Dangerous Impostor Page 11

  They passed a plain two-story structure that looked like a dirty brick box with shutterless windows, apparently an apartment building. Five young men lounged on the concrete steps of the front stoop, cigarettes dangling from their mouths and beer cans in their hands. When they passed, two jerked their heads in a backward nod of greeting to Caleb, who responded the same way. Lauren sank lower in her seat.

  The only distinguishing feature of the house to which Caleb drove was the absence of weeds and garbage in the sandy yard. There were even a few scraggly bushes on either side of the front door, and a collection of decorative cacti inside a scalloped border beneath the front window.

  Caleb parked the Toyota in the driveway and cut the engine. “Here we are. Home sweet home. Don’t expect much, but I do keep it clean.”

  This was Caleb’s home? Lauren managed to keep the distaste off of her face as she slid out of the car.

  Don’t be a prissy rich girl. Not everybody has an indulgent daddy to buy them a townhouse in a gated community.

  “It’s great,” she assured him. “I’m thankful for it, and for your help.”

  Oh, how thankful she was. In his position, would she have jumped in to help a couple of strangers who were running from the police? Not a chance. Yet that’s what Caleb did all the time, apparently. Helped people who were in trouble.

  “Here, let me give you a hand with that.”

  She let him take the duffel bag from her, grateful to release her burden. When he felt the weight and noted the clearly discernable boxlike shape, questions appeared on his face. He didn’t voice them but merely punched the lock button on the driver’s side door and closed up the car.

  “Hey, Preacher Man,” called a female voice.

  Lauren turned to see a pair of girls strutting down the walkway from the front door of the house across the street. They wore short skirts, low-cut blouses and unbelievably high spiked heels. Even from this distance, she could see their makeup had been thickly applied with a fondness for bright colors.

  “Hello, ladies,” Caleb called back to them. “You be good girls tonight, you hear?”

  “We will.” The answer was shouted as they got into a beat-up old car that belched smoke when the engine roared to life.

  “Dancers,” Caleb told them. “Both drug-free at the moment.” His eyes grew sad as he watched the car’s progress down the street. “I’m praying they stay that way.”

  His head shook and indicated they should follow him down the driveway toward the back of the house. Moved by his obvious concern for the young women, Lauren started after him.

  This guy is the real deal. He not only helps, he cares.

  Brent fell in step beside her. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a sheepish look. “Feeling kind of humble at the moment.”

  He heaved a laugh. “I know what you mean. He’s a great guy. I hope we don’t land him in hot water.”

  They rounded the corner of the house. The backyard resembled the front, nothing but sand and a few cacti along a narrow walkway leading to the back door. A round plastic table of indistinct color sat beneath a wide, peaked awning. Paint peeled on four thick wooden posts that held the sagging awning in place. Mismatched chairs were scattered around the porch, two of them occupied by men. The two Caleb had kicked out to come pick them up?

  Caleb rattled his keys as he passed the pair, heading for the door. “Don’t you two have anyplace to go?”

  As she drew closer, Lauren saw they were both young, nothing more than boys, really. They wore dark knit hats pulled down over their ears, T-shirts, and one sported a stud in his lower lip. Smoke curled upward from the cigarettes held between their fingers.

  “Nah, man,” one of them answered. “Nicky said we could crash on his floor tonight, but he don’t get home ’till eight.”

  Caleb shoved a key in the lock. “All right, you can hang around on my porch until then. But you can’t stay tonight. I’ve got company, so I’m full up.” He pushed the door open and jerked his head toward Lauren and Brent. “These are friends of mine.” To them, he said, “This is Jake and Mush.”

  Mush? Obviously some sort of nickname.

  “Hey.” Brent nodded a cautious greeting toward them.

  Lauren managed a smile.

  “Watch your language around the lady,” Caleb warned, “or I’ll toss you out on your ear.”

  “We’re good, dude.” One of the boys lifted a burning cigarette toward Lauren in some sort of weird salute.

  She flashed a nervous smile and hurried into the house after Caleb.

  The kitchen she entered was outdated, with scarred countertops and dingy linoleum, but the faucet gleamed and the stove showed no evidence of dirt. An inexpensive table with six chairs rested beneath a light fixture in a wide breakfast nook. Lauren and Brent followed Caleb past that and entered a living area about the same size as the kitchen. A solid, square sofa sat along one wall facing an old television set on the other. Two chairs, the fabric on the arms worn, formed a semicircle around a plain wooden coffee table. A sturdy desk dominated the corner to their right, an ancient computer monitor on its scratched surface. Beige curtains were drawn closed across a double window beside the front door on the wall opposite the kitchen.

  Caleb set the duffel bag containing the server on the coffee table and pointed down a short hallway. “There’s two bedrooms. One just has a couple of mattresses on the floor for whomever.” He looked at Lauren. “You’ll take the other one, ma’am.”

  She opened her mouth to protest that she couldn’t take over his bedroom but then stopped. Where else would she sleep? This small house didn’t offer many options. The protest died unspoken. “Thank you. And please call me Lauren.”

  “Lauren.” Huge arms folded across his barrel chest. “Now, tell me what you need.”

  Lauren’s mind emptied. How to answer that question? They needed information, proof that she didn’t kill Frank, and Caleb couldn’t give them that.

  Brent took a step into the room. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to use your computer.”

  A shrug lifted Caleb’s shoulders. “Sure, but I have to warn you. It’s old and dilapidated. I don’t dare keep anything newer around this place.”

  “That’s okay. All I need is the monitor and the keyboard.” He handed the duffel he carried to Lauren, then picked up the one on the table. “I brought my own box.”

  Caleb waved toward his desk. “Have at it, brother.”

  The bag of money weighed more than the server she’d been carrying. The sight of all those banded hundred dollar bills resurfaced in her mind. How much was in there? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. They’d been carrying it around for a couple of hours as though it were nothing more than a bag of clothes.

  She hefted it in both hands. “Do you have someplace safe we can put this?”

  “Weeeellll.” Caleb scratched his jaw with a thick finger. “Safe is a relative term in this neighborhood. I don’t own much I wouldn’t want to lose, but I put important stuff like my tools and keys in the bedroom. There are boards in the windowsills and a lock on the door.”

  Lauren exchanged a glance with Brent. That would have to do. She followed Caleb’s directions down the short hallway to the bedroom on the left. A king-size bed with no headboard or footboard and a four-drawer chest of drawers crowded the tiny room. A double bed would have fit much better, but a big man like Caleb probably needed the extra-long mattress. A wide leather tool belt had been dropped on the floor beside the dresser, a variety of construction tools dangling from various loops. She set the bag of money next to it.

  When she returned to the living room, she found Brent crouched over the server, connecting cables to the back. He had rolled up the long sleeves of the shirt they’d taken from the dressing room at the Hollywood, and she saw the muscles in his forearms tense and roll as he worked. Her gaze traveled up his arm to the white fabric stretched across his strong shoulders. Though not as overly muscular as Caleb, Br
ent was every bit as fit and certainly more handsome, in her opinion.

  Startled at the turn of her thoughts, she tore her gaze away and turned to find Caleb watching her. The corners of his lips tweaked with a knowing smile, and an answering blush heated her cheeks.

  Before the moment became awkward, Caleb clapped his hands together. “Looks like he’s going to be a while, so why don’t you give me a hand in the kitchen?”

  Hunger twisted in her stomach. Those peanuts hadn’t gone nearly far enough. “I’m not a great cook, I’m afraid, but I’m pretty good at following directions.”

  “That’s what I like. A woman who does what she’s told.” His laugh boomed in the room while he ducked as though avoiding a well-deserved slap.

  Lauren couldn’t help grinning at his jab as she trailed him into the kitchen. Danger still hovered over her like a dark shadow, but she felt as though she’d found a temporary haven at the big man’s house. At least for the moment.

  Caleb flipped a burger on a flat griddle and pressed down with a spatula. Fragrant steam rose with a hiss, and Lauren’s stomach rumbled an answer.

  “We’re about ready here,” he told her. “How you coming on that salad?”

  “Finished.” She used the knife to slide chopped cucumber from the cutting board into a large bowl of salad greens and tomatoes. “I don’t know why, but I’m surprised a man who lives alone eats salad.”

  He peeled the cellophane off of a slice of cheese. “First of all, I haven’t spent a night alone in this house since the first day I moved in. There’s always somebody who needs a good meal and a bed for the night.” He slapped the cheese on a patty. “And second, just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I shouldn’t eat healthy.”

  Lauren decided not to comment on the questionable health benefits of greasy hamburgers, since the smell of them was about to drive her crazy.

  A few moments later, he slid the burgers onto a platter. He lifted his head and called toward the living room. “Take a break, brother. Food’s ready.”

  The speed with which Brent appeared testified to the fact that he was as hungry as she. Lauren smiled as she set the salad bowl on the counter beside the platter of hamburgers. The plates didn’t match, and a couple of the fork handles were bent, but who cared? She was so hungry her knees felt wobbly.

  A pan of hot pork and beans in one hand, Caleb opened the back door and spoke to the boys outside. “Anybody hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “Yeah!”

  Lauren stepped aside as Jake and Mush stampeded the kitchen.

  “Whoa, hold up there. What are you forgetting?” Caleb’s glare stopped them short.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  They both returned to the table on the porch. Curious, Lauren glanced through the open door and saw them empty their pockets of cigarettes and lighters onto the table.

  “I don’t allow cigarettes in my house,” Caleb explained.

  When the guys returned, they stood near the food-laden counter, clasped their hands in front of them and bowed their heads.

  Caleb looked at Brent. “Brother, you got a prayer in you tonight?”

  Brent grinned. “Of course.”

  He stepped closer to Lauren, so close their arms almost touched. His nearness threatened to distract her, but she forced herself to listen as he prayed a blessing over the food.

  When he said, “Amen,” both young men echoed the word and then practically leaped for the stack of plates. Beneath their baggy clothes, Lauren realized they were both thin. When was their last meal? Caleb had called them crackheads in the car. So these two young men, who looked as if they shouldn’t even be out of high school, were addicted to crack cocaine? A sad knot formed low in her throat. She didn’t often pray during the day, but she found herself forming a mental prayer for these two boys as she filled her plate.

  Had a hamburger ever tasted so good? Melted cheese dripped onto her finger, and she licked it off without a single care for manners.

  Jake and Mush didn’t appear to be concerned about manners, either. They took huge bites of their burgers and forked beans into their mouths without a second’s pause.

  “Slow down, you two.” Caleb frowned across the table at them. “The way you’re tackling that food you’d think you haven’t eaten in days. I know for a fact you had a good breakfast this morning, because I fed it to you.”

  Mush, the one with the lip stud, gave him a scowl. “Pop-Tarts don’t count as a good breakfast.”

  “Hey!” Caleb drew himself up. “Pop-Tarts are good food. I eat them. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  Lauren hid a smile. Healthy meals, he’d said? She forced herself to slow down lest Caleb point out her lack of manners, too.

  Beside her, Brent stabbed a forkful of salad and spoke in a conversational voice. “So, are you two originally from Vegas?”

  “Not me,” Jake answered around a mouthful of burger. He glanced at Caleb, swallowed, and then went on. “I came up here a couple of months ago from Yuma. Got a buddy who’s gonna get me a job at a gas station soon.”

  Lauren glanced at Caleb, whose mouth pressed into a thin line. Apparently he’d heard that before.

  “I’ve been here my whole life.” Mush scraped the last of the beans off his plate. “But when my dad gets out of jail, he and I are gonna take off, maybe go to California or Florida.”

  “Not a bad idea to put some distance between yourself and your old ways,” Caleb commented as he left his chair with an empty plate and headed toward the counter for a second helping of salad.

  “That’s what Dad says.” Mush held the last bite of burger between two fingers in front of his lips. “But mostly he says he wants to get as far away from that a—” His lips snapped shut on the word, and he flashed a guilty glance at Lauren. “From Gaines and his homies as he can.” He popped the burger into his mouth.

  At the mention of the detective’s name, Lauren’s fork froze halfway from her plate to her mouth. Beside her, Brent jerked upright in the hard chair.

  “Are you talking about Detective Gaines from the Las Vegas police?”

  How Brent managed to maintain a calm tone as he asked the question, Lauren didn’t know. Her hands were trembling so badly her fork rattled against her plate when she set it down. She hid them under the table.

  Both boys nodded, chewing. Mush gulped, then answered in a voice full of scorn. “He’s a jerk and a crook. Nailed my pop for possession when he didn’t have anything on him, not even a joint. Said some jail time would teach him a lesson.” He shook his head and called the detective a name under his breath that might have earned him a slap from Caleb if he’d heard.

  Lauren’s gaze locked onto Brent. Could Gaines really be a crooked cop? Or was Mush merely bitter about the police officer who arrested his father?

  Appetite gone, she pushed her half-full plate away. If it was true, why was Gaines trying to frame her for murder?

  SEVENTEEN

  Because he was seated beside her, Brent noted Lauren’s trembling hands clenched in her lap. He forced himself to go ahead and take the bite of salad on his fork, chew and swallow, as though he hadn’t just learned a piece of shocking news about the detective who was no doubt looking for them at this very moment.

  First I need to know if there’s any truth to the kid’s accusation.

  He stabbed at a chunk of tomato and forced his voice into nonchalance. “So is this Gaines guy really crooked, or is he just a jerk?”

  “He’s crooked as a bent nail,” Jake answered. “Everybody knows that.” Mush nodded with vigor.

  Caleb returned to the table with a second loaded plate. Brent didn’t speak but gave him a questioning look.

  The big man shrugged. “That’s the word on the street.”

  Lord, this is big. But what does it mean to us?

  Facts ticked through his mind. Gaines had interrogated Lauren using a method intended to force a confession from a guilty suspect. He’d refused to consider the possibility that La
uren’s international travel could have a legitimate reason. Then there had been that ludicrous suggestion of a connection between Lauren and Frank because they’d both been in Costa Rica, even though they weren’t there at the same time. Would an honest police detective question those things? Possibly. But how could Brent factor in his instinct, the gut feeling that there was something not quite right about Gaines’s certainty that Lauren was guilty?

  And what about that envelope he’d seen pass between Gaines and the other man, the one who’d attended their workshop session?

  “You guys seem to know stuff about this town. Let me ask you a question.” He calmed his features and let his gaze bounce from Jake to Mush. “Do you know Gaines’s buddies, the ones he works with?”

  Mush shoved a bite into his mouth, and Jake shrugged. Across the table, Caleb gave Brent a shrewd, narrow-eyed glance but didn’t speak.

  “For instance,” Brent went on, “there’s this guy, kind of short and thin, blondish hair. Clean-cut. Narrow face. Does that sound like anybody you know? Maybe an undercover cop who works with Gaines?”

  “I’ve met some undercover cops,” Jake answered, “but they don’t look like that.”

  An uncertain expression crossed Mush’s face. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Wait. I have a picture.” Lauren jumped up from the table and disappeared in the direction of the hallway. She returned moments later, tapping the screen of her cell phone.

  “Here he is.” She handed the phone to Mush. “Do you recognize him?”

  The young man studied the screen. Brent saw the moment he recognized the man in the photo. His lips parted, and his eyes went round.

  “Yeah, I know that guy.” He shoved the phone back toward Lauren as if it had burned him.

  “Is he a dirty cop?” Brent asked.

  “He ain’t no cop.” Mush put his fork on his empty plate and tossed his crumpled napkin on top. “He’s a, what-do-you-call-’em? A guy who dresses up like famous people.”