When Darkness Falls (16 page)

“Yeah.”
How embarrassing!
It was just like her to act like a big baby!
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.” The words faded into the night, and she hoped he would understand what she was trying to say.

He gave her a tender smile that was filled with such promise that it nearly took her breath away. “Me too.”

He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his chest. For one small moment, she felt like happiness was within her grasp and that everything might turn out okay.

G
arrett’s
entire plan was contingent on the need for Phyllis to be out cold when he entered her home and took the jewels. As much as the woman drank, there was a good chance she would drink herself into a stupor without any help from him. However, he decided to sway things in his favor by sending her champagne. Something she couldn’t resist—A bottle of Dom Perignon 2003 Rosé. It’d cost him a whopping $385.00, but it would be worth every penny if the jewelry were worth what he estimated. He included a card that read:
From a Secret Admirer at the Club.

Phyllis belonged to a private club. He decided to mention it as a red herring in the event Phyllis somehow connected the champagne with the break-in. Of course, it was simply a bottle of champagne, nothing more, and he’d gone to great lengths to ensure that it couldn’t be traced back to him. Most people would drink one glass, perhaps two if they couldn’t resist the robust flavor, but not Phyllis. She’d down the entire bottle in practically two gulps and then go looking for more.

He was wearing all black, including a ski mask and gloves. He had the eerie sense of being an extension of the dark night surrounding him. His senses were on full alert as he noiselessly made his way through the living room and kitchen. It had been a piece of cake to disable the alarm. So far, everything was going according to plan. Even as the thought went through his head, he heard a slight noise. He paused, his heart racing, as he strained to hear. Nothing. His fears rose up with a vengeance becoming hideous things in the night that threatened to vanquish his courage and send him retreating before he accomplished the objective.
What if Natalie, the daughter, had decided to spend the night?
Or worse, what if Phyllis had found a new boyfriend? Maybe he was here, spending the night? One mistake was all it would take to trip him up. What if Phyllis had not drunk the champagne? He needed her to be in a deep sleep for the plan to work!
A trickle of sweat rolled between his shoulder blades, and his backpack of tools suddenly felt too heavy for his shoulders. Thankfully, habit took over from there as he forced himself to snuff out the fears. He busied his mind with concentrating on the details as he walked up the stairs. Phyllis’s bedroom was the last room at the end of a long hall. As he walked, every creak in the floor sounded to him like a shotgun going off. His heart was nearly pounding out of his chest when he stopped in front of Phyllis’s room. Ever so carefully, he turned the handle and pushed open the door. Relief washed over him when he heard her snoring loudly. He strained his eyes to see through the darkness and finally determined that there was only one lump under the covers. She appeared to be alone. He went over to the window and parted the drapes slightly, allowing a sliver of moonlight to shine into the room. He didn’t want to open the drapes too wide in case someone happened to be watching from outside. Nor did he want to use the flashlight anymore than was absolutely necessary. He scoped the room, his eyes pausing on the bedside table. He spotted the empty bottle of Dom Perignon and a half-empty bottle of scotch.
Just as he’d planned!
The sight gave him the boost of courage he needed to continue. He walked over to the abstract art piece and removed it from the wall. Here’s where it would all come together or go up in smoke! If Phyllis had changed the alarm then all of his planning was for naught. He cupped the flashlight in his hand and flicked it on, trying to focus the light on the keypad rather than around the room. He swallowed hard and punched in the code. Holding his breath, he turned the handle. Exultation flooded him when the door opened! Not taking the time to examine the contents, he reached inside and scooped them into a bag. Then, he closed the safe and replaced the piece of art. With any luck, Phyllis wouldn’t realize for several days that anything had been taken. He was approaching the bedroom door when it all fell apart.

“Stop where you are!”

He froze, his heart in his throat. Where had the person come from?

“Turn around.”

He slowly turned as his mind frantically searched for a solution. He had a tranquilizer gun in his backpack, but how was he going to get to it? Was the person holding a gun? He could still hear Phyllis, snoring like a foghorn. When he was fully turned, the high-pitched voice spoke again.

“What’s your name? Who are you? Come closer.”

Hesitantly, he stepped toward the voice. If he could somehow get the backpack off his shoulders without the person realizing … Then he stopped and did a double-take. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat when he realized what was happening. There, in the corner, tucked in the darkness so that he’d not seen it before was a birdcage. And inside sat a large green parrot, peering back at him. He suspected that he’d awoken it when he shined the flashlight at the safe.

“What’s your name?” the bird demanded.

Garrett began slowly stepping back from the cage.

The bird grew agitated as it flapped its wings. “What’s your name?” it shrieked. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

Phyllis stopped snoring and shifted in the bed.

Panic seized Garrett. The stupid bird was going to wake her up!

He began stepping back further from the cage in an attempt to leave the room, but the bird grew louder. “Come back here! Come back here! What’s your name?”

The bird would continue to squawk and carry on until it awoke Phyllis. Hurriedly, he shoved the bag of jewels into his backpack and zipped it up.

“Who are you?” the parrot said. “WHO ARE YOU?”

Phyllis was snoring again, but he didn’t know how long it would last.

He picked up the cage and carried it to the window. The movement shocked the parrot into silence. Not knowing what else to do, he opened the window. Then he opened the door to the cage and held it to the open window. When the parrot stayed put, he reached in and grabbed it. It let out a blood-curdling shriek as Garrett threw it out the window. He watched as it flapped its wings frantically a few times before finally catching the wind and flying away.

He held his breath for a second, hoping against hope that Phyllis’s snoring would continue. He about jumped out of his skin when she snorted. He waited, everything hanging in the balance, until she finally settled into a regular pattern of snoring. He quietly closed the window, pulled the drapes together, and put the cage back in the corner.

Then, he hurried to the door, not looking back.

“
T
hank you so much
. I look forward to meeting with you,” Chloe said as she ended the call. She immediately added the appointment into her calendar on her phone. Finally, clients were calling and asking for her specifically. This referral had come from Stephanie Brooks, an existing client of Marsh Interiors. Chloe had helped her pick out fabric for a new sofa and loveseat. Evidently, she’d been so pleased with the result that she recommended Chloe to a friend who wanted help redoing her entire house. A smile spread across her face. She couldn’t wait to tell Hank.

Thinking of Hank and their date to the canyon over the weekend caused a spark of warmth to spread over her. When she’d arrived at the office this morning, she was unsure how to act around him. Even though they were beginning a relationship, he was still her boss. She feared that everything would feel forced and awkward, but it was just the opposite. He immediately put her at ease and was as warm and open as he’d been in the canyon. They’d even gone to lunch together. Thankfully, Garrett was still out of town, so she didn’t have to deal with him.

She pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied a fresh coat. Then, she powdered her face and fluffed her hair. As she stood and adjusted her clothes, butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. She chided herself for getting so worked up because she was going to Hank’s office, but the jitters continued, despite her best effort to stop them. She was falling for him—hook, line, and sinker. Hank had consumed her thoughts all weekend, which was a good thing, because it had crowded out all thoughts of Dan. She’d not felt even the slightest hint of his presence, and she’d slept soundly. There was life after Dan, and it felt good! Maybe it was still too early to call it, but if things kept going as they were, she would finally be free of him! It had been a long time since she felt this lighthearted.

As she rounded the corner to Hank’s office, the heated conversation stopped her in her tracks. She heard Hank’s voice first. “Well, detective, I’m disappointed. The news of the theft broke yesterday, and it took you eight hours to get over here to question me. I expected you to come this morning rather than at the end of the day.”

A voice she’d never heard before answered. “Is this some joke to you? This job has your MO all over it. No sign of a forced entry, either in the home or the safe. Either the thief somehow knew the code to the safe or he was exceptionally good at cracking it. I suspect it was the latter.”

“Of course you do,” Hank fired back, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “that’s why you’re here. Every time some Joe Shmoe pulls a job, you come around like a mangy dog, sniffing for scraps.”

The man let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, no need to get personal, man, I’m just doing my job.”

“That song and dance worked the first half a dozen times, Jared, but it’s starting to get old.”

“Don’t blame me for running down the leads. It’s not my fault you’re the best in the business.”

“Was the best,” Hank countered firmly. “The operative word here is
was
. I’m no longer in the business. You and I both know I’m clean.”

“So you say,” Jared smirked. “This job was not done by a run-of-the-mill Shmoe. It has all of the markings of another Ghost Theft, only this time there was one thing missing from the scene—a parrot. Apparently, the thief let the bird out the window. According to the police report, the poor victim was more distraught over losing her bird than she was about losing her jewels. Go figure!”

Ghost Theft? Why did that sound familiar?
Chloe inched closer to the doorway and peeked in. Hank was sitting behind his desk, and a man with black hair was sitting across from him. She couldn’t tell for sure but thought she detected a faint Latino accent. A thousand questions pelted her at once—making her feel sick at her stomach. Why was Hank being questioned by a detective? Was he a thief? Or had he been? She should’ve known he was too good to be true. A bitter feeling settled over her. And then she remembered where she’d heard the term
Ghost Theft
. Darbie had been talking about a notorious jewel thief that was known by that name. Was Hank the
Ghost Thief
? The idea seemed preposterous, like something out of a movie rather than real life. She should’ve turned away that instant, but she couldn’t. She had to hear the rest.

“For curiosity sake—tell me—if you were pulling this job, how would you do it?” Jared’s voice was conversational … musing.

“I didn’t do it,” Hank said flatly. “And no, I’m not playing this ridiculous game.” He paused, and then his tone became speculative. “Does the chief know you’re over here, wasting valuable department time on this? Maybe you should put your focus on crimes that take place in Salt Lake rather than in another city. I’m sure you have enough things to worry about in your own backyard without searching for more. Due to the recent cutbacks in your department, I would assume that resources are more valuable now than ever.”

Chloe could tell from the way the detective shot up in his chair that Hank had touched a nerve. “Watch it!” There was a hard edge to his voice. “All aspects relating to you are my jurisdiction, regardless of where the crime takes place. Things will go a lot easier for you if you’ll cooperate.”

Hank let out a humorless laugh. “I’m allowing you to step foot in my office and badger me with these asinine questions. I’d say that speaks highly of my cooperation, wouldn’t you?”

The detective let out a nervous laugh. “No need to get testy. You know how this goes, Hank. I need to know where you were Saturday evening.” He’d assumed a friendly tone, like they were the best of friends, but Hank wasn’t buying it.

“Well, I sure as heck wasn’t anywhere near San Francisco!” he roared. His jaw was as hard as the floor on which Chloe was standing, and the way he was leaning forward in his seat, reminded her of a coiled snake, ready to strike. Hank was a force to be reckoned with—she didn’t know whether she should be scared or impressed by his die-hard attitude.

“Where were you?” Jared pressed.

“I was at American Fork Canyon.”

The relief that washed over Chloe made her go weak in the knees. Hank was no thief! He was telling the truth! He’d been in the canyon with her all evening. There was no way he could’ve pulled off a robbery in San Francisco.

“Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?”

A disgusted look twisted over Hank’s face as he shook his head. “You don’t have a shred of evidence, do you? That’s why you’re here! You’re grasping at straws. I’m disappointed, Jared. I expected more from a seasoned professional like you.”

“Stop playing games! I need a name! Who were you with Saturday night?”

Hank was holding a pencil in his hands. He broke it in half with a loud crack. “I like you, Jared. Underneath that tough-guy, detective persona, I think you’re a decent guy. But I’m getting sick and tired of being put through the ringer every time some bozo steals something.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you became a criminal.”

Hank’s face went a shade darker, and Chloe feared for a second that he might punch the detective. “Let me be as clear as I can. I did my time. Paid my debt to society. Let it go.”

“Sorry, man, doesn’t work that way … unfortunately.”

Hank stood. “This conversation is over. Unless you have a warrant for my arrest, I suggest you get out of my office!”

“It’s always a pleasure,” Jared said, standing. “I’ll be in touch.”

It was at that moment Chloe realized she should make a hasty retreat, but it was too late. As Jared turned to leave, Hank looked up and saw her.

Before either of them could say anything, Chloe’s mouth began moving at warp speed. “Hank couldn’t have stolen anything in San Francisco because he was with me in the canyon on Saturday night.”