Shelby's Secret (Once a Marine, Always a Marine Book 4) (2 page)

It had been a long drive from the concert in Austin, Texas, to her home town of Phoenix, Arizona. And, being home was great. She was a desert rat deep down, and the heat of the summer night sunk into her bones in a good way. Her manager had rented a luxury mansion on Camelback Mountain, giving Shelby a view of the city at night that few could afford but no one should miss.

The hour was a couple of minutes past four a.m. and the night was quiet as Shelby relaxed on the patio.

The ping of an incoming email from the open laptop on the patio table intruded. She almost didn’t look at it, but she was up, and the message might be something important like a schedule change. Not that her manager wouldn’t handle the issue. The woman was militant in her efficiency.

She opened the email, belatedly realizing she probably shouldn’t have since she didn’t recognize the address and no subject line existed. But she was tired, and her finger got click-happy.

Her very first song started to play from the speakers. Then her lyrics crawled up the right side as the music played, and the screen wasn’t blank any longer. It was filled with a likeness of her video.

Shelby’s hand froze over the keyboard as the screen turned from black to something else.

The camera was hand-held, and it wiggled and bounced as the person filming moved. The subject matter caused the instant horror. Shelby hoped to God it was a sick joke. Maybe some kind of prank by a budding special effects student. Because if the woman in the swing was real, then she was dead and it looked like blood dripped from the walls.

“What in the hell are you doing up? You’re supposed to be sleeping.” Margaret ‘Madge’ Henner’s stern voice cut into the night like a sonic boom and made Shelby jump so violently she almost fell out of her chair.

“Jesus,” Shelby said, her hand flying up to her chest to keep her heart from beating right out of her rib cage.

“What’s wrong?” Madge asked. Her brow furrowed as she waited for Shelby to speak.

But she couldn’t.

The fist-sized lump of dread had lodged in her throat, and all she could do was point. Point to the screen that had paused, cutting off the song, but leaving a close-up of the poor woman’s mutilated face.

Actually, not even a face was left. It had been peeled off, leaving something straight out of a horror flick, staring sightlessly into the now-still camera.

Madge wasn’t a small or petite woman, in fact she could have easily played football professionally. Wide, thick shoulders tapered to a trim waist kept in shape by clean eating and a workout regimen that professional athletics would have a hard time completing. But when she came around the table and played the video again, she turned into the fussy mother hen Shelby had first met all those years ago in Nashville.

Those long arms wrapped around her from behind, and Madge hugged her hard, while simultaneously slamming the laptop closed. “That was sick.”

“Was that real?” Shelby hoped that it wasn’t, even if the hope was naive.

“I don’t know, but if it was—"

“We should call the police,” Shelby said.

Madge nodded. “Maybe they’ll be able to do something or maybe not. We don’t even know where that is.”

Shelby stood on shaky legs. She held the edge of the table until she was reasonable sure she wouldn’t collapse in a heap. It was a good thing she hadn’t been hungry for dinner, the way her stomach churned. “I’ll make the call.”

“Go lay down. I’ll make the call.”

“Won’t they need to speak to me, since the email was sent to my account?”

Madge shrugged. “Possibly. But no one will rush right out to see an email, no matter what I tell them is on it.”

“Who would do that?”

“Who knows, but I’m hiring more security.”

Shelby shook her head. “We have enough, Madge. I already feel like I’m living in a prison. Just tell the guys to be especially vigilant.”

“Was there anything else with this email?”

“That was it. I was so tired I didn’t even think, just opened it and—you saw the rest.”

Madge grabbed the laptop and ushered Shelby inside the cool interior.
 

Suddenly, the glass walls facing Phoenix didn’t seem as wonderful as they had when she’d first seen them. Now she felt vulnerable. Exposed in a way that she hadn’t before. She’d done TV, sold-out stadiums, award shows—you name it. But with one email she was stripped naked with no protection around her at all. “And cancel that interview today. I want to be here and available if the police need to speak to me.”

“Will do. And, Shelby?”

Shelby had already turned toward her wing of the behemoth home, but she looked back over her shoulder at her manager. “Yeah?”

“Actually sleep this time.”

She tried to smile but by the look on Madge’s face the gesture probably looked scary. Madge didn’t have to worry, Shelby was suddenly so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Maybe if she went to sleep, she’d wake up with perspective. In the cold light of day, the email wouldn’t be what it looked like. The message would be some bad prank and not a dead woman dressed up to look like her.

With no face.

Chapter 2

“Goddamn it. How did this get out so fast?” Mike threw a copy of the
Arizona Republic
across the room. The newspaper made an unsatisfying rustle as it sailed into the wall opposite his desk.

He didn’t expect an answer as he vented about the age-old problem of leaks in the department. They’d been burned before when a vital piece of an investigation got leaked and their case went to shit, and someone else had died. The details had been kept out of the news for two whole days before this story.

Detective Daniel Wolfe sat in the only other chair in the office, drinking coffee and wisely staying silent during the brief, but loud, moment of frustration. Wolfe was new to homicide, two weeks to be exact, having come over from burglary. Mike had assigned Wolfe to work the case with him. Daniel was thorough and got in his paperwork on time. Plus he’d had a very good streak of arrests during his time in burglary. This would be his first homicide.

“I read the story this morning. Whoever their “source at the department” is gave them pretty much everything except the fact the victim was a replica of that country star’s video. Shelly Lynn?”

“Shelby Lynn.”

“Maybe those reporters don’t listen to country music and didn’t make the connection.”

“Let’s hope they don’t. Where are you on the faceless vic?” Mike asked.

“No I.D. yet, and her prints aren’t on file.”

That didn’t mean much other than their victim hadn’t held any sort of government job, and she didn’t have a record. Mike just hoped it wasn’t a dead end.

“I checked with missing persons to see if they had any females on their list that matched a general description of our vic,” Daniel said. “They’ll get back to me later today.”

“I’m just waiting on a call from Casey about the autopsy,” Mike said.

Wolfe looked down into his coffee.

Mike knew he wasn’t thrilled about viewing the autopsy, but he’d done well at the warehouse. Everyone had left and Mike wanted to get Daniel’s initial thoughts. He’d turned an interesting shade of green, but he hadn’t lost his dinner and focused on the details, not the smell. Of course, his new detective had been a Marine once upon a time, so in Mike’s eyes, he was upholding a gold standard of performance by not blowing chunks all over the crime scene.

He didn’t go around Semper Fi’ing, but he and Wolfe had a bond and they both knew it. Being a Marine was a brotherhood, and it always would be.

“I’ll be ready when the call comes in. In the meantime, I’ll work on canvassing the area again for any homeless that might have seen something that night.”

“Great. Also, start calling around to the wig shops. One of the lab techs called and said it’s real human hair, so the wig’s expensive. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and a shop owner will remember selling one recently.”

Wolfe nodded. “I’ll get right on that.” He stood and turned toward the door just as the phone rang.

“Hanson,” Mike answered and waved off Wolfe.

“Hey, Mike, this is Amanda in Admin. The Chief needs to see you.”

“What time?”

“ASAP is what he said.”

Mike felt an eye roll coming on. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“I’ll tell him.”

The line disconnected, and Mike flexed his shoulders. If the issue was about the damn story in the newspaper then Chief Howard would have to yell at someone else. No one in his department was dumb enough to leak info, and he could personally guarantee it. His people knew their lives wouldn’t be worth living if he found out they’d been talking to anyone.

He finished his report before heading to the Chief’s office. Amanda was on the phone. She smiled and waved him on.

Steven Howard had steadily moved up through the department over the last twenty years. This year would mark his third as Chief of Police. In general, he was a good guy and a good leader, even if Mike thought he kissed the City Manager’s ass a bit too much. He’d developed a taste for expensive cigars along the way, so the office held a lingering smell.

“Glad you came, Mike. I have a problem.”

“What can I do for you?” One thing he’d learned in both the Marine Corps and in police work—play dumb until you knew what the conversation was about. A copy of the paper sat on the desk between them.

“Seems the press has access to details about the case.”

Mike shrugged. “They usually manage it somehow.”

“I’d like to find out who’s been talking,” he said, waving Mike to one of the empty chairs.

The Chief wasn’t a yeller. His tone was conversational, almost as if they were co-conspirators as he looked over his polished wooden desk. Sitting forward, forearms resting on either side of the paper, he had an earnest look on his face that said, “If you tell me, we’ll be heroes together.” Mike admired the tactic, having used it himself a time or two. “I’d like to find out myself. This only makes my job harder.” He sat and didn’t say anything more.

“You have some new people over in homicide. Anyone you’re worried about?”

“Nope.” Mike sat back in his chair, totally relaxed. This was a waste of time, and they both knew it. Whatever was on the Chief’s mind, he wasn’t quite ready to share it.

“I have a meeting in five minutes with the Mayor. I’d like you to come with me.”

Now that was a surprise and faster than he’d expected the man to get to the point. “What’s it about?” Mike hated walking into something he wasn’t prepared for.

“It’s a public relations thing, but it involves your case, so I’d like you there to consult.”

“You know we can’t discuss an open case.” Mike kept his face blank, especially since he’d just been quietly reamed about the leak in the paper.

The Chief was a very adept political player. Why he’d need a lowly Sergeant to consult was beyond him, but he’d go. He had political aspirations of his own, at least as far as making Chief himself at some point.

“There might be new information, but the person involved is high profile.” He glanced at his gold Rolex. Another expensive habit he’d picked up since promoting to the top office. “And they should be in the conference room now.”

Mike rose from his chair and followed his boss out. They rode the elevator down two levels to the large conference room. And Mike wondered who in hell could be important enough to warrant the Mayor’s and the Chief of Police’s presence just to gather some new info.

***

Shelby sat in a plush chair in the middle of the long table that could easily fit twenty people. The main station of the Phoenix police department was not the most attractive building, but this conference room made up for the utilitarian structure. Madge stood against the far wall, posture ramrod straight and disapproval written across her face. She didn’t want Shelby out of the house and away from her security team. Shelby figured enough cops were in the building to mitigate any stress.

“We just want your homecoming to be special,” the Mayor said. Again. As if he needed to keep saying it to prove the statement was true. He was a sweet man, who’d made her feel welcome and comfortable. In his fifties, John Nesbit was classically good looking with just a hint of gray at the temples of his blond hair.

He’d been the one to call this meeting with the Chief of Police. Why he was involved wasn’t a mystery. She packed stadiums for her concerts and the revenue her three concerts would bring in was good business. After all, if those concerts didn’t happen, then millions of dollars in hotels, food, concert tickets and general spending in the great city of Phoenix would be lost.

The door opened, and the energy in the room changed. The first man through was tall, with a severe haircut and a mustache that looked straight out of a seventies porn flick. Not that she’d ever seen one herself, but Madge was fond of pointing out said mustaches—and this one fit the bill. And where Madge got her info, Shelby didn’t
ever
want to know.

The man immediately met the Mayor in the middle of the room to shake hands.

What they said was lost on Shelby the moment the second man entered the room. He looked like a thug.