Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(69)

My gaze shot to the window across the room. I was only one story up. I could probably jump without killing myself … if I had my shoes. And if I didn’t have to worry about kicking out screens or bleeding all over the rhododendrons under the windows.

I fished my phone from my pocket and texted Vero.

Finn: Need help. Trapped. Theresa’s home.

Vero: Try a window.

Finn: My shoes and keys are in the foyer.

Vero: You suck at this.

Finn: I know!

The phone stayed dark for an interminable amount of time.

Vero: I’ve got a plan. Hang tight. Ten minutes.

I pressed back against the wall, willing myself invisible as Theresa loaded the washer and dryer across the hall and returned to her bedroom to watch TV. Her room was beside the stairs. There was no way to sneak past without being seen.

Her cell phone rang. She muted the television.

“Thank god it’s you. What am I supposed to do?” Theresa’s voice grew louder, then quieter as she paced up and down the hall. “I can’t tell him where I was. He’ll completely freak out. And now I’ve got this detective calling…” I held my breath, struggling to hear as her voice faded into her bedroom. “I can’t risk Steven finding out. We’re in the middle of this damn custody thing with his ex and he says she’s hired a lawyer.” Theresa blew her nose into a tissue. She sniffled through a pause. “Apparently, she found some money somewhere. Something about a book. All I know is that the old crone saw her get into Steven’s truck last night, and by the time I got home, he was passed out drunk … Can you come by tomorrow? I could really use a—”

The conversation was lost in a deafening clatter. A diesel engine rumbled outside Theresa’s office window. Hydraulics whined. Chains rattled.

“Hold on, I’m having trouble hearing you.” Theresa stormed into the office, using her free hand to push down the plastic slats of the window blinds. I pressed back into the wall, breath held and eyes wide, praying she didn’t turn around and see me crouched in the corner beside her bookshelves. “Some asshole’s towing my car!” Theresa spun on her heel and rushed past me, her feet flying down the stairs as an engine revved.

I snuck to the window as a white tow truck labeled RAMóN’S TOWING AND SALVAGE dragged Theresa’s BMW down the street. Theresa ran after it, barefoot and shouting, waving her phone. I sprinted downstairs and grabbed my shoes, checking to make sure Theresa wasn’t looking back before tearing out of her house. The tow truck had stopped a block away. A man, presumably Ramón, wrote on a clipboard, ignoring Theresa’s demands to put the car back where he found it. I dragged on a shoe as I stumbled over her lawn, nearly tripping myself in my rush to get back to the loaner car. As I fought to pull on the second one, I looked up. And froze.

Detective Anthony was parked across the street with his window down, listening as Theresa threatened to kill Ramón twenty ways from Sunday. But it wasn’t Theresa Nick was watching.

He crooked a finger at me, beckoning me to his car. His stern expression left no room for argument.

Shoe in hand, I dashed for his car, slung open the door, and collapsed inside.





CHAPTER 31





Nick’s sedan was a standard-issue retired police cruiser. Navy blue and obvious as hell. I lowered the visor and ducked, peeking out from below the dashboard as Ramón backed Theresa’s car slowly into her driveway while Theresa watched him like a hawk.

“Do I want to know what’s happening here?” Nick asked. I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure my wig-scarf was tucked safely out of sight. As I opened my mouth to defend myself, Nick raised a finger. “Be very careful how you answer that.”

“Can we please just go now?” I sank low in my seat, arms folded over my chest as Nick shook his head and put the car in gear. He hadn’t recognized the loaner car I’d left parked down the block, and I didn’t feel like making a spectacle of myself to get it now.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to pick me up until eleven.”

“I got here early. I saw Theresa’s car pull up as I was heading to your place. Figured I’d watch the house and see if anyone interesting showed up.” A slow grin spread over his face as he turned into my driveway.

“I’m glad you’re amused.” I stormed out of his car and stuck my key in my front door, but Vero threw it open before I could turn the lock. Her jaw hung open when she saw Nick standing behind me.

“Tell Ramón I owe him one,” I said as I brushed past her into the house.

“Detective Anthony, so good to see you.” Vero’s gaze slipped down the length of him as he followed me in. I threw her a reprimanding glare as I peeled off my sweatshirt and draped it over the railing at the foot of the stairs.

Delia peeked around it at Nick. “Who’s that?”

“This is your Aunt Georgia’s friend from work,” I said, trying and failing to smooth down the staticky pieces of my hair that had come loose under the wig-scarf. I tore out the elastic band and scratched the ghost of the itch from my scalp. “His name is Nick.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What’s he doing here?”

I sniffed my shirt. “He’s helping me with research for my new book.”