Suckered, page 11
part #6 of Rylie Cooper Mystery Series
“Rylie?” Shayla’s voice came from behind me making me jump a foot off the ground.
“Shayla, you scared the shit out of me.” I took a breath trying to steady my nerves.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. What are you doing?”
“I think I lost Garrett’s dog.”
“It’s okay. We’ll find him.” She started calling. “Did you talk to Luke?”
“Yeah, he’s still inside.”
She nodded. “Jerry was directing the tow trucks to take the boat and the truck from the garage.”
“They’re impounding them because they think they might be the crime scene.”
“Maybe we should start searching the neighborhood,” Shayla said.
Panic was turning into dread. How would we ever find an Alaskan Malamute on the run? He was probably halfway to—well—Alaska by now.
“Hey, Rylie?” Luke’s voice came from the doorway.
“Yeah?” I turned around.
“I think I found the dog.” He motioned for me to follow him and said a quick hello to Shayla as we walked back into the house.
The way he’d said it made me think Babbitt had been run over by a car or something. But when we got inside, he was curled up in a tight ball on the couch.
“I thought he was a pillow until I took a closer look,” Luke said.
I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around Babbitt’s neck as he kissed my face. “I’m so glad we found you. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
Luke turned and walked away.
Shayla laughed. “How about I take you to your car now?”
“Babbitt is coming with, is that okay?” I hurriedly added, “If not, I can come back and pick him up after I get my car.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Shayla said.
Shayla said goodbye to Luke, and I threw up a wave before we went on our way.
After Shayla dropped Babbitt and me off at Cherry Anne, I pulled out the two orange bottles from my pocket that read G. Henry and with an expiration date a month out.
Babbitt nudged my hand with his nose and let out a low growl.
“I know, I shouldn’t have these, but I’m trying to help. I promise.”
Babbitt turned and began to investigate the back seat with his nose scratching at the leather now and then while I Googled the names on the bottles—Zineclara and Oretaline. I’d never heard of either medication. All of the fancy medical terminology on my screen made my head spin. I clicked off my phone. I’d have to do some more digging to figure out what they were for, but at the moment I just wanted to get home and curl up in bed.
17
The news of Boy Boy’s murder was all over my parents’ television screen when I woke up the next morning. Babbitt and Fizzy had become fast friends and didn’t move at all when I got out of bed to go upstairs.
My father sat in his leather recliner reading his morning paper and drinking his black coffee while my mother got ready to go to work.
“And this man,” a photo flashed on the screen next to the news anchor, “Garrett Henry, has been taken into custody as a suspect.”
My eyes felt like they might pop out of my head. Garrett’s mugshot was terrible. His eyes looked like he’d been crying and his hair was all messed up—whether from our makeout sesh or from Luke’s rough handling, I couldn’t tell.
“Wait, what did the TV say?” My mother emerged from the hall bathroom where she had been applying her makeup.
“Nothing. It said nothing.” She knew Garrett’s name. If she found out I was dating a suspected murderer, she’d lose her mind.
“I’ll back it up for you.” My father held up the remote and hit the rewind button. Why did TV have to be so sophisticated?
The news reporter repeated her story about Boy Boy and Garrett, my mother’s eyes growing until they became as large as dinner plates.
“That-that’s—” She turned her attention to me, one finger pointed at the TV screen. “That’s the man you went out with yesterday.”
“No, it’s just—”
“Don’t you lie to me, young lady.” Her voice was the same pitch it had been when I’d come home at four in the morning on my eighteenth birthday declaring I was no longer bound by her rules. “I know exactly who that is. I stalked him on the Facebook.”
I stopped myself from pointing out it was called Facebook, not the Facebook. “It’s a big misunderstanding.”
“So you are dating that man?” my father asked, his voice thick with concern.
“Yes. But he’s not a killer.” I added quickly. “He’s a really nice guy who Luke decided to arrest.”
“Luke arrested him?” Mom yelled. “If Luke thinks he’s bad, Rylie, then he most certainly is.”
The pitter-patter of two dogs running up the stairs mixed with my mother’s hysterics.
“Luke also thought Dave killed Ronnie and he was wrong,” I reminded her.
“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother managed to say.
“Well, it’s kinda hard to date a guy in jail,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Don’t sass your mother,” Dad said. “She’s only looking out for what’s best for you.”
“Wait where did that dog come from?” Mom’s finger pointed directly at a happy-faced Babbitt.
“That’s Garrett’s dog. I’m taking care of him while Garrett’s . . .”
“In prison,” Mom said.
“In jail,” I corrected. “It was late when I got in last night. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” She patted Babbitt on the head. “But I want you to stay completely out of this investigation. The last time you worked a murder, you almost died.” She choked on the last word. “I will never get over the phone call telling me my daughter is in the hospital after an attempted murder.”
My heart dropped at the tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mom. Garrett is innocent. I’ll try to stay out of it, but shouldn’t I at least help the police with what I know?”
“Luke can handle the investigation, sweetie,” Dad said.
I couldn’t argue with my dad like I could with my mom. I nodded. I’d be careful. They’d never have to know I helped clear Garrett’s name. And once his name was cleared, I’d invite him over to meet them.
“I’d like to visit an inmate,” I said to the woman behind the bulletproof glass at the local jail.
“Visiting hours are almost over, maybe you should come back tomorrow.” Her eyes were bored as if she had no interest in her job whatsoever.
“I only need five minutes, I promise.”
“Fine. Whatever. Which inmate?”
“Garrett Henry.”
A smile breached her face. “You Rylie?”
“Uh, yeah.” How did she know?
“Luke told me you might show up. Sit down over there, I’ll come getcha when Garrett’s ready.”
I sat in one of the hard plastic chairs lining a brick wall. The air was stale and cool and smelled like cleaning solution. Everything around me was hard—from the concrete floor to the steel doors.
A loud buzzing sound came from a door leading to what I assumed to be the cells. With a click, the door swung open, and the receptionist motioned for me to follow her.
I stood and walked down a long brick hallway back to a small closet-type room with a chair, a pane of glass, and an old-fashioned telephone with the heavy metal-wrapped cord. Garrett sat behind the glass holding his phone up to his ear. A smile breached his lips but didn’t reach his eyes.
“Five minutes,” she said and slammed the door closed.
I picked up the receiver. “Garrett? Can you hear me?”
He nodded. “Loud and clear.”
Seeing him in an orange jumpsuit with a guard hovering behind him made my stomach turn. “How are you?”
“Hanging in there,” he said. “How’s Babbitt?”
“He’s great. I thought I lost him yesterday, but he was on the couch.”
“He’s pretty lazy,” Garrett said.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took him home with me. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being there all by himself.”
Garrett smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. Are he and Fizzy getting along well?”
“Like they’ve been BFF’s for their entire lives.”
“Good.” Garrett looked as relieved as he could while being incarcerated.
“So you know when we first met?” I asked, not wanting to spoil the mood but needing to ask him my question.
“Rylie,” Garrett said shaking his head. “Just so you know they record every conversation I have in here other than with my attorney, so anything we talk about could be held against me.”
Damn. So I couldn’t ask him about the boat and the pills and the money. Not outright anyway.
“Okay.”
“But yes, I remember when we first met. When I was fishing on the boat, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you thought I was up to something?”
I didn’t want to say anything more than what Luke already knew. “I did.”
“You thought there was another person in my boat from what I can tell after being questioned all night.”
“I did. And I’m sorry. I know now it was probably a trick of the light or—”
“Don’t apologize for doing your job.” Even behind bars, he was full of kindness. “I can tell you there are more factors to this than I can explain, but my attorney knows what’s going on and he’s working on getting me out of here.”
“But I can help. I want to help. I know about the boat,” I blurted out. “They impounded it. All of it.”
Garrett’s brows knitted together in the middle of his forehead. “You don’t need to help, Rylie. I don’t want to put you in danger. I didn’t kill Boy Boy, but someone did, and that person is still out there. If you’re sticking your nose into this, he or she might come after you.”
“But I—”
“No. Please. Just take care of Babbitt for me. That’s all the help I need. I have a fantastic attorney and a clear conscience. Everything is going to be fine, Rylie. Trust me.”
“Have they set your bail?”
“Not yet. I have my hearing this afternoon, but as soon as the judge determines the amount, I’ll post bail and be back on the outside.”
The receptionist had returned and impatiently tapped her toe behind me. “I think my time is up.”
“I’ll see you this evening,” Garrett smiled. “Maybe we can order in?”
I nodded and tried to return his smile. “Sounds perfect.”
“You know, he’s pretty cute for a murderer,” the receptionist said as she led me back to the front of the building.
“Not only is he good looking, but he’s also a great guy. And he’s not a murderer.”
“Not as great as Luke, though. That man, mmmm.” She was practically salivating. “I’m surprised you let him get away. If I had a chance with him, I’d—”
“Luke’s dating someone.”
“Nikki,” she rolled her eyes, “I know. She’s a peach.”
“I work with her.”
“I hear they’re only dating because—”
“Because why?” Luke asked as we nearly ran headlong into him when we rounded a corner.
Her face turned an almost purple shade of red. “No-no reason. Because you like each other, of course.” She tried to regain her composure.
“Of course.” Luke let out a laugh. “Thanks for taking Rylie back, I’ll escort her to her car.”
The receptionist looked as if she might pass out from Luke’s smile.
“I can walk to my car alone, thanks,” I said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I think we’ve done enough talking the last few days.” I pushed open the heavy glass doors leading to the parking lot, not bothering to hold them open for Luke.
“Garrett isn’t who you think he is.”
I turned on a dime coming nose to nose with the man I’d kissed only months before. The man I’d wanted a relationship with but who turned me down because he didn’t want to be my rebound. Now I wanted to punch him in the mouth more than kiss him on it.
“How do you know who Garrett is?”
“Because I interrogated him last night.” The bags under his gorgeous brown eyes verified his story.
“And what did you find out?”
Luke looked down at the ground. “I can’t tell you that.”
I let out a grunt of anger and frustration. “Then why are you even talking to me?”
I turned towards Cherry Anne, but Luke grabbed my arm and spun me back around to face him. “Because I care about you, Rylie. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I cursed the butterflies that always danced in my stomach when I was in such close proximity to Luke. “Do you really think Garrett is going to hurt me?”
Luke started to talk but then stopped himself. “I don’t know.” He admitted. He loosened his grip on my arm, but his fingers still rested on my skin.
“So then why—”
“There are things you don’t know.” He dropped his hand to his side. “This case is a mess. It’s dangerous. And your boyfriend isn’t making it any easier. What we do know is Boy Boy was head of a gang—a horrible gang. A gang that will stop at nothing to keep their secrets.”
“I don’t know their secrets. I’m in no danger.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. The money alone was a big enough secret to kill over. If it was gang money which it probably wasn’t.
“But if you keep poking your nose in places it doesn’t belong, you might come across something you don’t even know is a secret. Please stop.”
“How did Boy Boy die?” I blurted out.
“Boy Boy had toxic levels of prescription medication in his bloodstream which could have impaired his ability to swim causing him to drown.”
My mind rushed to the nearly empty pill bottles in my glove compartment. “So he wasn’t dead when he went in the water?” My insides clenched. I could have saved him.
Luke shook his head. “Nope. Not that I should be telling you this. God, why do I tell you these things?” He turned and stormed back towards the station. “Just stay out of trouble.” He yelled not looking back at me.
Yeah, not likely.
18
I had a couple of hours to spare before I had to be in for my shift, so I decided to take Fizzy and Babbitt to the dog park to get rid of some of their energy.
The dog park consisted of what I assume was at one time a patch of grass but was now dirt surrounded by a wire and log fence with various play features within. I had taken Fizzy here a handful of times, but every time he nearly pulled me over to get inside. Babbitt, on the other hand, stayed close by my side, not wanting to join the group.
Dogs of all shapes and sizes ran around playing and jumping and rolling in only God knows what. Bose headphone guy with the mastiff was busy with his phone, bobbing his head slightly to a beat only he could hear. The bronze goddess, who looked like she spent several hours a day in the tanning booth, held her fluffy white poodle in her lap as they watched the dogs play around them. And the white-haired, hunched old woman who would yell for her Mitzy so loudly the entire park could hear waved at me.
Though we were all there for the same reason, we never seemed to talk. We just let our doggies play while we sipped our lattes and enjoyed the sunshine.
“Why don’t you go play, Babbitt?” I asked. I only knew the two commands Garrett had done the night I’d been at his house—stay and sick—and neither of them fit quite right with this situation.
“Run,” I said.
Babbitt just stared up at me with his sky blue eyes.
“Go?” I asked.
Nothing.
I looked out finding Fizzy smelling the butt of an old Boston terrier. “Oh Fizzy,” I said under my breath.
“Do you want to play fetch?” I pulled a ball from my pocket.
Babbitt let out a low growl, his ears perking up but his eyes weren’t focused on me, they were pointed at the gate where we’d come in.
About six people stood where he was looking. Some were coming, and some were going. All seemed to have dogs, except one.
A person with a baggie zip-up sweatshirt walked outside of the fence perimeter, the hood pulled tightly against their face with their head pointed at the ground. It was this person Babbitt was watching and growling at.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like people in hoodies?” I asked. The person did look pretty shady.
Babbitt continued to growl.
The person looked up from the ground to reveal a pale face almost entirely hidden by huge dark sunglasses. They were too far away at this point for me to determine if it was a man or a woman.
“Should we go check it out?” I asked.
Apparently, that was Babbitt’s cue to take off. He ran like he was in the race of his life towards the fence.
“No. No Babbitt,” I yelled sprinting after him not sure what he would do when he got to the person.
I could feel eyes around me watching. Other dogs chased after Babbitt like it was one big game. Even Fizzy joined in the fun.
But Babbitt was on a mission.
When the person realized the dog was heading right for them, they darted away from the fence and disappeared into the parking lot.
Babbitt was still barking and growling when I reached the fence. A silver car tore out of the parking lot, probably with the person who Babbitt had tried to attack.
“Babbit stop,” I yelled. “Sit.”
Babbitt instantly stopped barking and sat, his eyes shifting between the fence and me.
The other dogs looked confused before their owners caught up with us. I snapped a leash to Babbitt’s collar and then another to Fizzy’s.
“I’m sorry. We’re leaving,” I said to the group of people standing with their arms crossed over their chests throwing judgmental looks my way. The number one rule of the dog park was to never bring a vicious or aggressive dog.
