Sin And Bone. Debra Webb
the vehicle and the driver, they might learn who’d hired him.
“This is it.” The tow-truck driver had escorted them into the storage yard, down the fifth row and seven cars over to where the Lexus was parked. “Damage isn’t so bad. We have a repair service if you want her fixed. We’re happy to fax an estimate to your insurance company.”
“I’ll let you know,” Pierce said. “At the moment, I’d like to gather my wife’s belongings.”
The lie rolled off his tongue without the first flinch or glance away from the man in the summer-weight coveralls. Bella had barely slept last night for mulling over their conversation in his home. Devon Pierce had the poker face down to a science. It was nearly impossible to determine what was truth and what was not. Worse, there was something about him that pulled at her. Certainly not his immense charm, she mused. Something deeper...something darker.
Perhaps a darkness similar to the one that lived inside her—a distrust of others so deep and profound that it muddied any personal feelings she might hope to ever develop. Who was she kidding? She had decided long ago that a personal life was too complicated. Work was far easier.
“All rightie, then.” The driver tossed the keys to Pierce. “Drop them by on your way out. We don’t release the keys or the vehicle until the bill is settled.”
Pierce gave him a nod.
When the driver had headed back to his office, Pierce reached for the driver’s-side door. Bella stopped him with a hand on his arm. “This car is evidence.”
“Be that as it may, I’m having a look in the car.” His tone warned there would be no discussion on the subject.
She reached into her bag and dug up a couple of pairs of latex gloves. She passed a pair to him.
He shot her a look. “The fact that you carry gloves around in your bag could be construed as—”
“I’m a private investigator. The last thing I ever want to do is render a piece of evidence unusable in court.”
She’d seen more than her share of bumbling detectives do exactly that and the perp ended up getting off on a technicality. Not happening on her watch.
While he settled behind the steering wheel, Bella opened the door to the back seat and had a look there. The small black clutch Maynard—or whoever she was—had with her was brought to the hospital. It had contained the driver’s license, lip gloss and a small round makeup mirror. One black high heel lay on the back floorboard. No overnight bag. No trash or spare change. The car looked and smelled brand-new.
“Have a look at this.”
Bella withdrew her upper body from the back seat and moved to the driver’s door. He held documents he’d taken from the glove box.
“The car was bought—if I’m reading this correctly—yesterday.” He passed the paperwork to her. “There’s nothing else here except one black shoe.”
“The other one is in the back seat.” She skimmed the pages. It appeared Cara Pierce had bought the car from the local Lexus dealership yesterday morning. She passed the papers back to him. “Did you check the console between the seats?”
“It’s empty.”
He peered up at her, blue eyes dark with fury. His lean jaw was taut with that same anger. Someone was using his painful past to get to him. But what was the endgame? That was the part Bella couldn’t yet see. Were they trying to discredit him professionally or destroy him personally? The rage in his eyes turned to something even more fierce...something desperate and urgent, something hungry. Bella abruptly realized how close she was standing to him.
Her ability to breathe vanished. “Well.” She stumbled back a step from the vee made by the open door of the car. “Let’s check the trunk.”
He pressed the button on the dash and a pop confirmed the trunk had opened. Bella headed that way with Pierce close behind. She struggled to dispel the hum of uncertainty and something like need inside her. The foolish reaction was surely related to her utter inability to sleep last night.
The trunk was empty save a single sheet of lined paper with words scribbled frantically across it. The page looked as if it had been ripped from a notebook. Blood was smeared across the center of it.
Pierce snatched up the page and stared at it.
“Don’t touch anything,” she warned again. Then she surveyed the trunk once more. Another spot of crimson at the edge of the carpeting snagged her attention. She lifted the carpeting that covered the spare tire area and she stopped.
Blood.
Lots of blood.
Pierce leaned in close, his face far too near to hers. “Ms. Lytle, I believe it’s time to call the police now.”
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