Jagger stood on the corner, smoking, watching her carefully like a predator eyeing prey. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s too late for games. You’re Razrsharp. It’s your account, right? You sent Gavin the emails. You lured him to Fredenberg Lake on your little treasure hunt, and then — what? Did you slash his tire while he was in the woods? That way, you knew he’d have to call a tow truck. Someone would see him up there.”
Jagger blew a smoke ring and listened to her with a smirk frozen on his face. Serena shook her head, as if shooing away a mosquito. The odd buzzing in her ears got louder.
“Once we knew Gavin had been up in those woods, you knew we’d start searching the area,” she went on. “Is that when you took Chelsey up there? I bet she’d only been in that hole for a few hours when we found her. Did you stay close by? Just to make sure she was safe?”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.”
“I think I do scare you. And I should. I have enough for a warrant. Once we get a look at your apartment, your computer, and your phone, we’re going to find everything we need to put both of you away.”
“A warrant? Good luck with that. I tended bar at a wedding. I kissed a drunk wife. Big deal.”
“You also lied about knowing Nikki Candis,” Serena said. Despite the cold night air, she was feeling hot. Sweat gathered like dew on the back of her neck, and a flush rose on her cheeks.
“I worked for Nikki a couple of times. That’s all.”
“Really? I think you met her right here. You told me you only got the bartending job a few months ago, but you’ve lived a couple of blocks away from the bar for five years. This was your place, right? Just like it was Nikki’s place. You were both regulars. How many times did you take her home? How many times did you wake up next to her, and she didn’t even remember the previous night? That’s what gave you the idea, isn’t it? That’s how you figured out you could get rid of Jonah Fallon without anyone suspecting he’d been murdered.”
“That’s quite the story. Do you think you can prove it?”
“Let’s see.”
Beside her, the passenger door of the Mustang swung open, and Delaney Candis got out of the car. She stood next to Serena on the sidewalk and stared at Jagger, her young face ice-cold with rage.
“Do you recognize him, Delaney?” Serena said.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, I know him. I’ll never forget him. I found him in my mother’s bed half a dozen times. He would get her drunk and take her home. He knew all about her blackouts.”
A stiffness came over Jagger’s body. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe on the sidewalk. He stared at the teenager for a long moment, and then he exhaled with a quick, cynical laugh. “Chelsey said I should kill the girl. I said no. But she was right.”
“You tried to run her down last night. Didn’t you?”
Jagger shrugged. “You were in the bar talking about Nikki. That freaked me out. I knew we had trouble.”
“Delaney, get back in the car,” Serena told her. And then to Jagger: “Get on your knees. Put your hands on top of your head.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“On your knees. Do it.”
He made no effort to move. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have an exit strategy? A backup plan? I figured I might have to run. That’s okay. I told you, I’m a rolling stone.”
Serena reached around to the small of her back and removed her gun. Delaney was still standing next to her on the sidewalk. “Back in the car,” she repeated to the girl. “Right now.”
Wait.
Did she even say that?
She heard the words, but they floated away into the air, and she didn’t know if they’d made it to her lips. She hesitated, feeling strange. Delaney was looking at her with a confused, horrified expression on her face. Meanwhile, Jagger was grinning. That damn sexy grin.
“You don’t look so good, Serena,” he said.
He was right. Her eyes blinked in and out of focus. She took a step toward him, and the ground undulated under her feet, as if carried by an ocean wave. Dizziness swept through her mind.
“Serena!” Delaney cried, but the girl’s voice sounded far away.
She felt a surge of nausea, and she knew. The truth blinded her in one helpless instant. Jagger had seen her come into the bar; he’d seen her face; he’d known why she was there. He’d been ready for her.
What had he put in her drink? GHB? Rohypnol? Ketamine? Whatever it was, it was hitting her hard and fast.
Her fingers felt numb. She struggled to keep her gun steady, but her arms felt disconnected from the rest of her body, like a marionette with broken strings. She couldn’t walk; she couldn’t stand anymore. As her knees buckled, she was vaguely conscious of Delaney kneeling beside her and trying to hold her up, and then of Jagger closing the distance between them and peeling the gun away from her fingers.
He grabbed Delaney as the teenager tried to run. He choked off her scream.
That was all.
Then Serena’s mind spiraled down like a crashing plane, and the world went black.
“Serena’s still not answering her phone,” Stride said. “It goes straight to voice mail. Cat hasn’t heard from her, either. And the locater app doesn’t show it at all. It’s turned off.”
Maggie frowned at him. “Could she be...?”
“Drinking? No. I know her. She’s in control of that again. She was with Delaney Candis, but Delaney’s not answering her phone either. I don’t like this. She shouldn’t be off the grid tonight.”
He stared over the trees at the lake, listening to his instincts, which told him that something was wrong. Then he grabbed his phone and dialed. A few seconds later, Curt Dickes answered.
“Stride! Hey, long time, man! What’s shakin’?”
“Curt, I don’t have time to talk. You sent Serena to a massage therapist who works with Chelsey Webster. She told Serena she thought Chelsey was having an affair. Did you ever hear who it was with?”
“No, I hear a lot of gossip, but nothing about that. Why, what’s up?”
Stride ignored the question. “I need Broadway’s phone number. Quickly.”
The easy tone of Curt’s voice changed immediately. “Are you kidding, Stride? He finds out I’m doxing him, and that’s not good for my business. Or my health.”
“Give it to me, and I owe you one. A get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Curt unleashed a loud sigh. “Shit, okay, fine, fine, I’ll text you the number.”
“Thank you, Curt.”
Stride hung up. A few seconds later, his text tone sounded, and he checked his messages. Curt had sent him a contact file with a phone number and no name attached to it. He opened it up and quickly dialed the number.
The youthful voice of Broadway answered on the first ring. He didn’t sound surprised to get the call. “Well, Lieutenant Stride, hello. How resourceful of you to find me. Let me guess, Curt?”
“No comment.”
“Oh, I really have no issue with Curt giving you my number. I would have given it to you myself if you’d asked. I assumed it wasn’t Gavin, because I hear that he won’t be joining me for Friday games anymore. That’s a shame.”
Stride shook his head, wondering how Broadway had heard the news of Gavin’s death so quickly. But he didn’t bother asking about the man’s sources.
“I need information,” he said.
“Go on.”
“Did Gavin ever mention — or did you hear anything — about Chelsey Webster having an affair? Do you know who she was seeing?”
Even in the silence, Stride could hear the man smiling. Whatever else Broadway was, he was shrewd. “Ah, Chelsey. The fact that you’re asking about her makes me think your investigation has taken some interesting turns. I did tell you that I thought there were some deep waters with that woman.”