Depths of deceit, p.17
Depths of Deceit, page 17
In short, he was too good for her, and she told him so. He thought she’d warm to the idea of settling down and taking different work. He worried about her hours, her clients, and the dangerous skips and surveillance. When she had to choose her work or Jake, she chose the former. As much as she loved Jake, she could imagine her life without him. The same didn’t hold true for the job. It was her security blanket, her way of making sense of the world, trying to bring closure to others searching for their own version of it. The work allowed her to take her childhood and all the nefarious things she’d learned as a kid on the run and turn those skills into something that benefitted others rather than taking from them. That was her small repentant offering for her family’s legacy.
And besides, once Cookie joked that “Jake and Jamie” sounded like a John Mellencamp song, she knew the relationship was doomed.
Deuce had begun to stir and quickly went from full snooze to standing by the front door. She’d rarely seen him go from dead sleep to outdoors, which could only mean one thing. Someone had given him Marty’s famous jalapeño poppers.
Once they were back inside, she gave him a bowl of water, deciding to hold off on his breakfast for a bit to give his digestion time to work itself out. They’d been down that road before, and even though Jamie knew it was best for him, Deuce snorted at his empty food dish then returned to his corner. She was getting tired of doing things that were best for others but made them resent her for it.
Jamie plopped back down on her bed, her mind alert but her body still tired. She wondered if she could steal another hour but knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. The morning walks down the stairs often stole any potential extra slumber.
She turned back to her phone, checking for messages and ignoring her emails. Her brain wasn’t quite ready, the fog of the morning still clouding her grasping for clarity. She called Cookie, who answered almost immediately.
“Surprised you’re up already,” Cookie said.
“Deuce needed to go outside.”
“Someone gave him jalapeño poppers again?”
“Yep,” Jamie said. “I’m going to have to hang a sign around his neck, forbidding it.” She turned and checked on Deuce, who was back asleep. “So what’s going on? Why the early text?”
“I got a message from Renata,” Cookie said.
Jamie sat upright in bed. “Everything okay?”
“I don’t know. She said to tell you thank you but that she didn’t need us on the case any longer.”
Jamie crossed her legs on the bed, her forearms resting on her thighs. She rubbed the morning sleep from her eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense. Did she say why?”
Cookie sighed into the phone. “Not really. She just said that she shouldn’t have come to us and that she couldn’t pay us anyway, so we needed to just let it go.”
“That’s what she said? Let it go.”
“Yep.”
“That sounds like maybe someone said those same words to her.”
“Maybe,” Cookie said. “I think she’s working this morning.”
“So... tacos?” Jamie said. “And you’re buying, right?”
Cookie laughed. “Meet you there in twenty.”
JAMIE PULLED INTO THE San Juan’s parking lot and was greeted with a steady stream of people with the same idea. She scanned the area, looking for Cookie’s F-150, but didn’t see it. After a minute or so, she spotted him pulling in and parking in the side lot, away from other vehicles. He was still in that prudent honeymoon stage. Jamie couldn’t relate, having never owned a new car. Cookie stepped out and emerged around the corner.
“Okay, let’s go easy on her to see what she says, “ Jamie said. “She’s probably scared.”
“Soft touch. Got it.”
“Like your favorite blanket soft.”
Cookie smiled and opened the front door for her. They stepped inside and glanced around then took a booth by a window. Jamie gave the indoor dining area a scan, looking for Renata, but didn’t see her. A waitress came by and dropped off menus they didn’t need. They knew it by heart.
“Can I get you some coffee or tea?” She was young, pretty, and unfamiliar.
“Yes, please,” Jamie said. “Is Renata here?”
The waitress shook her head. “No, she called in sick this morning. I’m working her shift. I’m usually over at the other location.”
Ah.
Cookie glanced at Jamie then turned to the waitress. “Can we get three bean-and-cheese and three bacon, potato, and egg? Flour tortillas. Extra salsa verde. And two large unsweet teas?”
“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll get these going for you.”
Jamie held up her hand. “And make it to go, please. Looks like something just came up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
With a paper bag in hand and iced teas to go, Cookie followed Jamie to her car, leaving his truck parked at San Juan’s. Jamie pulled out of the parking lot and onto Avenue A.
“Did you send Renata a text?” Jamie asked. “Should we send her a message?”
“Yes and yes.”
Cookie sent another text message, his third since she’d contacted him the previous night, with still no response. It was possible that Renata really was sick and wasn’t answering the phone because of that.
But unlikely. She’d asked them to find her missing sister then told them to forget it and called in sick. Jamie feared something worse than a sour stomach had befallen their client.
Cookie continued to check his cell in the hopes of receiving a text from Renata. An uneasy energy hung between them as they drove in silence. Jamie considered reaching for the radio to search for anything to dull her concern, to take the edge off, to offer a slight distraction, but she knew that coping mechanism was a mistake.
Those particular moments, when she didn’t know what she would be walking into, demanded she remain on edge. The edge kept her safe.
Renata’s house was just outside Port Alene’s tourism row, a small neighborhood with houses dotted in random order along winding and poorly paved roads. The county had done a piss-poor job of taking care of the area, although it was clear from driving into the entrance of the neighborhood that the houses, for the most part, were handled with care. The lawns were tidy, bushes were trimmed, and front porches were decorated with rocking chairs, small tables, and potted plants, as well as a few Farley boats.
“Two streets down, take a right?” Jamie asked Cookie, who was checking his cell phone for GPS instructions as well as a response from Renata.
“Yep. Right on Driftwood and then a left on Shelltower.” Cookie pointed out the window. “Not too many cars parked out here right now, early in the day.”
Renata’s neighborhood was one of the few areas populated mostly by locals, who needed inexpensive rent and weren’t interested in paying for views they wouldn’t enjoy since they would likely be taking care of people who paid more for those beachfront properties. A town that relied largely on the tourism dollar could be tricky for the people who served it. Housing was scarce—most developers wanted to buy up land for pricey homes and attractions—leaving local folk the challenge of searching for affordable housing. Jamie knew that required a lot of digging, like putting a hand down a sand-crab hole in the hopes of pulling out gold coins.
Jamie followed Cookie’s instructions and, after a couple of turns, found herself on Renata’s street. Whispershores Avenue offered no whisper of any shores, and the road itself had fewer homes but more land between each one. Jamie took her foot off the gas, coasting as she continued down the road as she eyeballed the house numbers in search of 607.
Cookie craned his head to the side. “We’re getting close. Odd numbers on my side.”
He read numbers as they passed each house. As they neared the end of the five hundreds, Jamie slowed down further, glancing through the passenger window.
Jamie approached number 607. It was a small single-story ranch-style home with a trimmed, albeit brown, front yard. Yard décor included a Farley boat planter and other potted shrubs. Her front porch was tidy, with a wood railing, two weathered rocking chairs, and a potted cactus in a colorful ceramic pot.
Jamie didn’t immediately stop but kept driving past the house instead. “What kind of car does Renata drive?”
“A small blue Toyota Corolla.”
No Toyota Corolla in the driveway.
Jamie drove to the end of the street and circled back toward Renata’s house. She parked by the neighbors’ house, which had no cars in the driveway, reducing the possibility that someone would come out and complain.
“If she’s sick, why isn’t her car here?” Cookie asked. “She should be resting. At home.”
Jamie looked around. “I don’t see Becky anywhere.”
“She’s good at surveillance, so that doesn’t mean she isn’t here. If we can’t see her, that’s a good thing, right?”
Cookie had a point.
The pair walked to the front door. They decided Jamie would take lead on that particular call, as they didn’t know much about her home life aside from the fact that she had a missing sister. She knocked on the door.
Nothing.
A second knock.
Still nothing.
“Maybe she’s at the doctor’s office?”
“I don’t know,” Cookie said. “My gut tells me no, but what else is there to do? She’s either here and someone has her car, or she’s at the doctor and will be back later.”
“Still doesn’t explain cutting us loose on Leah’s case.”
The two stayed on the front porch for another minute. Jamie leaned forward, her hands cupped on a nearby window. No movement in the living room. However...
“Cookie, look.” She gestured at the window.
Inside and off to the right was a dining room table. Two chairs lay sideways on the floor.
“Maybe some sort of struggle?” she asked.
“What now?”
They returned to the car, and Jamie started her engine.
As they left 607 Whispershores in her rearview mirror, Cookie asked, “So Renata probably isn’t at the doctor’s office.”
“Send a message to Becky,” Jamie said. “See what she knows.” Jamie took a deep breath and tapped the steering wheel. “I hope this doesn’t mean we now have two missing people.”
As soon as those words left Jamie’s lips, her cell phone buzzed.
Jamie picked up and asked, “Hey, did you get my text?”
“You need to come over here,” Erin said. “Becky’s here, and we’ve got a problem.”
Jamie pressed End on her cell and turned to Cookie. “Becky is with Erin.”
“Not a good sign,” Cookie said.
Jamie cocked an eyebrow.
“Definitely not a good sign.”
She pulled onto the main drag and turned toward Erin’s warehouse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jamie and Cookie arrived at Erin’s warehouse to find Erin and her bodyguard sitting on a bench out front. Becky was holding an icepack over her eye, head down, forearms resting on her knees. That was the first time Jamie had ever seen Becky looking anything close to vulnerable.
“Becky, are you okay?” Jamie asked as she and Cookie rushed to her side.
Erin waved them off, signaling to give her space.
“Can you tell us what happened? Were you at Renata’s?”
Becky nodded. She cleared her throat and took her time sitting upright. When she released her hand from her eye, she revealed a cut at the crest of her cheek and a brownish bruise spreading across her eye socket and below. “I can’t believe I let them get the jump on me,” she said.
More than anything, Becky’s ego seemed the most bruised. As a woman confident in her bodyguard skills, she would certainly berate herself for some time over someone getting the upper hand.
“Take me through it,” Jamie said.
“They pulled up in a black Suburban. Didn’t know if it was family checking on her or a threat. Two guys got out of the car, both tall, heavyset, one blond, the other black hair. They moved quickly. Knocked on the door, and Renata opened it, and as soon as she did, they took her. She ducked into the house for a moment, and then they brought her out. After that, she didn’t resist. I was on the side of the property and tried to catch them off guard. The blond guy clocked me hard. Definitely knew how to get me to the ground.”
“How many people total?”
“At least three. The driver in the Suburban never got out of the car. Didn’t get a good look at him. The other two took Renata in her car, one in the back seat with her. It was precision. She didn’t have a chance.”
“Hey, I’ve gotten an ass kicking now and then,” Cookie offered in an effort to soothe her humiliation. “It happens.”
Becky nodded. “I didn’t see anyone in the house. They moved fast. She was out of the house and in the car before I could get back up.”
Erin told Becky to take the day off with pay. Becky pulled herself off the bench. “I’m sorry I failed you,” she said.
“You didn’t fail us,” Jamie said. “You were outmanned.” She glanced at Cookie. “I think we all are right now.”
Becky disappeared inside the building, leaving the trio to figure out their next step. Jamie took Becky’s place on the bench next to Erin while Cookie stood next to them. She leaned forward, her forearms resting on her thighs, cradling her head in her hands.
“This has to be Ormond, right? He’s the one who sent a guy to intimidate Renata at work.”
“But where do we look? He was in Austin yesterday.”
“Maybe our showing up escalated things,” Jamie said. “He knew he wasn’t the only one looking for Leah.”
“Who is also still missing,” Cookie said. “All of this leads back to Leah.”
“So now what?” Erin asked. “Is there any lead that you can go back and revisit?”
Jamie stood up from the bench. “I think it’s time for another trip to see Ronnie Arroyo. We’re pretty sure he was seen with Leah at least once at Vince’s Comedy Club.”
Erin gave Cookie and Jamie a quick hug. “Let me know if I can help,” she said. I’m going to go check on Becky, but I’ll be here if you need me.”
As Erin walked back into the warehouse, Jamie thought about what could’ve been so important—and to whom—that it meant two sisters were now in jeopardy. She willed her mind to put the pieces together, to find the connections, to work faster.
Jamie, like the missing sisters, was running out of time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jamie had made good time from Erin’s place to IslandCraft RV & Marine. Her driving strategy had balanced being in a hurry with not getting pulled over for speeding. Only five miles out, she was thinking of Renata and where she might be, of Leah and if she knew her sister was in danger. The car had been quiet. Cookie, skilled at noticing when his partner was too deep in her own head, broke up her angst with his observational minutiae.
“It is said that the best two days in a fisherman’s life are when he buys a boat and when he sells it.”
Jamie never understood the appeal of owning such a vehicle. A boat, unless one had the funds to pay someone else to handle the regular hassles of cleaning, fueling, docking, and such, seemed an enormous headache. Cookie had once owned a boat—rather, it had been given to him by a cousin who later asked for it back—and while he enjoyed it for the occasional scuba adventure, he, too, found it much more trouble than it was worth.
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind getting another one,” Cookie explained as the two of them sat in her Tahoe, parked a distance away from IslandCraft RV & Marine. “I would need a lot more free time first. Seeing a boat reminds me I don’t have the time or the money to use it.”
Jamie smiled. She knew his strategy. She needed to bring her energy down a notch. Too much angst meant more possibility for mistakes. She leaned in. “Lots of charters around here if you want to go fishing,” Jamie said.
“Cheaper than a boat but still pricey. Those rates are for tourists with good jobs. I think I need to make friends with more fishermen, trade some surveillance work for redfish.”
“Note to self: make lots of money. Buy boat.”
“Actually, you can get a good deal on a boat, but you’re going to throw a lot of money into repairs and maintenance—”
Jamie tapped Cookie on the forearm. “I know seeing these boats gives you some FONB, but you’ve got to let it go...”
“FONB?”
“Fear of no boat.” Jamie smiled at her cleverness but was alone in being impressed by her acronym skills.
Cookie wrinkled his nose at her. “That’s not a thing.”
“It’s absolutely a thing,” she replied. She pulled into the lot and parked a few empty spots away from the entrance. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “You ready to see if Ronnie wants to share today?”
Cookie nodded. “I think I can be pretty convincing, given the circumstances.”
The pair walked into the front office to find a different man behind the office counter. She smiled at him and gave a half wave.
He glanced up from his computer screen. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Yes, we were working with Ronnie on a project. Is he in today?”
He nodded. Then shook his head. “Yes, he’s here, but he ran out to pick up a part that came in. Should be back any minute. You want to wait here?”
“We don’t want to be in the way,” Jamie said. “We’ll go wait outside for him. Thanks.”
Jamie and Cookie returned to the Tahoe and turned on the heat. They were a week into the island’s icy temperatures, and her patience, like Cookie’s winter wardrobe, was wearing thin.
Cookie rubbed his hands together. “Is your heater working?” he asked, holding his hands in front of the vents.
“Yes, but she’s old, so give her a minute to warm up.”
Jamie turned on the radio. Selena’s “Como La Flor” filled the cab.
“How long you think we’re waiting?”
