Caught Off Guard Page 14

I laughed then slapped him lightly on the shoulder with the back of my hand. “Look, the one on the left’s garage door is opening.”

  A black minivan backed out. A woman was at the wheel with two kids in car seats in the back.

  “The house on the right it is.” I headed for that driveway.

  A dark SUV was parked two houses up, facing us, and movement inside the SUV caught my attention. I’d noticed it coming in but thought the vehicle was empty.

  “Is there someone in that car?” I asked Leo.

  Leo’s response was quick. “Hard to say, but I think so. Have you seen it before?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. But aren’t black SUVs suspicious by default? Besides, I’m just trying to pay more attention to my surroundings. I’m not sure if you remember, but I’ve had some trouble with people catching me off guard. Never turns out well for me.”

  Leo’s steps faltered. “Not my favorite phone call either.” He pretended to hold a phone up to his ear. “Hello, Leo. Listen, I was just jumped by a lunatic with two different-colored eyes. He flung me around like a rag doll then took my lunch. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh, look, a quilt shop.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I did not say that.”

  “Close enough. I have to admit, you have the cutest goofy loop ever. And I’ve seen lots of goofy loop in my time.”

  Goofy loop was essentially when a victim would get stuck on one element of a situation. They sounded like a broken record.

  “Next time, I’ll call someone else.”

  Leo stopped and faced me. “Let’s not have a next time.”

  I shrugged. “That would be my preference too, but I’m a realist.”

  His eyes flicked toward the SUV parked up the hill. “And this car bothers you?”

  I grabbed his elbow and steered him toward the rapper’s front door. “Only because Mrs. Norton—she was Brad Jenson’s neighbor—said he left in a black SUV with silver trim.”

  “Of which there are hundreds in this state and ours.”

  I nodded. “Yep, but doesn’t hurt to make note of these things.”

  “No, it does not.”

  We reached the door. Classical piano could be heard coming from inside.

  I said, “Well, he does use classical music as a foundation to his raps.”

  Leo pointed at the door. “Shall I, or do you want the honors?”

  I gestured for him to go ahead.

  He pounded strongly on the door. We waited. Leo pounded a second time.

  Moments later, Lil’ Megalodon jerked open the door and frowned at us. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and loose lounging pants with sharks on them. He wore slippers with one shark embroidered on each slipper. His head of short dreadlocks was covered by a beanie. The area on his arm that had been covered with a large bandage was now exposed and showed a large scratch far into the healing stage.

  “Nice,” I said without thinking. “You take branding all the way.”

  “Maybe I’m just a superfan of sharks. Now, who are you, and what do you want?”

  I moved in closer to stick a foot against the doorjamb and leaned against it. “My name is Samantha. I’m a PI, and I’m working the McVay case.” From my back pocket, I took out my identification and showed it. “We met two weeks ago at the Pioneers game.”

  He took it and stared at the picture. “Are you laughing in this picture?”

  “Yeah, so what?” I snatched the ID back. I’d felt so ridiculous that day, getting my photo for my PI’s license—like a poser.

  Lil’ Megalodon squinted at me. “You’re Erika’s friend. I told her no, I wasn’t ready to talk to you.” He looked at Leo. “What’s with the cop?”

  I smiled at Leo. “It just radiates off you,” I told him. To the rapper, I said, “Yeah, she told me you said no, but I came anyway. Sorry.” I jerked a thumb toward Leo. “This is Leo Stillman. He’s not here as a cop. He’s here as a friend because he thinks trouble has a way of finding me and creating problems.”

  Lil’ Megalodon studied Leo then me, cleaning his teeth with his tongue while doing so. “And he thinks maybe he can stop it?” The rapper looked over my shoulder. “Did you bring any trouble here? Because that would be not cool. Not cool at all.”

  I shrugged. “I hope not. And I’ll leave in a few minutes. I had a few questions about McVay that I think only you can answer, and I wanted to know what you thought of your agent, Rich Sweezy. I saw online what happened with you not going on that podcast.” I grimaced. “Yikes.”

  Lil’ Megalodon crossed his arms. He didn’t invite us in and stood dead center, blocking me from pushing inside. “He’s lucky I don’t kick him to the curb like Keith did. And you know what sucks about all this? Rich came out and admitted he forgot to tell me the date I was supposed to show up, and no one believes him. They think I blew it off because I think I’m bigger than I am. Man, people online are mean.”

  “They are,” I said, recalling the comments my dad had showed me.

  Lil’ Megalodon was on a roll. “You know who else I blame?”

  I shook my head.

  He pointed at McVay’s house. “Keith. I blame Keith and his selfishness. He dumped Rich a week before all this happened. Rich was so worked up he forgot all his clients and focused on one thing, getting Keith the cash cow back.”

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Wow. I would have been mad too. I don’t know what I would have done.”

  Without hesitation, Lil’ Megalodon said, “I wanted to kill him. Shoot, I wanted to kill them both.”

  20

  Thursday

  Hyperbole. Or maybe not. Maybe Megalodon caught McVay after AJ left, and they had an altercation then. In a fit of anger, he swung the dumbbell AJ and McVay had used to work out and bashed McVay in the head, killing him. I thought it would be awesome if that were the case, if the rapper was ready to confess, the burden of what he’d done too heavy to continue to carry around. I crossed my fingers.

  “Did you confront Keith? Tell him how you felt?”

  Lil’ Megalodon put his hands on his hips. “Of course I did. Nothing can be resolved without a conversation. Communication is essential in difficult times, which is why I’m struggling with my agent. He failed that core duty.”

  “Wow, that’s very…” I searched for the right word. I’d come to the house with a preconceived idea of how I expected the rapper to behave, expecting a little more street attitude.

  “What? Mature? Insightful? My dad is a cop. My mom’s a schoolteacher who taught piano on the side. I wasn’t raised by wolves on the streets. I was raised in a three-bedroom house with a chore chart and three other siblings.”

  “My apologies. Your dad’s a cop? I bet he has lots of interesting cautionary tales to tell. My mom’s a lawyer. I bet, like me, you know a little bit more about the ins and outs of law than the average person.”

  Megalodon’s hackles were rising. Soon the conversation was going to devolve.

  I asked, “You went to Stanford, right?” I couldn’t recall what the rapper had studied at college.

  Lil’ Megalodon curled his lip. “Yeah, what of it?”

  Leo picked up on my direction and asked, “What did you study?”

  Maybe Megalodon had studied something in criminal science.

  Lil’ Megalodon gave Leo the you-crazy look. “Music, duh.”

  “You have a degree in music?” I asked.

  His lip curled again. “Yeah. Full ride on a music scholarship. You have problem with that?”

  I shook my head. “You said you confronted McVay? When was that?”

  Megalodon narrowed his gaze. “I know what you’re implying, and we’re done here.” He tried to close the door, which bounced off my foot as I pushed with my hands.

  “Thursday, right. You had a fight with him the day he died.” My heartbeat quickened.

  Megalodon threw up his hands in disgust. “Yeah, but during the day. Before lunch, even. Caught him down on his dock and roughed him up a bit.” The rappe
r rubbed his jaw. “He roughed me up some too,” he said quietly, touching the scratch on his arm.

  I straightened, putting pieces together.

  Leo said, “You two got into a fistfight on the dock?”

  Megalodon’s cheeks pinkened. “Keith was always worried about hurting his hand, and I wear an Invisalign.” He bared his teeth and popped the retainer slightly so that we could see it. “He knew how important straight teeth were to me, and I knew his hand was his life, so imagine less a fistfight and more a tussle.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m trying to picture you and McVay fighting. You what… slap each other?” The scene in my mind was a comedic picture of the two men engaged in a half-hearted fight.

  He glared at me. “We just shoved each other some, pushed each other in the water, and then took turns holding each other’s head under.”

  I said, “I bet the water was cold.”

  “Darn right it was. Knocked some sense into us. We climbed out and went into his place to warm up.”

  “Is that how you got that?” I pointed at his scratched arm.

  “Yeah. Caught on a nail on his deck when I was climbing out. I caught Keith across the nose when I was flailing in the water, trying to get out.”

  That explained the cut across Keith’s nose.

  “And all was forgiven?” I asked.

  I wondered what Lil Megalodon’s lie in this story was. His first claim, at the game, was that he’d been knifed. But did he really catch himself on a nail? Was this version true or another fabrication?

  “Nope, but what was I gonna do? Rich had already screwed me with The Morning Rap podcast. Keith kept telling me to fire him, that doing so would tell the press that Rich was the one who jacked this gig up for me.”

  “And why didn’t you?” Leo asked.

  “I still might. Haven’t decided yet. I have some other agents who’ve offered to rep me. But, man, I’ve been with Rich for years. We have history. He gets me. I’m not sure I want to start over.”

  I nodded. “But Keith didn’t consider any of that. And from what you said, his dropping Rich was unexpected? Even though Rich says the split was amicable.”

  Lil’ Megalodon’s lip curled in disgust. “Rich said that? Nah, Keith threatened Rich with leaving, but Rich didn’t take it seriously. Wrecked him when Keith dropped him and signed with Nick Hutton. Rich used to work for Nick, back when he was starting out. Nick fired him. Rich doesn’t know I know that, but that’s what Nick told Keith.”

  So McVay dumped his agent for his nemesis.

  I brought the conversation full circle. “And after getting dumped, Rich gets so distraught he forgets your big gig.”

  “Yep.” Lil’ Megalodon made a gun hand and pulled the trigger. “Bang. You got it, girl.”

  “Why did Keith want out of here so badly? From the outside looking in, he was about to hit the pinnacle of pro football.”

  Lil’ Megalodon shifted awkwardly. “I’d tell you to ask Keith, but, well… dead men don’t tell tales.” His gaze met mine.

  “What tale would Keith tell?”

  Megalodon blew out a heavy sigh. “Man, I don’t know. Maybe Keith didn’t like the front office of the Pioneers.”

  I asked, “But you went to college with Austin Strong, right? He should have known it then if he wanted to work for him or not.”

  He nodded. “Strong was a few years ahead of us. People change. Maybe Keith got sick of it here. He was always complaining about having no privacy.”

  I looked from Leo to Megalodon. “That doesn’t make sense. Am I to assume he’d have more privacy elsewhere?”

  Leo asked, “Were the Pioneers the controlling type?” He looked at me. “When I played ball in college, I had to sign this contract that said if I had conduct unbecoming, I could lose parts of my scholarship. Maybe McVay’s contract had similar clauses.”

  I looked at Megalodon.

  He shrugged. “All I know is Keith kept saying he felt stuck. Said he never would bring a person into his life and subject her to this madness.”

  “Madness? I wonder what that means?”

  Megalodon shook his head. “Dunno. But that’s what he said. He was stoked to have other offers on the table. He said he’d play for anyone just to get out.”

  “Why didn’t he just quit football, then, if he hated it so much?” I asked.

  “Because he didn’t hate football. Just the Pioneers.”

  “And Thursday night? Where did you say you were?”

  Megalodon’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t. Now, listen. This is time-consuming, and I’m tired of talking with you both. I’ve got songs to write and decisions to make. I have to visualize what I want for my future, and you all are bringing me down. So go away.” He flicked a hand to shoo us.

  I stepped back, and Megalodon slammed the door.

  “Thanks for your time!” I yelled at the wooden door.

  We headed toward Leo’s truck, the rapper’s words running through my head.

  I stopped at McVay’s driveway. “I want to see this nail that scraped up Megalodon’s arm. Notice how he didn’t give us an alibi?”

  Leo’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Tupi, likely something from the tribal council. I’ll wait here for you. No going inside, hear me?”

  “Whatever.” I made my way to the back of McVay’s house and looked around at the dock. Everything looked like it had when I was there last.

  The dock also acted as a deck. It attached on one side to the yard and at one end to the boat garage. The rest was open to the lake. Four deck chairs and two planters with wilting plants made the dock an outdoor lounging space. A ladder was attached to its side, allowing people to climb out of the lake with ease. So how did Megalodon get scraped by a nail? The only answer was that he didn’t use the ladder. I got to my knees and felt along the edge of the deck, close to the water, searching for a nail.

  I found the nail toward the end of the deck, opposite the ladder. It stuck out a good two inches, jutting just below the water’s surface. I could see how Megalodon wouldn’t have seen it and could’ve caught himself on it while climbing out.

  A light splashing sound pulled my attention toward Megalodon’s house. His deck was vacant. I looked back at the nail while reaching for my phone. I wanted to get a picture.

  Suddenly a smooth black head popped out of the water directly in front of me. My first thought was I was looking at a seal. But a man’s face stared back at me. With a scuba tank register in his mouth, he sounded like Darth Vader breathing. My brain couldn’t register why a diver would be in the water, which dulled my reactions.

  He grabbed me by my sweatshirt and pulled me into the water, pushing my head down below the surface, and held me there.

  Oh no. I had no way to call Leo for help. I’d dropped my phone when the masked man pulled me in.

  Oh no!

  I clawed at the man’s arms, fighting his hold on me. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen.

  Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

  21

  Thursday

  Something inside me clicked. Maybe that was the moment my brain consciously realized I really could die. Maybe that’s what survivors mean when they say their lives flashed in front of them. Scenes didn’t actually flash in front of me, but one second, I was confused but expecting to get to the surface, and the next, I clearly realized that any moment following could be my last.

  My lungs screamed for air. My vision dimmed. The water was cold and seeping into my bones.

  Fight! Don’t give up!

  But to fight this man would be an effort in futility.

  Logically, I knew I needed to resist my fight-or-flight instincts. But doing so took every ounce of willpower I had.

  I went limp, pretending I had passed out or, worse, died.

  Instinct screamed at me to resist. My arms twitched to reach for the surface.

  Instead, I forced my body to relax, to let my arms float at my sides.r />
  The flow of the lake began to move me away as the man’s grip lessened. My brain screamed at me, Get air! Get air now! Yet I couldn’t.

  Scuba Man gave me a shove on the shoulders, pushing me farther into the bowels of the lake.

  The lake was murky and dark, thick with algae, but keeping my eyes open was necessary for survival. I could make out the form of the scuba diver as he pushed me down and away. As I let my arms float, they brushed across his face. In the soft coldness of the water, the contact with his hard mask came as a surprise and triggered a reaction.

  I jerked unexpectedly and grabbed at him, aiming for the face. With his arms off me, he was now stretching toward me, trying control me again, like he had moments before. I flailed, trying to avoid his grasp while also trying to grab his regulator.

  My first attempt pulled the mask from his face. I no longer had any air to breathe out and was fighting the urge to open my mouth and take in a breath of air. The pain in my lungs was searing, nearly debilitating.

  Focus. His regulator.

  I had one chance left to get his regulator. I needed only a few seconds, but those few seconds lay between life and death.

  I needed only enough time to get one breath. One breath would give me one more swing at staying alive.

  I flailed again and came up against his regulator, and with what little energy I had left, I tugged it from his mouth, cutting off his oxygen and drawing his immediate attention to that problem. Any diver worth their weight would recover in seconds, but that’s all I needed, enough time for one gulp of air.

  Without the bottom of the lake to push off and with little strength and air left, I struggled to move away and up, desperate to get to the surface and the air. Though my eyes were open, starbursts were occluding my vision, which I knew was due to oxygen deprivation.

  “Please. Please. Please.” That was the chant in my head as I closed in on the surface.

  I broke the surface and sucked in a desperate breath, only to be tugged under once more by a leg.

  The air wasn’t enough. I needed more and fought against the downward pull, wanting to sob as the surface tipped sideways and farther away.