Page 47 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

She shrugged. “I don’t really know. He said he knew that you’d talked to Mrs. Clark right before she died.

The police talked to him twice, thought he was a suspect, but I guess not anymore.

He hasn’t been at school until this afternoon.

He looks miserable. He said he didn’t walk her to her office Monday because he forgot papers to grade in his classroom. It’s like he blames himself.”

“Survivor’s guilt,” I said. “I’ll talk to him, he’ll be okay. Now, what were you doing at the Cactus Stop?”

She sulked, but then said, “This morning I talked to Benny and asked him if he saw anything weird at work.”

I wanted to throttle her. Instead, I prompted, “And?”

“He said Tony is a pothead, stoned all the time. Benny’s rarely allowed to work the register, and he doesn’t like the job at all.

He’s looking for something else. All day I was thinking, I don’t want him there.

He’s Chris’s little brother, and if anything happened to him—well, after losing Elijah, I can’t bear to think of anything happening to Benny too.

So I went just to see how he was doing. And I told him to call you if he sees anything really weird going on. ”

I let out a long breath. I had to remember Angie was a teenager, and teenagers weren’t generally patient. I know—I’d been one.

“I know you’re frustrated,” I said. “I’m not lying when I’m telling you I’m getting closer to learning the truth.

Being a PI is not what you see on television.

It’s a lot of legwork. Interviews. Research.

I’ve talked to at least a dozen people who all have a small piece of the puzzle. I’m making progress, but it’s slow.”

“Maybe I can help?”

I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous and I’m not going to be responsible for your safety.” But I needed to give her something. “I’ll tell you this. Whatever got Elijah killed connects to Coach Bradford’s drug distribution network. I think he had a partner—someone affiliated with the school.”

“Because Mrs. Clark was killed.”

Angie was a smart kid.

“That’s part of it. I don’t know if they recreated the network, or if they’re running it out of the Cactus Stop or the school or both, but Elijah must have seen or heard something that made him suspicious.

And I’m worried about Benny too. I don’t want him asking questions that might put him in danger.

I don’t want anything to happen to you if someone thinks you’re being nosy. ”

“You’re right. I’m really sorry.”

“Are you safe at your house?”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“If you need me, call. If you learn something, whether or not you think it’s important, call.

I promise to follow up. I want answers as much as you do.

But don’t ask questions, don’t put yourself out there where they might see you as a threat.

Drugs are a huge moneymaker that people are willing to kill for. ”

Angie nodded. “Okay.”

I pulled away from the curb and in my side-view mirror noticed a car pulling out of a driveway.

It was the damn 4Runner again. I knew I was being followed.

No way could I take Angie home without losing this guy first. If I was alone, I would confront him. With Angie, I couldn’t risk a potentially violent confrontation.

“What’s wrong?” Angie asked.

I thought I’d masked my concern.

“Someone has been following me.” Who the hell was this guy?

Where had I picked him up? I thought back.

.. I noticed him pulling into the O’Reilly neighborhood, but he could have started following me from my office downtown.

I hadn’t seen him there, he hadn’t been in our small parking lot, but there was ample street parking and only one exit out of our lot, which turned onto a one-way street.

It would have been easy to wait until I exited and follow from there.

With all the traffic downtown, I wouldn’t have immediately seen him.

That made the most sense, which told me he knew who I was. He could have confronted me at least twice before now. Was he just tracking me? Could he be a cop?

Or maybe he was one of the people who’d picked up where Coach Bradford left off.

“What are you going to do?” Angie asked, her voice tight with nervous energy.

“Lose him,” I muttered, glancing over to make sure she had her seat belt on. She was gripping the edge of her seat, her eyes flicking nervously to the rearview mirror.

“That black car?”

“Yeah.

I focused on the road ahead, my hands steady on the wheel, even as the adrenaline started to kick in. The guy tailing us wasn’t new to this game—he knew what he was doing. But so did I.

I pushed the gas pedal down, taking the corner on Dunlap with more speed than usual, trying to throw him off. I glanced in the mirror. He copied my move—right turn, just like I’d predicted.

I kept my foot on the gas, heading south, past familiar landmarks, not slowing down. Then, I took a sharp right, onto a narrow side street. He turned sharply as well, a little too eager. He was still on me, but this was where the game got interesting.

If Angie weren’t in the car, I would try and trap him, close him in, identify him. But I wouldn’t risk her getting hurt, so losing the bastard was the only option.

I swerved right again toward Highway 17, crossing over the freeway through a yellow light like I had nothing to lose.

My eyes flicked to the rearview again. He was still there—he must have run a red light to follow me.

I was getting a little worried—earlier, I thought he was just following me, trying to figure out where I was going, what I was doing.

Now I wondered if he meant to do me harm.

I took a sharp left onto Twenty-Ninth Avenue, cutting through a narrow neighborhood. The houses here were packed tight, the streets like a labyrinth. Perfect for a ghosting maneuver. I stomped on the gas and made a right onto the first street—sharp and sudden.

He was three cars back, but he could still see me turning onto Twenty-Ninth. He probably thought he had me cornered. But I had one move left.

I threw the wheel hard to the right as soon as I could, disappearing around a bend that curved around the block. He’d lose sight of me for just a few seconds—but it’d be enough.

I looped back, pulling into a small side road and stopping behind a parked car. I held my breath. There was a break in the sound of my engine, the quiet before the storm. I waited, eyes locked on the end of the street, my gun within reach.

There. He came flying down Twenty-Ninth, too fast for the neighborhood, his car bouncing on the uneven pavement. Not even bothering to slow down for the curve. He didn’t know I was already gone.

Score one for the PI.

I let him pass, watching him zoom by, oblivious.

By now, he must have known he’d lost me, and I couldn’t afford to have him backtrack and search the neighborhood.

I counted to three after he passed, then hit the gas and merged back onto Twenty-Ninth, heading back the way I’d come.

I scanned the rearview mirror for any sign of him. Nothing. I’d lost him.

I crossed back over the freeway, still no sign of him. I kept my speed steady, my Jeep humming.

He was gone.

For now.

“Who was it?” Angie asked.

“Don’t know. I’m going to take you home. If you see that 4Runner again, call me, do not engage. Go somewhere safe. A library, a police station, fire station, anyplace where there are people.”

She nodded and bit her thumbnail.

“I’ll take care of it,” I assured her.

Still, I took the long way to her apartment. No other car followed me, and the 4Runner didn’t show up again. I dropped Angie off, made her promise not to go to the Cactus Stop again, and left.

I hoped she listened to me.

Arizona didn’t require front license plates. I didn’t get a good look at the plate when he passed where I was parked because he was too far away, so I couldn’t even call Josie and ask her to run it. But if I saw the 4Runner again, I would get a better look.

I called Jack as I drove to Gabriel’s house for Mom’s party.

“You’re late,” he said.

“No, I’m not.” I looked at my dashboard clock. “A few minutes, but that’s just for setup.”

“I put Austin to work,” Jack said. “But Tess wants everything perfect, and she’s stressing.”

“I’m on my way. Ten minutes, tops.” Maybe fifteen. “I spotted a tail. Had to lose him because Angie was in the car with me.”

“Plates?”

“Didn’t see them. Older model black 4Runner.

Kind of beat-up, white male driver, possibly in his thirties, dark hair, wore shades.

I think he picked me up outside our office.

I went from the office to Christina O’Reilly’s house, where I first spotted him, then I saw him around the corner from Eric McMahon’s house. ”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah. Eric’s still scared of these people, but he doesn’t have names.

I believe him. Still, he said Bradford answered to someone.

Christina hadn’t spoken to Megan Osterman since they graduated, but she confirmed what we suspected about Scott Jimenez, and also that Scott had an older sister named Desiree. ”

“Circumstantial.”

“Thanks, Mom ,” I said sarcastically.

“I think you’re right, Margo, but we don’t have proof anyone has done anything illegal. We need something tangible.”

I was stuck. I didn’t know what else to do, who else to talk to, how to retrace Elijah’s steps.

“Well, I have a few things to follow up on, and tomorrow I’m going to talk to Desi Jimenez again. Maybe something will shake out. Did you check out Brighton’s house?”

“Yep. It’s nearly at the end of the road that leads to the preserve.

I looked it up on Zillow and it sold for an even mil two years ago, and that was before it was remodeled.

Brighton has done a lot of work on the place.

Google Earth pictures show that two years ago the backyard was all rocks.

Now there’s a full outdoor living space with a pool and mature trees, which would have cost a small fortune to bring in. ”

“And he regularly shops at a Cactus Stop six miles away,” I muttered.

“He could work in the area,” Jack guessed. “Tess will get his details tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

I ended the call, then listened to the voicemail my unknown caller had left.

“Ms. Angelhart, this is Dwight Parsons, we met on Monday in Lena’s office.

Have you made any progress in your investigation?

I thought maybe we could trade notes. I can’t believe that her murder after your visit is a coincidence.

I said as much to the police, that maybe it was because Lena was helping you with your investigation into Elijah’s death, that she was killed.

They listened, but I don’t think they believe me.

I’m struggling, Ms. Angelhart. I should have been with her.

I could have saved her. I can meet anytime. ”

He ended the call.

I immediately called him back. His phone went to voicemail.

“Hi, Dwight, it’s Margo Angelhart. I’m free first thing tomorrow. Text me a time and place and I’ll be there, I don’t care how early.”

Ten minutes later, I received a text.

Your office, perhaps? Is nine a good time?

I responded with: Nine is good. See you then.