Finding an empty backpack stuffed in the corner of the room, he tossed equipment inside. A small, square, video screen sat in the corner and he followed the wires leading from it to find a switch.
Here goes nothing.
He flipped the switch and the screen flickered to life. The image, obscured by what looked like dirt, showed the front of the shop. It flickered and switched to a shot of the inside. He could see King Arthurdillo sitting in his place of honor just inside the door.
Before leaving the room, you check to make sure no one will see you leave.
Smart.
Seamus always had been the smartest idiot he knew.
He flipped off the camera and triggered the door to slip out. After securing the closet once more, he locked the safe. His phone dinged and he pulled it from his pocket.
It was a text from Stephanie. A variation on an old theme: Think of the devil and she shall appear.
She’d only typed one word.
Proof.
A video clip arrived. He tapped to play and recognized Stephanie’s office parking lot. The front passenger side of a blue car appeared and parked partially out of frame. A moment later, a woman in a floral skirt wearing a broad-rimmed sunhat appeared, walking around the front of the car as if she’d exited the vehicle. He couldn’t see a face. The body appeared vaguely Jamie-shaped.
He typed.
That could be anyone.
Stephanie texted back.
It’s her.
Shaking his head, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. The woman in the video could be anyone. Why would Stephanie even bother sharing the clip?
Maybe Charlotte was right and this was Stephanie’s latest ploy to make him think about her.
He cocked his head, realizing there was another option he hadn’t considered.
Maybe she finally lost her mind.
The bell on his shop door rang as he pulled it open and left, ready to lock up for the hurricane. As he turned to head back to his Jeep, he noticed a blue Ford parked in the lot across the street. Someone or something moved inside, and he found himself unable to look away.
It couldn’t be.
Declan pulled the phone from his pocket again and navigated back to the video Stephanie had sent. He studied the blue car and then glanced back up at the one across the street.
That could be it.
He couldn’t be sure, but the color and shape matched.
The car pulled from the parking spot.
Could it be Jamie? Did she see him spot her?
Declan sprinted for his Jeep and tossed the backpack of goodies in the passenger seat.
Chapter Fourteen
Frank grabbed his hat and Charlotte followed him to the cruiser. Once buckled in, he hit the sirens and the pedal.
“So spill it,” he said, once they were on the road.
Realizing how crazy her story would sound, Charlotte decided to say everything out loud without hesitation, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Jamie Moriarty might be out of prison.”
“What?” Frank turned and scowled at her for so long she felt the need to point his attention back to the road. “What would make you think that? Not that guy who fell off the ladder?”
“No. Though, I don’t think he fell off a ladder.”
“I’m well aware. What’s got you thinking about Jamie?”
“Stephanie says she’s out. She said she talked to her today in her office.”
Frank’s shoulders dropped an inch and he chuckled. “Whew. You scared me for a minute.”
“What?”
“You’re taking Stephanie’s word on this? That wingnut is probably just trying to spook you.”
“Maybe. But she came to Declan’s house—”
“There’s your answer right there. She’s making up stories to get closer to Declan.”
“I’ll admit that’s a possibility. But she didn’t look…normal. She was all disheveled and—” Charlotte searched for the right word. “Scared. She looked genuinely scared.”
Frank chewed on this information for a minute. Or, he was still trying to get ham out of his teeth. Charlotte couldn’t be sure.
“I haven’t heard anything. If she broke out, it would be all over the news.”
“We called the prison. Well, Stephanie did. They said she’s still in her cell, but sent her call directly to the warden, which she thinks is suspicious. Like he’s in on it.”
Frank shook his head. “Now she has a whole conspiracy theory? I wouldn’t worry.”
Charlotte watched the cars in front of them part like the red sea as Frank ran through a light. It made her feel better he felt the same way she did.
Stephanie, up to no good as usual.
Stephanie had been the one to make the call. Who’s to say she even talked to the prison? She could have made up everything. All the details about the warden being in on it could have been there to distract them from the simple truth that Jamie was still in prison where she was supposed to be. Even her sloppy look could have been part of the lie. And the bit about her mother’s lawyer calling—it could have been anyone calling. She’d probably decided to turn a spam call into more smoke and mirrors.
Charlotte took a deep, cleansing breath. Maybe, when she had a moment, she’d call the prison and see if they patched her right through to the warden. She looked at Frank.
“You’re right. She probably did make the whole thing up.”
“Of course she did,” he said, pulling into The Fairways golf community, the long entrance flanked on either side by golf courses. The Fairways was a ritzy neighborhood with a clubhouse at the end of the approach resembling an antebellum mansion.
Frank killed his sirens, cruised by the clubhouse and headed down one of the neighborhood roads to park behind an ambulance as EMTs closed
