When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions)

by Lynette Eason

A slight pause echoed over the line before he said, “What can I do for you, Ms. Allen?”

  “Please, call me Alexia.”

  “All right. Why don’t you call me Michael? I’m very informal with my congregation.”

  But she wasn’t part of his congregation. “I’m on my way to see my mother. You seem to be . . . close . . . to her. I just . . .” This was harder than she’d thought it would be. “I just wanted to know . . .” Again, she faltered.

  A light laugh came over the line. “Are you calling to ask what my intentions are toward your mother?”

  She flushed, grateful he couldn’t see her discomfort. “Maybe.” Yes. “I mean I know it’s not really my place, I don’t have the right, but I just—”

  “You do have the right. You’re Hannah’s daughter.”

  “Michael, I haven’t been her daughter for ten years.” She couldn’t seem to find her filters. The words tumbled from her lips and she waited to see what this man would say. How could he not lambast her for being a lousy daughter? She hadn’t even made regular trips to the hospital to see her mother.

  But he didn’t. He simply said, “To Hannah, you’ve always been in her heart. You and Dominic, both. She’s prayed every day for your return and the return of your brother.”

  Alexia drew in a deep breath and shuddered.

  A car pulled up beside her and she jerked, ready to throw the vehicle in gear and speed off. However, it was just her shadow. Katie Isaacs. She rolled her window down and motioned to her phone.

  Katie rolled her eyes, but nodded and backed off. Alexia grimaced her dislike of the woman but figured she’d do her job. If she let Alexia die on her watch, Hunter would point the finger right in Katie’s face.

  Small comfort. She’d still be dead.

  “Ms. Allen? Alexia?”

  Alexia blinked. “Sorry, I was . . . distracted.”

  “My intentions toward your mother are honorable. My wife died six years ago. Since then, I’ve carried on, but it’s been lonely. Then your mother joined the church and she just brought a whole new dimension of joy to my life.”

  “My father was an abusive man,” she blurted. “A horrible, selfish, awful man.”

  “I know.”

  “She told you? Everything?”

  “Everything. At least I think so.”

  Alexia swallowed hard. “She sent me away. Practically pushed me out the door.”

  What was she saying? She didn’t want to do this on the phone.

  “You were in danger.” His voice was soft. “Ask her.”

  “What? In danger? How?” But she knew. “From my father.” The words came out flat.

  “Just talk to her. Really talk to her. And listen.”

  The compassion in his voice made her want to weep. And it made her want to see her mother. “All right. I’ll try.”

  “Right now, your mother’s having a few more tests run. I’m not telling you not to come to the hospital, but you might have quite a long wait. They came and got her about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh. I think I’ll go on home then. Will you call me when she’s finished?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “Thank you.”

  She was scared. No doubt about it. But she couldn’t stay at the Grahams’ tonight, not after finding out they would be home early tomorrow morning. Seeing Hunter’s father at the dinner was one thing; facing him in their home was another. Hunter hadn’t liked it, but had given in to her stubbornness with the understanding that she would have someone on guard and he would check in with her on a regular basis. She didn’t argue with him on those points.

  Alexia peered out the window and felt her tense shoulders tighten even more. Katie had followed her home and waited for her replacement before leaving, and Chad had called twice to check on her. The unmarked car sat at the curb. The pretty black dress hung on the hook on the door of Serena’s closet. Everything was as it should be.

  The female officer, Marty Howell, had been assigned to her inside the house. She spent her time pacing between the French doors leading to the deck and the back door leading to the garage, and on her radio with her partner on the curb.

  Walking into the den, Alexia turned on the TV, settled in the recliner, and stared at the flickering screen. Annoyed with it, she flipped the television off.

  Chewie jumped in her lap and Alexia grunted. “You’re a heavy thing, aren’t you?”

  The cat kneaded Alexia’s right thigh before perching to wash a front paw. Yoda’s nails clicked on the hardwoods as she joined them. With a weary groan, Alexia leaned her head back against the chair and gazed at the ceiling. Her thoughts ran wild. Fear was now her constant companion.

  The other human body in the house helped, especially since she knew how to use a gun. But Alexia’s nerves jumped and her heart thudded.

  “Are you all right?” Officer Howell asked from the kitchen doorway.

  Alexia nodded and forced a stiff smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” The woman flashed a friendly smile. “Just checking. I’m going to walk to the back of the house and look out those windows, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  Alexia glanced to her right.

  The Bible lay on the end table where she’d put it. More pieces of paper stuck out from the end. She reached around Chewie to pick up the Bible and flipped to one of the pieces of paper and read the note aloud.

  Hey Alexia, I’m so glad you’re reading this. Just know that I’m praying for you. Praying for you to come to terms with your past. Praying that you find the God you’re searching for. (Hint: He’s not hard to find. It’s not like he’s hiding.) And I’m praying that things work out for you and Hunter if that’s what God’s got in mind. (Don’t think I didn’t notice the way he looked at you.) He’s always been a little in love with you. Yeah. I noticed. Anyway, keep reading, Lex. Sending you hugs from China. Serena.

  The lump in her throat grew. Serena. The one person who’d stood beside her through everything. The one person who hadn’t given up on her or tossed her aside.

  Serena loved God and wanted Alexia to understand why. For that reason, Alexia would read every word Serena left her. She’d read the Bible cover to cover if that’s what Serena wanted.

  It was the least she could do.

  She opened the Bible. And paused.

  It was awfully quiet.

  Yoda paced to the front door then back. To the window, then in the kitchen.

  “Yoda? Come on, girl, what’s wrong?”

  The dog came to her side and sat, cocked her ears. Turned back to the front door.

  Uneasy, Alexia set the Bible back on the end table and stood. Chewie meowed in protest, but Alexia ignore her. She walked to the window, pushed aside the curtain. Her watchdog was still there.

  So what was her problem?

  She checked the alarm. Armed and ready. Cop on the prowl inside, cop on guard outside.

  Alexia sighed and looked at Yoda, who had followed her every step. “I need to relax.”

  If only.

  Her cell phone rang and she jumped. Heart thudding, she wondered again how her stalker had found her number. She glanced at the caller ID and felt her pulse slow.

  Hunter.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  His warm voice flowed over her, soothing her agitated nerves with that one word. “Hi there.”

  “Are you settled in for the night?”

  “I think so. You?”

  “Hmm. Not really. Working on this case is keeping me wide awake.” He paused. “Is Jimmy outside?”

  “Is that the cop in the car on my curb?”

  He chuckled. “That’s the one.”

  “Then yep, he’s there. And Officer Howell is doing her job prowling the house,” she said before he could ask. She settled back into the recliner. Yoda had made herself at home on her bed in front of the fireplace.

  “I’m looking forward to tomorrow night,” Hunter said.

  Ale
xia smiled, her earlier nerves calming as she talked to this man she was coming to really care about. She yawned, then said, “I am too.”

  “The dinner starts at seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that all right?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Great. Here’s the other thing. I’m off tomorrow. What would you say to spending the morning on the lake? Just you and me and a couple of bodyguards in a separate boat.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely.” She frowned. “But you have to get me back here in time to get ready for the evening.”

  He laughed. “I can handle that.”

  “Then sure, I’d love to.”

  “Great, I’ll see you in the morning around eight?”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  The conversation lagged, seemed stilted. Because neither of them wanted to hang up? Possibly. “Hunter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m . . . scared.”

  She could almost see him sobering. “I know, Lex. I promise I’m working hard to find the person doing this to you.”

  “I know you are.” She sighed. “I just . . . I’m afraid.”

  “Can I give you a verse?”

  “A Bible verse?” Him too? Seriously? “Sure.”

  “Psalm 56.”

  “Psalm 56 what?”

  “The whole chapter, but the first few verses often bring me comfort when I feel like the bad guys are winning.”

  He felt that way? “What’s it say?”

  “Hold on a sec, let me get my Bible and I’ll read you the whole passage.” She heard his footsteps retreat, then come back. “Okay. You ready?”

  “Shoot.”

  He read, “‘When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me? All day long they twist my words; they are always plotting to harm me.’”

  “Boy, is that accurate or what?” she breathed.

  He gave a light chuckle. “Yes, it goes on with David asking God not to let them escape and for God to bring down the nations. And that when he calls out to God, his enemies will turn back. That’s how he knows that God is on his side. Verse 13 says, ‘For you have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.’”

  For some reason she felt a lump in her throat. Maybe God did care about her. Maybe he cared enough to put two people in her life who wanted to steer her to him.

  Something to think about. “I like those verses.” She climbed out of the recliner, still holding the Bible, and made her way to the guest bedroom. “I’m going to look them up.”

  A pause. Had she shocked him speechless?

  Then he said, “Good, I’m glad.”

  “Hunter?”

  “Yeah?”

  She curled up on top of the comforter and opened the Bible again. “Will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?”

  His husky voice came through. “Sure, just put me on speakerphone. I’ll do the same.”

  “Thanks, Hunter.”

  33

  Friday, 9:52 p.m.

  Hunter held his cell phone to his ear and heard Alexia’s soft, even breathing. He smiled as he put the phone on mute and laid it on the charging pad. Then he stood and began pacing. His mind worked the case, going over it point by point.

  Something bothered him, something he was missing. The nagging at his subconscious wouldn’t go away, so he worked on trying to bring it to the forefront of his mind.

  He grabbed the file folder from the end table and opened it before him. Just as he started to read, his doorbell rang. Frowning, he checked his weapon, then walked to the front door. A quick glance out the side window made him relax.

  Katie. Opening the door, he said, “Hey.”

  She stepped in and shut the door behind her. “We need to talk.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Lousy, but I can’t sleep and I can’t get better as long as this case has me by the throat.”

  “I was just going through some of my notes. Want to join me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “But if you get me sick, you forfeit your vacation days. I get them.”

  “Dream on. What do you have?”

  Together, they read through his summary:

  Monday:

  Devin Wickham found dead in Hannah Allen’s home.

  Alexia attacked in the hospital parking lot.

  Tuesday:

  Someone shoots at Alexia with darts. Chad shows up to offer help, to see how she’s doing.

  Wednesday:

  Someone broke into Hannah Allen’s home and planted the knife in Alexia’s bedroom.

  Took knife to the lab. Found a print of a list of possible matches. No names recognized by me or Alexia.

  Alexia is almost kidnapped outside the restaurant. (How did they know she’d be there?) Chad shows up and rescues her.

  At the hospital, watched the videos of the attack on Alexia. No help there. Van was stolen.

  Alexia got a threatening phone call.

  Katie’s house burns and my car explodes. Chad shows up.

  Thursday:

  Alexia goes to Wickhams’ and finds them murdered (or close to it). Chad shows up.

  Questioned Marcie Freeman. Got the note from someone interested in Devin and wanted Marcie out of the picture. (So, why kill Devin? Are the two related?)

  At the hospital, got list of people with keys to Allen house. Questioned each person who said they hadn’t used the keys.

  Got shot at outside the hospital. (Again, how did shooter know we were there?)

  Brian calls with information that Alexia’s father served time in prison for killing a man in a bar. Got out three months ago and bought a train ticket to Columbia a week and a half ago. History of family abuse—suspect?

  Someone followed Alexia to Serena’s house from the reunion committee meeting. Chad’s car has a flat tire.

  Friday:

  Alexia finds out her brother is also alive and is a cop. Possibly has a grudge against her. Is he in town? *Call Marcus Porter.*

  Alexia goes shopping. Gets another phone call that she’s being watched. Chad shows up.

  Hunter stopped. Focused in on the last three words he’d written.

  Chad shows up.

  A cold chill settled in the pit of his stomach. Chad?

  Did Katie catch that pattern? He looked at her and saw the concentration on her features. Hunter glanced back at the paper.

  “Hunter? I’m a little concerned at what I’m seeing here.”

  “What’s that?” He played innocent.

  “You keep insisting Alexia had nothing to do with what happened to Devin. I have to admit, after studying everything, I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Yeah?” That was a surprise. After her adamant stand that Alexia was behind it all, Hunter didn’t figure she’d change her mind anytime soon.

  “Yeah. After finding Alexia’s necklace at the fire, I knew it was her. But you’re so sure it’s not.” She glanced at him. “And I really do trust your judgment. So, I started going through everything. Combine that with your belief that she’s innocent . . .” Katie shrugged. “It looks like someone might be setting her up. I’ll give you that and try to help you prove it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you must subconsciously suspect Chad. You mention him in almost every notation.” Accusation shot from her eyes. “What are you doing, Hunter?”

  His head felt like it might explode. “I’m trying to solve this case, Katie.”

  “By blaming your brother?”

  “No! I don’t think he’s involved. He couldn’t be. He was drunk and passed out when Devin was killed. He wasn’t anywhere around there, but after he saw Alexia . . .” Hunter raked a hand through his hair. “After he saw her, he just sort of fixated on her. And then the incidents started happe
ning.”

  “And Chad’s always conveniently there.”

  “Coincidence?” Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know. One thing I do know is that he’s not a killer.”

  No, Chad wasn’t a killer. But he kept appearing whenever something happened. And the fact that he was the one rescuing Alexia . . .

  But Chad hadn’t been at the hospital when the shooter had tried to kill Hunter. Had he?

  Could Chad do that?

  Slowly, Hunter stood and walked to the window to stare out, unseeing into the dark while Katie kept quiet, lost in her own thoughts.

  He hoped hers were better than his. Those shots at the hospital had been aimed at him. Not Alexia. Would Chad—

  No, he wouldn’t even go there.

  Chad was a crack shot. If he’d been trying to kill Hunter, Hunter would be dead. But the doubt now niggled at the back of his mind.

  Was it possible the shooting at the hospital had nothing at all to do with the other incidents involving Alexia? He looked back over the list. Then at Katie.

  She said, “We need to figure out a way to prove Chad has nothing to do with the stuff happening to Alexia. And we need to figure it out fast, because if someone else looks at this file and puts it all together like we did . . .”

  “I know. I know.”

  Together, they brainstormed a plan, and by the time Katie left thirty minutes later, Hunter felt the rock of dread in his gut expand, making him wonder if the decision he’d just made would be the end of him.

  Alexia drifted between that state of waking and sleeping, not quite asleep, but not awake. Images flickered through her mind. Devin laughing. Devin’s fist shooting out and catching her in the jaw. Her father’s laughter, low, deep . . . evil. Her brother begging her not to say anything about the drugs she knew he was dealing. Her mother yelling at her to get out of the house and never come back.