Prime Suspect Read online

  The passenger side of the cab had been mangled. The roof looked like a tree had fallen on it and the metal had crumpled like tinfoil. Darcie was tucked beneath it, still doubled over, as though she’d taken shelter from the storm in a crushed metal cave.

  Caleb fumbled with his seat belt clasp. “Darcie, are you hurt?”

  Relief poured over him like the rain when her muffled voice replied, “I don’t think so. Not badly, anyway. But this is really uncomfortable.”

  Relief transformed tension to laughter, though the effort hurt his chest. Apparently he’d have a steering-wheel-shaped bruise for the next couple of weeks.

  A soft laugh came from the direction of Darcie’s head and then stopped. “Ow. Laughing hurts. Help me get out of here, would you? There’s something pushing on my back and I can’t straighten up.”

  “That’s the roof of the truck. It’s amazing you weren’t crushed. If you hadn’t bent over...” The horror of what might have happened to them clogged his throat.

  Thank You, Lord.

  “Here, hold on.”

  The driver’s door had been pushed inward, which limited the available space in the cab. He slid sideways, the steering wheel rubbing against his raw chest. Shattered glass covered everything, so he grabbed the first thing he could find to brush it away, the soggy, bent cardboard top of Darcie’s shoe box. Where the rest of the box was he didn’t know. Rain poured over his head and down his face.

  Shouts from outside reached him as he pressed the release button on her seat belt buckle. “I think somebody’s coming to help.”

  “I hope they have an aspirin. Ouch. This stupid collar is stabbing the back of my neck.”

  “Here. Let me help.”

  With difficulty, Caleb helped her scoot gingerly sideways. When she was free of the mangled roof, he pressed himself against the crushed door to allow her room to straighten. Rain plastered her hair to her scalp, but she raised her face toward the sky.

  “Oh, that feels...” She winced, and drew in her breath with a hiss. “Awful, actually. If I’d know I’d have to bend over in the shape of a hairpin, I would have taken up yoga or something to limber up.”

  Help arrived in the form of a pair of men who approached in a half run, half slide down the soggy embankment. Two anxious faces peered at them through the missing windshield.

  “Everybody okay in there?” one of them asked.

  “I think so,” Caleb answered. “But we’re going to need help getting out.”

  “Hang tight,” said the other man. “We’ve called for an ambulance.”

  A third person approached. “How bad is it?” he shouted over the noise of the rain.

  “Nobody’s dead,” answered the first man. “Hey, can I have that?”

  The onslaught of rain ceased a minute later when a black umbrella appeared over the missing windshield.

  “Thanks, brother.” To Darcie he said, “Scoot over this way.”

  He slid sideways on the seat to give her as much room beneath the shelter as possible, then held an arm wide in an invitation to huddle close.

  She didn’t hesitate before settling into the crook of his arm. His stomach somersaulted when she relaxed against his chest and the back of her head pressed against his chin. Could she hear the thunder of his heart, or would she think it was rain thudding against the umbrella?

  “I hear a siren,” said one of their rescuers. “The ambulance is almost here.”

  Caleb listened. “That’s not an ambulance.” In a lower voice, he told Darcie, “That’s a police siren.”

  “Great,” she muttered. “I wonder how long before Detective Samuels shows up.”

  “Well, look at it like this. He might actually believe us now.”

  * * *

  “I don’t believe you two!” The detective planted both hands on the conference table and leaned across, bulging eyes fixed on Darcie. “I’ve told you over and over to stay out of this investigation, and what did you do? You ignored me. A blatant disrespect for my authority.”

  After an ambulance ride to the hospital emergency room and several hours of waiting for a doctor to examine them, Darcie and Caleb had been released. Caleb had suffered a bruised rib and had a dozen stitches in his left arm from broken glass. Darcie was sore, stiff and bruised, but otherwise unharmed. The doctor had pronounced her “extraordinarily lucky,” to which Caleb had replied, “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in God.” After seeing the mangled truck roof and contemplating what would have happened had she not been bent forward, Darcie was inclined to agree with him.

  The detective’s glare switched to Caleb. “The first thing you did was pull strings to arrange an off-the-record visit to a state prison.”

  “He is my uncle,” Darcie offered tentatively, which drew the ambivalent stare back to her.

  “Oh? So you’re telling me that was nothing more than a family visitation? A devoted niece visiting her favorite uncle in prison?”

  Darcie flushed.

  “I thought not.” The detective jerked a chair out from beneath the table and dropped into it, fury doing battle on his face.

  Darcie couldn’t stop glancing at the mirrored wall. Were there officers on the other side of that glass, watching the interrogation? Probably. They’d certainly attracted attention when the policeman who’d picked them up at the hospital delivered them to the police headquarters and Samuels.

  “I ought to lock you both up.” He stabbed a finger toward Caleb. “Especially you.”

  The big man’s calm expression did not change. “I can understand you feeling that way.”

  Apparently the answer was not what the detective expected to hear. Quizzical lines creased his forehead, and his face lost some of the furious purple. He heaved a loud sigh. “All right. It appears someone besides me isn’t happy with you two. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  Darcie read triumph in Caleb’s eyes when they connected with hers for a second before he answered, “Not much, I’m afraid. A lot of questions, not many answers.”

  She listened as he recounted their steps since Samuels left the Emersons’ yesterday morning. The detective’s thumb stroked his chin while he listened. He interrupted only once, when Caleb mentioned the underground room, deliberately glossing over the details of how they’d discovered its existence.

  “Who told you about this room?”

  Caleb’s gaze slid toward the mirrors. “I promised not to say.”

  Samuels’s eyebrows inched upward, but he waved for Caleb to continue. He ended with a description of being forced over the embankment.

  “I don’t believe for one minute that the Fairmonts are involved in anything illegal.” The detective’s glare turned pensive. “But I admit there are some things that need to be looked into.” He looked at Darcie. “You’re sure you don’t have anything else that Fairmont gave your mother? Just the dog?”

  She hesitated only a moment before sliding the ring off of her finger. “Only this. Uncle Richard said it was worth around two hundred dollars. Those are real emerald chips, but they’re awfully small.”

  After a close examination of the ring, he handed it back to her. “The stamp inside says it’s only fourteen-karat gold. Can’t imagine anyone trying to kill you over that.”

  Relieved, she slipped the ring back on her finger.

  Another long moment of silence, and then Samuels blew out a breath through pursed lips. “Well, I don’t see any way around it. I’m going to have to get a warrant to take a look at that underground room, but I don’t look forward to explaining to the judge why I need to disturb Richard Fairmont’s widow.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m not going to call him tonight, though. First thing in the morning’s soon enough.”

  He put his hands on the table and pushed himself out of the chair. “If I were you two, I wo
uldn’t go home. I doubt if whoever is responsible will attempt anything else tonight, but you never know. I can offer you the city’s accommodations at the jail, but I doubt if you’d like the facilities or your roommates.”

  Spend a night in jail? Darcie shuddered. “Thanks anyway.”

  “I’ll get a patrolman to take you wherever you want to go and tell them to keep an eye out for you tonight.”

  With that, the door behind him opened to reveal an officer standing in the doorway. She glanced at the mirror. As she suspected.

  When Samuels swept out, Caleb rose gingerly from his chair, wincing, his left arm held protectively against his rib cage. “He’s right. We need to find a place for the night. I’d rather not go back to Brent and Lauren’s, just in case the goons have been watching us. I’ll give Mason a call. Hopefully they won’t know about his place.”

  He reached for his pocket, but then patted it. “My cell phone is still in the truck.”

  “My purse is, too, and the shoe box.” Tears blurred her vision when she thought of Mama’s treasures deserted in the rain-soaked, mangled vehicle. She turned tear-filled eyes on Caleb. “Can we go get them?”

  His expression became gentle. “Of course we can. Let’s find a phone.”

  * * *

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable,” Karina told Darcie an hour later. “My brother’s room isn’t as fancy as Lauren’s guest room, but the bed is soft.”

  Darcie examined the sports pennants on the wall. A model airplane lay halfway assembled, parts scattered across the surface of a desk in one corner next to a video game console.

  She turned toward Karina. “I hope your brother doesn’t mind being put out of his room.”

  Karina dismissed her concern. “He’s spending the night with a friend down the street, so the timing’s perfect.”

  Though Darcie wouldn’t call anything about this disastrous week perfect, she nodded anyway.

  Mason had come to the police station to get them and brought her here. He and Caleb had verified that the wrecked pickup hadn’t been towed yet and then headed over to retrieve their belongings, leaving her in Karina’s care.

  “The bathroom’s down the hall, and I put clean towels on the vanity.” Her hostess studied Darcie’s figure through narrowed eyes. “I’m bigger than you, but not too much. I’ll get you something to wear for the night.”

  She turned to leave, but Darcie stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you. You and Lauren have been so kind to me, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”

  “We’re happy to help.” A knowing glint appeared in the dark eyes fixed on her. “Especially for a friend of Caleb’s.”

  A blush threatened at the openly prying gaze. Darcie looked away. “Caleb has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  Disappointment stabbed at her.

  Then Karina’s smile deepened. “But not many female friends. You’re the only one he’s ever introduced to us.”

  “Really?”

  She tried to make the word casual, nonchalant. Apparently she failed, because Karina giggled and squeezed her hand. “Really. He likes you. A lot.”

  She wasn’t talking about friendship. Fear flared to life in a deep place in Darcie’s heart. She shook her head. “You’re wrong. He’s only helping me because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  The smile still hovering around Karina’s lips proved she didn’t agree. “I’ll bet when this is all over—”

  Darcie interrupted, not rudely but firmly, “I’m leaving Atlanta as soon as I can. Caleb knows that.”

  She avoided Karina’s eyes but was aware that the amused smile remained. “If you say so. Why don’t you go ahead and take a shower? I’ll be right back with those clothes. When you’re out, we can have a cup of herbal tea and talk.”

  “Thanks.”

  A hot shower was exactly what Darcie needed to soothe her bruised and battered body. She left her watch and ring on the nightstand and spent fifteen minutes standing under the spray, willing the hot water to wash the tension out of her aching muscles.

  Finally, cleaner and warmer and dressed in Karina’s soft T-shirt and stretchy pants, Darcie wandered around the bedroom, examining the evidence of a teenage boy’s presence in the room. But her mind hovered around a mature man. Over the past few days Caleb had done more than befriend her. Somehow in the midst of all the trauma, he had pierced through the shield she’d erected around her heart. She hadn’t even been looking for someone to prove to her that a man could be trustworthy and kind, but that’s exactly what she’d found. Her emotions were still raw from the death of the one person who had ever loved her unconditionally. But for the first time since Mama had died, she felt a faint hope that eventually the pain would heal, that one day she’d be ready to open her heart and let someone else in.

  Was that someone Caleb?

  She idly straightened a stack of CDs on the top of a small stereo. And yet, there was something between them, some obstacle she couldn’t identify. As strong as Caleb was, she sensed a vulnerability in him that held him back. Maybe one day, when this ordeal was behind them, they could—

  A creak behind her. For an instant, her heart froze. Someone was in the room. She sprinted for the door, her mouth opened to scream.

  The sound never came. A hand clamped over her mouth. The terror from the restaurant parking lot returned with blinding force. Only this time, Caleb wasn’t there to help her.

  EIGHTEEN

  The rain had stopped by the time Caleb and Mason arrived at the crash site. Armed with flashlights against the darkness, they slipped their way down soggy grass to the mangled pickup.

  Mason shined a beam over the crumpled cab and gave a low whistle. “That is one messed up hunk of metal. I hope you’ve got good insurance.”

  “I hope so, too.” Shattered glass covering the seat reflected Caleb’s light when he shone it through the driver’s window. “I don’t see my phone. Here, hold this a minute.”

  He handed the flashlight to Mason and grabbed the handle. The door moved but didn’t open. “It’s stuck fast.”

  “Got a tire iron?”

  “Yeah.”

  The keys were still in the ignition. Leaning carefully over broken shards of glass in the window, and wincing at the pain in his ribs, Caleb grabbed them. The padlock on the toolbox in the truck bed was undamaged. He dug through tools and found the tire iron. The sound of bending metal creaked into the night as he pried open the door.

  “No sign of my phone,” he told Mason, shining his light around the cramped interior. “It probably flew out when we flipped. There’s Darcie’s purse, though.”

  When he bent over to retrieve the purse, jewels winked in his flashlight beam. He picked up the tacky dog collar. The shoe box was nothing more than a soggy mass of cardboard, but at least the contents were still inside. He scooped it up and exited the cab.

  They got the toolbox unhooked from the truck bed and carried it up the hill to Mason’s car and then left. As Mason navigated the freeway, Caleb fingered the green stones on the collar.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if these were real emeralds and diamonds?”

  Mason laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a kick? Fairmont smuggling jewels along with the froufrou dogs his wife sells.”

  Caleb stared at him as the words settled in his mind. He flipped on the flashlight and shone it on the collar. Certainly those were not real diamonds. They didn’t sparkle the way real ones did. What about the emeralds, though? He sure had seen a lot of them lately. Those emerald chips in Darcie’s ring. The huge ones dangling from Olivia Fairmont’s ears and neck.

  Mason noticed his concentration, “I know what you’re thinking, but those are definitely not emeralds. If you have a hammer in your toolbox you can prove
it. Emeralds aren’t as hard as diamonds, but they’re pretty hard.”

  Excitement mounting, Caleb turned around and dug in his toolbox for his hammer. Darcie would probably be furious, but he had to know. He braced the collar against the dashboard, took aim with his hammer and—

  Crunch. The green stone crushed on impact.

  “Told you so.” Mason wore a smug expression. “They’re green-colored glass.”

  “Okay, okay. I was wrong.”

  But when he’d put the hammer away, he couldn’t rid his mind of the idea that emeralds were an important clue. He shone the flashlight into every green stone on the collar, but none of them looked any different from the one he’d smashed. Still...

  “Can I use your phone, brother?”

  “Sure.”

  Mason handed it over, and Caleb dialed a number. Brent answered on the second ring. He sounded relieved to hear Caleb’s voice and wanted to know how bad the damage to the truck was.

  “It’s trashed,” Caleb told him. “I called to ask you to look something up for me on the internet. Find out anything you can about emerald smuggling.”

  “Sure.” Brent sounded curious. “I’ve shut down already, so give me a minute to boot up. I’ll call you back.”

  Caleb disconnected the call but held on to the phone.

  Mason shook his head. “If you ask me, you’re barking up the wrong tree, dude.”

  “Probably. But right now it’s the only tree I can see.”

  They’d almost reached the house when Brent called back.

  “What’d you find?” In spite of himself, Caleb held his breath.

  “Not much,” Brent said. “The feds apparently don’t focus much on gem smuggling unless it’s connected somehow to drugs or money laundering or organized crime. They estimate the market value of illegal gems in the U.S. at somewhere around 788 million dollars, which is small potatoes.”

  Caleb let out the breath. “Ah, well. Thanks for looking.”