Thanksgiving Target

by Laura Scott

  He sighed and then gave his number so she could program her own phone.

  “Thanks,” she said, closing her phone. “Are you always this bossy?”

  He stared at her for a long minute. “Yes, I guess I am. Comes with being a platoon leader, I imagine.”

  She immediately felt ashamed of her annoyance. Of course he would be used to giving orders. “You need to remember you’re not responsible for me, the way you are for your men,” she said softly.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “Point taken. The reason I was looking for you earlier was to let you know Detective Graham called. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Graham? What happened to Officer Anderson?”

  “Apparently Detective Graham has taken over the case. Here’s his number.” Max slid a crumpled scrap of paper across the cafeteria table toward her. “He wouldn’t talk to me, only to you.”

  Her mouth went dry as she stared at Max’s bold scrawl. She slowly reopened her phone and punched in the numbers. She held her breath as she waited for the detective to answer.

  “Graham.”

  “This is Tara Carmichael. Max told me you called?”

  “Yes. Ms. Carmichael, we’re finished with your car, and I’m sorry to say, we didn’t find any usable fingerprints.”

  “No fingerprints?” She was disappointed. If the police had found fingerprints, they would have had a chance at finding her stalker since many of her clients had their prints on file.

  “No. And we’re still investigating the cause of your house explosion, but you need to know that the damage is pretty bad. You need to give your insurance company a call.”

  She closed her eyes, her head throbbing painfully as the lack of sleep caught up with her. She had insurance to cover the damage, but there was also a deductible to pay. And her house was already heavily mortgaged.

  “Ms. Carmichael? Are you still there?”

  She opened her eyes, pushing the worry aside, knowing she needed to leave her future in God’s hands. She was conscious of Max’s gaze on her. “Yes. I’m still here.”

  “The arson investigator is on-site, and he’s requesting you come out to speak with him. The heat of the fire has abated enough for him to investigate the source of the blaze. I’m following up on some other leads, so I won’t be out there for a while. Can you make it?”

  “Of course I’ll be there.” She snapped her phone shut.

  Max was already stacking their dirty dishes together onto one tray. “I’ll rent a car. After that, we’ll head over.”

  She wanted to tell him no, that she’d go to meet the arson investigator by herself, but she couldn’t do it. Just the thought of seeing the wreckage of her house was enough to make her stomach churn. She knew she shouldn’t care about material things, but the house was the home she’d shared with Ted. “The police have released my car. All I need to do is to call a garage to have new tires put on. Should only take a day or two and then we can return your rental car.”

  He frowned. “Not a good plan. This guy knows your car, considering he slashed all four tires. A rental is much safer.”

  Unable to argue, she followed as he carried their tray of dishes to the conveyor belt located near the cafeteria exit.

  The amount of debt she owed him just kept adding up. “First stop, the lobby.”

  He gave a resigned sigh. “All right.”

  She tried to withdraw money from the machine, but it wouldn’t give her any. The message read, “Insufficient funds.”

  “That can’t be right,” she muttered, trying again. The ache in her stomach intensified. She knew she didn’t have a lot of money in her checking account, but how could the total have gone that low?

  “Is there a problem?” Max asked.

  She hesitated, and then shook her head. “Not really, the machine isn’t working right. I’ll stop by my bank on Monday.”

  “All right. Let’s get that rental car.”

  The rental process took longer than planned. A few hours later, Max finally drove to her house so they could meet with the arson investigator. On the way, she kept thinking about that ATM message. She didn’t want to panic over nothing, but it was odd that the amount was so low. Had there been some large check she’d written that she didn’t remember? Her mortgage payments were automatic. Maybe there’d been a mistake where twice the amount had come out of her account instead of the normal payment.

  When they arrived at her house, and climbed from the car, her worries over her checking account faded with her first glimpse of the charred wreckage. Max took her hand in his.

  There wasn’t much left of her house. And the parts that were left were likely severely water damaged from the firefighters battling the blaze.

  Max’s hand on hers tightened. “Are you all right?”

  Not really, she thought, but she forced herself to nod. This was all a part of God’s plan. She needed to stay strong. She took several steps toward her house. The arson investigator, an older man with dark hair, liberally sprinkled with various shades of gray, caught sight of them and came forward.

  “Ms. Carmichael?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her voice was embarrassingly weak, so she forced herself to stop acting like a wimp. She lifted her chin. “I’m Tara Carmichael, and this is Max Forrester.”

  “Fire Captain Hank Meyers.” He introduced himself. “I’m serving as the arson investigator on this case. We found the source of the explosion. There was a small bomb with a crude timer planted in the ceiling rafters of your basement, directly beneath your bedroom.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Max said grimly.

  A bomb. With a timer. Ticking away, long into the night, waiting to explode. Seeing the extensive damage in the harsh light of day, she humbly appreciated just how close she’d come to dying.

  The entire event was just as Max and Officer Anderson had suspected. If she hadn’t left with Max last night, caving to his controlling attitude, she would never have known what hit her. Her hands began to shake. She tightly clasped them together.

  Who had done this? And why? Who could possibly hate her enough to painstakingly and coldheartedly plan to kill her?

  She looked away from the house, unable to bear looking at the destruction anymore. A brown car rolled slowly down the street. She barely noticed at first, but then she caught sight of the driver.

  A man wearing a navy blue baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

  It took a split second for the significance to sink in.

  She grabbed Max’s arm and gave it a hard shake. “There! That’s the guy who’s been following me!”

  SIX

  “Where?” Max spun around and gave her a slight push to keep her protected behind his body. His fierce gaze raked the area. “I don’t see him.”

  “Driving that brown car.” She stepped to the side. She pointed to the vehicle, which now drove quickly down the street toward the intersection. She stared after it intently. “I can’t see the license plate. It’s full of dirt. Maybe KNP for the first part?”

  The car careened around the corner, its back end fishtailing before it disappeared from view.

  “Did you see him, too?” she demanded, looking at Captain Meyers.

  The older man nodded. “I saw him. Didn’t get a good look at the tag, though.”

  Max had his phone in his hand. “Graham? Tara’s stalker is headed east on Parker Road, toward Jamison. He’s in a brown Ford Taurus. License plate starts with KNP. Will you send your closest squad?” He listened for a moment before snapping his phone shut.

  “They’re on it,” he said.

  “Do you think they’ll catch him?” She relaxed a bit now that the police had been notified.

  “I hope so.” Max put an arm around her, giving her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I really hope so.”

  “So do I.” She took a deep breath, inhaling Max’s scent, feeling safe beside him. She was grateful he was there with her, although she knew she was becoming too dependent on him. Hadn
’t this very dilemma caused her to lose sleep last night?

  She forced herself to break away from his comforting embrace. The move stung sharply as if she’d ripped a bandage off her arm. “I need to go to my office.”

  Max stared at her like she’d sprouted purple hair and declared she could fly. “What?”

  “I need to go to my office.” She kept her tone matter-of-fact, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. She was tired of being a victim, of feeling as if she were at the stalker’s mercy. Had he driven by her house this morning to gloat over the destruction he’d left behind? The thought made her shudder. She needed to take action. Doing something constructive would help. Wallowing in self-pity would not.

  God helps those who use His strength to help themselves.

  Resolutely turning her back on the burned mass that was once her home, she faced Max. She should also follow the detective’s advice and call the insurance company, especially since her house was likely a total loss.

  “To review my case files,” she added, when Max still looked confused. “So I can make a list of people associated with my clients who might have a grudge against me.”

  The sooner they found this guy, the sooner she could get on with rebuilding her life. Her home. And the safer she’d feel. Maybe the police would catch the guy in the brown Ford Taurus. They were already checking into Tyrone Adams. She almost hoped the man stalking her was someone associated with one of her clients.

  Because that would mean they had a good chance of finding him, soon.

  “No. Absolutely not,” Max countered in a firm tone. “He’s already shown up here at your house. The next obvious place to find you would be your office. He knows where it is. He vandalized your car while you were working. Let’s go back to the hotel and give the police time to do their job.”

  She understood his reluctance, but she didn’t want to go back to the hotel. Sitting alone in her hotel room held little appeal. “Max, it’s Saturday. There’s no reason for him to think I’d go to work on the weekend when I never have before.” She’d always used her Saturday mornings to work from home. Short of a drastic emergency, she’d never gone into the office. “He’s already seen us here, I’m sure my reaction was exactly what he was looking for.”

  “I don’t like it,” he muttered, half under his breath.

  The resigned expression in his eyes convinced her she’d hit upon the one argument that might sway him.

  “I have to do this,” she said in a low, urgent tone. “Don’t you understand? I need to do whatever it takes to help put this man behind bars before he hurts someone.” As far as she knew, she’d been his only target. But what if that changed?

  “All right. We’ll go to your office, after we stop by the restaurant where Lissa worked.” His tone was a bit testy. “I need to talk to some of the people she worked with—there’s a chance one of them knows Gary or has at least seen the guy.”

  She winced, not liking how her problems were once again drawing Max away from finding the man who’d hurt Melissa. She shouldn’t stand in his way—her problems weren’t his. Chagrined, she nodded. “You’re right. The restaurant is closer anyway.”

  “And we need to eat,” Max added, relaxing now that she’d agreed to his plan.

  She was about to protest but then realized she was hungry after all. The Belgian waffles she’d eaten for breakfast seemed like a long time ago. Normally she didn’t have much of an appetite. Surely this new change was related to stressing about the identity of her stalker, rather than being with Max.

  Shaking off her thoughts, she turned toward the fire captain, who stood a few feet away, finishing up a phone call. Had he reported the guy in the Taurus, too? “Excuse me, Captain,” she said when he finished. “But is there anything else you need from us?”

  “Just the name of your insurance company, Ms. Carmichael.” He glanced at her with kind eyes, taking a small notebook out of his breast pocket. “I’ll need to report this as arson. But given your circumstances and the ongoing police investigation, I doubt anyone will suspect you of setting the bomb yourself.”

  Her brows shot up in surprise. “I would hope not. Why would I destroy the only place I have to live?” She dug through her purse and handed over her insurance card.

  Captain Meyers jotted down the information.

  “Are you ready?” Max had taken a hold of her arm again. She liked the warmth of his hand on her skin a little too much. With a pang of regret, she subtly pulled away.

  “Yes.”

  As they walked toward his rental car, he sent her a quizzical glance. She avoided his gaze and kept silent on the short trip from her house to the family restaurant where Melissa worked. The night they’d walked home after sharing dinner seemed like days ago, instead of not even twenty-four hours.

  “Hello,” the hostess greeted them with a friendly smile. “Table for two?” she asked.

  “My name is Max Forrester. Do you know my sister, Melissa? She works here as a server.”

  “Sure, I know Melissa. She was supposed to work today but hasn’t come in yet.”

  “She’s in the hospital in the ICU. I should have told you sooner. Please let the manager know, will you? I’ll bring in documentation from the doctor if needed.”

  “In the ICU?” the woman’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’s getting better?”

  “The doctor tells me she’s serious but stable. Actually, I’d like to talk to a few of Melissa’s friends. Anyone who might be working today.”

  The server frowned a bit, as if she were hesitant to give out too much information. “Annie knows Melissa fairly well, but I’m afraid she’s pretty busy. This is our lunchtime rush.”

  “I understand,” Max replied, flashing an easy smile. “Would you mind seating us in her section? We can wait a few minutes for a table to open up if necessary.”

  The woman scanned her seating chart. “I think I can squeeze you into Annie’s section.” She picked up two menus. “Follow me, please.”

  Tara gave Max credit, obviously he assumed they’d get more cooperation from the servers if they ordered a meal.

  “Here you go.” The hostess showed them to a small table tucked into the back corner of the restaurant.

  “This is great, thanks.” Max chose the side of the booth where he could see the entire restaurant. Tara slid in across from him.

  Annie was a young girl in her early twenties with bright burgundy streaks in her brown hair. She took their order and then hurried away before Max could ask his questions.

  “Didn’t you want to talk to her?” Tara asked in a low tone.

  “I will, don’t worry.”

  When Annie returned with their drinks, Max stopped her before she could leave. “Annie, I’m Max Forrester, Melissa’s brother. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  Annie’s eyes turned wary. “I’m pretty busy.”

  “Please?” Max persisted. “Melissa’s been hurt. She’s in the ICU at St. Louis General.”

  Annie gasped. “In the ICU? No wonder she didn’t come in for work today. What happened?”

  Max hesitated, glancing at Tara, clearly unsure how much to reveal. “We think her boyfriend, Gary, hurt her. She has cracked ribs and a head injury.”

  “Oh, no. Poor Melissa,” Annie murmured, her expression troubled.

  “Do you know Gary? Have you seen him? Can you describe him for me?” Max asked.

  The young waitress slowly shook her head. “I saw him once but only from a distance. I didn’t really pay attention. He was tall, sort of like you, with short reddish-brown hair.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I didn’t get a close look at him, but he was frowning, as if he were mad about something.”

  Max leaned forward, anxiously. “Can you think of anyone who might remember him more clearly? Someone who knows his last name?”

  “Not off the top of my head,” Annie admitted. “Melissa was great to work with, but she didn’t socialize much with the people he
re. I got the impression she was always looking for something better. She liked hanging out with people who had money.”

  Tara frowned, not liking the sound of that. She’d often wondered why Melissa kept going back with Gary. Could money have something to do with it?

  “All right,” Max said in a dejected tone. “But if you think of anything that can help us, please call me. Here’s my number.” He slid a piece of paper toward her.

  “Sure.” Annie took the note, giving him a hesitant smile. “I’ll be back when your lunch orders are up.”

  When Annie left, Max turned toward Tara. “I was hoping for something more substantial.”

  “I know.” She longed to reach out to comfort him. “At least we know he’s tall with short reddish-brown hair. That’s more than what we had a few hours ago.”

  “But it’s not enough to take to the police.” Max took a gulp of his lemonade.

  “Have you spoken to the officer assigned to Melissa’s case?” she asked.

  “James Newton. Yeah, but I don’t think he’s doing much at this point other than waiting for Lissa to wake up, so he can question her about Gary. He told me Lissa’s neighbors heard the fight and called the police. When the officers arrived, her apartment door was open and Lissa was lying on the floor unconscious. There was no sign of Gary, only an elderly woman rendering aid to Lissa. Her eyesight is poor, and she couldn’t give a useful description of Gary.” He scowled. “They’re not giving Lissa’s case high priority.”

  Possibly because Melissa hadn’t pressed charges the last time, Tara realized. “That’s not fair, what if she doesn’t wake up?” The minute the words were out of her mouth she wanted to snatch them back. She hadn’t meant to insinuate that his sister wouldn’t survive her injuries.

  “Then he’ll treat it as a homicide,” Max said grimly.

  “I’m sorry,” Tara said, covering his hand with hers. “Don’t worry. Melissa will be fine.”

  “I hope so.” He stared down at their clasped hands for a moment and then gave a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. Having you here makes this much easier.”

  His sincere gratitude made her blush. She was happy to help, but she didn’t like being a financial drain on him, either. Sitting here at lunch reminded her of their dinner the night before. And their breakfast earlier that morning. She wanted to offer to pay for their meal, but she didn’t have enough money with her. And according to the ATM, she didn’t have any left in her checking account.