Caught Off Guard Page 10

  “How’s the case coming along?” Leo asked.

  I gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Slow. I hit a dead end with the trainer. Toby’s been tracking his cell phone and credit card, and there’s been no activity for the last few days. That worries me. I called the training facility and asked for him, said I was the loan manager from his bank, and they said he wasn’t in. I’ll try again later.”

  Lockett came out of my apartment with a stack of papers in one hand and a smoothie in the other. He’d refused my invitation to join Leo and me for coffee. “Got the full medical examiner’s report and the crime scene report,” he said and pulled up a chair between Leo and me. He handed Leo a sheet.

  I would go over the pages later, alone, when I had more time and could concentrate. For the time being, I waited patiently for them to share what they learned. While they scanned the papers, I surveyed the town. Wind River was growing. Its proximity to Portland and Olympia then Seattle made it appealing. The marina, to the left of my apartment, was at over 50 percent capacity, and many of the boats docked were expensive mini yachts. I wondered where those boaters went once they docked. Maybe our great hiking trails drew them in.

  My attention got snagged by a guy sitting on the hull of his speedboat. He appeared to be looking right at us.

  Something about him was familiar. He had a ball cap pulled low, so I couldn’t make out his face. I looked away, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that I’d been staring. My heart beat wildly as my mind ran through all the scenarios of who the person might be because he couldn’t possibly be who I thought he was. My not-legally-married husband had died when his car crashed into a tree and burst into flames earlier that year. He certainly wasn’t sitting on the hull of a boat. Yet I couldn’t shake that feeling.

  “Tyson,” I said, calling Lockett’s attention away from the paper. “Keep looking down at your reports, but in a moment, look to your left at the marina. The middle pier, right side is a cruiser speedboat. White with blue and gold stripes. There’s a guy sitting on the hull. Does he look familiar to you? He’s looking this way. Hasn’t looked away. I think he’s watching us.”

  Leo stood and handed his papers to me. “Now you can look that way without it being suspicious.”

  I also thought that was a bit of posturing to let the boat guy know a cop was on the deck, not that I thought that mattered. The boat guy had likely seen Leo and I come up. I was thinking of him as the boat guy because he couldn’t be Carson. Right?

  Lockett looked toward Leo then sucked in a deep breath as if trying to cover a gasp. “Nah,” he said under his breath. “Can’t be.”

  I glanced back at the boat guy, trying to seem like I was looking at Leo. The boat guy stood. He was tall, about my height, with broad shoulders. He readjusted his cap, and the brief action gave both Lockett and me a flash of his face.

  “It’s not Carson, right?” I said.

  Lockett shook his head. “Carson is dead.”

  My bigamist husband with two wives had also been Lockett’s best friend since middle school. If either of us would know whether the boat guy was Carson, it would be Lockett.

  “But it looks like him, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  Lockett looked down at the papers and wiped a hand over his face. “Yeah, he moves like Carson, has the same build.”

  “And last spring, we saw a guy in a speedboat who we thought reminded us of Carson then, remember?”

  Lockett nodded.

  Leo put his hands on his hips. “You two are nuts, seeing ghosts. Carson is dead.”

  “Is he?” Lockett and I asked in unison.

  Leo pointed at Lockett. “You’re no better than her. Seeing ghosts where there aren’t any. People can have similar builds. Similar mannerisms.” Leo moved his pointed finger to me. “And you, thinking a flasher in the park was Carson. Maybe you should ask yourself why you want him to still be alive.”

  I sat back, indignant. “I don’t want him dead.” I held up a hand. “Make no mistake—I’m not saying I want him alive so I can be with him. I just would prefer people to live out their lives. Carson was young when he died. I know he wasn’t the best, most ethical of men, but to be glad he’s dead… to prefer that…” I shook my head. “No.”

  Lockett said, “He’s leaving. I think he knows we’re watching him too.”

  I looked at the marina, and Leo turned as well. The boat guy jumped into his speedboat and backed it out, not appearing to be in any rush.

  Leo sighed. “Carson or not, you two have bigger issues.” He turned back toward me. “That report you’re holding says there’s a video with a timestamp that shows AJ arrived at McVay’s at seven in the evening and left at nine-thirty. And McVay’s time of death is between eight p.m. and midnight.”

  14

  Tuesday

  Breaking and entering was dumb. Breaking and entering in broad daylight was dumber. And since I was about to do both, I suppose that made me the dumbest dummy in Dumbville. But whatever.

  I parked LC on the road between McVay’s house and the neighbor’s and checked LC’s undercarriage to make sure he wasn’t leaving a trail.

  Keith McVay lived in Lake Oswego, on the lake. People who lived in that neighborhood had lots of money. From the front, the modern-art cement house was L-shaped. A three-car garage sat on one end with plain, heavy doors, black with no details. The living-quarters portion was a white slab of concrete, and a large glass-block window ran from ground to roof and sat next to heavy black wooden doors with glass-block inserts. Chrome handrails on stairs leading down to the front door shone in the morning sun.

  The house had been built into a hill. I was facing the top floor and knew from an online search that McVay’s residence was four stories. The top floor held the main living space and kitchen, the master bedroom and home office were directly below that, the second-to-bottom floor was more bedrooms, and the bottom floor was the basement. The entire back of the house was a wall of glass.

  I hung my camera from my neck and moved across the street to take shots of the house from various angles. I didn’t need photos but just wanted to have a purpose in case anyone stopped me.

  My cell phone rang.

  “Hello,” I said after touching my earbuds as I kept looking through my viewfinder.

  “Where are you?” Leo asked.

  “Good morning to you too. I’m fine. How are you?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Sorry. Good morning. I’m calling because your speedboat is back.”

  I lowered my camera. “Really?”

  “Yep. I sent Officer Gee down to the marina to get the hull number. He did and ran it for me.”

  From the background sounds, I could tell Leo was driving. “And?”

  “And it’s registered to a dummy corp called Phoenix Rising.”

  Remembering my ruse, I lifted the camera, took a few more shots, and started down the long driveway to McVay’s house. Running along the driveway was a metal stairway that led to the lake and the back of the house, and I headed down. Along my descent, I took pictures of any entries and cameras placed around the property.

  Each level had its own balcony and access to a small garden. I continued down the stairs to the basement level. There, the yard was bigger and had access to a dock, the lake, and a boat garage.

  “If you’re asking if that sounds familiar, or something Carson might have named a company, I can’t say. No, he never used Phoenix for anything, but also, he was married to another woman and didn’t tell me that.”

  Leo grunted. “And where did you say you were?”

  “I didn’t.”

  What I needed to locate was the name of the security system so that Toby could determine if it was engaged.

  Leo asked, “Why do I feel like you’re being purposefully evasive?”

  “Because you don’t really want to know where I am and what I’m doing, so let’s leave it at that.”

  From my back pocket I took out a small notebook and drafted a diagram of camera plac
ements. Cameras sat on each corner of the back of the house, top and middle, some pointing toward the sliding glass doors, others toward the water. Three over the garage pointed toward the driveway, the front door, and the back of the house.

  “How will I know if you need to be rescued?” Leo mumbled.

  “Ha ha,” I said. “I think I’m okay today. You can stand down.” After tucking my notebook back into my pocket, I pulled a chair over to a camera near me and stretched as long as I could make my body to see if a company sticker was on the frame.

  Nothing.

  “Hmm. That’s weird,” I mumbled.

  “What’s weird?”

  “There’s no company name on these cameras. There’s no sticker of any security company on the doors. What I did learn from Carson, who owned a security company, is that companies put their names on these things for several reasons.”

  “Please tell me you aren’t at McVay’s house.”

  I scoffed. “Why would I be there?” I almost said here. That would’ve been bad.

  “Because yesterday, we read about AJ being caught on camera at McVay’s, and you said something about checking things out, seeing for yourself.”

  “Even if I had come to McVay’s, it’s not like I could enter the house. I don’t have the keys.” I moved the deck chair back to where I’d gotten it then stepped back to scan the house for an entry point. Chances were one of the sliders might be unlocked. From a security standpoint, the house was a nightmare—too many ways to enter. One of them had to be open.

  Leo said, “So you’re not at McVay’s?”

  “Why are you so stuck on this?”

  Two doors were on that floor. I tried the first—locked. I tried the second—open.

  “Because trouble seems to find you, and I have this uneasy feeling that you might be getting yourself in trouble. And if you’re doing a B and E, you’re just asking for trouble.”

  “You should rest assured that I am not breaking and entering into anyone’s house. The door was unlocked.” I let it swing open into the dark, windowless basement, whose air was musty and smelled like the lake, a tad fishy and like algae with a mix of gasoline. “I need to go. I need my phone for a flashlight.” I discontinued the call but not before Leo let out a swear word that would have made his mother box his ears.

  I called Toby.

  “What you got? My fingers are poised to do some online snooping.”

  “I got nothing. No sticker. Nothing.” After pulling my phone from my other back pocket, I turned on the flashlight and scanned the room. Empty. Stairs led to another door directly across from me.

  “Did you check all the cameras?”

  Crap. I had not. Maybe the sticker had fallen off the one I’d checked. “I’m in the basement right now” was my non-answer.

  I fast-walked across the room, leaving the door to the outside open. I jogged up the stairs, stopping at the door at the top. I held my breath when I turned the knob, remembering at the last moment to use my shirt so as to not leave my fingerprints. That door was unlocked as well. It swung open into a butler’s pantry.

  “I’m in the house,” I said breathless, as though someone might hear me.

  “Do you have your phone set up to look for Wi-Fi?” Toby asked.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Open a web page like you’re going to search, and tell me what names pop up as Wi-Fi options.”

  I did as Toby requested and took a snapshot of the pop-up and texted it to him. Then I stepped into the butler’s pantry and closed the door quietly behind me. “Did you get my text?”

  “Yeah, dudette. McVay was a tool. Did you see his Wi-Fi name was number one QB star?”

  I glanced at the screen, which read #1QB*.

  “Jeez,” I said. “How do you explain that when people ask to get on your Wi-Fi?” I stuffed the phone back into my pocket.

  Toby snort laughed. “I’ve seen some that say Zombie Response Team.”

  “And FBI Surveillance Van,” I added.

  “You should use that one.” He laughed. “Hang on. I’m seeing who his provider is. If we’re lucky, they might also be the security company.”

  I moved slowly through the house, starting in the kitchen. Beer bottles sat on the counter, dishes in the sink. Black fingerprinting dust remained on the light-gray marble counters, the stainless-steel appliances, and everywhere else. The cabinets were maple and looked high end. The kitchen ran the length of the house and had a large sliding glass door that opened to the deck. I looked from the kitchen into the open-concept living space: a living room, a large dining room, and an entertainment space with a grand piano, all decorated in white cabinets with beveled glass.

  I gasped.

  “What?” Toby asked, his voice raspy with concern.

  “I see where he died. No one has cleaned this place up. There’s a large stain on the wooden floor. It’s huge and from blood.” I swallowed convulsively to hold back my queasiness.

  “I’m glad it’s you there and not me.” He paused. “Crap waffles.”

  I took pictures of the stain and the area around it. “What?”

  “McVay used the local internet provider for his internet services, but his security is Strong Code Security. I can’t hack that.”

  My shoulders sagged. “That’s not a positive attitude. Precious would say to visualize—”

  “I’ve tried. Lots. Austin Strong is the master of code and blocking his back doors. You know, a few months back, some guy put on the dark web that he’d pay a hacker one million bucks if they could get into Strong’s system. As far as I know, no one did it.”

  A large indentation was in the floor at the edge of the stain. I hadn’t noticed it before because the blood had made the missing chunk dark like the walnut floors. The missing piece was three inches in length and longer than wider. I snapped a few pics from various angles, wondering what had made it. The dumbbell was my guess, used to bash McVay upside the head before the killer dropped it or let it fall to the ground. I wondered if that meant the killer hadn’t been planning to use the dumbbell as a weapon or if it meant the opposite, that once the deed was done, the killer dropped the dumbbell and walked away, mission accomplished.

  I backed away from the stain and looked around for the gym equipment. “Toby, who was the one that found McVay?” I felt foolish for not knowing.

  Over the line, the clicking of keys was the only sound for several moments. “Hmm, the police did.”

  I stepped into McVay’s office. “What? Why were they here first?”

  “Got a call from McVay’s mom saying she couldn’t reach her son and could they do a wellness check. Said she was worried because he was on medicine and depressed. They did and found him.”

  I stopped in front of a wall of pictures. “Wait. Didn’t you say his parents had been killed in a car accident?”

  More clicking of keys. “Yup.”

  “So who really called the police?”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Toby said. “You want me to stay on the line while you do the walkthrough?”

  “No, I won’t be staying long. Especially if we can’t tell if I’m on camera right now.” Although the thought gave me the willies, I figured nobody was going to press charges. “Hey, Tob, can you find out who inherits McVay’s estate?”

  “On it. Text me when you’re free and clear.”

  “Okay.” Staring at the pictures in front of me, I clicked my earbud to discontinue the call.

  I scanned the room, looking for more photos, but what was out in small frames were the same as what was on the wall: Keith with Austin Strong, Keith at the NFL draft, and Keith with other prominent quarterbacks. I saw no pictures of Keith with women and no pictures of a personal life or vacations in foreign lands. I lifted my camera to take a picture of Keith McVay, Lil’ Megalodon, and some dude in the middle. The guy in the middle had his arms around McVay’s and Megalodon’s shoulders.

  Scrawled across the photo in gold ink were the words
“My number ones. A power team that can never be destroyed.”

  The initials scrawled below were RS.

  15

  Tuesday

  Simon was running across the dog park, in his mouth a large ball with rope hanging off each side. Rocket trailed behind him, trying to catch up, in a simple game of keep-away.

  Paulie snorted then spat. “How many cameras did you say?”

  “Sixteen total. That sounds excessive, right? And only three caught AJ coming and going. One in the driveway, one at the front door, and one when they stepped out on the back deck. Most of the cameras were on the back deck, so why did only one catch AJ?”

  That had been bugging me since I read the report and saw McVay’s house.

  “Place sounds like a prison.” Paulie side-eyed me. “And you just walked into the house in broad daylight?”

  We’d gone over that before. I hadn’t wanted to tell him what I’d done but eventually came clean. Paulie didn’t seem to believe me.

  I shot him an irritated look.

  He held up both hands. “It’s just that what you did took cojones. I wasn’t sure you had them. I’m impressed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You strike me as the type to underestimate women anyway, so you’re easy to impress.”

  Paulie chuckled. “True. But it’s progress that I gave you props, right?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, that’s progress. You know where else progress would be good? This case. Can we get back to it?”

  Paulie and I had fallen into this weird passive-aggressive relationship that worked. He made me earn nuggets of golden advice from him, and I made him feel like a heel for it. I think he secretly liked me giving him a hard time.

  “Sixteen, huh?” he said.

  I nodded. The number bugged me. I didn’t think a homeowner needed that many cameras to thwart break-ins or theft.