Deadlock (13 page)

4:55 P.M. FRIDAY

Bethany stood in her cubicle and rubbed the chill bumps on her arm. In the past few days, Lucas had broken into her home and threatened her and Thatcher. Granted, he tried the death tactics whenever he was angry with anyone, but who was she fooling?

She fought the doubts and warring emotions that bombarded her mind about Lucas. Today’s near hit-and-run reeked of a setup, just like Thatcher said. Her stomach twisted, not from lunch but from incidents destined to slow her timing. Thatcher, with his psychology background, had insight into criminal minds. Whereas she carried too much family guilt. Her brother had committed the worst of crimes, and nothing about him spoke of rehabilitation. But she didn’t have time for any of this. Lucas Sanchez needed to be behind bars to protect those around him.

She was a fool to believe the driver of the stolen Volkswagen wasn’t paying attention and panicked when she stepped into its path. Or that Zack Adams saved her from getting hurt and didn’t want to get involved. If she weren’t so exhausted, she’d have come to the same conclusion at lunch. And Thatcher wouldn’t have had to swat her with his version of the truth.

Lucas’s motivation had always been whatever pleased him at the moment.

Tonight she’d sleep. Her logic always worked better after a good
night’s rest. But her mind refused to stop spinning. The meeting with the medical examiner gave them a clinical report and little else. She’d spend the weekend analyzing the investigative reports.

A text seized her attention, but it wasn’t from anyone she recognized. Lucas again?
Oh, God, I can’t take much more.

This is Dorian from Noah’s Loft. Need help bailing a friend out of jail.

Bethany regretted the day Elizabeth introduced her to the woman. What nerve. What guts. Where did she get her cell number? Surely not Elizabeth.

Bethany typed in her response.
I don’t bail anyone out of jail.

Why?

Shouldn’t have gotten arrested. Where did u get my number?

None of ur business. R u going 2 help a good cause?

No. Call someone else.

Some do-gooder u r. All mouth no feet.

Bethany shouldn’t have responded at all, but this crazy woman volunteered with those who expected healthy staff members. Why did Dorian think Bethany would hand over bail money? She set her phone aside, but another text sounded.

I no the right people.

Right people 4 what?

Kind that break windows & arms. No matter ur FBI.

How did you learn my job?

TV news

Bethany contacted the FIG for a trace. Moments later she learned the messages came from a burner phone.

Elizabeth needed to be informed about Dorian’s inappropriate messages. Bethany pressed in her friend’s number.

“Hi, Bethany, how’s your day?”

“Right in line with what I do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Elizabeth, I just received a text from Dorian Crawford.”

“Our volunteer?”

“The same.” Bethany read aloud the dialogue exchange.

“What was she thinking? I admit she’s impulsive, and I’ve had to rein her in a few times this week. But I really doubt she’s the one who texted you.” Elizabeth blew out her anger, a trait Bethany rarely saw. “I should have better checked her references, but when Alicia was killed, I needed someone ASAP.”

“It’s not too late to check them.”

“I will. By any chance, did you give her your phone number?” Elizabeth said. “Because my office and file drawers are always locked. No one has volunteer numbers but me.”

“Absolutely not. I was about to ask if she had access to your files.”

“No way,” Elizabeth said. “This is crazy.”

“I’ll find out where she got my contact info.” Bethany glanced at her watch. She had a few things to do before heading home. “Do you store info in the Cloud?”

“If you mean computer and iPhone, then yes.”

“Dorian could have accessed my number that way.”

“Trust me, she’s not bright enough to figure out technology. Or I’d be worried about what else she could stumble onto. But I am talking to her about this as soon as I’m finished with a new resident.”

“Elizabeth, I’ll do it tomorrow. No point in dragging you into this. Maybe she found my number and my FBI status from somewhere else. I could have dropped a business card. This is my problem with Dorian, and I’ll set her straight. All I ask is that you check her references.”

5:13 P.M. FRIDAY

Thatcher’s sweaty palms made him feel like a teenager. If he didn’t catch Bethany before she left for the weekend, he’d lose his nerve. He’d approached a lot of women in his day, mostly for selfish reasons, but Bethany had his senses on overload. Strange
and unnerving. They were take-charge people, power-packed and determined to get the job done. Yet something about her drove him to distraction, as though he wanted more than a partner. So why did the thought of spending time with her outside work scare him?

He texted her, the coward’s way of communication.
Dinner plans 4 Sat?

No. Do u have a gig?

:) no. Talk scorpion case

K

Pick u up at 6:30? I no where u live.

Scary. Where r we going?

He hadn’t thought that far.
Think, Thatcher.
What a rookie.
Wanna go 2 Brio @ Memorial?

K

Taking a deep breath, he rested the back of his neck in his hands. Warning signs exploded, the kind he chose to ignore. Agents with emotional connections to each other added up to agents making stupid decisions.

Who was he kidding? Bethany probably had a boyfriend or had the sense to term her partner as off-limits.

How long had they known each other? And why had he invited her to dinner?

8:45 A.M. SATURDAY

Bethany parked at the curb of Noah’s Loft with a twinge of regret. She should be working on the Scorpion case, but that meant letting Elizabeth and the residents down. Last night, she’d fallen into bed before eight and slept solid until the alarm went off at seven.

She gave herself a mental shake to concentrate on her double duty this morning: helping the residents work through the grieving process of losing Alicia and focusing on any of them who might have information about the murder.

Time to get her agent pants on.

She rang the doorbell and the cook greeted her in the hall. Sweet lady with a heart for those in need. The scent of coffee and a mix of apples and cinnamon wafted through the air. “Do I smell apple crisp with fresh coffee?”

“It’ll be ready soon. I made a separate pan sweetened with Splenda. Elizabeth told us you’re diabetic.”

“How thoughtful.” Bethany gave her a hug. “Are you doing okay?”

“As best as I can.” The woman sucked in a breath. Alicia’s death had these precious women incredibly distraught.

Bethany knocked and entered Elizabeth’s office. “What’s the plan?” She slipped onto a chair across from the desk.

“I’ve invited the residents into the meeting room for an informal
memorial ceremony, and I’ll encourage them to share about Alicia.” Elizabeth frowned. “You look tired. Is this new position more work than you bargained for?”

“Rough case, but I’m managing.”

“Don’t be afraid to admit you can’t handle the stress.”

“When have I ever given up?” Bethany laughed and it felt good.

“How about a few guys who tried to date you?”

“I was bored. Do you want to have dinner Sunday night?”

“Love it.”

Bethany folded her hands. “Elizabeth, have you run a background on Dorian?”

“Not yet. There hasn’t been a spare moment. By the way, she moved in last night, so now she’ll be helping full-time. Honestly, I think she’s simply lonely and needs a purpose. Let me know what happens after your talk with her.” Elizabeth worked 24-7 with the residents. Married to her job instead of a loving husband. She stood and picked up her worn Bible.

“New jeans?” Bethany said.

“If you call Goodwill new, then I’m all over it.”

They laughed. “Our size?”

“Any doubts?” The tiny lines around her eyes deepened. “We need to celebrate Alicia’s life, but this will be hard.”

Bethany wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “If it’s not hard, it’s not worth it. Without tears, there’s no healing.”

Her eyes pooled. “Love you, my friend.”

They walked up the stairs to the meeting room, where the women and a few children were seated in chairs or on the floor. Dorian Crawford, the last person Bethany wanted to see, rushed to her side.

“Bethany, you’re here. Wonderful. I’m so excited. Are we working on résumés afterward?” She pushed her pink-framed glasses onto her nose.

Never had she heard one scrawny woman talk so fast. “Not today. The memorial service takes precedence.”

“Alicia would have done it all.”

“I’m not Alicia. Perhaps you should find someone else to lead out in this.”

Dorian touched her arm, and Bethany pulled back. “Oh, I’m sorry. You know me. Crazy Dorian. Guess you don’t like anyone in your personal space.”

Talk about over-the-top. “When the service is over, we need to talk.”

“Now’s fine.”

“I prefer later.”

Dorian lifted her chin. “I may be busy when you have the time.”

Instantly Elizabeth stood by Bethany’s side. “Let’s get started,” she said. “Dorian, I’d like for you to keep the children occupied. If they get restless, please take them outside.”

“I want to speak to Bethany privately now,” Dorian said.

“After the service.” Elizabeth pointed to a group of children, and Bethany watched Dorian slump toward them.

Bethany craved a few feel-good moments before confronting the woman about the text to bail her friend out of jail.

Elizabeth spoke to the residents about Alicia Javon’s volunteering, her incredible giving, and how much everyone at Noah’s Loft missed her. For the next forty-five minutes, the residents gave testimonies of how Alicia had blessed their lives. She’d brought new clothes for the women and children, along with books, toys, and games. Two of the women no longer lived at the shelter but were supporting themselves and grateful for Alicia’s tutoring and support.

Dorian stood, her eyes wild.

Elizabeth stopped speaking. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes. Can’t you see? I forgot my vitamins.” She whirled around and raced to the door, knocking over empty chairs.

Once the confusion settled, Elizabeth continued. “I have a six-week Bible study to help us through this difficult time. Attached to the study is a list of affirmations. I encourage you to
read these every day. Next Saturday we’ll begin our first study. Bethany and I will be facilitating it. If you’d like to speak privately to either of us about your experience with Alicia or if you have a prayer request, we’ll remain here for the next few minutes.” Elizabeth gestured behind her, where two sets of chairs were positioned. “We have apple crisp in the dining room, and I invite you and your children to enjoy it. Fresh coffee and hot chocolate are available too.”

Dorian slipped back into place with the children as though she hadn’t disrupted the group with her vitamin outburst.

Bethany wished Noah’s Loft wasn’t so desperate for help.

When the number of ladies in the room dwindled, Bethany walked to the back, where Dorian waited. She danced on her toes and glanced around the room. How could the woman interrupt a solemn occasion and not utter an apology?

Dorian approached her. “Today was great. Some of the women were laughing and others were crying. Even the kids, but I doubt if they have any clue what a murder looks like. Wow, what a way to have closure with Alicia’s murder. Do you suppose the killer is one of the residents? Wouldn’t that be a killer?”

Bethany flinched at the choice of words. “What I want to discuss is critical. You texted me, and your message was highly
 
—”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t text you. How could I without your number?”

“Please, do not interrupt me until I’m finished.”

Dorian planted her hands on her hips like a pouting toddler.

“Yesterday afternoon you texted me.” Bethany showed Dorian the saved messages.

Dorian read the messages, all the while shaking her head. “I swear to you, this is not me. I have no clue who hates me enough to send such an awful message. I don’t have any friends in jail anyway.” She glanced up. “Why a Galaxy instead of a cooler iPhone?”

Frustration rose from the bottom of Bethany’s feet. If Dorian
had Asperger’s or Tourette’s or ADD, then she needed help. “Stay on task. If you aren’t the sender, who is?”

Dorian pulled an iPhone from her jeans pocket. “I’m innocent of your nasty accusations. Look at my cell. It’s an iPhone 6. See, it has the latest features, not like yours.”

Bethany wanted to grab her shoulders and rattle her teeth. “Dorian, if you ever send me a text again, you’ll regret it. The fact that you obtained my phone number without permission is enough for me to ensure your volunteer work is ended.”

“I’m innocent!” Her voice trilled throughout the room. “You hate me. You’re jealous the residents like me so much. I bet you sent the text to yourself to make me look bad.”

Bethany took Dorian’s phone and checked the number and texts. Nothing indicated she’d been the sender. “Is this your only phone?”

“Why would I have two phones?” She held up her hands as though Bethany was pointing a gun at her, which wasn’t far from the truth. Dorian raised her shoulders. “You really are a sick woman to make accusations like this. Someone ought to tie you to a psychiatrist’s chair. I promise you, Elizabeth will ensure you no longer work with these women.”

Bethany was in no mood for a verbal battle. She had too much to do working a tough case to busy herself with a crazy woman who had the attention span of a goldfish. She walked away. Dorian wasn’t worth the bother.

Do your job, Bethany.

Do your job.