Red Tide (Siren Publishing Classic) (28 page)

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Jenna prayed her voice sounded normal. “I dropped my lipstick and it rolled under the seat. Had a heck of a time finding it.” She held the tube up.

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “You don’t need it. You’re pretty enough without it.” He winked.

The scenery raced past the loaner Porsche’s windows, mostly unnoticed by Jenna. Her mind still raced, turning back time and time again to the ID card hidden in her purse.

* * * *

John barely glanced at the motel when they drove past. No unusual activity, no police cars, no TV trucks. Melody was still dead asleep. He imagined they wouldn’t find her until later in the afternoon, when the front office sent a maid out to check if she was still there.

They made it to New Port Richey with plenty of time to spare. Sam Caster sent them into an interview room while he gathered his notes and found his partner. When Caster was ready to question them, he sent Jenna out first, then started the tape recorder.

“Okay, Mr. Tyne. This is my partner, Detective Jim McGuiness. First of all, let me advise you of your rights.”

He frowned. “Am I under arrest?”

“No, not at all, sir. This is standard procedure.” Caster Mirandized John and started questioning him.

John played the game. He answered all the detective’s questions truthfully about his whereabouts the previous Friday. The only lies came when Caster questioned him about the bombing.

“Do you have any knowledge about the attempt on your wife’s life?”

“No, sir.”

“Were you involved in it in any way?”

He shook his head. “No, I was not.” Throughout the entire interview, John made sure he kept his answers simple and precise. He paid specific attention to how he answered, making sure he didn’t change that formula when the lies started. He was fairly confident he could beat a lie detector, but he felt if he convinced the detectives, it might not get that far.

“Do you have any knowledge about anyone who might have cause to kill her?”

“No, sir.”

John watched Caster glance at McGuiness and wondered what they were thinking. John knew he was the prime suspect, and quickly thought back to everything he knew about police interrogation techniques.

“Detective Caster, I’m a suspect, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Mr. Tyne. To be quite frank, you are.”

John let the silence lie between them for a moment. Then, “Well, can we get this over with?”

“Get what over with?”

“These questions.” He knew he’d distracted the detectives by not asking for a lawyer.

“Tell us about the divorce agreement.”

“Well, it’s still in my briefcase. I really haven’t had time to go over it with my attorney, but it seemed fair and straightforward.”

“Did it upset you when she told you she wanted to file?”

“No. Why should it? It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it. Would you like to see it? I have it with me.”

Once again, the detectives exchanged glances. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Tyne,” Caster said.

John opened his briefcase and thumbed through his papers. The manila envelope was under his towing receipts. He briefly considered handing the receipts over, but decided to wait until they asked for them. If he seemed too eager, that might also be a warning sign.

“Here you go, Detective.” John handed Caster the envelope.

“Thank you.” Caster and McGuiness glanced over the papers and returned them. “Looks like your wife is being very generous.”

“I thought so.” John put the papers in his briefcase. “She has her own life and her own career. We didn’t have any kids. It should be an easy divorce.”

The detectives spent another ten minutes questioning him before asking for the towing receipts. John produced them.

“And do you have paperwork from the dealership?” Caster looked at him.

“Yes, I do,” John replied while rummaging through his briefcase. He handed them to Caster.

The detectives looked them over. After a few minutes, Caster said, “We need to make copies of these.”

John nodded his head. “Absolutely.”

The detectives left the room.

* * * *

Jenna forced herself not to chew her nails. Except for her, the waiting area was empty. She slipped the ID card from her purse and studied it again. It had not been there when John picked the car up at the dealership. Of that she was sure. How could she alibi him when she didn’t even know, with great certainty, where he’d been the night before?

Friday night he called her, but Jenna had no way of knowing from where. As crazy as she was about him, did she really want to risk perjuring herself for him?

But if she didn’t stand up for him and he was innocent, he might never forgive her and she’d have blown a chance with an otherwise great guy.

* * * *

“What do you think, Jim?” Sam respected his partner’s gut instinct. Jim McGuiness had been in law enforcement for over twenty years, with a distinguished career record.

“I don’t know. Something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s just not right.”

Sam nodded. “Me, too.” He shook his head. “The story’s too neat.”

“Do you think he had someone do it?”

Sam nodded again. “I’d almost swear to it. I think we’re going to have to get ahold of his phone records for the past couple of weeks and start tracking them down. I think we’ve got enough to get a court order for that, at least.”

“You said Mitch thinks he’s tied in with that wreck?”

“She says she’s positive. But on that, I don’t have anything to go on. Yet. I’m afraid to ask him in case he ditches the evidence. I want to see what a warrant will dig up. If we find the evidence she talked about, we can amend the warrant.”

They copied the receipts and returned to the interrogation room.

“Okay, Mr. Tyne,” McGuiness said. “I think that’s all we need for right now.”

John returned the papers to his briefcase. “Thanks. Is there anything else?”

Jim sat back down. “No. But we need to talk to Ms. Stephens.”

Sam escorted him out and brought Jenna in. Both detectives noticed how nervous she looked.

They sat down across the table from her and smiled, trying to put her at ease. If there was a flaw in the story, she would probably be the one to expose it.

“Now then. Ms. Stephens, is it?” Jim asked.

“Yes, sir. Or Jenna’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jim asked her a few background questions, then got down to the main subject. “As you know, there was an attempt on Mitch Jackson’s life. We’re trying to establish the whereabouts of anyone who might be a possible suspect.”

Her eyes widened. “You think I did it?”

“No, ma’am,” Jim reassured her. “But Mr. Tyne has said you can vouch for his whereabouts from Friday evening on.”

“Well, most of that time, I suppose.”

Jenna thought about the student ID card in her purse and wondered how true that really was.

* * * *

John didn’t take time to count the emergency vehicles outside the motel. Jenna turned her head, watching as they drove by.

“I wonder what happened there?” she mused.

He shook his head, eyes barely drifting from the road. “I have no idea.” He still felt the tingling in his loins, the surge of power when the girl drew her last breath. His erection grew, and he did nothing to stop it.

The sun lay low in the sky behind them when they crossed the Orlando city limits.

“Do you want to stop somewhere to eat?” he asked.

“Okay.”

Jenna’s mind was not on the small talk John attempted to keep up during the meal. She finally asked him to take her home, feigning a headache.

He walked her up to her apartment. “Maybe I should go home,” he suggested. “You really don’t look like you feel well.”

She smiled weakly. “I’d really appreciate that. I just need to go to bed early and rest. Besides, tomorrow’s a work day for both of us. Why don’t you come over tomorrow evening? I’ll cook you dinner.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Hope you feel better, sweetheart.”

Her heart tripped on the word. John wasn’t loose with terms of endearment, and his use of it took her off guard. “Thank you. Good night.” She wanted him to leave without him getting suspicious of her intentions.

Once the door closed behind her, she raced to check her cell phone. No messages. She peeked out the window and saw John still making his way to his car. She grabbed her purse, no longer worried about feigning her headache, and hurried downstairs to her car. He was just turning out of the parking lot when she emerged from the doorway and raced to her car.

She made the first light just as it turned yellow and was able to keep John within sight. She didn’t know why she decided to follow him, but her mind kept returning to the ID card in her purse. Maybe it was time she found out for herself if John was as honest with her as he claimed.

He didn’t turn toward his condo, instead heading toward the heart of the tourist district. Her heart sank, but she couldn’t honestly tell herself it wasn’t expected. The loaner Porsche turned into a bar with a packed parking lot. Jenna drove past, circled the block, and pulled in. John was nowhere to be seen, apparently already inside. As dark fell, she found a spot near the back of the building where she could watch without him seeing her when he came out.

* * * *

John didn’t know if it was the interrogation earlier or if lingering effects from the night before had him spoiled, but the urge had returned with an undeniable vengeance. He was glad when Jenna’s headache got the best of her, and not the least disappointed when he had to deposit her at her apartment.

The bar was noisy, packed, dark, and thick with cigarette smoke. The throbbing deep within his gut cried out for satisfaction. He wasn’t too picky. He wanted someone easy, someone he could take with no problem. He already had a plan in mind, and had the cash in his wallet to make it happen. All he needed was a greedy slut to quench his thirst.

It only took him ten minutes to find her. Maybe twenty-two, twenty-three at the most, the redhead’s jeans looked painted on. Black stiletto pumps and a low-cut black tank top filled out the portrait. Her plump breasts looked too perfect not to be silicone, and although the look she was going for was probably sexy, she appeared an absolute slut to the group of hungry men gathered around her at the bar.

He listened to her from a short distance away. She was already tipsy, her words slightly slurred. From the way she talked, she’d come with a girlfriend who’d got lucky and deserted her. John worked his way up to the bar next to her and ordered himself a Chivas on the rocks, paying with a twenty he peeled off a fat roll he pulled from his pocket. He looked her in the eye and saw them widen with lust and greed. She wasn’t too drunk to recognize a horse that paid.

“Hiya, cutie,” she slurred, pushing past another suitor to drape herself on John’s arm. “You here by yourself?”

He took his drink and sipped it while obviously looking her up and down. A pause before answering to make him not appear interested. “Unfortunately.”

She giggled, further testimony to her drunken state. “Guess what? So am I!” She giggled again, a decidedly annoying sound. “How about we take care of two problems at once?”

He turned to face her, leaning against the bar. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

She smiled and reached out with her index finger, letting it trail a line from his chin to his waist. “I’m celebrating the fact that my boyfriend is gone and my best friend, who was
supposed
to be helping me celebrate, found someone to fuck her blind tonight. So I’m all alone.” She put on a pouty face.

“Oh, is that so?” He sipped his drink. “That’s a shame.”

She pressed her body against him and lewdly rubbed her hips against his. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“Happy ending and all that?”

She nodded, smiling. “Mmm hmm.” She leaned forward, whispering, “I’m not one of these whiny women who wants you to call her the next day. I just want you to fuck me to death tonight.” The Scotch on her breath smelled strong enough to take the paint off a car.

He smiled. “I think I can arrange that.”

* * * *

Jenna’s heart sank when John emerged from the bar an hour later with a redhead draped over his arm. Despite the heartsick feeling in her gut, she was determined to follow him and see where he went. She imagined the look on his face when she pounded on the door of wherever they ended up and told him to his face that he was an asshole. This small fantasy brought her some satisfaction.

Jenna watched while he led the woman to his car. When he tried to open the door for her she pulled him against her, kissing him, grinding herself against him. A brief flash of jealousy enveloped Jenna, enraging her, until she remembered the satisfaction she’d feel telling him off. Besides, she hadn’t made the fatal mistake of telling him she loved him, of even fully admitting it to herself.