Chapter13
Deena watched the door handle turn from across the room, heart pounding in her ears, her throat clenched with fear. She held her arms up, gun pointed at the door. Her finger was on the trigger and ready. She tried to slow her breathing, so she could focus.
Aim.
Breathe.
Fire.
Jake’s words echoed in her mind, but she doubted he’d meant for his own gun to be used against him.
Her hands were shaking when he finally stepped into the room. He didn’t see her at first, turning to make sure the door was locked and setting his bag down by the door. When he finally turned and saw her standing in the doorway of the bedroom, he froze, staring at the gun with one eyebrow arched in surprise.
“It’s just me,” he said warmly. “I told you I would come back.”
When she didn’t lower the gun, he put his hands up and furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Deena, is everything alright? It’s just me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you got in a fight with the man who was killed?”
“I didn’t get in a fight with the thief. I told you, I was about to go out there to stop him when the killer came out of nowhere and stabbed him.”
“You got in a fight before that.”
“I did. With a man named Eric Price. He came at me, and I punched him. I punched him one time. That’s it.”
“Eric Price is the dead man.”
He looked genuinely horrified.
“Are they sure?”
“They announced it on the news, and you’re the main suspect.”
“I didn’t kill him. You were with me when the killer was still in the street.”
“But they’re saying it’s a contract killing and that you hired the hitman.”
“And their proof is that we had words earlier in the evening? I don’t know about you, but I’m going to assume it takes more than thirty minutes to find, pay for, and execute a contract killing.”
“They said the hit was paid for with an offshore account in your name.”
“Who says? The media? They report on anything they think might be true just to get the scoop. Have you seen how stories change when there’s something live going on? Did they call it a ‘developing story’?”
“Yes.”
“That’s code for ‘we don’t know anything, but here’s what we think.’ If the body was discovered today, on a Sunday no less, there’s no way that they got the information from foreign banks. And if they did, have they named the hitman yet?”
“They haven’t.”
“Then they’re grasping at straws. Even if it was true, which is isn’t, there’s no way that they could have that information at this point. The police can’t either. Deena, it’s not true. You can’t believe what you see on the news. How do we know that Oakfield or his accomplices didn’t call in a tip?”
“The newscast did say there was an anonymous tip.”
“See? Let’s be rational about this. Where were you going to go?”
“To the police.”
“Dallas PD is closed on Sundays, so you were going to the Sheriff’s office, right?”
How did he know that?
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think they would be waiting to stop you before you got there? They know your name, and I’m sure you have pictures in your phone, right? Whoever it is that’s after us, they’re not going to leave the police department unmonitored. Of all the places you might show up, that’s a pretty obvious one.”
So many selfies, she thought, vowing to be more careful with her next phone.
“Deena, please, put the gun down and let’s talk. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t drop the gun, but her resolve was wavering. Everything he was saying more than made sense. They were still on the scene, and the body hadn’t been moved. Deena had watched her fair share of crime shows, and it seemed like it was much too early to tell. And if the tip led the police to the body, how could they know anything else at this point?
“Jake, I’m scared. I just want this to be over with.”
“I am too. I know you’re not going to shoot me, but I would feel a lot better if you would put it down.”
“How can you be so sure? What if I just can’t take this anymore? The only thing standing between me and walking out that door is you.”
“You won’t shoot me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said, walking up to her and standing without flinching.
The tears started when he put his hand over hers and gently took the gun from her hand. He wasn’t mad or even upset. He saw her fear and took it for what it was. When he set the gun down on the table beside them, he pulled her into his arms and held her while she fell apart. She trembled beneath his touch, the stress of the past two days just too much.
He scooped her up and cradled her against his chest, sitting down on the sofa and nuzzling her neck.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You were scared, and you barely know me. I don’t blame you for being suspicious. We need to be vigilant, and you were doing just that.”
“I could have shot you,” she said miserably.
“I wasn’t worried.”
The TV played on as they sat there, running through the same news stories over and over. She turned her head and watched while he stroked her back and just held her. They were going through the same story as they had earlier. But this time when she listened, Deena could hear what Jake was talking about. They kept using words like “speculation” and “developing” and “updates as we learn more” while they spoke in absolutes.
They were making it seem like Jake was already a suspect in the murder when the most recent video showed the detective leaving the scene just minutes before. It didn’t add up, and Deena was furious. She’d let them get in her head, and she’d pointed a gun at the only person in this world that was willing to pull her out of the path of a murderer and put his own life at risk.
“They shouldn’t do that. It looks like you’re a murderer, and what that detective said didn’t help. Are they even going to look into anyone else?”
“Let’s hope so. Detective Ferris is the one who worked my parents’ death, so I’m not sure how this will pan out. I know it looks bad now. But the truth will come out.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have to be sure. That’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.”
“Did you meet with that man?”
“I did. There’s a lot more corruption involving Oakfield than I thought, but it’s going to be hard to prove. He’s going to work on it.”
“How?”
“I didn’t ask. But he’s a private investigator known to be a little unorthodox in his approach.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s been in jail a time or two, but always for the right reasons.”
“Oh man. Shouldn’t you hire someone who can investigate without getting caught?”
“No. I need someone who’s willing to take risks, and Frank Moore fits the bill.”
“If you trust him, then I trust him.”
“That’s good, because he’s the only chance we have right now. I can’t walk into Oakfield’s office myself and-”
“He’s breaking into Oakfield’s office?”
“Something like that.” Jake laughed.
“Man, this is some next level ish. I feel like I’m trapped in someone else’s life.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m trying to get you back to your old life as quickly as possible. I promise. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.”
She shrugged.
“My life is far from perfect.”
“How is that?”
“I’m tired of renting a chair at someone else’s salon. I found a place I could afford, but the location sucks, and I can’t make money without customers.”
“Where would the perfect place be?”
“The perfect place?”
“If you could pick any place, and money wasn’t an object, where would you have your salon?”
“Highland Park Village.”
“Now that’s a dream. But a smart place. And the Dallas Country Club is right across the road from the shopping center.”
“I would rent my chairs out to high-end stylists of all types. I just want somewhere for all women to go to get their hair done without having to live in my car to survive.”
“You live in your car?”
She laughed.
“It’s a figure of speech. But to lease something nice that would pay the bills would mean I would have to give up my apartment. Even something Highland Park adjacent costs so much.”
She sighed, shaking her head a little. “It is what it is. I’m going to make it, even if I have to start at the bottom and claw my way to the top.”
They sat in silence for a long time, both watching the news cycle through without really paying much attention, both lost in their own thoughts.
“I have one question for you,” she finally said after a long, comfortable silence wrapped in his arms.
“Anything.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t shoot you? You were so calm.”
He laughed, nuzzling her cheek and squeezing her tight.
“What?” she asked, feigning indignation. “Is my aim that bad?”
“No,” he laughed. “You left the safety on.”