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“Or someone looking for Jennifer did.”
“Nope, it was Brittney. I’m ninety-five percent certain.”
Jack trusted Margo’s expertise and instincts. Maybe because she’d spent three years of her six-year stint in the Army as an MP, or maybe because she was just wired that way. Jack had tried to get her to join Phoenix PD when she decided not to reenlist, but she said no, that she had her fill of “following stupid rules.” He’d always wanted to know what happened—because something must have turned her off law enforcement—but she rarely talked about her time in the military, and he didn’t push.
A car turned up the long driveway and one of the garage doors started to open. Just as the sporty convertible pulled into the garage bay, Margo jumped out without comment.
Twenty
Margo Angelhart
As the garage door started to close behind Brittney’s car, I stuck my foot in front of the sensor to force the door to roll back up.
Brittney was already getting out of the car and jumped when she saw me walk through the opening.
“What the hell are you doing here? My husband is home!”
“No more lies. Tell me what the hell you’re up to.”
“Have you been drinking? Go away or I’ll call security.”
I had a couple of theories, but I went with the obvious. “You hired Rachel Roper to seduce your husband, at least to the point where you thought I might be able to get pictures of him in a compromising position. Problem? I’m good. I saw her drug him.” Slight fib. Jack saw her, but there was no reason to bring my brother into it.
“What?” Brittney’s eyes went wide. She glanced around as if looking for an escape. Score one for the PI.
“Cut the bullshit. You told me yesterday that Logan was meeting someone tonight at The Beverly. Yet Rachel didn’t call him until this afternoon. She dropped Jennifer White’s name. That’s where you fucked up. I put Jennifer’s name in my report, and you knew that your husband was trying to help her. He told you about meeting with her—you neglected to tell me that. He told you about how he and Jennifer were rendered unconscious... You also neglected to share that with me. He even told you that he was meeting a friend of Jennifer’s tonight—but you knew that, because you set the whole thing in motion.”
Brittney glanced toward the door to the house, worry clouding her expression. “Why are you making all this up?”
But there was no venom in her words. Just a woman caught in a sticky web of lies, trying to think of a way to pull free.
“You put your husband in danger tonight,” I said. “You’re lucky my associate and I were there to help him. He could have been molested, he could have been robbed, he could have gotten behind the wheel of a car and killed someone.”
“Did you tell him? Oh, my God, that’s not what happened!”
“I didn’t tell him that you set him up.” I paused a fraction of a second, waiting for Brittney to jump in with a fierce denial. She was silent.
“I’m done,” I said. “I’m sending you a report and my final bill. I expect prompt payment. My report will list everything I believe you did. If anything happens to your husband, I will turn it over to the police—along with photos of Rachel Roper drugging him.”
“You can’t do that. We have an NDA!”
I didn’t usually work with a written contract, but when a client wanted me to sign an NDA, I had them sign a contract to protect myself. “Read the contract. It’s very clear.” I took a step closer to her. “Not only is there no evidence that your husband is cheating on you, but I think you made up the whole story. I don’t know what game you’re playing, what you want, or why you thought you could use me, but it’s over.”
I stared at her until she fidgeted, then I turned and strode back to Jack’s truck. He’d moved over to the driver’s seat, so I climbed in on the passenger side.
“Did you get Rachel’s address?” I asked. I wanted to talk to her.
“No, but we have the name and number for the girlfriend experience. No one answered. I didn’t leave a message.”
“Damn. Okay, I guess we have nothing to do.”
“It’s nearly nine. Those appetizers were not a meal. I’m starving.”
Food. What did she have at home? “I might be able to grill up a couple of sandwiches, if the bread isn’t moldy.”
“You owe me a beer. Let’s go to North Mountain Brewing. I could use a good cheeseburger.”
“Sold.”
