Page 134 of Rastor

"People I used to know. That's who." I pulled her close and wrapped her tight in my arms. "And I won't let 'em hurt you, but you've gotta help."

In the end, I had to give her credit. When the cops showed up, she played her role perfectly. Funny, it looked a lot like the role she played at work – sexy as hell, but not too bright.

She was even dressed for the part, in a red bikini and some sort of flimsy cover-up that hid next to nothing. As for me, I was still damp from the hot tub, but wore jeans and a white, unbuttoned shirt over my wet torso. The way it looked, we'd been hanging out, having a good time, oblivious to whatever was happening on just the other side of my fence.

The cops were taking notes as Chloe told her story. "So then," she was saying, "they stopped paying me, so I said, 'Screw this. I'm outta here.'"

"When was this?" the taller of the two cops asked.

"A while ago." She paused, as if thinking. "Maybe a couple of weeks?" She glanced briefly in my direction. "Besides, I found a better deal." She lowered her voice and said, "Do you know, he even has a hot tub?"

"Um, yeah," the cop said, "you mentioned that." His gaze shifted to her dripping wet hair. "When we showed up, in fact."

"Oh yeah." She gave something like a giggle. "That's right. Sorry, I guess I was distracted."

Her story boiled down to a few basic facts. She'd been hired to watch the house, but when the owners' checks started bouncing, she'd stopped going there, except for a few trips here and there to check the mailbox, just in case the missing payments showed up.

Supposedly, she'd left her car in the driveway because, "I think it's dead. And besides, Lawton has cars that are a ton nicer."

As for the dog, she claimed she hadn't seen him in a week, not since "the little sucker escaped" through no fault of her own. She finished by saying, "I'm still looking though, so he'll probably turn up. Right?"

"Uh, sure," the guy said.

What wedidn'tmention was the fact that right now, Chucky was with Bishop, who'd taken the terrier for a drive and wasn't returning until we gave him the all clear.

Looking to change the subject, I said, "Just curious, how'd you know she was staying here?"

In a bored tone, he answered, "From some papers we found at the house."

I let it go. There were no papers. But therewasa brand-new semi-crumpled note that I'd left taped to the fridge. The note was a scribbled message from me to Chloe. All it said was, "Saw you walk by. You're smoking hot. Bring your bikini, and stop by sometime." It was signed with my name and included my street address. Nice and convenient.

The cops stayed less than ten minutes, but mentioned they might be calling us later with further questions. That was fine by me. Who knows? By then, we might have some answers, assuming my suspicions were correct.

Already, I knew a lot more than Chloe did. Some of it, she might notwantto know, like the thing with the hidden cameras, or about the GPS tracking device that I'd found hidden underneath the passenger's seat of her car.

After the police left, I pulled Chloe into my arms and said, "You're amazing. You know that?"

"Me? Hardly." She lifted her head to look at me. "And I still don't get it."

"Get what?" I asked.

"Why I had to lie. I mean, I didn'tdoanything."

"Yeah, but that story wasn't forthem."

Her brow wrinkled. "Then who was it for?"

"The grapevine."

"What grapevine?"

From experience, I knew how this worked. But apparently, Chloe didn't, so I spelled it out. "They'll file a report. Someone with connections will get ahold of it. And one important thing will be spelled out for anyone who looks."

"What?

"That you weren't there."

"But why does it matter?" she asked. "I wasn't the one who trashed the house."