Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(12)
“Are you sure you’re not misinterpreting all this?” I asked doubtfully. “If this EasyClean person is a contract killer, why didn’t she respond to Patricia Mickler’s posts?” According to Patricia, she’d spent months on that forum searching for someone willing to dispose of her husband before she finally gave up and asked me.
“EasyClean is a professional. She probably vets her targets. Would you have killed Harris if you’d known he was cooking the books for the mob?”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “And I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I am telling you, this EasyClean chick is literally cleaning up, Finn! These jobs do not come cheap. I’ve watched at least three of them go down in the last two weeks.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Not enough data to draw a pattern. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing until that third job showed up, and I didn’t want to worry you for nothing. It does make you wonder though…”
“Wonder what?”
“About all that money.” Vero tapped her chin, then reached for my circular. “They have a chest freezer on clearance over in Appliances. I bet it would fit in the garage.”
She laughed as I snatched the coupon guide from her. “Where is the snow shovel? And the bird feeder for my mother?”
She sighed and frowned at her cart. “I guess Delia and I got distracted.”
The crowds were starting to thin as we pushed our carts down the wide center aisle toward Lawn and Garden. I checked the time on my phone. “We’ll have to hurry. Steven’s picking the kids up in an hour to go Christmas tree shopping.”
“I can’t believe you’re letting them go with him,” Vero muttered so the kids wouldn’t hear.
“What choice do I have?” He had a legal right and an annoyingly capable attorney. “Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, but they’ll be outside in a public place. And we both checked the forum this weekend. It’s been a month and no one has responded to the post, and it’s buried under hundreds of new messages anyway. I’m sure the kids will be fine.”
“I don’t know, Finn,” she said as we turned down the gardening aisle. “EasyClean’s been keeping very busy. What if she’s already out there, scoping Steven out?”
“I seriously doubt it.” Even as I said it, something twisted in my gut. I didn’t like the idea of the kids being out there alone with Steven while he had a target on his back. “I mean, I can’t call him and tell him he can’t spend time with the kids without me. I’ve insisted on coming with them to every visit this month. He’s starting to get suspicious.”
Vero’s head tipped as she scrutinized the selection of bird feeders. “Maybe there’s another way to keep an eye on the kids without going with them?”
“What do you mean?”
She slid a pair of binoculars off a bird-watching display and dropped them in my cart. “Didn’t you learn anything from your field trips with Detective Anthony?”
CHAPTER 6
Vero and I slouched in the front seat of an old Chevy sedan, bundled in winter coats, knit hats, and scarves, with two steaming coffees and a half-empty box of Dunkin’ Donuts between us. Vero had left her Charger on the lot at Ramón’s garage and borrowed a set of keys to one of his loaner cars. When Steven came to pick up the kids, I’d helped them into their coats and strapped Delia’s backpack on her shoulders, waving an enthusiastic goodbye as Steven’s pickup pulled out of the driveway. Then I’d grabbed my coat, locked my house, and dashed to meet Vero at the curb. We’d followed Steven’s truck to the Christmas tree farm, careful to keep our distance, backing into a dark parking space at the end of the gravel lot.
Vero squinted through her binoculars. “Should we move a little closer?”
“If we get any closer, he might see us.” The Christmas tree lot was packed with cars, the neat rows of precut spruces, firs, and pines illuminated by warm white lights that had been strung from wooden frames. Holiday music piped through overhead speakers, and farm attendants in elf hats wandered through the rows, collecting cash from customers and carrying trees to awaiting cars.
“There they are!” Vero said, pointing out the windshield. I sat up and set my coffee in the drink holder, leaning closer to see Delia and Zach as Vero passed me the binoculars. Zach squirmed under Steven’s arm. Delia dragged him through the rows by his other. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn’t make anything out.
“Turn the volume up.”
Vero adjusted the bright blue knob on the receiver on the dashboard. Delia’s excited chatter broke through the static, muffled by the rasp of the baby monitor as it jostled inside her backpack. I’d turned it on and zipped it inside right before Steven had picked them up. “What’s the range on this thing?” Vero asked.
“According to the manufacturer, it’s good for a thousand feet.” I laid the binoculars on the dash, allowing myself a few sips of coffee, feeling slightly more at ease as the sounds of Delia’s babbling filled the car.
“I think my mom’s right,” I said. “I should hire a decent divorce lawyer to handle the custody stuff. I’m completely out of my league trying to handle Steven myself.”