“Take a deep breath ma’am. Who am I speaking to?”
“Taylor Arenas. I work at Powers Group.”
There was a slight pause. “What’s the name of the man you saw shot?”
“Hugh Powers. He’s in his office, on the top floor of the Powers Group building. That bastard Neal Lynch just shot him in cold blood.” Her stomach lurched as she remembered everything in vivid, Technicolor detail.
“Where are you now ma’am?”
“I’m on my way to the police station.”
“Why don’t you pull over and I’ll have an officer meet you?” The woman’s voice was calm, and she was sure the woman meant to be reassuring, but something about her tone rubbed Taylor the wrong way. She knew she was just being paranoid though. The woman only wanted to help.
“No, I’ll be there in like, two minutes. Look, who cares about an officer meeting me? Send someone to the Powers Group before Neal gets away!”
“Ma’am, we already have officers there. I need you to tell me exactly where you are.” Now her voice was forceful, demanding.
What the hell? Alarm bells dinged in Taylor’s head. She knew she was likely being paranoid but… She pressed the end button on the phone call. Why were officers already at the building? Someone would have had to call. And the building had been empty except for… Neal. Had he called? But why would he call for a crime he’d committed? Unless he was telling the cops she did it.
She shook her head. No, the evidence wouldn’t lie.
Frowning, she turned left into the parking lot of the local police station. Palm trees waved beautifully under the clear, blue sky. There should be dark, stormy clouds filling the sky, not beauty on a day like this. On a day one of the most important people in her life had died. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.
She’d break down later. First she needed to talk to the police. The phone rang on the vehicle system, but she ignored it. Driving around the parking lot, she started to park in a spot on the front row but nearly crashed when she saw Gordon Simpson hovering near the front entrance. Wearing black pants and a long, black, dress shirt, he was smoking a cigarette and glancing around. Was he looking for her? If he was he’d probably be looking for her car. Unless he knew she’d taken Hugh’s vehicle…adrenaline punched through her as she gripped the wheel even tighter.
Simpson was part of the security team for the Powers Group and he sometimes worked closely with Neal. What was he doing here? Her heart rate kicked up a notch when he nodded at a man in a suit entering the building. The other man’s badge was clearly visible so he was a cop. Maybe a detective, given the attire. Had Neal sent Simpson here for her? That seemed so insane but she never would have imagined that Neal would shoot Hugh in cold blood, either.
Shifting against the seat, she took her pea coat off, groaning at the discomfort. There was a tear in her coat and her bloody blouse. Crimson stained the pale pink material. She ripped the side of her shirt open a little more to eye the wound fully. A strip of skin was gone, blood trickled down her side, and a dull throb pulsed from the gash. The bullet had literally skimmed her body.
She looked back up and saw Simpson still talking to the cop, laughing at something the man said. Making a split-second decision, she looked in the rearview mirror and reversed. She needed to get home, get the safe deposit key to her bank and retrieve the evidence she’d found regarding the Chemagan company. She’d show it to the police and explain everything that had happened this morning.
Her stepfather had been a cop—an asshole who’d used to shove her mother around until he’d finally killed her in a drunken rage—and Taylor knew how the system worked. Her mom had been murdered because of a department that looked the other way. Once she’d died they’d been all apologetic and talked about how no one had seen the signs, blah, blah blah. When she came to the police she needed irrefutable proof, especially since she wouldn’t put it above Neal to try and twist this whole situation, to frame her. He’d probably claim he shot her in self-defense. And it was clear he had contacts in the department. It turned her stomach.
By the time she made it to her condo complex, the adrenaline rush from earlier was fading. Her hands were clammy and her body was numb as she pulled into the parking lot. When she saw two uniformed police officers standing guard at the entrance, another spike of fear jagged through her like lightning. She kept driving as if she was looking for a parking spot and exited out another entrance.
In the five years since she’d lived here she’d never seen the police here once. No, they had to be here for her.