One Little Lie Page 10

  Nothing they didn’t know. “Anything else?”

  “What about the note on the dress about him being a vow breaker?” Boulter asked. “I think that points to the vigilante. And I think Nicole may have also been killed accidentally by the vigilante. The ME thinks she was allergic to the feathers. Maybe our perp was punishing her for having an affair and didn’t know about her feather allergy. It makes more sense than murder.”

  Jane nodded and wrote Nicole on the board. “We won’t know for sure what killed her until we get the autopsy report. Nicole worked at the library. We need to talk to her coworkers and friends, then compare what we find out to the other vigilante victims. In all the cases the vigilante seemed to be punishing moral crimes, not necessarily illegal ones. Let’s talk to the churches around and see if anyone has a wonky member people are unsure about.”

  Her voice changed when she talked about church, and Reid studied her face. A hint of animosity had crept into her eyes. She’d be unlikely to talk to him about it, but he longed to know what she felt.

  “I’ll do that,” one of the troopers said. “My church is one of the largest in the area.”

  Jane glanced at the woman again. “What about monitoring comments on Facebook? Have you seen anything on Nicole’s page?”

  “Just one weird thing that was posted last night amid the condolences. There was a comment about sins finding you out. I tracked down the poster and gave it to Brian to check out.”

  Jane glanced at Brian, who nodded. “I’m going to talk to her. It was her boss, Carmencita Cook. She might know something.”

  “She left a message for me yesterday,” Jane said. “I think I’ll go with you to that interview. Anything else?”

  Boulter consulted his notes. “Back to Dawson for a minute. I just remembered I found that cooler his body was in. He owned it, and it was missing from his storage shed.”

  “How do you know it was his?”

  “There was a D carved into the bottom, and I showed a picture to his wife. She confirmed it.”

  “Another dead end.” Jane grimaced. “What about Nicole’s electronics and the search of her house?”

  “Text messages with her lover,” the woman said. “Paul Baker.”

  Jane showed no reaction. “Any kind of threat in the texts?”

  “No.”

  Jane put down the marker. “Okay, that’s it for now. Let me know if you turn up anything under a rock.”

  Reid waited until the team filed out of the room before he had Will stop the video. Jane walked back to join them, but her manner wasn’t welcoming.

  She stopped in front of them. “You’re out on spring break, Will?” Her voice warmed, and a smile lifted her lips.

  “Yes, ma’am. I hope you don’t mind if I tag along to help Dad.”

  Her hazel eyes slid toward Reid. “I’d rather have you than your dad.”

  She clearly hadn’t called him because she wanted him around, but that was okay. He’d get what he wanted and slip out of her life soon.

  * * *

  A few people wandered up and down the sidewalks and lounged on the balconies over the stores with books this Friday afternoon, the distant sound of jazz music lifting on the sultry breeze. In line at Pelican Brews, Jane inhaled the rich coffee aroma and looked out the window. Spring break had started, and she didn’t have to jostle with high school kids waiting on their lattes. Not that she minded because she liked kids. She often looked at the teenagers and wondered what her life at that age would have been like if it hadn’t been blighted by her past.

  Her phone rang as the barista handed her the usual black coffee. She mouthed a thank you and answered it. “Chief Hardy.”

  “We’ve got a situation, Chief. This one is . . . strange,” Olivia said.

  “Strange how?”

  “A jogger found an abandoned car by the Gulf.”

  Hardly a strange occurrence. “So?”

  “There’s evidence someone was having a breakfast picnic and left everything behind. There’s blood at the scene as well. It’s troubling. I told Brian to have the jogger wait for you.”

  “Shoot me the address. On my way.” She hung up and her phone pinged with an address. She called for Parker, then raced for her SUV and drove two miles out of town to a roadside park.

  She left her coffee in the cup holder and got out with Parker to join Brian at the scene. “What do we have?”

  Brian swept a hand toward the water. “Take a look.”

  She considered the grassy park and palm tree–lined pavilion. Waves lapped at the shore, and a pelican scooped a fish from the water. A strong scent of salt and seaweed permeated the air this close to the water. It would have been an idyllic Friday-morning scene except for the signs of abandonment.

  A newer Ford Taurus, baby blue, stood empty with the driver’s door open. A quilt lay spread out on the sand with a bag from McDonald’s at one end, and several egrets eyed the bag with interest. She peeked inside the bag without touching anything. There was a half-eaten egg sandwich, a bag of apple slices, and two juice boxes.

  A glint of silver caught her eye on the driver’s seat, and she stooped to squint at it. A Kennedy half-dollar. She automatically reached for it, then pulled her hand back. The evidence shouldn’t be contaminated just because she was shocked to see the coin. Something disturbing was going on in her town, and she wasn’t sure how to solve this puzzle.

  “Person ate some of their food,” she said. “And did you see the half-dollar?” She cleared her throat. “I can’t tell what year this one is, and I don’t want to touch it, so let’s see if it’s a 1964 coin like the one on Dawson’s body.”

  “And the one on your doorstep.” Brian gave her a quick look. “You have good locks, Boss?”

  “I do.” She smiled and set her hand on her gun. “And the best security right here.” She peered inside the car. An array of crumpled fast-food bags littered the floor on the passenger side and in the back. A lip gloss was in the middle console, and a makeup bag had spilled its contents into the passenger seat.

  Her gaze caught on a navy-blue booster seat in the back with the remains of a McDonald’s Happy Meal beside it. Unease stirred even more. What if there was a child walking around out here?

  She turned toward Brian. “Any sign of a child? There’s a booster seat in the back. Looks like maybe a boy’s.”

  “I saw that. No sign of a kid, though. Appears the driver was a woman.”

  Unease rippled down her back, and she nodded. “I don’t like the look of this scene.”

  “Me neither. Could have been an abduction.”

  Jane squared her shoulders and drew herself as tall as her five feet two inches would allow, then walked over to talk to the jogger with Parker on her heels. The woman had the lean, muscular physique of a runner and appeared to be in her forties. Her blonde hair was up in a ponytail, and moisture still beaded her forehead. She wore light-blue jogging shorts and a white T-shirt. Jane guessed her to be a tourist since she didn’t recognize her.

  Jane stopped two feet from her. “I’m Chief Hardy. You called in the abandoned car?”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Linda Mason. I’m renting a house down the road for a week and have been jogging through here every morning. I came around the curve there and saw the car. I would have run on past, but the car door was standing open, and things just didn’t look right.”

  “You have good instincts. Did you see anyone around? A woman or a child maybe?”

  Linda shook her head. “Just the car and the items sitting around. I called out a few times, but no one answered. I almost went back to my jog, but I thought you guys should check it out. I would have worried all day if I’d done nothing.”

  “You did the right thing. Thanks for calling it in.” Jane went back to join Brian. “Anything in the registration?”

  “It’s a rental car.” He held up registration papers. “No rental agreement, though, and the plate on the car is missing. I’ll contact the rental company and
see if they sold it or if it’s been stolen.”

  The whole scene smelled bad to Jane. “Let’s get back to the office.”

  She supposed she’d have to call Reid and let him in on this incident. It wouldn’t be a good idea to rile up the mayor any more than she was going to be when she heard about Dad’s arrest.

  Fifteen

  The clock’s red light shone out 12:02. Reid threw back the covers and climbed out of bed since sleep was impossible. He kept seeing the rage in Lauren’s eyes when she promised he’d be sorry not to give her the money she demanded. He couldn’t tell Will that Lauren wasn’t his real mother—he just couldn’t.

  But would she tell him? She’d have more leverage over Will if he thought she was his birth mother.

  Reid ran his hand over his shaved head and walked out to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. Tumbler in hand, he stepped out the door onto the back deck.

  Stars twinkled in the velvet sky, and the roar of a bull gator shattered the serenity. He had a strange yen for a beignet with coffee and glanced at his watch. Petit Charms would be closed at this time of night, but they sold their leftover treats in the twenty-four-hour convenience store in the middle of town. He could get there and back in fifteen minutes.

  His running shorts would be fine for the quick trip to town. He gulped down his juice and grabbed his keys from the counter. In minutes he was parked outside the glaring neon signs. He ducked inside and bought half a dozen beignets and a cup of coffee, then munched two pastries while sitting on the bench in the courtyard next door.

  An old codger ambled his direction and stopped for a moment. “You look as lost as a ball in high weeds, young man. Need help?”

  “I’m just enjoying the night.”

  The scent of seafood wafted from the man’s fish scale–encrusted shirt. “You been out shrimping?”

  The man wiped his hand on his pants, then extended it. “Alfie Smith.”

  He recognized the name as the shrimper who had found Gary’s body. Reid wiped the powdered sugar from his fingers on his shorts and shook Alfie’s callused hand. “Reid Dixon.”

  “You’re that photographer who has our chief’s knickers in a knot. I hear you’re planning to stay for a bit.”

  “You heard right.”

  “Well, you come on by my fishmonger shop and I’ll give you a welcome gift of the biggest shrimp you’ve ever seen.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Alfie.”

  The old man grinned and walked on down the street before he entered a bar playing jazz music. Reid was beginning to feel more like a resident here and less like a tourist. The place had wrapped itself around his heartstrings faster than he’d expected.

  Twinkling lights lit the silent streets, and shadows from the French Quarter buildings made interesting shapes in the side yards. Reid brushed powdered sugar from his fingers and leaned back on the bench. Faint music floated in the air, and he recognized Faith Hill’s voice singing “Mississippi Girl.”

  Apartments were atop most of the quaint French-style buildings lining Main Street, and lights shone in a few residences. A patrol car slowly rolled along the street and eased to a stop by Reid, then pulled into a parking spot.

  The window ran down, and Detective Boulter looked out. Recognition crinkled his eyes, and his gaze dropped to the box of beignets. “Hand over the beignets, and I won’t arrest you for vagrancy.”

  Reid grinned and held up his box. “I don’t look good in orange. Help yourself.” He opened the box and Boulter snagged two treats, littering powdered sugar down the side of his vehicle.

  He liked the brash young detective. Brian might be a bit full of himself, but he seemed to care about his town and his job. “You’re on patrol?”

  “Nah. Just left a date and had a yearning for beignets. Looks like you did too.”

  Such honesty. Reid felt a compulsion to unload on him, but Gary’s betrayal still stung. He would have trusted Gary with his life, and he still had trouble believing everything that had gone down.

  Boulter turned off his engine and climbed out. At night he looked even more like Dwayne Johnson. “Something’s bugging you. You have an idea who offed Gary, maybe?”

  “Wish I did. Maybe his bookie had it done. You find out anything about who was fronting the money for him?” This morning Brian had thought he was close to finding out something.

  The bench groaned as Brian lowered his muscular form onto it. “New Orleans PD has nothin’. He got out of jail on Saturday and never came home that night. We’ve been checking cameras at tollbooths and parking lots, but we haven’t turned up anything. His car was found in the pier parking lot right here in Pelican Harbor. Would he have been coming to see you—maybe to ask you to drop the charges?”

  Reid took the next to last beignet and handed the last one in the box to Brian, who inhaled it. “I made it clear that wasn’t an option. I wish I’d handled it differently. I thought going to jail would get him away from his addiction and the loan sharks. I was wrong.”

  And maybe that was the crux of his low spirits. He’d made the wrong decision.

  Boulter licked the powdered sugar off his fingers. “It’s not your fault, man. Gary picked his own path.”

  “I guess.” The Faith Hill music was still playing. “Someone likes Faith Hill.”

  “That’s the boss lady.” Brian nodded toward a second-floor residence above a coffee shop. “Jane has trouble sleeping. She’s out there on her balcony listening to music and either reading or surfing her computer.”

  Reid raised a brow. “The chief seems to have it all together. I’m surprised she has trouble sleeping. How long has she lived here?” Maybe this was his chance to find out more about Jane.

  “Fifteen years or so, from what I hear. She’s a little older than me, but she was fifteen when she and her dad rolled into town. He owns that big piece of property out north of town. I’ve always heard he and Jane escaped from some kind of cult, but no one ever talks about it. If you ask Jane about her past, she clams up. I think something happened there that traumatized her. I like her. She’s a good boss and a caring person.”

  Reid wasn’t so sure about that. He rose when Brian moved toward his car, but when the big detective was out of sight, Reid glanced at Jane’s balcony. Maybe her guard would be down tonight. It was worth a try.

  * * *

  Sleep was often as elusive as a unicorn. Jane sat on her balcony looking out over the sleeping town with the bay reflecting the streetlights. Faith Hill sang softly through her computer speakers, and Parker sat beside her with his head on her knee. The briny scent of the bay usually soothed her churning thoughts, but she had so much on her mind.

  Both of her birthday books were on her e-reader, and she could see well enough with the light in the living room to her back, but horror didn’t appeal to her after the gory scene she’d seen this week. She tapped the strange little book The Screwtape Letters. It was a hard read to get into at first, because she couldn’t figure out the speaker and the target of his advice. Then it clicked that the main character was a demon named Screwtape.

  She nearly threw the book down in disgust when a statement stopped her. “Jargon, not argument, is your best ally in keeping him from the Church.”

  Moses at Mount Sinai was a pro at using jargon to keep the cult members tightly bound. Since she’d left, she hadn’t darkened the door of a church. The thought of being deceived again made her shudder. She didn’t want to be a gullible person, the kind who swallowed a lie in one gulp.

  She returned to her e-reader. Maybe she’d read a little more of it. She became so wrapped up in the book that the first time Parker let out a low growl, she barely noticed. It was only when he did it again that she blinked and looked down into the street.

  Looking handsome and casual in a Saints T-shirt and running shorts, Reid Dixon stood on the brick sidewalk. A quizzical smile lifted his lips. “You look engrossed in that book.”

  Without thinking she held up her device. “The
Screwtape Letters. Ever heard of it? It’s a weird little book.”

  “Good one. I’ve read all of C. S. Lewis’s books.”

  She shouldn’t have shown him something personal like that. “What are you doing wandering the streets at this hour?”

  “Beignets were calling my name.”

  “You should come back in the morning and get them fresh at Petit Charms.” All too conscious of the jogging shorts and tank top she slept in, she rose and went to stand at the wrought-iron railing. “Did you need something from me?”

  He spread out his hands. “Look, I could shout up to you from the street, but I’d like to come up and talk to you.”

  The lights were on next door. What could it hurt to have a private conversation? She wasn’t afraid of him. She gestured to her left. “There are exterior stairs off the alley. I’ll open the door for you.”

  He nodded and moved that direction, and she went inside to open the door in the kitchen. The iron stairs clanged as he ascended them, and for some reason, the sound made her pulse jump. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  She stepped out of the way for him to enter, and his wide shoulders made her kitchen feel small. “The living room is through here.”

  He gave a nod of approval and followed her. “Nice digs.” Parker thrust his nose against his hand and whined.

  Traitor dog. “I like it.” She led the way into the living room and sank onto the sofa. “It’s late. What do you want?”

  Parker was still dancing around Reid like they were long-lost friends. Reid settled on the floor and pulled the dog onto his lap. “I’d like to know why you hate me. This documentary is nothing personal. Is there something you don’t want me to talk about on film? If so, just tell me. We can work around whatever you want.”

  Heat scorched her cheeks, and the last scene of the compound’s buildings burning down blazed into her memory. “I don’t know you well enough to hate you.” She couldn’t tell him about this. He wouldn’t understand. No one did, not even Olivia really.

  He cocked a brow. “Just tell me what’s eating you.”