headed for her rental, keeping an eye on Sam Johnson as he strode toward his own sedan. She got into her car and started the engine. The opportunity to hit the street at the same time he did wasn’t possible, but she did fall in three cars behind him.
She gripped the steering wheel in a death lock as she waited for an opportunity to maneuver closer to his black sedan. A stop light caught her after he’d passed through it.
“Damn!”
Her heart thudding in her chest, she waited for the green. Her foot instinctively shifted from the brake to the accelerator the instant the light changed. She’d never catch him now.
The cell phone in her pocket vibrated. Not taking her eyes off the back of Johnson’s car, she dug out her phone and took a breath.
“Smith.”
“Hey, Smith, where the hell are you?”
Lisa’s pulse skittered. Her partner, Charles Sanford.
“I’m…headed to a spa appointment,” she lied. “Where the hell are you?”
She cut right, edging between two cars, which left only one between her and Johnson.
“I figured you’d still be in bed. You’re supposed to be partying, hanging out in the bars all night. Isn’t that what singles do when they go to Cozumel?”
She glanced at the digital clock on the dash—9:20 a.m. Two hours earlier in L.A.
“I had to take the first appointment of the morning to get this particular masseur. He’s supposed to be the best.” She bit her lip and hoped he’d go for the lie.
“Oh-ho, I see how it is. Well, enjoy. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were behaving yourself.”
“Thanks, Chuck. I’ll see you next week.”
Lisa closed the phone and slid it back into her pocket. Was her partner suspicious? She couldn’t be sure. She’d given him no reason to be…but he was no fool. He’d been at this a whole lot longer than she had. He knew she was obsessing over the news about Johnson. In fact, she’d used that as her excuse for the abrupt vacation. The timing had worked out perfectly. Her parents were away on vacation with friends, as well, so she didn’t have to worry about them calling to check up on her.
Still, her story might not be enough for her partner.
Pushing her partner’s call aside, she changed lanes, tried to get behind Sam’s car. She’d almost caught up with him. As she moved closer, a look at the license plate told her she’d made a mistake at some point since leaving the Colby Agency parking lot.
This wasn’t Johnson’s car.
Where was he?
There was no other vehicle matching his for as far as she could see.
With no other choice, she drove to the rental agency and parked. No sign of Sam Johnson in the lot.
Just her luck. Less than an hour after coming face-to-face with him again and he’d lied to her already.
So much for finding the truth.
Chapter Three
Sam watched Lisa Smith climb out of her rental car and survey the lot. She was looking for him. He shouldn’t keep her guessing like this, but he needed to be sure of her motives. He’d played a little switch-and-bait with her, falling in between a couple of other black sedans and then abruptly making an exit while she followed the others. Even with that one traffic signal to his advantage, he could only assume she’d been distracted, otherwise he wasn’t sure he would have fooled her so easily.
He’d taken a shortcut to the rental agency and parked where he could watch her arrive.
When she walked out of the rental office, an overnight bag in her hand, and took another long look around the lot, he decided to put her out of her misery. He backed out of the parking slot where he’d waited, then pulled up right in front of her.
She tried to act as if she weren’t surprised as she stowed her bag in the back, then slid into the passenger seat, but he knew better.
“Did you get an unexpected call?” he ventured as he merged into the traffic on the street.
Her startled glance in his direction gave him his answer. He’d been guessing, of course. But a cell phone call was the most likely culprit whenever a driver got distracted. Since she didn’t have any passengers, hadn’t been eating while driving and there hadn’t been any traffic incidents to vie for her attention, then the cell phone was the probable candidate. He’d gotten away from her too easily to believe that one traffic signal had done the trick. This lady was trained in surveillance.
“Or maybe you made one,” he went on when she couldn’t decide how to answer. “Maybe to let your partner know how and when we were arriving.”
The line of her jaw tightened. She didn’t have to be looking at him for him to sense her anger. He’d ticked her off by suggesting she was keeping something from him. That she didn’t deny his charges didn’t bode well. The detective was hiding something, it seemed.
“Detective Sanford called,” she said crisply, maintaining that steady watch on the traffic in front of their car.
“Did you give him an update on me?” He should have known that she wouldn’t be working alone. The cop mentality was pair oriented.
“I told him I was on my way to a spa appointment.” She looked at him then. “He thinks I’m in Cozumel on vacation.”
Sam fixed his attention on the street as he maneuvered through midmorning traffic. “If I find out you’re lying to me—”
“You won’t.”
Instead of driving directly to the office, he turned in the direction of his place. He might as well pack a bag and check the aquarium. Once preparation was underway back at the office, he didn’t want to have to break away for anything as menial as grabbing his toothbrush. He’d driven a dozen or so blocks before she spoke up. He hadn’t expected to get that far.
“Where are we going?”
“My place.” He took the next left. “I’m sure you already know the address.”
She didn’t bother denying his charge. He imagined that she knew all there was to know about him except the details of why and how the three scumbags who murdered Anna were executed.
He couldn’t really hold that against her. He’d done his research on her, as well as her partner, not long after his fiancée was murdered. At the time, he’d considered it his job to know if the cops on the case were up to snuff.
“I know a few things myself. Lisa Marie Smith,” he said out loud, mostly to unnerve her. “Thirty-one, born in San Diego, graduated Berkley with a degree in criminology. Made detective just over five years ago, much to the annoyance of your male peers. Assigned to homicide one month later. No family in L.A. Never been married. One dog.”
She continued her steady gaze out the windshield.
