Chapter Sixteen #2
“Fair point,” Alexis allowed. “Sara’s always been a workaholic, though.
At any rate, Felicia didn’t ask me to keep either thing confidential, which is why I’m telling you.
Sara obviously found out that Felicia wasn’t in labor when she got home yesterday.
As for them making a change to the business, that’s a much bigger issue they’ll have to tackle together. ”
That somehow made Elle feel a whole lot better. “So there may not be a fugitive recovery agency in the future. I could leave, could do something else, and it wouldn’t matter.”
Alexis’s expression softened. “Elle. Is that what’s been holding you back? Are you afraid you’ll let Sara down?”
“Well, yeah,” Elle said, using her best duh tone.
“I felt so useless after the accident. Sara gave me a purpose when I most needed one. And it’s not all bad.
I mean, I like bringing in a fugitive. The very last part of it, that is, the actual delivery of the fugitive.
I like tracking the fugitive and investigating all the leads for where they’ve gone.
That’s like a puzzle, and it can be fun.
I just don’t like catching the fugitive.
Nor do I like the dangerous people who threaten us with death.
” She sighed. “Or those who murder other people to get revenge on me.”
“That’s because you’re not stupid,” Alexis said sharply.
Elle laughed, a hollow sound. “Jury’s still out on that one, Counselor. I wore a listening device for up to two years and didn’t have a single clue.”
“But now you do. You figured it out.”
“Yeah. Now I do.” And now her mind was clicking back into gear. “Now I do.”
Alexis moved her chair over so that she could see Elle’s face. Elle immediately missed the warmth of an arm around her, and of course her mind wandered back to how it had felt being held by Ronan Clarke.
For him, it hadn’t been that big a deal, she was certain. But for Elle, it was a very big deal. No one had held her like that in a very long time. No man, anyway.
She’d felt safe and cared for in a way her friends hadn’t been able to provide.
“Now you do?” Alexis prompted, and Elle banished the thought of Ronan’s embrace on the bluff.
It didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t mean anything.
Except that the man was far kinder than she’d expected him to be.
“Yes. He—let’s assume the killer is male for now—planted listening devices in my jacket for a long time, but I didn’t know because he didn’t taunt me.”
“The well and the brooch,” Alexis murmured. “He’s taunting you now.”
“Yes. He heard me talking to Kasey about those bodies in the abandoned well back in the seventies and he heard me talking to Dianne Foster about her brooch. He heard our altercation with the illegal growers and now they’re all dead.
But if he hadn’t dumped Kasey’s body down that well, I never would have suspected. ”
Alexis frowned. “Did he want you to figure out that he was listening?”
“Maybe.” It seemed likely.
“He had to have known your jacket would be searched if he was successful in framing you and you did get arrested. The devices were bound to be found.”
“I thought of that. But, see, I’m a hunter.
The cops might have thought I’d planted that bug myself so that I could record conversations.
It wouldn’t produce admissible evidence if a cop did it, but I’m not a cop.
I don’t generally look for evidence of anything but a skipper’s location, so whatever I found would only be useful to me in my search. ”
“That makes sense. I—” Alexis was cut off by a knock on the door. “Hold that thought.” She opened the door.
“Hello, Detective.”
Ronan. Relief that he was here battled with anxiety as to why he was here.
No more bodies. Please.
“What is this?” Alexis added, but not ominously.
“Late breakfast,” Ronan said gruffly. “May I come in?”
Alexis held the door open wider, and Ronan was in the room, making it feel a lot smaller. He was solid. Dependable.
Elle sniffed, a delicious aroma reaching her nose. He was also thoughtful. He’d brought her something from the bakery.
“I thought you were going home to sleep,” Elle said, surprised when she realized that she was smiling up at him.
“I was. I went into the office to review the surveillance tapes from the inn and then I was heading home, but my car ended up parked in front of the bakery.” He looked sweetly abashed.
“Like it had a mind of its own. I…guess I got into the habit of bringing you breakfast. The cinnamon rolls were fresh.”
Her smile widened. “Thank you, Ronan. Did you bring enough for all of us? Because otherwise I will hide mine so Alexis can’t have any.”
Alexis laughed. “Rude.”
“You haven’t tasted them yet. You’d hide them from me, too.”
“I brought three,” Ronan said, his own mouth curving up.
“Then you can stay.” Alexis settled on the edge of her bed, gesturing for Ronan to take the other seat at the breakfast table. “Gimme.”
Ronan’s chuckle rolled from him, a comforting sound. “Of course.” He handed out the boxes and they dug in, interrupted by Alexis’s moan of appreciation.
“You’re right, Ellie. I would hide these from you.”
Elle smirked. “Told you.” She then eyed Ronan soberly. “What did you find on the surveillance tapes?”
He swallowed his last bite of cinnamon roll, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Then fidgeted with the bag.
Her heart sank. “You’re stalling, Ronan.”
He met her gaze. “Look, Simpson and I know you’re being framed, so keep that in mind. Someone trying to look like you was recorded leaving the inn last night after midnight and returning before dawn. They were dressed like you. Had hair just like yours.”
“Male or female?” Alexis asked sharply.
“Hard to tell,” he admitted. “But it’s a lead. When I say dressed like you, I mean exactly like you.”
Alexis sucked in a breath, understanding before Elle did. “Someone knew what I bought her last night. Someone followed me around the store.”
“That’s what we think. My partner is getting the surveillance footage from the store.”
“It’s a good lead,” Elle murmured. “It feels…desperate.”
Ronan’s blond brows went up. “Probably because we are. We’ve got a killer with ten bodies and we don’t know the first thing about who he is. Only that he’s trying to frame you.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. His actions feel desperate.”
“I completely agree. He’s escalating because whatever he’s doing isn’t working. You haven’t been charged with any of the murders here or in Willits.”
“Or in Portland or Bakersfield,” she said quietly. “Or Spokane. Or even San Francisco.”
They were quiet until Alexis said, “Elle, you were talking about the killer taunting you with the well and the brooch. I think Detective Clarke would like to hear about that, too.”
Ronan sat back in his chair. “What are you thinking?”