Chapter Twelve #3
She knew the brooch they were talking about. She’d seen it on Dianne’s lapel and commented on how pretty it was. Kasey had told them she was going to college, so it made sense that she’d have a textbook.
The room went sideways and she sucked in a breath when Alexis began to rub circles on her back. She’d stopped breathing there for a moment. The little black dots filling her vision subsided and she looked at Ronan.
He was stone-faced. Except for his eyes. They were filled with dismay.
Someone had been in her room at the inn. Someone had planted evidence.
“This is bullshit,” Elle hissed, her eyes filling with tears. Angrily she wiped them away with the sleeve of her moto jacket. “And you know it.”
“Do you deny that these items were in your possession, Ms. Randolph?” Simpson asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Elle,” Alexis cautioned.
Elle tried to breathe but it was like a weight had settled on her chest. Panic attack. She hadn’t had one in a while.
She’d had one for the first time as she’d sat in an interrogation room, still in shock over the accident and her husband’s death.
Breathe.
When she thought she could voice words once again, she whispered to Alexis, “I want to know where they found the items.”
Because she sure as hell had not put them there.
Alexis was studying the two detectives, her gaze almost predatory. “Where were the items found exactly?”
“In Ms. Randolph’s duffel bag,” Simpson said. “Which was hidden under the bed.”
The duffel hadn’t been hidden. She’d deliberately put it under the bed so she wouldn’t trip over it later.
And those items had not been there that morning.
She’d checked her duffel while Sara had packed her own belongings because she was going home.
Elle had been making sure she didn’t have any of Sara’s things.
Toiletries and small items often got mixed in their luggage during a road trip.
Those items had to have been put in her room today.
She was being framed. By Miller? But that couldn’t be right. Miller couldn’t even crawl five feet to his shotgun just hours ago. There was no way he could have been in her room.
His wife? Possibly, but Wendy would have had to plant the stuff there before she’d gone to the pharmacy. It was possible, but Elle didn’t know if it was likely.
But if it hadn’t been Miller, who had put those things in her room? And why?
And how could she prove it if she got herself arrested?
“I checked my duffel bag this morning,” Elle blurted out. “Those things were not there.”
“I assume you’re checking the inn’s surveillance footage,” Alexis said calmly, squeezing Elle’s thigh again so that she’d stop talking. “Because someone entered my client’s room and placed those items there.”
“We are,” Ronan said, speaking for the first time. “It would help if we could independently corroborate Ms. Randolph’s whereabouts.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Alexis asked.
“Her cell phone,” Ronan said. “She told me that her home office tracks her location at all times, for her own protection. She’s also told me about her interactions with all three victims. If we can show that she was nowhere near their locations at the time of their murders—or disappearances, at least—that would eliminate her as a suspect. ”
Elle opened her mouth, then closed it when Alexis elbowed her in the side. So she leaned in and whispered in her lawyer’s ear.
“If they establish my whereabouts with my phone, they can then say that I left it at the hotel or wherever it shows up on the tracker. That doesn’t help me.”
“I agree,” Alexis whispered back. “Now be quiet.”
Elle folded her hands on the table once again, winding her fingers together so tightly that they hurt. But the pain was grounding. It reminded her that she wasn’t dreaming. That this wasn’t a nightmare.
This was real.
“My client refuses to allow you access to her phone without a warrant.”
“It can only help her,” Ronan said.
“Until you decide that she left her phone behind somewhere to give herself a false alibi.”
Ronan’s sigh was impatient. “I’m trying to help her.”
“Then let her go,” Alexis said. “Do you have anything else on her?”
“Yes,” Simpson said and tossed an evidence bag on the table. “This was found next to Steve Garfield’s body. Your prints are on it.”
Elle stared at the empty candy cap bag, grateful she hadn’t eaten in hours because her stomach was roiling like the angry sea. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
This had happened once before.
This can’t be happening again.
But the proof was there, staring her in the face.
A glance at Alexis said that she understood the significance of this clue.
“It was planted,” Alexis said firmly. “All of this. Do your jobs, Detectives. Eliminate my client as a suspect without being lazy.”
“We’ve requested the camera footage from the inn,” Simpson said, seeming to take no offense at the accusation of laziness. “We’ll be reviewing it as soon as we receive it.”
“Is my client being arrested? If not, you need to let her go.”
Ronan leaned forward, his expression no longer stony.
He looked earnest and genuine. “We’ll look at the footage.
If anyone went into your room with anything that could have been used to carry a laptop, a book, and a brooch, we will let you go.
Given that the inn has a cleaning staff, I think seeing someone enter with a cleaning cart or even a bucket is a pretty decent possibility.
If we let you go, will you stay in town until we clear this up?
Or will you leave for San Francisco as soon as you’re out of here? ”
I’m staying. Elle didn’t say it out loud, but her intent must have been clear because Alexis sighed and folded her arms on the table, leaning against them. “Give me and my client privacy to discuss this while you go look at that footage. We will wait here until you review it.”
“That’s fair,” Simpson said. “Detective Clarke?”
Ronan gave her one more look, this one encouraging. “We’ll be back.”
They left the room and Alexis sighed again, turning in her seat to look Elle directly in the eye. “You want to solve this, don’t you?”
Elle nodded. “I do. Someone is framing me, Alexis.”
“I know. They do, too. Especially that Detective Clarke. He believes you, but he’s still a cop. His job is to find out who killed those people because we know it wasn’t you.” She patted Elle’s hands, still clutched together. “We’re going to make this right.”
Someone was setting her up. And it wasn’t Miller. He couldn’t have planted evidence in her room today. He’d been incapacitated in that tent at the time. It still could be Wendy. But it was definitely someone who knew Elle’s movements. Someone who knew she’d noticed Dianne’s brooch.
She stilled. Someone who knew she’d commented on Dianne’s trophy. The one Elle had picked up and examined. The one Dianne had been murdered with.
Someone who knew that Kasey had told them about bodies being dumped in a well.
Someone who knew she loved candy cap caramels.
Elle had been bugged.
But how? Who could have done it and where had they put the device? Not in the Tahoe. It had been miles away when they’d been talking to Kasey. Not at Judith’s inn. They hadn’t checked in until after Dianne was dead, so that wouldn’t explain the brooch.
It’s got to be me. I’ve been personally bugged.
But how? It had to be something she had with her all the time. Her keys? Her phone? Her keys were unlikely. She would have seen a bug.
Her phone was also unlikely. She had it protected six ways to Tuesday with anti-hacking software and virus detection. She ran a check every morning as part of her daily routine.
Then what?
She stared at her hands and then her gaze slid to her sleeves. Her jacket. Her lucky jacket.
She wore it all the time. She’d been wearing it the night they’d talked to Dianne. The morning they’d ridden with Kasey. And the night they’d confronted Steve Garfield.
And the night they’d been caught by the growers. And now they were dead, too.
She looked to Alexis and mimed writing with a pen.
Alexis dug in her giant purse and produced a pen and a legal pad.
Elle’s hand shook as she wrote. I think I’ve been bugged. I think it’s somewhere in my moto jacket. It’s the only thing that I’m constantly wearing and that I haven’t checked for tracking or listening devices.
Alexis’s eyes widened and she took the pen. Don’t say a word. I’m going to talk to the detectives. We’ll make a plan. Just stay here and stay quiet.
Quiet was underlined three times.
Elle nodded and Alexis quietly left the room.