Arresting Developments (4 page)

Chapter Four

Dex twisted against the sheets, fighting through the darkness.

A delicate face leaned over him, her long, brown hair forming a curtain, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Sleep, Dex. Don’t worry. I’ll watch over you. You’re getting better.”

He reached for her. “Don’t go, Canoe Girl.” But she faded away like a ghost.

He cursed and tried to roll over, but every movement was painful. His entire body ached, as if he was back in college and had been in a drunken fraternity fistfight—and had lost.

A cool cloth stroked his arms, his forehead, driving back the awful heat that seemed to constantly surround him. Voices he didn’t recognize whispered close by. Footsteps echoed and a door slammed. A glass was held to his lips. He drank greedily and the cool water soothed his parched throat.

Canoe Girl leaned over him again. No, she was sitting this time, raising her arms, then lowering them, over and over, her muscles bunching with strain. She raised her hands, pulling something up into the air. Water dripped from it onto his pants. An oar? Why was she holding an oar? She moved it to the other side and dipped down again.

And then she was on her knees in front of him, her cool fingers brushing against his brow. That worried frown a constant twin to the look of concern in her eyes. Sad eyes. So, so sad.

She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “Don’t tell them about me, Dex. Please. Don’t tell.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

He thrashed against the sheets, seeking relief from the heat. Hot. He was always so hot. He couldn’t remember
not
being hot.

The darkness called to him again and he gratefully surrendered.

* * *

D
EX
OPENED
HIS
EYES
, blinking at the light.

“Well it’s about time you decided to rejoin the living. I was beginning to think the doc was wrong.”

He turned his head on the pillow to see a woman nearly as brawny as him, probably well over twice his age, with falsely bright red hair, sitting in a ladder-back chair beside the bed. He looked around the room but she was the only one there. “Where am I?”

“Callahan’s Watering Hole, in the extra bedroom in my apartment upstairs. I’m Freddie Callahan.”

“From Mystic Glades?”

“Either I’m famous and didn’t know it or our buddy Jake told you about me.”

He frowned. “How would you know that I know Jake?”

“I saw your last name on your ID, in your wallet. Figured it was too much of a coincidence for you to be named Lassiter and not be from Lassiter and Young Private Investigations. Called Jake—which was a pain since I had to leave town to get reception—and sure enough, he vouched for you.”

He started to scoot up in the bed but stopped when he realized he was naked beneath the sheet. He yanked it higher before sitting up. The room was small, with only the narrow bed, a dresser and a single window. A collection of shot glasses and empty whiskey bottles sat on a shelf along the far wall. And a pair of open doors beneath them revealed a closet and a small bathroom. He tried to remember how he’d gotten there, but his mind was a haze of confusing images and impressions.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t—”

“Remember what happened?” Freddie patted his hand. “No worries. We pretty much pieced everything together with Jake’s help after I called him. You crashed your plane into the Glades. The airplane folks done packed up what was left of it onto some fancy barge and took it with them to Naples for some kind of investigation. You got an infection and have been unconscious for a while. I had Doc Holliday come out and check on you to make sure you were coming along okay. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Doc Holliday?”

Her mouth cracked open in a gap-toothed grin. “I’ve called him that for so long that I don’t remember his real name anymore. He’s a city slicker, comes out to the Glades when we have an emergency. He wanted to take you back to town, but Jake and I told him you were family and I kept you here in Mystic Glades. Jake said he’d call your people in Saint Augustine and tell them where you were. Ain’t nobody been by to check on you yet, though, which just proves we made the right decision keeping you here.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a crisp nod, as if to let him know she wasn’t impressed with his family’s lack of concern. Of course, she had no way of knowing that the only reason his family would come was if they thought he was already dead and they stood a chance of getting their hands on his money.

A pounding started in his temple as he tried to think back to what had happened. Electrical tape. He’d found it in the engine compartment. Maybe it was a good thing that no one had shown up looking for him in Mystic Glades. Without knowing who’d tampered with his plane, he wasn’t sure whom he could trust.

Images of the crash and its aftermath filtered through his mind: cutting his leg, waking to find himself in a freezing cold spring, a beautiful young woman helping him out of a canoe and onto the bank.

“Don’t tell them about me, Dex. Please. Don’t tell.”

He scrubbed the stubble on his face and searched the corners of the room again, part of him hoping she’d be there even though he knew she wouldn’t be.

Freddie’s expression turned introspective as she studied him. “You’re looking for the woman who helped you, aren’t you? The one you call Canoe Girl?”

Canoe Girl.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered it all now. She’d put some kind of foul-smelling mud on his leg—to draw out the poison, she’d told him. And when he’d alternated between the fever and bone-rattling chills, she’d built a fire and sat with him all night, leaving only to bring him water and some kind of surprisingly delicious stew.

Every hour, without fail, she’d changed the dressing on his leg. And when he’d needed a moment of privacy and, to his shame, was unable to get up on his own, she’d helped him stand and limp to a clump of bushes. When he was done, she’d escorted him to their little campfire.

She’d entertained him with stories about the Everglades and made him laugh when she spoke about her childhood. He’d told her about flying and about later building his empire, only to become bored and start the PI firm with Jake Young for fun.

When the sun came up he’d awakened to find her curled against him beside the dying campfire. In awe of the beautiful creature, he’d tightened his arms, only to find her blinking at him in surprise and slipping out of his grasp. Far too soon, she’d deemed him strong enough to leave and had helped him limp to her canoe.

After taking him to the woods at the edge of town, she’d helped him sit on a fallen log and crouched down in front of him.

“We’re just a few feet from the main road,” she whispered. She pulled a whistle out of her pocket. “When I blow this, someone will come help you.” She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “Don’t tell them about me, Dex. Please. Don’t tell. Make up some kind of story to explain how you got here, but never tell anyone that you saw me. It’s important.”

The fear in her voice had him clutching both of her shoulders and pulling her back so he could look her in the eyes. “What’s going on? Who are you afraid of?”

“It’s...complicated. Please. Just promise me.”

“Okay. Yes, I promise. But tell me why you’re afraid. I’m sure that I can help—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips to stop him. “No one can help me.” Her mouth quirked up in a rare smile. “Not even a sexy navy pilot turned billionaire financier private investigator.” She stood and backed away, then put the whistle to her lips.

The shrill sound shattered the morning, sending birds shrieking and rising from the trees around them.

“Remember your promise.” She turned and disappeared into the woods.

Dex shook his head to clear his thoughts. Freddie sat across from him, still waiting for his answer. A feeling of impending doom settled over him. If he’d kept his promise, then how did this woman know about Canoe Girl?

“My memory is still a bit...foggy,” he said evasively. “How long have I been here?”

“Three days. Doc said you wouldn’t have made it if Amber hadn’t helped you with that concoction she put on your leg. But still, it was touch and go.”

“Amber?”

“Amber Callahan. My niece, the one you called Canoe Girl when you were delirious. Pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about isn’t going to change the fact that you talked quite a bit about her.”

He fisted his hands in the sheets, guilt and shame settling on top of him like a heavy weight. Canoe Girl—Amber—had saved his life. And, in return, all she’d asked was that he not tell anyone about her. He’d betrayed her, whether he’d meant to or not.

“They’re searching for her. Now that we know she’s nearby, Holder and the others won’t stop until they find her trail and bring her back.”

His stomach twisted into a hard knot. “She doesn’t want to be found.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

He frowned. For an aunt, she didn’t seem all that worried about her niece’s welfare. “Then why is this Holder person searching for her? It’s her right to be left alone if that’s what she wants. If he thinks she needs rescuing, believe me, she’s quite capable of taking care of herself. She’s pretty amazing in that department.”

She gave him a peculiar look, as if she thought he’d lost his mind. “Mr. Lassiter, Deputy Holder isn’t leading a rescue party. He’s leading a posse. Amber is a murderer.”

Chapter Five

Amber ducked down behind a trash can against the back of Callahan’s Watering Hole and waited for the newest group of men to get out of their cars and go inside. The foot traffic in and out of the bar all morning had been incredible, not to mention several suits in a limo a few minutes ago. Half the town and strangers she’d never seen before must have been inside at one time or another. And she didn’t have to guess why. They were looking for her, had been for three days now, carrying rifles and shotguns as if they were afraid she’d attack them. The resentment that shot through her was like a physical pain, making her double over. These people had been her friends, her family. At one time they’d have done anything for her. Now they just wanted to put her away.

She could have been safe and sound at home deep in the Glades by now, but she couldn’t stop worrying about Dex. She’d watched from a perch in a tree overhead to insure that her plan had worked—that someone heard her whistle and came to help him. And since the first person on the scene was someone she’d never met, she couldn’t just assume he had good intentions as far as Dex was concerned. He could have been a thief or some such. So she’d scampered down the tree and followed him to make sure Dex didn’t need her. Then she’d safely made it to her canoe and headed out. But she wasn’t comfortable with the things that she’d heard when she spied on the crash site and listened to the men gathering up the plane. So she’d gone back to check on him and had made a habit of checking on him every day. Once he was well and awake and able to fend for himself, she’d quit her vigil. But not before then.

The men she’d been waiting to pass finally went inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind them. Amber waited another couple of minutes, peeking out to see if anyone else was approaching and listening for sounds from inside the bar to tell her if anyone was about to leave. Then she hurried around the trash can and raced up the rickety wooden staircase attached to the back of the building that was supposed to be a fire escape but was so rarely used that it had fallen into disrepair. The way the boards sagged as she stepped on each one had her holding her breath the first day she’d snuck up them, but now she knew they were more solid than they seemed and she no longer held her breath as she hurried up to the landing.

The door was unlocked, as always. That was one thing she could be thankful for, that the residents of Mystic Glades rarely locked their doors. She pulled the door open a fraction to peer down the long upstairs hallway with doors opening off either side. With all the people downstairs in the business part of the building, she hadn’t expected her aunt to be up here in her private quarters and wasn’t disappointed. The hall was empty.

She headed straight to the guest room where Dex was staying. If he was still suffering from his fever she would sit with him as she had the past few days and use a cool cloth to soothe him. She wished she could speak to the doctor who came every evening and ask him if Dex was going to be okay. But with everyone searching for her, that wasn’t in the realm of possibilities.

She carefully eased the door open and hurried inside, shutting it behind her and flipping the lock. Movement to her right had her whirling around. A body slammed into her, tackling her to the floor. She landed hard, her elbows and head thumping against the wooden floor a split second before the person who’d attacked her landed on top of her. She grimaced at the pain that shot through her then blinked in surprise to see the very green, shocked gaze of Dex looking down at her. A very naked Dex, plastered to every inch of her body. And like when she’d ended up in his lap out in the swamp, his body immediately responded to their closeness and began to harden against her belly.

He cursed and rolled off her, grabbing her wrists and yanking her to her feet.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a harsh whisper as he pulled her to the bed.

She tried to focus on the unexpected anger in his voice, but she couldn’t resist a quick look down. The parts of his body that had been hidden from her when she’d been nursing him to health were now fully revealed. And she wasn’t disappointed in the least. The rest of him was just as...impressive...as his naked chest had been.

He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his hips. If they’d been in the swamp, he’d have made some flirty, corny comment. But the teasing flirtation she’d come to expect from him in their brief time together was replaced by a sullen, angry, serious stranger.

Her shoulders slumped. “You know.”

“That you’re wanted for murder? Yeah, hard to miss that topic around here. About that—I want you to know that I didn’t tell them about you on purpose.”

She waved her hand. “No worries. You were delirious. It’s not your fault.”

“How would you know I was delirious?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “A...ah, guess. I knew you still had the fever when I left you. And, since Deputy Holder headed up that posse after me so fast, they obviously knew about me. And I trust you—I know you meant it when you said you wouldn’t tell. Again, no worries. Not your fault.” She tugged her arm out of his hold. “It was a mistake. I’ll go. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

He blocked her way. “Not so fast. There are things...we need to talk.”

“No, I need to get out of here before someone catches me.”

“If you’re that worried, why’d you come here in the first place?”

She blinked as if remembering something, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “You dropped this earlier. I kept it at first to try to erase the pictures of me. But there’s no point in that anymore. So...here you go.” She handed it to him and he tossed it onto the bed.

“I don’t think you risked everything to come here to return a phone. What’s the real reason that you’re here?”

She blew out a long breath. “Guilt, I guess. I was worried that I’d left you unprotected. You’re obviously able to care for yourself now, so my job is done. Time to go.”

“Turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m the only one naked in this room. Either you take your clothes off and we’ll be naked together, or you turn around while I get dressed.”

She hesitated, half wondering if he was serious.

“That was a joke, Amber. Turn around.”

She sighed and turned around, listening to the sounds of drawers opening and the whisper of fabric against skin.

“Okay, you can turn around.”

When she did, she was surprised to see him wearing dark gray dress slacks and a burgundy dress shirt tucked in, with a charcoal-gray-and-maroon-striped silk tie. The only thing missing was a suit jacket and he’d look at home in any boardroom. Pity. She liked him better half-covered in mud and jet fuel. He’d been a lot more fun and a lot less serious.

“Nice clothes. I can’t imagine anyone around here having a suit you could borrow, though.”

“They’re my clothes. My assistant brought them.”

“Your assistant. Okay. Well, you’re obviously doing fine and you have...an assistant watching after you now, so I’ll just be on my way.” She scampered around him and ran to the door. But he was surprisingly fast for someone who’d just woken from a near-coma after several days and he braced his hand against the door, keeping her from being able to open it.

“Damn it, Amber. We need to talk.”

The sound of voices outside the door and footsteps clomping up the wooden stairs had him breaking off. Amber’s eyes widened in dismay. She turned in a circle, surveying the tiny room for a place to hide. The tiny bathroom or the closet. She chose the closet.

“Wait.” Dex grabbed her arm in an unbreakable hold.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Please,” she whispered, as she tried to pry his hand off her forearm. “Let me go. I’m just going to hide in the closet.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re not.” He half turned toward the door. “Come in,” he called out.

Amber gasped in shock as the door opened. Her aunt gaped at her in surprise, then moved aside to let the group of men behind her into the room. The first two men, wearing suits much like Dex’s, were strangers to her. But the last man to enter the room was not. She’d seen him two years ago, the day she’d run into the Glades.

The look of surprise on his face was quickly replaced with a look of reproach as he pulled out his handcuffs.

“Miss Callahan.” Collier County Deputy Scott Holder pulled her away from Dex and turned her around. “You’re under arrest for the murder of your grandfather, William Callahan.”

Amber stiffened her spine while he locked the handcuffs around her wrists. Her face flamed hot as she endured the pat down with the others watching, except for Dex and one of the men in a suit who were currently deep in conversation by the window, completely ignoring her. She noted that he didn’t seem surprised by the appearance of a Collier County sheriff’s deputy at his door, either.

Holder took her knife and sheath from her belt. Then he escorted Amber to the door with her hands cuffed behind her back, past the admonishing look from her aunt. Dex never once looked her way.

* * *

“W
ELL
,
THIS
SEEMS
FAMILIAR
.” Deputy Holder leaned back in his desk chair in the squad room beside Dex as another officer escorted Amber into an interview room.

“Because of Faye Star?” Dex asked, noting that Amber made a point of not looking at him even though she passed less than a yard away from him.

He nodded. “Your PI partner, Jake Young, had Faye in here accused of murder just a couple of months ago. Déjà vu.” He cast him a sideways glance. “Let me guess. You think Miss Callahan is innocent?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. But I certainly wasn’t going to harbor a fugitive once I found out there was an outstanding warrant for her arrest. That’s why I had Freddie call you to come over, so I could tell you what I knew. It was only dumb luck that she was there when you arrived.”

“You’re supposedly worried about making sure she doesn’t run from the law. And yet you’re offering your own lawyer to defend her.” He nodded at Garreth Jackson as he passed them and went into the interview room.

“She saved my life. I figure the least I can do is make sure she gets a good attorney. Garreth was a criminal defense lawyer before he turned to business law. He can at least advise her until I can bring in someone else.”

Holder snorted. “Sounds to me like you’re going to a lot of trouble—and expense—for someone you aren’t sure is innocent.”

“Like I said. She saved my life. I can’t put a price on that. Whatever she needs, I intend to provide it. What about you? Do you think she’s guilty?”

The interview room door closed and Holder flipped the file open on top of his desk. “Seems pretty cut-and-dried. Her grandfather was the founder of Mystic Glades. He lived in a mansion, of sorts, several miles outside the town proper, with only one other person—Amber Callahan. She was known more or less as the town healer, for lack of a better term. If someone was sick or broke a bone, they went to Amber instead of taking the long drive to Naples. She was the only one with her grandfather the night he died, admitted as much the next morning when she called the police to report his death.”

“Her aunt said the old man had been poisoned?”

“Poisoned? Not exactly, but close. He was sick with the flu or something similar and she gave him one of her potions to supposedly help him sleep better. But the potion was laced with peanut oil, something he was highly allergic to. Coroner said his throat closed up and he died of anaphylactic shock. Amber knew about his allergies. Everyone did. And since she was the one who brought groceries and did all the cooking, it’s kind of hard to say anyone else brought the peanut oil into the house.”

“Did you actually find a bottle of peanut oil?”

He flipped the few pages in the folder and shook his head. “Nope. She must have disposed of it. But the CSU team tested the glass beside his bedside table and found peanut oil residue.”

“What did she have to gain by killing him?”

“Plenty. Since he founded Mystic Glades, he pretty much owned the town and leased most of the property to others. Very few of the residents actually own the land or the buildings on them. He was quite wealthy in his own right—old money that’s been in his family for generations.”

“And Amber is the only heir?”

“Her and her aunt Fredericka. But Amber got the lion’s share.”

“Is the estate still in escrow?”

He tapped one of the pages. “No, but it might as well be. As soon as Miss Callahan was charged, the courts put holds on both her accounts and her grandfather’s accounts. She can’t touch a penny without going to court to release the funds.”

“Which of course she wouldn’t do if she’s worried about being arrested for murder.”

“Exactly.”

Dex blew out a long breath. “I just can’t picture her purposely killing her grandfather even if she did want his money. She seems so—”

“Sweet? Nice?”

“I was thinking intelligent, actually. How old was her grandfather?”

“I see where you’re going.” He thumbed through the report, then flipped to the beginning and ran his finger down a paragraph. “Let’s see. Amber was twenty-two, her grandfather was just shy of eighty at the time. He wasn’t in the best of health, either, even without having the flu at the time he died. You’re thinking she could have just waited and inherited.”

“Seems like the logical thing to do. Does that report say why she might have needed the money? Had she planned on leaving Mystic Glades?”

He closed the file. “The report doesn’t really say much more than what I told you. Everything I’ve said was available through old media reports or word of mouth in Mystic, so I haven’t given away any secrets. But the rest of the file
is
confidential and I can only release it to her attorney.”

“Fair enough. I’m curious about one thing, as long as it’s not one of those secrets you mentioned.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“You said the grandfather lived in a mansion. What happened to it?”

“The court apportioned some of the estate for the house’s upkeep and appointed a trustee to look after the house. And before you ask, no, I can’t share the trustee’s name because I don’t know if that’s common knowledge.”