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“Why the hell are you wearing a raincoat?” Zack asked when I climbed out of Scott’s car.
Unfortunately, since Officer Gordon had the passenger seat in front, that meant I’d had to ride in the back—usually reserved for prisoners. I could only imagine what Jill’s neighbors were thinking as Gordon opened the back door to release a raincoat-clad woman into their neighborhood.
I thanked the two officers for the ride, then turned back to Zack as Scott drove off.
“Because I was asleep when the damn thing attacked me,” I grumbled, stalking to the door where Jill was waiting. “And apparently my wards only work against living creatures. And I didn’t have time to grab clothing on my way out my bedroom window. And the only options that were in my car to cover my girly parts were my rain gear or a strategically placed gun belt.”
Zack grinned. “I vote for the gun belt,” he said, then laughed as Jill thwapped him on the back of the head. “What?” He put on an innocent expression. “I was merely thinking that she might need her gun to defend herself!”
Jill snickered. “Oh, yes. Always thinking of others!” She turned to head back into the house just as a screech of tires from down the street caught our attention. A heartbeat later a dark blue Crown Victoria hurtled into the driveway, slamming to a stop millimeters from Zack’s car. I stared as Ryan practically flew out of the car and toward me, dressed only in running shorts, a T-shirt, and untied sneakers with no socks.
He stopped and raked a gaze over me, expression relaxing once he determined that I was in one piece. Then he frowned. “Why the fuck are you wearing a raincoat?”
Zack burst out laughing. I turned to Jill with a pleading look. She draped an arm over my shoulder and gave me a comforting squeeze. “Poor Kara. C’mon, I’m sure I have something you can wear that doesn’t make you look like a sex offender.”
“I’m still voting for the gun belt!” Zack called after us as we headed inside.
Chapter 29
Even though Jill and I could never fit into the same size jeans, she had T-shirts and stretchy-type pants that were suitable for my current needs. And even better, she had a stretchy-type sports bra that fit well enough to keep me from revealing the room temperature. I dressed quickly in the loaner clothing, then returned downstairs.
“First things first,” I said. “I don’t know if that thing found me because whoever’s controlling it drove it to my house, or if it somehow has the ‘scent’ of me. So, we need to be cautious.”
“Tell us what happened,” Ryan said, his voice and gaze cool and professional. I did so, even telling the part about Rhyzkahl waking me up. I expected Ryan to react to that in some way, but his face was an iron mask. Oddly, his control bothered me more than if he’d been upset or relieved. I kinda wanted to see some sort of reaction.
Zack had remained standing near the window during my recitation, occasionally peeking out. I didn’t miss that he was careful to maintain cover. “You touched a nerve with someone somewhere.”
“Yeah, well, maybe y’all can help me figure out what nerve.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair, wincing as I found tangles. Crap, I was probably an utterly lovely sight. I had yet to look in a mirror. At this point I was afraid to. Sleep-tangled hair, no makeup, and borrowed clothing. Sigh. Maybe it was a good thing that Ryan didn’t seem to want to look at me.
“Right now most of the attacks seem connected, but it still doesn’t make any sense,” I continued. “Vic Kerry was thrown out a window, Adam Taylor was tossed down a flight of stairs, and Roger Peeler was chased down and drowned. And Vic loaned money to both Adam and Roger ...” I frowned. The stock purchase. That meant something, but I was too frazzled to figure it out. “The attack on Lida is the one that doesn’t fit.”
“I’m still inclined to believe that Lida’s attack was a publicity stunt that went too far,” Ryan said.
“Okay,” I said. “So we’re down to who might be controlling it. Adam and Roger are out, obviously. Trey doesn’t seem to give a shit about publicity. And Michael only wants to be left alone to play piano.”
“But Vic and Ben Moran were pals,” Jill piped up, shuffling through newspapers.
I frowned. “My aunt told me that Vic and Mike Moran Senior were good friends. Ben and Vic were too? How do you know that?”
Jill lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I freelance for the local paper—go to society events and take pictures.” She smiled. “It’s a pretty sweet gig. Free ticket to the events. Only downside is the mingling with the snobs. Though luckily most people aren’t snobby at all.”
“How about Moran?”
She snorted. “Wanted to be sure his picture was taken any time there was a camera. Loved being popular. But people kissed his ass too.”
“Because he’s on the board of Lake Pearl Bank,” Zack said with a nod. “He has some pull when it comes to loans and business dealings.”
Jill nodded. “And he’ll have even more now that they’re being bought out. He made a lot of stockholders very happy with this deal.”
It hit me. “That’s it,” I murmured. “Vic and Ben were pals? How close?”
Jill cocked her head. “They hung together a fair amount, or at least every time I saw them at a function.”
I stood, excited. “That’s it. All of that time I suffered in white collar crime is finally paying off!”
Zack raised an eyebrow. “Would you be so kind as to share with us?”
I grinned, beginning to pace. “Okay, Moran is on the board of Lake Pearl Bank. He loves being on the board of LPB because it makes him popular and powerful. People kiss his ass and do shit for him. He fucking loves that shit.”
