling. After three rings, he answers.
“Cassandra?” Xavier sounds just like he always did— in control and unbothered.
“Xavier, hi. I apologize for interrupting your day like this.”
“Of course not, no apology necessary. What can I help you with?” Fake-dating Xavier wasn't the worst time of my life. He was kind enough to try to make our time together enjoyable. We ended our fake relationship on decent terms, minimally as distant friends. Despite this, I had never called him before, especially not with a personal favor to ask.
“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I'm calling to ask a couple of questions about back in the day when we were in a… relationship.” Relationship is such a loose term for what we were to one another, but it’s the only thing I can think of.
He clears his throat nervously. “Sure, no problem.” He sounds strained, as if something is worrying him.
“Did Rosie know that our relationship wasn’t real?”
He thinks for a minute, silence coming over the phone. “Sure, I mean, we had a conversation about it. I told her I'd be open to going out once our contract ended.”
“So, she wouldn't have been upset at me for going out with you?”
“What's this about, Cassie?” There's an edge to his tone now, and I'm starting to wonder what has him so worried.
“I'm just trying to figure out what happened. I'm sure you must have heard about me being replaced.”
“Come on, Cassie. You’re not replaceable.”
“Xavier, you know they’re kicking me out. Everybody I talk to pretends it’s not happening, but we all know it is.” Frustration laces my tone. I am so tired of everyone brushing it under the rug when something is clearly happening.
“Cassie, I have to go. It was nice catching up with you.”
“Xavier—” I don’t get to finish because he’s rushing on.
“Sometimes, it’s hard to book roles for a while. It’s nothing new, and you shouldn’t be looking too far into it. I hope you’re doing well for yourself. We’ll talk another day, all right?” He mumbles, “Bye,” and hangs up the phone before I have a chance to reply.
The urge to yell pulses through me, but I hold myself back just as the back door opens. In exasperation, I intend to ask Lincoln what he’s doing getting into the back, but I freeze when I realize Lincoln is not the one getting into the back of the car.
It’s Miles, with a gun pointed right at me.
“Nice to see you again, Cassie. Why don’t you call your partner and tell him to join us?”
I clench my jaw as I face him and the gun in his hand. It’s a surreal feeling. I’d never been on the end of a real gun until I came back to town. Now, it seems to be a regular occurrence of the week. Why didn’t I think to lock the door when Lincoln stepped out? In my line of work, it’s such a foolish thing for me to overlook.
“What do you want?” What possible reason does Miles have to be holding me at gunpoint? Then again, I know very little about Miles or Mrs. Harper. I only heard of them when I lived in town and haven’t been back long enough to learn much about them or what they are up to these days.
“You’ll find out soon enough, but you should know I’m not afraid to use this. So, call your partner. Try to tip him off, and there will be consequences.”
My hand trembles as I take the phone, dial Lincoln’s number and press it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Lincoln, I… need you to come back to the car right now.” My options are limited. If I tip him off, then Miles may have nothing else to lose, and he might just end up shooting me. With no leverage, he might not have anything to lose.
“What do you mean? I’m speaking with Mrs. Harper about her son.” Lincoln sounds frustrated.
“That’s right.” I glance at Miles, hoping he doesn’t understand what I’m doing. Telling Lincoln what’s going on is a bad idea, but maybe I can get away with at least giving him a clue that something is wrong.
“Is everything all right, Cassie?” Lincoln’s tone turns cautious.
“No, but I need you to come to the car immediately.”
“All right, I’ll be right there.” He cuts the call, and my stomach clenches. He hurries down the steps, and his gaze darkens when he spots Miles behind me. He practically stomps to the car and slides into the driver’s seat.
“Miles, I was starting to suspect you had something to do with all this.”
“It's a shame you did.” Miles shook his head. “You know, everything could have worked out perfectly if you and Cassie had just done your job and tracked Phineas down.”
Lincoln glances down at the gun, which is still pointed at me.
“What is it that you want, Miles?” Lincoln's tone is thinly veiled rage.
“I’m glad you asked. I need your help framing Phineas for the necklace job.”
“You think I'm going to frame Phineas?” Lincoln chuckled. The phone is still gripped tightly in my hands, so tight my knuckles are white.
“I tried to make it easy for you by pushing you in that direction and paying men that resembled his goons to go after you, but you’re both so stubborn. Lucky for me, the two of you have Cheryl’s necklace now, which will come in handy.”
“You stole your mother’s necklace?” We should have suspected him from the beginning. I’d been so focused on everything else that had nothing to do with the case. It slipped right past me. Lincoln has similar feelings hanging in his eyes.
“You figured it out when it was put right in front of your face,” Miles scoffs. “Start the car. We’re going to the laundromat. Lincoln, you’ll plant that necklace in the laundromat, and then we’ll call the police station. When the police find Cheryl’s necklace, they’ll assume he was also responsible for my mother’s necklace. He’ll be in jail for years, and we continue as if nothing happened.”
“No,” Lincoln says.
I whip my head around to stare at him. Our lives are at risk, and I have no idea what the consequences might be of making Miles, who still has a gun, angry. I look to Lincoln. His gaze seems to be asking if I trust him. Startled, I realize I do trust Lincoln. He may not be honest, and certainly, he isn’t a good romantic partner, but I don’t think he would let anything happen to me if possible.
“No?” Miles lifts his gun and presses it into my shoulder. “If you don’t do what I’m saying, she will pay the price.”
“All right, fine.” Lincoln turns the key in the ignition, and the car jerks backward as we leave the driveway.
I certainly hope that Lincoln has a plan. I’m not sure it would be good to end up as Phineas’ enemy, but at the moment, it looks like a better option than being shot here and now.
Link
I grip the steering wheel as we turn onto the street toward the laundromat. We are running out of time, and I need to come up with something fast. There is no way I’m going to plant a necklace in Phineas’ place of work. After all the hot water I’m in with Phineas already, that would be the same as signing my death certificate. He would also come after Cassie just to get to me.
“What would someone like you betray their own mother for?” I eye Miles in the back seat through the rearview mirror. He looks slightly crazed as if he’s willing to do anything to get away with his wild plan. Those are the worst types of criminals—they don’t care about the consequences or consider their futures. All they know is the here and now and what they want.
They can be reckless, and recklessness gets people hurt, like Cassie. I may be the picture of control on the outside, but inside, I am panicking. There’s nothing quite like seeing someone you care about on the business end of a gun. If she gets hurt… the idea terrifies and freezes me for a moment. Robby was always scared of that. I think it is one of the reasons he let her walk away without putting up a fight. He was afraid of what danger she would come to by staying home.
“We are not here to get to know each other, Lincoln. You’re not going to talk your way out of this one.” Miles has a dead stare in his eyes. He is being honest when he says he has no desire to connect. He’s already decided what he wants, and I have a feeling he’s willing to do whatever he considers necessary to get it, even hurting Cassie.
“I’m not trying to talk my way out of anything. I just want to understand why you’re willing to go through so much trouble. I am a reasonable man. Perhaps we have some common enemies, such as Phineas.”
“I need the money. That’s all I’m willing to say. As far as Phineas goes, yes, I’ve never liked the guy or what he’s done to my family. I figured he’d be a good fall guy until the two of you had to go and mess all of that up.”
“What will your mother say when she finds out you took that necklace?” I watch his expression change.
“She’s not going to find out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going through so much trouble.”
“Don’t you think she’s going to find out eventually? Phineas has been careful for years not to get caught doing anything. He will make this scandal disappear, and when he does, he will find out who put him there in the first place.”
Miles looks anxious, his eyes darting from the front window to the side. His gun presses harder into Cassie’s shoulder.
“What do you say we let Cassie go? This can be between you and me.”
Cassie gasps. I don’t know why she finds it so shocking I would try to sacrifice myself for her. If anything, our time in the hospital showed her how much I care about her. Of course, it’s not something we can act on, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t put my skin on the line to keep her safe.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to sacrifice myself for. It feels both strange and satisfying.
“I said no tricks.” Miles’s voice rises in pitch. “You know, I never expected my mother even to realize that necklace was missing. She has close to a hundred of them. But she noticed it within the hour, and I had to come up with something quick. The worst part? I’d bet she cares about her jewels more than she cares about me.”
Painful memories swell to life in my thoughts. Somehow, I find myself oddly relating to Miles. Maybe if I can connect with him and convince him there’s something common between us, he’ll consider my request to let Cassie go.
“My dad had a baseball when I was young.” I check the rearview mirror to see if Miles will stop me, but instead, he’s listening. “He loved that thing—kept it in a case on his desk and wouldn’t let anyone touch it, not even me. One day, he missed a school game. I snuck into his office and knocked the case onto the floor. It was an accident; I was there for something else. But when I saw the ball on the floor, I decided to do something about it. I stole his baseball and kept it in my backpack while we searched the house for days.”
I remember the fury in my dad's eyes when he saw the broken case. Eventually, I’m pretty sure he figured out it was me, or at least suspected me, because he never did anything about it. He asked me about it for weeks, though.”
“What did you do?” Cassie asks, her eyes full of sympathy.
“I was at school, and when I saw a trash compactor, I don’t know what came over me. I threw that wretched ball inside and watched it get smashed. It was rather satisfying.”
A straight stretch of the road comes up ahead, and I tense and slow down slightly. I’ll try to reason with Miles one last time, but if he refuses to work with me, we’ll have no choice but to try to overcome him. I only wish Cassie was not in the car.
“If this is some cry for attention or revenge against your mother because she likes her jewels, it’s not worth it. Just give her back the necklace and explain what happened. Chances are she won’t press charges.”
For a moment, it looks like Miles is considering it. Then he shakes his head. “You don’t know anything about me. I’m going to get my money, and you’ll make sure the police are looking at the wrong person.”
Pulling in a deep breath, I brace myself. I jerk the wheel toward the side of the road, and the entire car shudders. Taking advantage of Miles flying toward the door, I stomp on the brakes and slam it into park. Before he can regain his bearings, I lurch over the driver's seat straight into the back.
My eyes scan the nearby area, searching for the gun. It’s fallen on the floor near the left door. He spots it nearly at the same time, and we both go for it. I shove him out of the way as my fingers brush the handle. Desperate to get a hold of the weapon, I put myself at a disadvantage under Miles. He may be younger than me but matches my stature and muscle.
He lands a punch to my face before I manage to shove him, hitting his shoulder in the process. Cassie has a hand on her head and looks confused as she looks between us. I can see that in a split second, she’s wondering if she should try to help or stay out of it. I dive down once again, this time grabbing the gun. However, Miles isn’t ready to give up so easily. He’s on top of me, scratching, clawing, and punching as hard as he can.
His fingers manage to slide over, wrestling for the weapon. As we hit the right side and he reaches it, his finger slips over the trigger. The gun goes off, and I scream. I’ve been shot. I don’t know how bad or serious it is, but the burning in my leg tells me it’s not good.
I can’t let the pain get in the way of protecting Cassie. I put myself between Miles and the gun and grab it, turning it around to point at him. “Back up and put your hands on your head.”
I know I’m bleeding, but I can’t allow myself to go down. I’ll do what I have to, even if that means protecting Cassie until my last breath.
Miles is suddenly pale. I can’t tell if it is because he’s scared of the fact that he’s not the one holding the weapon any longer or if he’s ill at the sight of blood. Either way, I’m not going to wait to find out.
“Reach behind you, open the door, and step outside slowly.” As he does, I follow him and try to ignore the spreading warmth as the blood flows from my wound.
“You’re making a big mistake.” He glares at me with a look fit to kill. I do my best to keep my stance strong and not show a moment of weakness.
A wave of dizziness washes through my head, and I glance down at my leg. My pants are soaked with spreading red. It has been a very long time since I’ve been shot. Ironically, the last and only time was during my first job with Robby. I’m not even sure if it counted as being shot, seeing as the bullet only grazed my arm.
Cassie comes around the back of the car as my hand starts to shake. “There are cuffs in the glove box. Grab them and cuff his hands.” It’s a risk having her go so close to Miles when he could potentially overpower her and use her to get his weapon back.
However, I don’t have much of a choice. I’m losing a lot of blood, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep myself standing, much less stay in control of the situation.
When Cassie comes back around the car, she is as white as a ghost, holding the cuffs. Robby taught me always to have handcuffs at hand.
Cassie cuffs Miles as if it’s the most natural thing in her life and pushes him to the ground. “Don’t move unless you want to taste a bullet!” she growls. I can’t help but smile at how good she looks doing it. It's good enough for cameras, I would bet anything.
That reminds me of how she got the experience to cuff him in the first place. She would cuff the criminals at the end of almost every episode of her show. I wonder if it feels the same for her or if there is a deeper thrill to putting away a real criminal. It is not the time or place for such wonderings, not when I could pass out at any moment.
“Good, that’s perfect…” My words slur together, and I fall back against the station wagon, sliding to the ground. Cassie rushes to my side and scoops up the gun, keeping it pointed in Miles’s direction, even though he’s cuffed and on his belly.
“Lincoln? You’ve been shot. Oh no, that’s a lot of blood.” She pushes the gun behind me and starts working at my belt as my head spins faster.
“What… what are you doing?” Nausea makes me want to lie down. I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt this bad in my life. I can’t allow myself to go unconscious, leaving her on the side of the road with a dangerous criminal, a gun, and myself bleeding out.
At last, she manages to get my belt free. Tears stream down her face as she positions it above the wound, then strings the belt through the buckle and pulls as tight as she can. The worst pain I’ve ever felt shoots through my leg.
“Stop! Stop! That’s too tight.”
“It’s supposed to be tight. What were you thinking? Keep your eyes open. Don’t go to sleep.” She speaks in clipped, nervous phrases.
I know better, but I’m now realizing how heavy my eyelids feel. My intentions were heroic, and it didn’t seem that far of a stretch to use being off-balance to overpower him. Unfortunately, this would be one of those cases where he would be right about my ego.
“Sometimes, defeat can make you come out alive.” That was one of his sayings. I am only glad the person to suffer the consequences of my hasty decisions is myself and not Cassie.