Chapter Ten #3
But now he tried the number again and found that it was no longer in service.
Well, that solved one mystery. When he’d called, he’d left his name and number at the police department.
Amy Sue Brand was right, it had been a scam.
Her money was gone, and he knew the department wasn’t going to chase it down for her.
But he thought he might look into it to see if it led anywhere.
What interested him was why the scammer had picked that specific address with the door around back and an entry pad and light next to it. Clearly, the person was familiar with the address. Had Amy Sue tried the code he’d given, she would have found out what Russ had. The numbers didn’t work.
But why not give her a bogus address? It bothered him enough that he drove back to the construction site to find the crew still working on the apartment.
Getting out of his patrol SUV, he flashed his badge to each employee he came across, looking for someone to react as he asked basic questions about the job.
He was beginning to think he was wrong until he spotted a young man with stringy dishwater-blond hair and worn work boots leaning on a shovel, visiting with several of his coworkers.
Russ flashed his badge and asked, “Did you work on the apartment house over there?” The man nodded and glanced over as his coworkers moved off as if not wanting anything to do with whatever it was. “What can you tell me about the apartment in the back?”
The man shrugged and shook his head. “I need to get back to work.”
“I just have a few more questions,” Russ said. “Let’s start with your name.” He saw the man hesitate. “Better yet, show me some ID.”
“I don’t have it on me,” he claimed, and looked toward a beat-up older model brown pickup parked at the curb.
“Is it in your vehicle?”
A quick headshake. “Rode with a friend.” He shifted on his worn work boots. Russ could see that he was making him nervous. “What’s this about?”
“Fraud.” The man’s eyes widened. “A woman thought she’d rented that apartment online a couple of weeks ago. I’m going to need you to come down to the police department to see if she recognizes your voice.”
Russ was more than ready for what came next as the man slung the shovel at him and took off running. The detective was on him before he reached the open fields behind the new addition.
He tackled him, driving him to the ground.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he began as he cuffed him, then pulled out the man’s wallet that was now sticking part way out of his sagging jeans.
“Emery Olsen, let’s go.” He pulled him up from the ground and walked him toward his unmarked patrol SUV.
Emery was saying, “You can’t prove I did anything.”
Russ figured the young man was probably right. It would be hard to prove, especially if Emery had dumped the burner phone he’d no doubt used. But before this man walked, Russ had some questions he hoped to get answered.
“If you cooperate with my investigation, I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Jack couldn’t believe the lies Whitney had told him.
He was shaken and fuming with anger as he left her rental house.
He hadn’t gone far when he saw a car turn down the lane toward him.
He had hoped to get in and out of here without anyone seeing him, but he’d lost track of time while inside the house.
He touched the brake but quickly realized there was nowhere to turn off as the car came toward him. He lowered the brim of his baseball cap and reached for his sunglasses when he realized he didn’t have them.
The driver slowed as they approached each other on the narrow road.
He was reminded of the road out of Amy Sue Brand’s ranch.
As they passed, he saw the redheaded woman behind the wheel out of the corner of his eye.
It was Liz from the photo he’d taken from Whitney’s bedside table of the two of them.
In his surprise at seeing the woman, he hadn’t realized that he’d let up on the gas. Worse, he’d done a double-check long enough to see her surprised expression. She’d recognized him. Even if Whitney hadn’t told her friend about him, the redhead had just put it together.
He swore, sped up as he tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. Once she went to the house, found the door unlocked and Whitney’s belongings gone, she’d believe that things hadn’t worked out and Whitney had left town.
That was the story he would stick to if she ever confronted him.
He tried to breathe. He’d been so shocked to see the redhead behind the wheel that he hadn’t tried to get her license plate number.
He still didn’t have a last name. He cursed his bad luck.
Why hadn’t Whitney just taken the payoff he’d offered her and left town for real?
Why did she have to threaten to ruin him?
She’d said she would go to his wife, then the dealership and make a scene.
Then she would post all the juicy details of their affair online.
Now he knew that she would have done all of those things—along with releasing at least one photograph she had of the two of them. She had known that she had him backed him up against the wall with enough ammunition to blow up his life unless he left his wife, got a divorce and married her.
She’d given him an ultimatum with only one way out.
He swore and kept driving, surreptitiously glancing in his rearview mirror. Liz had pulled into the parking spot next to Whitney’s house. He couldn’t wait around to see if she went inside. He just had to hope his plan worked better than his last one.
Cursing himself for ever getting involved with Whitney Clark, he drove onto the interstate and headed back toward Billings.
Now her best friend was another loose end, and he didn’t know the woman’s last name.
He had no idea how to find her because he’d gotten rid of Whitney, her purse and her phone.
He’d seen no reason to keep anything of hers. Until now.
He should have at least checked Whitney’s call history.
Why hadn’t he realized she might have a friend in the area who she confided in?
Someone like an old college friend she called her best friend?
Because Whitney had only mentioned her friend in passing.
He’d gotten the impression she was too busy with her studies to socialize.
Except there were no studies. But there was Liz.
He kept thinking about the woman’s look of recognition. Had it been accusing? He now thought it had, which meant Whitney had told her about him. He’d questioned her and she’d sworn she hadn’t told anyone, but now he knew what a liar she was.
Jack groaned at how badly he had handled all of this.
He’d planned the perfect murder, but then Whitney had given him an ultimatum and forced him to move things more quickly.
Still the construction site had been the perfect place to get rid of his problem until Amy Sue Brand had ruined that.
He’d misjudged her, thinking he could scare her off.
He’d been so sure he’d taken care of her, that she’d gotten the message and wouldn’t be a problem anymore—right until Detective Russell Tate had stepped into his office to accuse him of not just visiting the woman’s ranch, but threatening her?
Now he had to worry about Liz too, whoever she was?
His mind whirred. Liz wouldn’t go to the cops or report her friend missing until she talked to him, would she? No, he decided. He would have to deal with her when she called or, worse, came into the dealership to confront him.
But maybe he could turn this to his advantage, he realized. He would tell her that he had gone out to Whitney’s house because he was worried about her. He cared deeply about Whitney, but he and his wife had reconciled and were trying to make their marriage work. Whitney had taken it badly.
Once Whitney had settled down, they both thought it best if she left town. He’d given her money to make a fresh start somewhere else. But then he hadn’t heard from her. He was relieved when he went to her house to find that she had packed up and left, though clearly still upset.
Jack thought he could sell that; after all, he was one hell of a salesman.
And if he couldn’t convince Liz that her best friend had left town?
That would be her mistake.