Trouble in Tallahassee (Familiar Legacy Book 3) Read online

  “Not a bother.” This time Lucas’s voice comes through the cell phone loud and clear. “I’m about two minutes from your front door. Don’t touch anything in the refrigerator and I’ll be right there.”

  Abby ends the call and starts a little dance. “Layla is alive, Layla is alive. I know it.”

  I dance around with her, tangling in her legs.

  Layla is alive. Kidnapped, but alive.

  Now we just have to find her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Abby answered the door the moment Lucas knocked. Once he stepped inside, she was surprised to see Victor trudge in after him.

  “What are you doing here?” Abby stared at Victor, taking in his grubby clothes, the bandage on his head, and catching a whiff of beer and something vaguely stinky.

  Victor didn’t answer. Instead, he swept Abby into his arms and hugged her.

  For a moment Abby gave in to the embrace. Victor’s arms felt strong and protective, and he stroked her hair with tender touches. She wanted to cry and take comfort from him, but as he continued to hold her, she also felt the strange, unbidden urge to kiss him. She thought of Layla and jerked out of Victor’s arms.

  “Are you all right?” Victor asked.

  “I’m okay.” But Abby felt a strange trembling in her legs as she stood next to Victor. So, weak in the knees wasn’t just a cliché after all. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Trouble rubbed up against him and purred.

  “The blood isn’t Layla’s.” Victor said it in a rush, as if he were afraid Lucas might order him to be quiet. “In the FSU bathroom, I mean. All that blood wasn’t her blood type.”

  “She’s alive. I know it.” This time it was Abby who hugged Victor, but she dropped out of the embrace quickly. “Somebody took her insulin from the refrigerator. Whoever has her, wants her alive.”

  Before Victor could react, Lucas pushed in between them. “I’ve called an evidence tech to come and fingerprint inside the refrigerator. When they were here earlier, they only fingerprinted the outside of the fridge and around in the kitchen. While we wait, let’s have a seat and a long discussion.”

  “Can I offer you some coffee, or some—” Abby stepped toward the kitchen.

  “Stay out of the kitchen, ma’am, please.”

  She jolted to a stop. “I might have already messed up any fingerprints. I mean, I didn’t know…I’ve taken stuff out of the fridge.”

  “We’ll get your prints for elimination purposes, but don’t make it worse. Now, let’s sit.” Lucas moved toward the living room and glanced around as if looking for a spot to sit.

  Abby knocked off some piles of things from the couch. No one sat down, so she did. As soon as she settled into the deep softness of the couch, Victor eased down beside her, his thigh rubbing against hers.

  Lucas cleared off a chair in front of them and sat. “We need to talk. You two need to tell me whatever it is you haven’t told me. Now.”

  Abby didn’t care for the man’s bossy tone. He was acting more like Rizzo. But she also wanted to help Layla. And, she wanted to know whatever it was Lucas and Victor could tell her, including why Victor looked like a drunk and had a bandage on his head. She glanced at Victor, but he sat tight-lipped.

  “What’s going on?” Abby felt frustrated. The two men knew a good deal more than she did. “And why have you got that bandage on your head?”

  “Nope, your turn.” Lucas gave Abby a hard look. “Spill it.”

  “I’m not keeping any secrets.” Abby shot a hard look right back at Lucas. “Phillip wouldn’t kidnap Layla. He adores her. He’s friends with her parents from way back. He told me that today.” Abby’s tone was emphatic, even though she’d told Lucas and Rizzo that same thing earlier when they arrested Phillip.

  “Ma’am, I appreciate that you’re loyal to your boss,” Lucas said. “But he used his FSU access card to enter the library basement at midnight, and again at 2:35 a.m. the night Layla disappeared. A bottle of Valium with his name on it was found under the study carrel where you were sleeping. We found residual Valium in both of the tea bottles left in your carrel. And we found bits of Layla’s busted laptop in his trash can.”

  Victor shook his head. “Damn. No wonder I conked out. I drank one of those teas.”

  Abby gasped. Someone had drugged her. That’s why she had slept so thoroughly, hearing nothing during the night in the library. But Phillip wouldn’t drug her. And if he had, he most assuredly wouldn’t leave the empty Valium bottle under her feet, and toss Layla’s laptop in his own trash. The man was not stupid.

  “It’s a frame.” Abby spoke with absolute conviction. “Phillip Draper is an acutely intelligent man and he would never be so unwise as to use his own ID—twice—to commit a crime and leave evidence behind.”

  “Smart people panic and do stupid stuff all the time.” Lucas sounded smug and satisfied. “Besides, looks like the others all have pretty good alibis for most of the night. Emmett’s roommates agree he came in around eleven and stayed put. The professor’s neighbors all claim they saw his car parked right in front of his townhouse from around ten, all night till he left for FSU in the morning. And Delphine—” Lucas paused, a tiny glimmer of a grin on his mouth. “Let’s just say somebody vouched for her all night too.”

  Abby had a fleeting moment of curiosity as to who Delphine’s alibi was, but Victor started talking, bringing her back to focus.

  “So the laptop in Layla’s case in the library wasn’t hers?” Victor frowned as if connecting the dots.

  “Correct. Wasn’t her laptop. Somebody switched them out, and busted Layla’s up.”

  Victor wasn’t the only one connecting the dots. Abby couldn’t rid herself of the thought: Jennifer would have ready access to Phillip’s law school access card, his RX bottle, and his trash can.

  And Lucas hadn’t mentioned that Jennifer had an alibi.

  Had anybody interviewed Jennifer?

  Abby started to ask Lucas about Jennifer, but Victor shifted on the couch beside her, making his leg press tighter against hers. This time it didn’t excite her. It made her mad. Victor knew plenty more than what he’d told her. That much was clear.

  Abby glared at Victor, her irritation plain on her face. “Your bandage? The blood in the bathroom, something about a dumpster. Tell me now.”

  “I’ll do the honors.” Lucas actually grinned at Abby, which somehow irritated her more. “Victor decided to dress up like he was homeless and find the mugger who assaulted Layla outside the law office.”

  Abby glanced at Victor. A man of action. Some of her irritation at him began to soften.

  “Long story short, he got hit over the head. I took him to the ER. He’s fine. But we found the body of a homeless man with what appeared to be cat scratches on his face in a dumpster near the main library. His throat was cut and his blood matches the blood in the law library bathroom.”

  Abby swept Victor with her eyes, making sure he really was all right.

  Lucas turned and glared at Victor. “Your turn. Everything you know. Now.”

  There was no mistaking the direct order in the detective’s words.

  Victor slid back on the couch, ran his fingers through his mussed-up hair, and patted the bandage on the back of his head. But he didn’t say anything.

  Chapter Thirty

  Victor felt as if he were wrestling with himself even though he hadn’t moved an inch.

  He didn’t want to endanger Layla further. Even if her kidnapper had taken the insulin to give to her, she was still in peril. And if her kidnapper was Phillip, and Phillip was in jail, she was in worse jeopardy. He wondered for a moment if Rizzo and Lucas had thought of that.

  “Maybe you should release Phillip.” He tilted toward Abby, though he was talking to Lucas. “If he really did kidnap Layla, he can’t be giving her the insulin she needs.”

  “Maybe you should let me be the cop and you be the helpful witness.” Lucas spoke with apparent frustration.

&nbs
p; Victor glowered at Lucas. He didn’t want to besmirch Layla. Yet he wanted to help. On the one hand, Lucas and Rizzo seemed to be decent detectives. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel they had misdirected their energies in the crucial early hours of their investigation when they were pursuing him as a suspect.

  Trouble crawled into Victor’s lap and started purring. When Victor’s hand drifted down to pet the cat, Trouble rose up and tapped Victor’s shirt pocket, and meowed plaintively.

  “He’s trying to tell you something.” Abby sounded sincere, though Lucas made a low rumble in the back of his throat like a man who wanted to laugh but knew better.

  Victor wasn’t sure if Trouble was really trying to tell him something, unless it was “feed me.” Besides, his pocket was empty.

  Trouble leapt from Victor’s lap into Abby’s and began to lick her earlobe.

  Despite his despair and weariness, Victor grinned at Trouble. He had to appreciate the cat’s innate good taste in ears and women. And Victor couldn’t deny that he hoped to nibble Abby’s earlobe too, and soon.

  Abby brushed Trouble away from her ear, and pulled him into her lap. With her hand ruffling the fur on Trouble’s head, she focused on Victor. “Maybe you should tell us what you’re holding back. We don’t know if Layla is hurt or if her kidnapper knows how to give her the insulin.”

  The sadness in Abby’s voice cut right through to Victor’s heart. “All right,” he said.

  Trouble curled around in Abby’s lap to look straight at Victor.

  “Layla was…I mean this is what I think. I don’t know it for sure.” Victor hesitated. He didn’t want to accuse Layla. Though, really, he had to admit to himself, who really cared about adultery anymore in a general sense. It wasn’t like anyone would make Layla wear a scarlet A around her neck.

  But still.

  Victor couldn’t help but flash back to his own brief, strained marriage. His wife had cheated on him, flagrantly as it turned out, and that had destroyed their relationship. Then she’d pulled that stunt on Facebook by taking advantage of a brewing military scandal and making him look like a vengeful creep and ruining his career in the Navy. Maybe that made him ultra-sensitive and judgmental. Could be that having an affair with a married man was no big deal these days.

  No, it was a big deal.

  He didn’t like to think of Layla as a home wrecker. Did anyone even use that term anymore? But even if nobody cared about that, sleeping with your boss to get hired was a sure way to guarantee professional failure. She’d never live that down if it became widely known.

  “Victor?” Abby put her hand on his thigh, and the soft weight of her fingers helped him make up his mind. Layla’s life was certainly worth more than her reputation.

  “I’m pretty sure Layla was having an affair with Phillip.”

  Beside him, Abby inhaled sharply. But Lucas leaned forward, so close to him their noses practically touched.

  “I have a photograph of them…not, you know, doing anything. But the way they are hugging each other is very close. Very.” Victor studied his hands in his lap. There was more than that. “And the way she always spoke about him. Like she was in awe of him—in love with him. Her face would light up when she talked about him. Plus, she spent time in his house with him a lot, especially when his wife was at her Junior League meetings.”

  “You’re wrong. And you’re jealous.” Abby jerked her hand away from Victor’s leg.

  “Jealous?” Victor repeated. “Why would I be jealous?”

  “Why would he be jealous?” Lucas echoed.

  Abby cast her eyes back and forth between the two men, her expression puzzled and unhappy. “Because you were…you are Layla’s boyfriend.”

  If Victor hadn’t been so upset, he might have laughed. “Me and Layla?” He shook his head. “Abby, we’re just friends. Honest. We’ve never been anything else but friends.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Lucas said, tilting his head toward Abby. “I’ve asked everybody who knew either one of them.”

  Abby flushed red, her discomfort obvious.

  For a moment, nobody spoke. Victor didn’t know how to soften Abby’s embarrassment over her mistake.

  “I’m sorry I misunderstood.” Abby spoke formally, almost as if she might be addressing a jury. “Nonetheless, you’re wrong about Phillip and her being lovers. Phillip was her godfather, as well as her mentor, and he was a father figure. Phillip felt a sense of responsibility for her and he understood her own father was…distant. You told me yourself her dad didn’t have much to do with her. See, you’re misreading the situation.”

  Lucas cut his eyes over at Abby and seemed poised to ask her something—probably how Abby knew what she’d just said, but Victor spoke, cutting off whatever Lucas might have asked.

  “I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t think so.” Victor wanted Abby to be right. But a goddaughter wasn’t a daughter, and that godchild connection might not have stopped an affair between the two of them. And there was more to his theory that Phillip and Layla were lovers. Victor rubbed his hands on his pants and leaned forward to tell them the rest.

  “Layla knew Phillip was trying to lure the governor and the attorney general into hiring the law firm for some kind of deal with offshore oil drilling. I really don’t know the specifics. She was very closemouthed about her work with Phillip and the law firm, but I overheard some things when she was on the phone.”

  Abby nodded. “Yes, the firm—Phillip and Delphine at least—were actively courting the governor and the attorney general. I gave them a tour of the offices while Phillip gave them a sales pitch. He definitely emphasized our expertise in off-shore drilling.”

  “Was Layla part of that tour and sales pitch?” Lucas asked, perched at the edge of his chair.

  “At first.” Abby hesitated as if thinking over her next words carefully. “Delphine took Layla away from the governor and the attorney general.”

  “Why?”

  “Delphine doesn’t like Layla and I think—just me guessing really—that Delphine thought Layla was being disrespectful to the governor.” Abby spit out the words in a hurry, her distaste for what she was admitting evident.

  “Okay,” Lucas said, dismissively. He turned back to Victor. “I have the feeling you were about to tell me more.”

  Victor struggled to remember exactly what Layla had said the night Phillip had called her. He’d been working with Layla at her kitchen table, compiling class notes, when her cell phone rang. She’d glanced at the caller ID before asking him to give her some privacy. He’d wandered around in her den, but still heard part of what was said.

  “I’m pretty sure Layla said something like she would keep the secret, or maybe that she’d hide their secret. But she also said—and this I heard pretty clearly—that she wouldn’t hide ‘them’ in her apartment.” Victor paused, and edited himself. It wouldn’t do to admit he’d gone to Phillip and Jennifer’s house on false pretenses to look for whatever Layla might have hidden there. He was already in enough trouble.

  “Go on,” Lucas said, his tone of voice encouraging.

  “Layla said something about off-shore oil drilling, but I didn’t hear that part too clearly.” Victor looked up. Lucas, Abby, and the cat were all staring at him. “Something in her tone made me think Phillip was up to something and she had to help him.”

  “If you were just listening while she was on the phone, how did you know she was talking to Phillip?” Lucas asked.

  “After she was finished, she put the cell phone down, and later, when she was out of the room, I checked. The number was in her contact list as the Drapers’ house.” Victor felt a jolt of shame after admitting he’d spied on his best friend.

  “She could have been calling Jennifer,” Abby said.

  Victor nodded. “Could be.” He cast a conciliatory glance at Abby. But before he could say anything, the doorbell rang.

  “Well, it’s about time that evidence tech got here to fingerprint the refrigerator and th
e kitchen.” Lucas rose and headed toward the door.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rizzo bounds in with the crime technicians, glares at all of us, shoots Victor an especially hard look, then stomps into the kitchen. I pad after him, keeping safely back so he doesn’t notice me. For a brief moment, I wonder if he figured out I was behind the siren escapade, but I realize he’s not the sort who would think a cat—even one as superior as I am—could do such a thing.

  The crime technicians start prowling and dusting and examining, and Rizzo stands guard for a second before peeking back in the living room. I peer around the door facing to see the tableau he is watching—Abby and Victor smash together on the couch, his hand lightly resting on her thigh, her face tilts up at him. Victor is speaking too softly for me to hear. Lucas stands up and moves toward the kitchen. As soon as he is out of sight, Victor’s arms go around Abby and he pulls her closer to him. One of her hands strokes the bandage on his head. No doubt they are processing Abby’s new understanding that Victor was never Layla’s lover and they are giving in to their mutual attraction.

  Rizzo rears back as if Abby were his sixteen-year-old daughter and Victor was a well-known predator.

  Lucas nods at Rizzo as he steps into the kitchen, but doesn’t speak.

  Rizzo snarls, as he stares at Victor and Abby, who have obviously forgotten there’s a roomful of cops in the next room. I think they look sweet together, but clearly Rizzo doesn’t agree.

  “Son of a bitch,” he says, and stomps toward Abby and Victor.

  I follow. Lucas hangs back in the kitchen.

  “Can I see you a minute?” Rizzo points at Abby. He doesn’t sound chummy.

  I can see her reluctance, but she rises and steps toward Rizzo, who immediately takes her arm and shuttles her down the hall. I step along beside Abby, but when Rizzo pulls her into the bedroom, he shuts the door in my face.

  I scratch at the door, but Abby doesn’t let me in. Frustrated, I press my ear against the thick wooden door. I catch words here and there, mostly Rizzo’s. Something about Facebook and a scandal and the Navy.