Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 02 - A High Price to Pay (24 page)

Madeline glanced back at him before ducking inside Mike’s car. The expression on his face told her he knew his life had been
forever altered.

THIRTY

“So…we at least know she had her phone with her last night,” Madeline said. “And it wasn’t among the contents of her handbag when Helen turned it over
to Slovitch.”

“If she had the presence of mind to take her cell phone with her as she bailed out of Helen’s car, why not take the handbag too?”

Madeline gazed out the window as she visualized Helen’s version of events. “I don’t know. Helen says she fired her on the way out to I.V. Maybe, since she had been threatened with deportation if she ever stepped foot on the estate again, Teresa removed her phone from the handbag, knowing she wouldn’t be able to return it to Vivian herself. Helen brought the purse in with her. There was no
phone inside.”

“Then why isn’t she answering Enrique’s calls?”

Madeline shook her head, disturbed by the implication. She could understand the girl not answering calls from numbers she didn’t know, but surely she would want the father of her child to know she was safe. “I don’t like what I’m feeling here,” she said. “I’m just wondering if Teresa saw something she shouldn’t have…like one of the other staff pilfering Vivian’s special keepsakes. I think it’s entirely possible that someone else helped herself to those jewels. They were kept in an unlocked china box right on Vivian’s dressing table. And naturally the blame would fall on the illegal alien, who had plenty of opportunity. She certainly didn’t help her situation by lying on her W-4.”

“Hmm…” Mike said, feeling frustrated by the lack of certainties gained by their constant brainstorming. “But how do we prove that? There are no cameras upstairs,” he sighed. “Right now, my brain feels like it’s running in circles. There’s just too much information floating around, but none of it qualifies as
hard facts.”

“Except for two things—Vivian was killed, and my brake lines were tampered with. And I think it’s safe to add that Teresa never made it home last night.”

Mike looked over at her, a grave expression on his face. She looked away, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further. As if making its own protest to the events of the last eighteen hours, her stomach growled loud enough to be heard even with the windows down.

“I’ve got to get some food in me,” she said as the aromas wafting through the air from nearby restaurants made her weak
with longing.

“Pick a place,” Mike said. “Some of the best Mexican food in town is right on this street.”

Madeline looked at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s only eleven-thirty? I feel like I’m stuck in a never-ending day. Well, since we’re so close, let’s drive by Gusto Mundo. If there’s already a line, we’ll go to Tiny’s. How’
s that?”

“Your wish is my command,” Mike said, steering the handsome land yacht down Milpas Street, his mood already lightening at the thought of savory, soul-nourishing, tummy-filling delights. As his many experiences with all-nighters had taught him, there was almost nothing that satisfying, greasy food and sleeping like the dead couldn’
t cure.

Madeline got a text from Brian as she was swabbing her plate with the last shred of
her tortilla.

“He says he can be at my place in fifteen minutes. Good,” she said as she tapped out a reply. “Maybe we can nail down one more elusive piece of info, on another front.” When Mike looked questioningly at her, she added, “We’ll find out if the camera’s field covers the driveway. If so, we might catch
a rat.”

“I get ya,” Mike said, placing a tip on the tray. “At least he can show you how all that new technology works.”

“If my brain is up to accepting new knowledge,” Madeline said doubtfully as she slid out of the seat with effort. “Home, James.” As soon as the words left her mouth, visions of her bed almost made her swoon. Home. She wondered if she’d really ever feel safe
there again.

Madeline brewed a pot of strong coffee to get Mike and her through the arduous task of comprehending high-tech wizardry from a young guy so steeped in its mysterious workings, they almost needed a translator to bridge the divide. Though Mike was fairly computer savvy and had no problem operating the assorted spyware they employed in their trade, what Brian had pulled together was the most up-to-the-minute technology available to the public. Which would probably mean that by the time Madeline got comfortable with it, it’d be obsolete.

“I think you’ll find this pretty simple to operate,” Brian said, earning skeptical glances from both onlookers. He explained to Mike all the upgrades he’d made before launching into how the
systems operated.

It took every drop of caffeine they could get down to stay alert during the training session. But by the time Brian left, Mike was competent enough to break it down in layman’s terms for Madeline. Equipped with his new knowledge and eager to put it to use before he forgot how, Mike ran through all the frames showing movement detected by the camera positioned toward the driveway. Madeline watched over his shoulder, getting excited as the time stamp showed they were getting closer to Usherwood’s window
of opportunity.

But as they suspected from what they’d seen so far, Madeline’s SUV inadvertently created a blackout area on the west side of her property. If someone like Usherwood wanted to sabotage her car, he would only have to remain low to the ground and stay on the far side of the vehicle to remain hidden from the camera’
s view.

“If only I had pulled up closer to the house,” Madeline lamented, “then he would’ve been seen as he stepped onto
the property.”

“Well, if we’re going to stick to our original theory—and so far, it’s the only one we’ve got—then that means Usherwood was here while you and Brian were setting up the new alarm system.” The very thought made Madeline shiver like someone had poured cold water down
her back.

“Oh God,” she groaned, reaching for her sweater and wrapping it tightly around herself.

“Okay, I think it’s safe to assume this is where Usherwood or someone in his employ attached the GPS tracker. Which also means that he was behind sabotaging the
brake lines.”

“There was never any doubt in my mind about that,” Madeline said, kicking off her shoes as she lay down on her sofa, arranging her sweater over herself like an undersized blanket.

Mike’s phone rang, startling both of them. “It’s Bob Leonard, the P.I. in Simi Valley,” Mike said before taking the call. He wandered into the kitchen as he listened to what the investigator had to report.

“Yeah, email me the photos,” Mike said, as he came back into the living room. “Sounds like you got a pretty comprehensive assessment of the guy. No, I don’t think you need to keep tailing him. Yeah, thanks. I really
appreciate it.”

Mike ended the call and looked down at Madeline, who was doing her best to keep at least one
eye open.

“What did he find out?” she asked, her voice thick with fatigue. Mike fiddled with his phone, trying to enlarge the photos enough to see what Bob had
found out.

“I wish I hadn’t left my computer at the office,”
he said.

“Forward it to me and then you can view the photos on
my iPad.”

“Good thinking, especially considering you’re only partially conscious,”
Mike said.

“And not by choice,” Madeline added, closing her eyes in an effort to correct that problem. Once they were closed, she could feel herself recede from reality. Faintly, she heard bits and pieces of what Mike was saying as he looked for her handbag and asked for her logon password. But the garbled words and images coming from her overly-stimulated and sorely neglected subconscious soon drowned out all
outside stimuli.

Madeline’s ringtone chimed, jolting her from a disturbing slumber. Her head throbbed from dehydration and she nearly blacked out from sitting upright too quickly. Her eyes darted around the room as her beleaguered mind tried to determine where the ringing was coming from. She caught sight of her phone on the dining table and inadvertently stepped on a slumbering Mike as she rose up to
fetch it.

“Ouf!” Mike gasped as Madeline teetered off his stomach and smacked her shin on the
coffee table.

“Oww!” Madeline howled as she limped to her cell phone, rubbing her shin with one hand as she answered the call with the other. “Hello?” she croaked. “Hello? Damn,” she said, figuring the call had already gone
to voicemail.

“Madeline?”

“Hello?”

“It’s
John Slovitch.”

“John,” Madeline said, forcing her eyes open with
exaggerated effort.

“Are
you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I, uh, must’ve fallen asleep,” she said, heading for the kitchen to get a glass
of water.

“Sorry. You probably didn’t get much sleep last night,” Detective
Slovitch said.

“Try none. To what do I owe this call?” she asked before taking a long drink of ice cold water from
the dispenser.

“I figured you’d want to know…” Slovitch said, his words acting like smelling salts on Madeline’s numbed senses. “A hiker and his dog discovered the body of a young Hispanic woman on Rattlesnake Trail this morning. There was no ID on her and her fingerprints aren’t in our database. Something tells me we’re not going to turn up any dental records, either.” Madeline had to consciously force herself to breathe. She began trembling as her mind grasped what Slovitch was
telling her.

“I can’t be certain,” Slovitch continued, “but I think she might be the girl we saw leaving with the housekeeper on the surveillance video last night. I was hoping you could come and verify if it’s her or not.”

After quietly agreeing to meet him at the County Morgue, Madeline ended the call and stood there, stunned, unable to decide if she was dreaming or living
a nightmare.

Detective Slovitch silently escorted Madeline back to the morgue, where he introduced her to Sergeant Rizzo, who oversaw the coroner’s office. Such pleasantries as the situation would allow were exchanged before Slovitch motioned for the coroner, Donald Ferguson, to pull back the sheet.