Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(32)

“Ahh, you’re busy, so you just decided to brush her aside.”

“Not every death is a murder.”

“She came to you for help, and you did nothing.”

“Sounds like she went to you, too. What did you do to help Melony Reed?”

Lizzy didn’t have an answer.

“Am I supposed to drop everything anytime Lizzy Gardner walks into my office?” He leaned back in his chair. “Though you do seem to have some clout around here. I wouldn’t be surprised to get a call from Jimmy Martin any second now.”

“Stop being an ass.”

“Are we done here?”

“Not yet,” Lizzy said. “What do you know about Shelby Geitner?”

“Now I know we’re finished. There’s the door.” He leaned forward and began shuffling through the papers on his desk.

“I know Shelby personally. I’ve been to her house. She would never run away, let alone put herself in a position to be kidnapped.”

“Who said anything about being kidnapped?”

“I heard it through the grapevine, Detective. You should get out there, hit the pavement—you learn things that way.”

“Listen, Gardner. I don’t care if you and Shelby talked on the phone every day and had coffee on Sundays. Keep your nose out of my case.”

“Is that a threat?”

He took in a breath. “Listen. I want to find Shelby as badly as you do. I know Shelby’s father. We’ve played golf together. We’re in the process of locating and interviewing witnesses, re-canvassing the crime scene and booking evidence, searching criminal databases. In other words, we’ve got it covered. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“Wow. Detective Chase is being polite and asking nicely.”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe. Answer four questions and I’ll think about backing off.”

He actually smiled. “Ask the questions and I’ll think about answering them.”

“Any suspects?”

“Not yet.”

“Did you find her car?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think someone was waiting for her in it after school?”

“Looks that way.”

“Did she put up a fight?”

“Absolutely.”





CHAPTER 22

Jenny disconnected the tube from the needle sticking in Dean Newman’s forearm. Then she wrapped the whole kit and caboodle up and shoved it all inside her handy-dandy bag. Next, she peeled off the tape, along with a few of his arm hairs, and then yanked the needle out. “Sorry,” she said. “Did that hurt?”

Dean didn’t say a word. He looked like a wet noodle. He just sat there in the passenger seat of his SUV, slumped against the door like a rag doll.

“I bet you’re wondering how you got an IV in your arm.”

“No,” she said, answering Dean’s unasked question, “I’m not a nurse. I’m a chemist. But making a homemade IV turned out to be no big deal. There’s a good chance you might get an infection, of course, but no need to worry about that because you’ll be dead soon.”

Once she had all her things packed away, she took hold of Dean’s arm and pulled him toward her, trying to drag him over the console and into the driver’s seat. This wasn’t going to be easy. She opened the driver’s door, turned her back to it, braced her feet against the console, and heaved. Good God, the man was a load, but she was making progress. She had to stop a few times to take a breath and then try again. His shoulders were across, then his trunk—and then, finally, all in a rush, she was flying out of the car and he was coming out of the SUV after her, hanging up at the last second or he would’ve crushed her beneath him.

“Jeez. How much do you weigh, Dean?”

He couldn’t answer her, of course, but she had to admit she was having fun with him. Well, if you could call pulling a two-hundred-pound man from the passenger seat to the driver’s seat fun. It was slow going tucking his legs down where they needed to go and hoisting him up behind the wheel, but she managed.

“I was surprised you showed up tonight,” Jenny told him, panting beside the open door with her hands on her knees. Even in the cold night air, she was sweating like mad. “Despite not being prepared, I put a lot of thought into how I might get rid of your body. I thought about chopping you up and feeding you to the big boar on my parents’ pig farm but decided against it. Besides, I don’t even think the eight-hundred-pound boar would enjoy nibbling on you, Dean. You don’t look anything like the big hot stud who used to throw the ball across the field every Friday night. Those tight pants of yours always made the cheerleaders work extra hard for you.”

She had her breath now. She straightened his clothes and his hair as best she could, then fastened his seatbelt nice and tight and walked around to the other side of the vehicle. She climbed into the SUV’s passenger seat and pulled the bottle of whiskey she’d brought from beneath the seat.

She wore rubber gloves and a hairnet. She was on her game.

After opening the bottle of booze, she slid close enough to reach over and put it to his lips.

One of his fingers twitched.

The alcohol drizzled from his mouth and down his chin. She put his hand around the bottle, making sure his prints were there in case they found him sooner rather than later.