Focused on her own investigation, she almost disregarded it. But now that she’d been pulled to the surface, a gnat in her brain buzzed, and she opened the video wider.
A broad-shouldered young man in cut-offs and tank top loomed over the clerk and counter. He had a six-pack of beer and pointed at the cigarette cartons behind the counter. What kind of drugstore still carried cigarettes? The same clerk she’d observed earlier added a carton to the purchase and rang it up. Instead of taking cash, the clerk handed the customer a stack of hundreds, and pocketed a bill of his own.
What?
She wasn’t good at reading expressions. Besides, she couldn’t really see the customer’s face until he turned to leave and walked off camera. Other than noticing he was young and didn’t appear surprised or anything else as he stuffed the cash in the pocket of his frayed cut-offs, she simply couldn’t understand what she was watching.
who?she typed.
pris’s wire transfer
Wide-eyed, Ariel studied the screen. This young hunk had nothing better to do than steal from old ladies? To buycigarettes? And no one stopped him?
Another email popped into her box. Now curious, she opened it to find a second link. This was a good way to infect her computer, but it came from Roark, so she clicked it.
A second camera angle opened, this one outside the store, aimed at the front entrance, sidewalk, and a piece of the parking lot.How did he do this?
Remembering her own game cameras and their accessibility, she assumed he had a contact inside drugstore security. He’d pulled strings.
This camera revealed the hood of a white police car by the curb. She could only see a bit of the official stripe, so she couldn’t read what town. An officer was standing by the door, watching the parking lot, one hand on his holstered gun. Beyond him, she could only see legs on the other side of the car. One set of muscular legs was wearing cut-offs. The other appeared to be wearing uniform trousers.
Frustrated, she texted Roark.what’s happening?
checking id
A minute later, an email popped up in her box.They can’t arrest him for picking up wired cash, but I recognize him. He’s a cousin working with my da.
Irritated, she typed back,He took more money than you wired!
Day’s earnings, less clerk’s commission for not questioning.
The kid had stolen all that money from people like Pris’s mom, and the police couldn’t arrest him? That just wasn’t right.What do we do?She emailed back, enraged.
Roark pounded on the front door. Should she let him in? She had to. He was the only one who could stop these miscreants. Biting her lip, Ariel opened the door and absorbed the impact of male musk, bronzed shoulders, and wicked white smile. She wanted to slam the door again, but he pushed through as if he owned the place. His over-the-top confidence was maddening.
“I have a dude following Omer once the cops let him go. We need the location of da’s new phone bank. Proving charges ain’t easy. Blowing them up doesn’t work. We need to take out their money and the leader.” Roark paced the limited space by her front window.
Ariel retreated behind her computers. “They’re stealing!”
“People wire that money willingly. You want to persuade Pris’s mom to go to New Orleans to testify he didn’t deliver the Cadillac?”
“Youcould.” Agitated, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“I sent three bucks, hardly a federal charge. We need to trace the money and the connections, find the big spider in this web. I know for certain sure that Omer and my da are bit players.” He switched gears and opened the door. “Want to try your new bike?”
She wanted to crawl under the desk and bang her head again.
* * *
“Your mother saysyou sucked your thumb and wet your bed as a kid.” Evie sat cross-legged on the floor of Granny’s now empty apartment.
“Every kid does at some point. I’m not falling for the ghost crap. Tell me what you’re really after.” Professor James Gump sipped from a whiskey tumbler. He didn’t offer them any. Judging by the emptiness, he’d probably left only one glass for himself.
Not that Evie would have accepted a drink from the uptight old goat. He was worse than Jax. “I want your mother’s killer caught and whoever is stealing from these nice old people stopped. You have a dark, muddy gray in your first chakra. Do you have a heart doctor?”
Or he lacked a heart, but that wasn’t polite to say. Loretta would probably say he had a walnut for a soul.
The old fed all but rolled his eyes and looked over her head to Jax. “I’ve seen my mother’s files. She had very little evidence of anything more than petty theft between the residents—hardly a federal case.”