Page 67 of Trace of Doubt
“Which one?”
“Shelby Pearce. Ready for this? Clay Pearce is a money-laundering suspect.”
“Are you kidding?” I told him about my hospital stay, the goings-on, and Eli Chandler. “I was in Sharp’s Creek yesterday, drove Shelby to see her mother. She’s dying of cancer and requested to see her daughter. Anyway, I don’t care for the guy, but if Pearce is involved in money-laundering, he’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”
“Points to him taking the $500K from Marissa and Travis Stover and cleaning it up for himself.”
“Yep. When did he intend to use it? Stuff it in his casket?” I missed something in talking to him, and it aggravated me. “I’d like to see the report.”
“Figured so. I’ll make sure you get it when we’re finished talking.”
“Have you talked to Pearce?”
“Another reason for my call. Since we worked the Pearce case, good old Clay might feel more comfortable if we conducted the interview.”
“He hasn’t won the Most-Likable Citizen Award.” I definitely could live my days without talking to him. “When do you want to go?”
“Monday?”
Gave me an extra day to recuperate, possibly get something to manage the pain without the nondrowsy additive.
“It’s no coincidence Clay Pearce’s name is connected to more than one crime,” Mike said. “Where is Shelby now?”
“On her way to a hotel in Houston. Isaac will have an adjoining room.” I drew in a ragged breath, accompanied by an agonizing throb in my leg, and gave him the latest news. “Shelby is one stubborn lady. She insists she’s okay. Her belief is Isaac’s nighttime stay at the hotel is all the protection she needs.”
“We obviously have a lot of catchin’ up to do. Tomorrow I’ll drive to Austin, pick you up, then on to Valleysburg. We’ll leave early Monday morning.”
I thanked him, and we ended the call. Hard for me to wrap my brain around Clay Pearce as a kingpin in a money-laundering scheme. That was as far-fetched as I could imagine. I replayed my brief encounter with the man who claimed the role of a beaten and grieving man. I’d justified his ill temperament... felt sorry for him even if I didn’t like him. Something didn’t add up, and it would take a lot to convince me Clay had money tucked away somewhere. But I’d follow up. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d spent time and energy on a false accusation.
Worn-out and hurting, I hit the call button, and my giggle angel of mercy agreed to pain meds. With any luck when I wakened, the FIG might have the requested information.
41
SHELBY
I despised having nothing to do. The idle time in the hotel room reminded me of prison. Reading, studying, thinking, TV, crafting jewelry in my mind, and occasional online time bored me until I thought I’d go crazy. I paced and hoped the room below me didn’t complain to the management.
Last evening, Isaac had checked us in as father and daughter with adjoining rooms. Where he conjured up the fake names was beyond me. I bet in Aaron’s and his preretirement days, they were a formidable pair. Still were. They were a bit comical together... short, stout Isaac and tall, thin Aaron.
Concern for Aaron nipped at my conscience... my fault. He’d made it through the night, a plus for his recovery status. I’d like to see him, thank him for his sacrifice, but showing up at the hospital put him in as much danger as at the tank. His family might not be thrilled to see me either.
Denton... how did I feel about him? He occupied way too much of my thoughts. He’d deceived me, but he’d given me a sweet puppy. He’d lied to me, but now he claimed to believe me innocent of taking Travis’s money. He’d paid for Isaac and Aaron to protect me. He’d driven me to see my dying mother—and nearly got himself killed.
The compassion in his eyes told me he cared.
He’d hinted at the two of us being an item.“I wonder why we’ve been thrown together. Mostly our strange attraction when we should hate each other.”
A ruse?
I shook my head. No point in letting my heart stray until this was over. Denying my attraction to Denton offered no consolation to my plunging emotions.
After checking every TV channel, including Spanish, Asian, and Arabic, I gave up. I tagged myself as officially bored. Descending six floors to the restaurant for dinner crossed my mind, but I’d been there earlier for lunch. If my stalkers were watching, I didn’t need to play into their hands.
The last two days crashed against my mind, rolled, and repeated. A ghastly suspicion made me physically ill. Dad had taken my purse before he left me alone with Mom. Had he removed my inhaler? He knew how an asthma attack leveled me.God forgive me for thinking such a despicable thought.
I prayed my spare inhaler sat at the cabin or had fallen out of Denton’s truck.
Edie had downloaded several e-books on her old phone, so I chose a romantic comedy. Not sure why since happily ever after fell into the same category as fairy tales. The story put me to sleep.
