Losing Ladd (25 page)

Jillian knew he was watching her. He
wasn’t making it a secret. He was watching her and would continue
to watch her until he watched her walk out of here in handcuffs.
Burning a building was one thing. Burning one filled with live
animals was completely another. The images from last night were
seared into his mind. The stench, the wild cries from the
horses...

Cal forced the visions from his
thoughts, tightened his stomach against the pitch of nausea.
Jillian was responsible. Perhaps her and Jeremiah together, but
definitely her. If she could spark a blaze on a competitor’s land
in South America as payback for a perceived wrong, then there was
no reason to think she wouldn’t do so again. Only this time she
wasn’t going to get away with it. He would make sure of
it.

The front lobby door opened, the flash
of movement catching his eye. Officer Griffin had arrived. Cal cast
a glance toward Jillian and exhaled a stream of tension from his
lungs. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long.

“
Mr. Foster,” the heavyset
police officer summoned him over.

“
Yes?”

“
We’re here about
questioning one of your guests, Jillian Devane.” From his
peripheral vision, Cal could see she had cued in at the mention of
her name. “Can you contact her room for us?”

Cal smiled. “That won’t be necessary.”
He held a hand out. “Ms. Devane is sitting over there.”

Surprised, the older man turned. A
heightened curiosity entered his gaze, as happened when a man
locked in on a beautiful woman. “Thank you.”

Cal nodded, savoring a
private victory.
Have
fun
.

Jillian looked up as the stocky police
officer made his way toward her. Sizing him up in seconds, she
determined he was a career officer grown stale from too many years
in a small town, where his most thrilling detective work was
rescuing a cat from an electrical high wire. Petty theft and public
drunkenness were undoubtedly the more popular offenses around these
parts. By the looks of his bored yet surly expression, combined
with his age, she estimated he held high rank in the
department.

Jillian smiled. If he thought his sour
expression was going to unnerve her, he was mistaken. “Ms.
Devane?”

Casually flipping through the pages of
the dribble of an excuse they called a newspaper, she hummed,
“Yes?”

“
May I have a minute of
your time?”

She paused, but only briefly,
continuing her leisurely perusal. “What for?”

“
I have some questions I’d
like to ask you.”

About to decline, her standard insult
to male ego, she pretended to think about it. Why not reel him in a
bit, make him think she would be cooperative? Submissive. Drawing
her lips into a slow practiced smile, she purred, “What kind of
questions?”

“
About the fire last
night.”

She rounded her lips into
an “O” shape and uttered, “It was horrible,
no
? Such awful
devastation.”

“
Yes,” he said. “It
started last night, around seven-thirty. Did you happen to be
around at that time?”

She knitted her brow and feigned
contemplation. Pushing out her lips, she subtly smacked them
together, amused by his involuntary glance to her mouth. “Hm, I
don’t think so.”

“
Don’t think
so?”

“
I don’t like to watch the
clock when I’m on vacation.”

As if he understood she was
purposefully dodging him, his voice coarsened, “Where did you
happen to be last night, Ms. Devane?”

“
I was in the company of a
male suitor,” she teased, winking conspiratorially.

“
Happen to have a
name?”

She shook her head and smirked.
“Wasn’t important at the time.”

Jillian took pleasure in the man’s
discomfort. A seasoned police officer, yet the line of questioning
was clearly growing uncomfortable for him. How hard would he
push?

“
I’ll need an alibi for
your whereabouts last evening.”

“
What for—am I under
arrest?”

“
No, ma’am, but as part of
our investigation we need to confirm the whereabouts of anyone
possibly connected—”

She emitted a gasp. “You think I’m
connected?”

Her immediate objection gave him
pause. “Well, er, we were given your name as a possible suspect
and—”

“
Let me guess.” She cut
him off and rose sharply from her seat. In heels, she stood
eye-to-eye with the man. Arching her back, she pushed her chest
toward him. “My ex-
lover
, Nick Harris is trying to
throw my name in as a person of interest, isn’t he?”

“
Well, I can’t reveal
exactly where I received the tip from, but it’s my job to follow
every lead,” he replied, openly avoiding a peek at her chest but
clearly unable to manage the feat.

“
Love can be so
cruel,
Detective.”
Jillian knew her perfume would be filtering through the man’s
senses right about now, knew the close proximity of her bare
cleavage would distract him momentarily as she whispered, “Have you
ever been in love? Deeply passionate love? Do you know what hungry
desire can do to a man? ” Jillian paused, allowing images of her
naked body to form in his mind. “It can drive him to do horrible,
mean things.” Thrusting out her lower lip, she dropped her gaze to
his mouth. “It’s so sad when love goes wrong.” Inching closer, so
close she could hear his breathing, Jillian murmured, “It can make
a woman
crazy
for
the touch of another.” The man blinked and dodged her pointed gaze.
Jillian counted the reaction as a minor win and retreated with a
soft reply, “I’ll call my lawyer and he will provide you
with
any
information you need about my whereabouts last
evening.”

The officer took a step back, cleared
his throat. “Thank you, ma’am. I would appreciate it.”

Sliding a knowing gaze
toward Cal, Jillian winked.
Game on,
sweetheart.

Catching sight of Jack Foster through
the glass front door, Jillian excused herself. “If you don’t mind,
Officer? My date has arrived.”

The man turned and his jaw slackened.
“Jack Foster?”

Taking satisfaction in his surprise,
she asked, “Do you know him?”

“
Yes.” With a glance
toward Cal, he said, “I do.”

Jack breezed over and kissed her
cheek. “Hello, Jillian.”

“
Jack,” she replied, his
name rolling out with ease.

The police officer gave Jack a
once-over, acknowledging him with a mere nod, then to Jillian,
“Appreciate your time. I’ll be expecting a call from your lawyer by
morning.”

“
On second thought,” she
said. “A call to Whiskey Joe’s lounge should be all you need. Ask
for the bartender on duty last night. He’ll vouch for
me.”

Her statement garnered a questioning
look from the officer. “Thanks.”

Yes
, she mused.
Go ahead and wonder how
the two men fit together
. Abandoning her
untouched coffee, Jillian slipped a hand around Jack’s arm. “Shall
we?”

“
You bet.” Sliding a hand
around her narrow waist, he said, “Have a good day,
Officer.”

Officer Griffin grumbled under his
breath, “Good day.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cal sat rigid in his seat while he and
Malcolm waited for Officer Griffin to give them a rundown on the
police department’s progress in their investigation. Gathered in
the manager’s office, the two were dressed identical in pale blue
shirts and khakis, their eyes pasted on the detective. Malcolm said
Nick was convinced it was Jillian’s doing, but Cal wasn’t so sure.
Jeremiah and his cohorts could have easily rigged the explosive.
All they needed was a few minutes perusing the Internet and they’d
have all the information needed to produce the crude construct. The
callous disregard for life and property came naturally.

Officer Griffin flipped through pages
in a yellow note pad, locating his notes for their case.
“Fingerprints from the safe proved to be mostly partials,” he
began, “looks like the guy might actually have removed some of his
fingerprint. My guess it was done to thwart any database
match.”

“
What?” Malcolm glanced at
Cal and asked, “How does someone remove their
fingerprint?”

Aging gray eyes etched by cynicism met
him directly. “Easy. Sandpaper, super glue. I heard of some crazies
using acid to do the trick. The idea is to remove enough of the
ridges to prevent a hundred percent match.”

Malcolm sat back in his chair. “So we
have nothing?”

“
I wouldn’t say nothing.
We picked up a strand of hair and sent it to the crime lab for a
DNA analysis.”

“
But that takes a while,”
Cal said.

“
We can get it back in a
week or so,” he replied. “But I have good news for you on the
arson. Both alibis checked out, but we managed to track down the
number of the cell phone used to detonate. Forensics managed to get
an ID on the cell phone used in the blast and as we suspected, it
was a phony account. The number that called it was
legit.”

“
And?”

“
Belongs to Jeremiah
Ladd.”

“
I knew it!” Cal
exclaimed, relieved, angry and exhilarated all at the same time. “I
knew he had to be involved somehow.”

Malcolm asked the officer, “How sure
are you?”

“
Hundred percent. We
matched the time of call with the time of explosion set by
witnesses. It’s a match.”

“
So you’re going to pick
him up?”

“
Not yet.”

“
Not yet? What are you
waiting for?”

“
The call came from his
phone. We have to prove he made it.”

Stunned, Cal asked, “Who else would
have made it?”

Malcolm’s blue gaze flattened. “I can
think of a couple of people.”

“
No way,” Cal objected.
“Doesn’t make sense.”

“
He says he lost it
Saturday night,” the officer said.

“
And you believe
him?”

“
My job is to work the
evidence I have. He went out and purchased another phone over the
weekend.”

“
So he could use the old
one as a bomb detonator.” Cal supplied the obvious.

“
Phone call doesn’t render
a phone inoperable,” Malcolm posed.

“
But it would render it
hot. Jeremiah would want to dispose of it and quick.”

“
Have you located the cell
phone in question?” Malcolm asked. “Maybe it would provide
fingerprints of a third party.”

Cal gaped at
Malcolm.
What was wrong with
him
? Had he forgotten what Jeremiah did to
their wives? He took Lacy and Annie against their will, threatened
their lives with a deadly weapon. Why was Malcolm fighting the fact
that Jeremiah was a bad man and likely responsible for the fire in
the stables?

Rising from his seat, Officer Griffin
seemed to wonder the same thing. “Maybe. We’re still checking. If
anything new develops, I’ll let you know.”

Malcolm stood and extended a hand.
“Thanks.”

Cal did likewise. “Appreciate your
help, Officer Griffin.” In the meantime, Cal decided he’d do a bit
of checking on his own.

Jeremiah drove downtown and stormed up
to the front door of the dump of a house the guys had rented.
Heedless to the snap of a hinge as he wrenched it open, Jeremiah
called out as he entered, “Robby!” He stopped short, finding the
brothers sprawled out on the couch watching television, empty beer
cans scattered about them on the table. A few others lay on the
floor half-smashed. Inhaling a whiff of cheap beer, he said, “We
got trouble.”

Rob slung his gaze toward Jeremiah.
“What’s new?”

“
I’m serious. There’s been
a fire at Hotel Ladd and they’re trying to pin it on
us.”

“
Did we do it?” the
younger asked, looking between Jeremiah and his brother.

Rob rolled his head sideways. “Does it
matter? The police looking for us ain’t never a good
thing.”

“
Well, I didn’t burn no
hotel!” the younger cried, bolting upright.

“
It doesn’t matter,”
Jeremiah said, “They’re coming for me. And if they get to me, you
two won’t be far behind.”

“
What are you saying?”
Dark eyes grew cold and black beneath Rob’s shaggy brow. “You
talkin’ about givin’ us up?”

“
I’m talking about there’s
a short line between you two and me,” Jeremiah said, cautious of
coming across too unsympathetic to their position. He couldn’t give
a rat’s hide about what happened to these two but letting on to
that fact could cause him serious injury. They didn’t want a return
to jail any more than he did. But staring into the familiar eyes of
a hardened criminal with nothing to lose, he knew Rob was dangerous
in his sheer lack of concern for Jeremiah’s welfare. There was a
time to press and a time to draw down. “All I’m saying is we need a
distraction.”