I motioned that I was going into the water. He mouthed that he'd join me in a minute and resumed talking to Evelyn as I scampered across the hot sand.
I confirmed that the situation was exactly as Evelyn said. Sheila's mother had passed two years ago, and she'd inherited the house. Presumably, she was waiting for a boost in the housing market. But she wasn't renting it, either. Which concerned me. One would think that if she was worried about losing money, she'd rent the place. Unless she had another purpose for it.
When I saw the house, I could tell why Sheila wasn't using it herself. I'd gone by her place earlier, and it was double the size, in a much better neighborhood. Her mother's house was tiny, barely more than a clapboard shack, and in serious need of renovation before it even saw tenants.
According to Evelyn's research, Sheila's mother hadn't lived in it for years, instead spending her waning days in an upscale hospice. The house would need renovation to put it on the market. The neighborhood, though, was decent, the other homes in much better shape. So it might be in Sheila's best interests to leave it uninhabited and unfixed until after the divorce. Give Victor half of the current value and then renovate and sell it. It was, after all, her inheritance.
A privacy fence surrounded the small backyard, and I snuck in that way. Both a key lock and a deadbolt secured the back door. I was in before I knew it.
No alarm system inside. Or so I thought until I noticed a faint red line hovering six inches off the hall floor.
I eased back on my haunches and studied it. A laser line, like one might see in an art museum. I stepped over and traced the line along to a small box on the wall--a device that I presumed sent an alert to a remote location. I took photos and e-mailed them to Felix. Then I checked the front door and found the same laser trigger there.
Someone wanted to know whether anyone came into the house. Not a person breaking in but simply entering, even with a key. Yet it was a clumsy system. I'd spotted it during the day, and it would be unmistakable after dark.
I had an idea what that alert system meant, though. What it was being used for.
I looked for a basement first, which proved that I don't have any experience living on an island. There was only a crawlspace. I checked bedrooms next. Both were empty, like the rest of the house. Any belongings had long since been removed, leaving only dust.
So if there wasn't a basement, where could one hide . . .
I looked up.
It was a single-story house, but it had looked taller from the outside, suggesting a large attic. Sure enough, I found a ceiling hatch with a hook. I managed to snag that. Then I pulled carefully, braced to set off an alarm.
A narrow set of steps rolled down. I ascended slowly, shining my penlight up into the dark. And there it was. Right at the top. Not a laser beam but a thin thread, ready to be triggered by anyone who came up unawares.
I lifted my foot to step over the wire . . . and froze. Then I turned, following the wire. It did not connect to a tiny alert box.
I had seen very few IEDs in my life. It was a rare hitman who'd use one, both because it required specialized knowledge and because it risked collateral damage. But I knew one when I saw one. And that's what I was seeing here. It wasn't just a small bomb, either. Trip this wire, and bits of me would be scattered through the rubble of this house.
I considered withdrawing. But I had one foot over the wire, and backing up seemed just as dangerous as going forward.
So I inched my other foot over, sweat dripping down my cheek. Once I was across, I took a closer look.
No, I wasn't exaggerating when I said tripping this device would level the house. That was the intention. If anyone tried coming up here, the whole building would come down, hiding whatever lay inside.
I stepped away from the device, shone the light around and found exactly what I expected. The laboratory where this bomb had been constructed. Where I suspected all the bombs had been constructed.
In the attic of a house owned by Sheila Walling.
Chapter Nineteen
Jack
Jack walked into Victor Walling's office dressed in a suit, newly purchased but not new. Thrift shops and consignment stores were his best source of disguise material, and yeah, partly because he hated spending a lot of money on an outfit he'd wear once, but also, second-hand clothing meant he wouldn't walk in with a stiff new suit, tag still dangling from one sleeve. For this particular disguise, slightly rumpled worked just fine.
"McCall," he said to the woman at the front desk. "I work with Detective Lee. Does Victor have a moment?"
He did not introduce himself as "Detective" McCall. His outfit and his words suggested that, though, and the young woman quickly escorted him back to Walling.
As Jack walked, he looked around, assessing. It was an insurance sales office, neither a particularly classy nor shabby one. Middle of the road, like Walling himself, seated behind his desk in a suit little better than Jack's. When Jack walked in, he straightened, rising as he extended his hand.
"McCall," Jack said. "We haven't met. Detective Lee asked me to stop by. It's about Sheila."
Walling sighed and lowered himself back into his seat. "I heard she'd been arrested. I still can't believe it. I knew she was angry, but to kill Cherise? And Charles Atom's girl? Everyone kept telling me it was Sheila, but I thought no, they were jumping to conclusions. Not my Sheila." A slow shake of his head.
"She hasn't been charged in any deaths," Jack said. "We've only traced the device from Angela Kamaka's car back to Sheila."
"But they were all made by the same person, right?"
"We're working on that. We have a lead on a possible location for her laboratory--where she might construct the devices. That's why I'm here. Do you have access to her mother's home?"
Walling's head shot up. "Tina's house? No, that's been empty for years."
"We traced the package delivery there."
"Then that's just where Sheila picked it up. The house isn't big enough to hide a bomb lab."
"Maybe. We're working on getting a search warrant, but we've run into some complications. Detective Lee hoped you could grant access, being half owner."
Walling shook his head. "It's Sheila's. I've never had keys. I'm sorry."
"Is there any way--?" Jack checked his phone, as if he'd just gotten a text. "Well, it seems we'll be getting that warrant in about an hour. Sorry to bother you." He nodded. "Have a good day."
Chapter Twenty
Nadia
"Don't let him see you," Howard said as I peeked over the fence.
I resisted the urge to say this wasn't my first stakeout. As far as Howard Lang knew, he was the expert here--the cop turned PI. I was just a bodyguard who fancied herself a PI and got lucky on this lead. He'd never say that--he was too nice--but that was the setup I'd given him, so I had to stick to it, and I only said, "right," when he warned me to duck.
"You should go into this full-time," he said as we waited. "You've got real talent. Two days on the case, and you solved it. We've been working it for months."
"The fact that I'm not officially a PI means I don't need to play by PI rules. You can't ask someone to impersonate a cop."
"But your friend never actually said he was a cop. That's the trick."
Maybe. It walks a thin line, though, and it could piss off the police and lose them as a potential source. That was a risk I'd taken, betting on a long shot. Well, maybe not such a long shot. My advantage, in this case, was that I seemed to be the only person who believed Sheila Walling was innocent. It seemed so cut and dried to others. They took Sheila at face value, stuffed her into a stereotype box and saw a cold-blooded killer.
No one had paid any attention to the other person connected to both Cherise and the family court victims. The person who had access to Sheila's mother's house. The person who could get access to both Sheila's hair and her credit card information. The person who, despite working in insurance, had gone through chemical engineering with Sheila. He
just wasn't good enough to get a job in the field.
So I had Jack plant the seed. The laboratory was about to be raided . . . giving Victor just enough time to clear out anything incriminating. Victor had snatched the bait. Jack had watched him leave and called me. I'd called Howard. Now we waited as Jack periodically texted updates on Victor's location. Sure enough, he was driving straight for this house.
"Five minutes away," I said as Jack texted again.
Howard speed-dialed a call. "Hey, Jillian, it's Howard again. Yeah, we've definitely got something. Let's just say it's very suspicious. Would you happen to have a car near Sheila's mom's house?"
A low murmur as Detective Lee answered.
"Right. Yeah. It could be completely innocent, and I don't want to go raising a ruckus, but this looks bad, and there's the possibility of an arrest. I can't tell you much more than that."
Another pause.
"Two cars would be excellent. Have them stay clear until I text you. We don't want to spook our suspect."
Pause.
"Yes, I will be careful," he said with a chuckle.
As he hung up, Jack texted me again.
"Victor's parked in a strip mall at the corner," I said. "He's walking this way."
"If he has a lick of sense, he'll come through one of these backyards. Hopefully the one on the other side, but we need to be ready to run, just in case . . ."
Footfalls thumped along the driveway.
"All right," Howard said with a sigh. "Apparently, he doesn't have a lick of sense. At least he's heading for the back door."
We watched Victor race into the rear yard, breathing hard.
"Yeah," Howard muttered. "Run down the street in a suit. That's not suspicious at all."
It took Victor a moment to get the door unlocked. Even from here, I could see his hands shaking. He raced through, not pausing to step over the tripwire, which I supposed made sense if he was the only person it alerted.
As Victor barreled into the house, I climbed the fence. When I perched on top, Howard looked up at me with a soft laugh.
"Ah, to be young again. I'm going to take the long way around."
He set off at a run while I jumped down. I jogged to the back door and eased the screen open. Victor had left the inside door ajar. I slipped through and stepped over the alert laser.
A rustle sounded at the front of the house, and I tiptoed that way. I peered around the hall corner, expecting to see the attic ladder lowered. It wasn't. The rustling came from an open door farther down. When Victor walked out, I backed up fast, through the living room, into the kitchen.
I was ready to keep retreating, but Victor's footsteps paused in the living room long enough for me to get out my mirror and check around the corner. He'd perched on the edge of a wooden crate as he flipped through a handful of papers.
Papers?
He'd heard the house was about to be raided and roared over to clear out the lab and then paused to retrieve . . . papers?
Shit.
I looked again. They seemed to be letters of some sort. I could see a pink envelope and a handwritten page decorated with roses.
I remembered Sheila saying she suspected Victor had hooked up with Cherise before they split. If she had proof, she could use that against Victor as proof of infidelity.
That's what he must have come back for. After Cherise died, he'd want to keep mementos of their relationship, but he wouldn't want incriminating evidence at home. He'd squirreled them away here, in a closet or under a floorboard.
Shit.
As I pulled back, a creak sounded behind me, and I turned just as Howard lifted his leg over the laser tripwire. I tiptoed to him.
"I screwed up," I whispered. "Victor isn't here for the lab."
Howard's brows lifted, and he motioned to ask where Victor was. I pointed, and he walked over and took a look. As he did, his lips formed a "Shit."
He returned to me.
I showed him a message I'd quickly typed on my phone: I think they're love letters. From Cherise. Proof they were having an affair before he left Sheila. I'm so sorry.
He took my phone and typed: We knew there was a chance this wasn't the answer, which is why we don't have a team breaking down the door right now. It was a solid lead. You done good.
He smiled at the last part and gave me a thumbs-up. A pat on the back for the newbie. Except I was less of a newbie than I'd let on, so that pat didn't make me feel better. I should have had Jack meet me here instead and just snapped photos if we did see Victor dismantling the lab. Called Howard and the police then, with the evidence.
Howard texted Detective Lee as I took another look through my mirror. Victor was on his feet now, pushing the folded pages into his pocket. Then he checked his watch . . . and headed back into the rear hall.
I took off after Victor and barely made it to the hall before I heard the creak of the attic stairs.
I turned to see Howard right behind me. He caught the same noise and his brows lifted.
"The attic," I said.
His face lit up, reminding me that he wasn't just a PI on a job. This was personal for him. Catching Mindy's killer. Now he had his answer.
So why was there a niggling voice in my head, whispering that something was still wrong here?
As Howard started to pass me, I remembered the bomb at the top of the stairs.
I grabbed Howard's arm. "Get out."
"What?"
"You need to get out. Now. Run."
His broad face screwed up.
"There's a bomb at the top of the stairs," I whispered as fast as I could get the words out. "If he's not the killer--if he's going up there for another reason--he'll trigger it, and this whole house is going to blow. I'll stay--"
"The hell you will." Howard grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the front door as Victor's footsteps continued up the ladder.
Howard reached for the front door handle . . . and Victor's footsteps continued across the attic floor.
I exhaled. "Okay, he didn't trigger it. Which either means he accidentally stepped over the tripwire or . . ."
"He knows it was there, and he's doing more than hiding old love letters."
Howard released my arm. As he texted Detective Lee, I headed for the attic ladder. I took it one rung at a time, moving slowly. When a board creaked, I froze, but Victor just kept doing whatever he was doing, the sound of rustles and clatter coming from the attic.
I crested the opening, and there he was at the workbench with his back to me. He was engrossed in his work, so I kept climbing. I moved over the tripwire as carefully as I could. As I put my foot down, though, it gave a soft thump, and that was enough for Victor to spin.
Chapter Twenty-one
Nadia
Victor saw me and went still. "Who the hell--?" He stopped as he saw my gun.
Then his gaze flew to the attic hatch as Howard Lang appeared.
"Hey, Vic," Howard said. "Gotta say, this isn't what I expected."
Victor pressed his back against the workbench. "What are you doing here?"
"Whatcha got there, Vic?" Howard said as he eased over the tripwire.
"N-nothing."
I stepped toward the bench, my gun pointed at Victor.
"Just taking precautions," Howard said as Victor stared at my gun. "You gotta admit this is a troubling situation. That"--he pointed at the tripwire bomb--"isn't exactly a welcome mat."
"Neither is that," I said as I nodded at the workbench. On it was a device with a timer. I cursed myself for not anticipating this. Did I really think a bomber would clean up his laboratory by shoving everything into a backpack?
"Blowing up the evidence, huh?" Howard said. "You know I can't let you do that, Vic, so step away from that bench."
Victor looked at the timer, its screen black. His fingers twitched.
"Uh-uh," I said. "You make a move toward that, and I'll take you out. The police are on their way. You're about to be arrested for the murder of--"
; "Me? No. I didn't kill anyone. It was Sheila. It was all Sheila."
"That story worked a lot better before we found you in the lab . . . right after you were warned it was about to be raided."
He shook his head vehemently. "I didn't build those devices. Sheila did. But when that cop mentioned the house, I knew she must have her lab here and . . ." He exhaled. "She's the mother of my children. Whatever she did, I drove her to it, and our kids shouldn't pay for our mistakes. I wanted to protect them. If that makes me an accomplice--"
"It makes you a killer," I said. "The son of a bitch who tried to frame his wife."
"No, I love Sheila. Just because we didn't work out doesn't change that." He looked at Howard. "You understand that better than anyone, Howard. Think of Mindy."
Howard's jaw clenched. "Don't bring Mindy into this, you bastard. You murdered her, and you're lucky I don't pull my gun and shoot you right now. My only consolation is knowing that when the police analyze this lab, they'll prove it was you, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a--"
Victor lunged at Howard. I held my ground. Victor wasn't armed, and I sure as hell wasn't shooting unless I had to, not when I couldn't just disappear before the police showed up.
Howard started to backpedal . . . and I saw the tripwire behind him.
"Howard!"
I didn't even get his name out before he realized what he was doing and swung to the side instead. That left the exit open with Victor heading straight for it.
"Stop!" I said, raising my gun.
Victor did stop, right at the trip wire. He turned to me.
"Do you know what that is?" he said, pointing at the wire.
"Yes."
"Then you know that all it takes . . ." He lifted his foot and made a motion to bring it down on the wire.
"Stop!"
He kept his foot poised above the wire.
"You're going to let me leave," he said. "I'm going to step over this and continue down the ladder, and you're going to let me walk away. Otherwise"--he waggled his foot--"I've got nothing to lose, do I?"
"You aren't going to do that, Victor," Howard said. "You've got two kids who deserve to know why you did this."
Victor let out a bitter laugh. "Why I did what? I didn't mean to kill anyone. I sent that damned package to Cherise to get her out of my life. I wasn't stupid--I knew she was just looking for a free ride. So was I. But suddenly, my ride wasn't free anymore. She wanted a ring. So I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. Spook her and frame Sheila. Only the damned thing went off and destroyed the evidence that Sheila did it. So I tried again with that lawyer. That time, I was even more careful. I put the device in the grill, and then I was going to call in an anonymous tip, but that kid opened the grill before I could."