Mind Tricks (26 page)

She’d thought she’d been careful
about keeping her telepathy skills quiet. But what if Ginny’s murderer knew?
What if taking Brutus had been a warning to her to leave Ginny’s death alone?

The burning of Jake’s house…that
was a warning, too. And Cooperman had issued his own warning loud and clear to
her last night: Make Jake stand alone.

She snorted. Right. She’d finally
found a guy who made her laugh, looked at her with desire in his eyes, wasn’t a
criminal (even if everyone else thought he was), and didn’t seem to be turned
off by her mind-reading ability. A guy whose every touch, every smile, told her
that he genuinely cared about her.

The phone shrilled on the wall.
Pulse skittering like a puppy running across ice, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Emma. Hey, it’s Jake.”

“Hi.” The single word came out
breathless, Marilyn Monroe style. Lord, she was so obviously falling hard for
this guy. She cleared her throat. “How’s your day going?”

“Uh, it’s been kind of interesting
so far. Are you busy right now? You know, with woo-woo stuff? I can call back
later if so.”

Woo-woo stuff. She had to laugh.
“No, no one’s here. What’s up? Did you talk to the police yet about the man
with the knife?”

“No. My lawyer’s in court now, and
I want to talk to her first.”

A reprieve, if a momentary one. On
the other hand, she was afraid of what the police would think if they knew Jake
had regained his memories and didn’t tell them—especially as he’d seen the
killer, even if he couldn’t identify him.

Had the killer identified Jake? The
image of him had been so indistinct and blurred by the drugs, he could have
been Jake’s best friend and Jake wouldn’t have recognized him. But unless the
killer was a tourist or the stereotypical stranger passing through town, then
the killer probably knew Jake.

Her hands trembled, and she gripped
the phone tighter. They were in a bad situation here.

Jake continued, “Something
interesting has come up, though. I think I know where Ginny’s briefcase is.”

It took her a few moments to recall
that the police had been searching for it. “Where?”

“In her locker at her gym.”

“That’s an odd place for it.” Gym
lockers tended to be small enough that Ginny would have had difficulty
overlooking her briefcase in it. She must have left it there deliberately.

Apparently Jake was thinking the
same thing. “Maybe she suspected that someone was after her, and she hid her
briefcase there so the killer wouldn’t grab it.”

“That means the briefcase might
tell us who the killer is.” She hesitated. There was another possibility. “Or
maybe Ginny realized you’d figured out she was trying to bring down the
company, and she put the evidence of it in the briefcase.”

Jake groaned, and Emma could
imagine him rubbing his forehead the way he did when he was aggravated. “Why
can’t this be simple? Now I’m rethinking my plan to tell the police about the
briefcase, if it contains info about me.”

“But it could contain info on the
killer.”

Letting out a short, humorless
laugh, Jake said, “Even if it does, I’m not sure the police would follow up on
it. They’re convinced I’m guilty. They’re not looking at other suspects.”

Remembering Cooperman’s thoughts
about Jake, Emma had to agree. “So we ourselves need to learn what’s in the
briefcase first.” The solution was obvious, though not easy. “I could go in and
get it. Break into the locker. Then we can see what the briefcase contains. Do
you know which locker is hers?”

A long silence filled the line. “I
appreciate the offer,” he finally said, “but I can’t allow you to set yourself
up for trouble like that.”

He couldn’t allow her? She was
already deep in trouble, and she’d dived into it head-first, eyes wide open,
thank you very much. “Does the locker key have a number on it?” she asked,
enunciating each word so he’d understand how annoyed she was.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Then I should go in and get that
briefcase, Jake.”

“Emma—”

“We can argue about this more at
the gym. Which one is it?”

“Body One.”

“I’ll see you there in thirty
minutes.”

And she hung up the phone, blood
rushing in her ears.

Life of crime, here she came.

• •

Her insides were jumping around in
a way she hadn’t experienced since eating a disgusting amount of Pop Rocks
candy when she was eight and then washing it down with a can of warm Coke. She
pressed a palm to her stomach and tried to concentrate on what Jake was saying.

Cars parked all around them wavered
in the summer heat. A mother loaded her grocery bags and her toddler into her
minivan while glancing at them curiously.

Just two people planning a robbery,
ma’am. Move along. Move along.

“I still think this is a bad idea,”
Jake said.

Of course it was a bad idea. If she
was caught, Cooperman would be even more convinced that she and Jake had
planned Ginny’s death together.

So she’d just have to avoid getting
caught. Reading minds should come in handy for that. Maybe.

She held out her hand. “The key,
please.”

Jake shook his head but
surrendered. “Here’s a guest pass—I get one every month. And here are Ginny’s
keys.” Jake pressed a business-card-size pass and a hot-pink keychain into her
palm. But he hadn’t finished with his objections quite yet. “I shouldn’t have
even mentioned the briefcase to you. I don’t want you to get involved.”

She smiled, nerves briefly
settling. “We are involved. Remember?”

He nudged her chin up so that he
could match her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” And the scary thing
was, she meant it. She hoped their future wouldn’t involve murder, dognapping,
and being under the gimlet eye of the police, but if it did, she would handle
that. Somehow.

The pink plastic coil felt slick in
her hand, and she could tell the sweat on her palms was dampening the guest
pass. Time to move, before she lost her nerve. Slinging over her shoulder her
gym bag—one big enough for her to conceal Ginny’s briefcase in—she said, “Ready
or not…” She gave Jake the jauntiest salute she could and then weaved through
the parked cars in front of the strip mall, heading for the glass door with
“Body One” stenciled at the top.

She glanced back once. Jake was
still leaning against her car, his frown digging lines around his kissable
lips. Stuffing Ginny’s keys into her pocket, she opened the gym’s door.

“Hi!” said the redheaded teenage
girl at the desk just inside. “Can I help you?”

Behind the girl was a glass wall
that revealed the gym. It was small enough that the desk staff probably knew
all the regulars. They’d certainly remember a stranger.

Emma wiped her palms on her shorts.
“Hi. I’m thinking about joining your gym, so I’m using a guest pass to try it
out. Is that all right?”

“Sure! Do you want someone to give
you a tour and show you how the machines work?” She bounced to her feet. “I can
go grab one of our trainers—“

“No! I mean, I like to do things at
my own pace. Kind of like when I go bra shopping. You know, I like to browse,
then try things on, then browse some more without someone hanging over my
shoulder and telling me that red would look great with my skin.” She was
babbling. This girl would definitely remember her now. Bra shopping. Yikes.

Behind the glass partition were a
handful of people sweating away on weight machines or treadmills. It would look
weird if she didn’t go in there and try out some of the equipment. Did her
duffle bag have any workout clothes in it? She hadn’t gone to the gym since
leaving Maryland. Fingers crossed, she hoped that if she did have workout
clothes, they were clean, not stinky enough to be worthy of an NHL player.

The redhead plopped a huge white
towel on the counter. “Here’s a towel. Oh, and a key to one of the lockers.
I’ll need the key and towel back, of course. And I need to hold your license
while you’re here, since you aren’t a member.”

Dumb, dumb, dumb. Why hadn’t she or
Jake anticipated this? Of course they’d want something as collateral for the
towel and key. And they’d probably add her to their mailing list. So much for
being incognito.

Emma slid her license across the
counter to the girl and gathered the towel and key in her arms.

“Is this address still correct?”
the girl asked, typing away at the computer.

Yep, she was going on a mailing
list. “Yes, it is.”

“Great. All right, just go down
that corridor a few steps and then enter the door on your right marked Women.
Your locker is near the back. To get to the gym, go past the showers and out
the door there.”

“Thanks.” Her knees unsteady, Emma
pushed open the polished metal door to the locker room and slipped inside.

Empty. Thank God.

Whipping Ginny’s keychain from her
pocket, she peered at the key. Lightly engraved on it was “540.” Pacing down
the row of tall lockers until she found the right one, she punched the key into
the lock, held her breath, and gave the key a turn.

Snick.
The flimsy metal door opened.

At the bottom, nearly obscured by a
pair of sunshine-yellow yoga pants, rested a briefcase.

The case felt light in her hands as
she lifted it out. Was it empty? Chills flash-flooded over her. Had the police
already found it, emptied it, and then left it there, waiting to see who’d pick
it up? Maybe patrol cars were racing here already.

She scanned the ceiling and walls
for a camera but couldn’t see one. Okay. Maybe she wasn’t under surveillance.
Plus, Jake would call her if he wanted her out of the gym.

Her palms slippery with panic sweat
on the briefcase’s handle, she tucked the case into her huge duffle bag. Then,
since she was already there and the room was still empty, she searched through
the rest of Ginny’s locker, looking for anything else that seemed out of place.
The only items left inside were workout clothes, a few music CDs, and two tubes
of lipstick. Heart thumping with a surge of relief, Emma shut the locker and
tucked the pink key ring into her bag.

As she lifted her duffle bag, the
door to the corridor opened, and a woman about her own age whisked inside. An
undercover officer?

Emma said brightly, “Hi!” The woman
gave her a distracted nod and disappeared behind a row of lockers. Emma held
her breath. A moment later came the distinctive sound of a locker opening, then
a rustling noise signaling the woman was changing. Okay, probably not the
police, then.

Emma’s guest locker was near the
exit to the showers, and she hustled the big duffle into that locker before
changing into a (thankfully) clean pair of shorts and a tank top she’d found
lurking in the bottom of her bag. She’d work out for fifteen or twenty minutes,
leave the gym, and hand the briefcase over to Jake. Then…well, hopefully they’d
find something inside that could clear Jake. Something that indicated who the
real killer was.

Closing the guest locker, she
slipped the key in her shorts pocket, walked past the showers, and stepped out
into the gym area. A top 40 song played over the speakers, and a few TVs were
broadcasting CNN. She stretched for a few minutes and then headed for the
StairMaster.

She hadn’t been to a gym since
she’d left Maryland. She’d even had a few gym friends there, whom she drank
smoothies with sometimes. She glanced around at the nicely kept-up machines and
the other people dressed as casually as she was. No one was posing in front of
the mirror, checking out his abs or her fancy gym outfit. She’d consider
joining here. Maybe she and Jake could work out at the same time, then pick up
a pizza for dinner on the way home and—

Cripes. She had it bad.

• •

Jake checked his watch for the
forty-seventh time and then stared across the parking lot at the gym door. The
windshields of the cars gleamed like mirrors on a disco ball, making him
squint. What was Emma doing in there?

Finally.
The glass door swung open, and she sauntered into the humid sunshine.

Ignoring his own rule that they
shouldn’t draw attention to themselves, he began weaving through the cars at a
near jog. “Are you okay?” he demanded when he got close. “You were in there
forever.”

“I had to work out. It would’ve
looked strange if I’d just gone in, cased out the locker room, and left.”

He exhaled. “You’re right. I hadn’t
thought of that.”

She gave him a wry look. “And I
signed up for a gym membership. That took a few more minutes.”

She reached out and threaded her
fingers with his. Her eyes fastened on his, clear and direct. “I got the
briefcase.”

Oh, yeah. In his worry about her,
he’d practically forgotten what the goal of this excursion had been. “Great.
Thanks.”

She set the duffle bag at his feet.
“No problem. I searched the rest of her locker but didn’t find anything else.”

Jake glanced around them. “This
isn’t the best place to go through it.” His office? No, too public. And the
police tended to barge in. His condo was out—nothing there anymore. Daniel’s
hospital room? No. He couldn’t stomach using his brother’s misfortune for his
possible gain.

Emma gave a little hop and clamped
her free hand to her hip. “What the—? Oh, my cell phone’s on vibrate.” She
tugged it out and clicked it on. “Hi, Ian.”

Jake could just picture Ian’s
moon-eyed face on the other side of the conversation, wherever he might be. For
someone who read minds, Emma seemed completely oblivious to her assistant’s
admiration bordering on worship.

“Uh-huh…Bummer…Right.” Even as she
responded, she slid her eyes at Jake and scowled.

His fingers tightened around hers.
Oops. Maybe he shouldn’t have been thinking that so loudly.