"I'm really sorry about your brother.”
"Thank you.”
"I take it you're someplace safe?”
"For the moment.”
"We stopped by the marina and your apartment.”
"I don't know what to do.”
I hesitated for a moment. "What's your involvement in this?”
"My involvement in what?”
I exhaled a frustrated breath. "The coincidences are adding up. You just happen to work for the guy that your brothers stole from. I know all about Vladimir Solonik. The charter business, the restaurant, the strip club… They're all fronts for laundering money. How long have you been working at the charter company? A year? Two? Long enough to know that revenue far outpaces customers. I bet if I look through the books, I’ll find false invoices, fraudulent fees to consulting firms and ad agencies, and all kinds of tomfoolery.”
“Tomfoolery?”
“I'm sure you've seen things. Overheard conversations. I'm guessing you knew how much cash would be sitting in that vault at any given moment and what the schedule was. Maybe you tipped off your brothers for a piece of the action."
She was silent for a long moment. "I didn't tip off anybody.”
"Even if what you say is true, Vladimir will suspect you’re involved. You're all playing a dangerous game.”
"This was a mistake. I shouldn't have called." She hung up the phone.
I dialed back, but it just rang several times and went to voicemail.
An automated voice said, "The guest you are calling is not available. Please leave your message after the tone."
"Riley, call me back. Let me help you. I don't want to see you or Shane in the morgue.”
I ended the call and shared a disappointed look with Jack.
"She doesn't want to go to jail," he said. "If she had any involvement, she’ll catch a conspiracy to commit murder charge along with Shane. We’re not going to get anything from either of them.”
"Maybe we need to lean on Garrett.”
“Hey, buddy. Spare some change?” a shaggy guy asked.
I’d been so preoccupied with the situation and my conversation with JD that I hadn’t noticed him. I did a double-take, and my eyes widened with recognition. “Jesse Doyle?”
27
Jesse's brow knitted. "Who wants to know?"
I smiled and flashed my badge. "Coconut County. You're under arrest.”
His puffy eyes rounded, and he took off running down the sidewalk.
JD and I gave chase.
Jesse weaved through tourists, bowling some of them over, then darted across the street into traffic.
Horns honked, tires squealed, and grills ate the pavement.
A car almost clipped him, but he made it across.
