Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3)

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  Erik decided he was in desperate need of his grandfather’s wisdom, ordered those thoughts aside, and focused on getting her safely back to his SUV.

  “I enjoyed meeting your friends,” he said, once they were both in their seats, and the engine started.

  “All of them?” she gave him a sideways glance.

  “For one reason or another, yes,” he replied, and she laughed a little.

  “I’d say most of them enjoyed meeting you, too.”

  “Only most?” he smiled. “I must be losing my charm.”

  “You’ve still got more than your fair share. I loved how you didn’t let Reggie, and Kent, and the other guys, get to you.”

  “And give them the satisfaction? No way,” he scoffed.

  “I love it that their plan backfired,” she said cheerfully.

  “Thank you. And you’re welcome,” Erik smiled, and Amber laughed.

  “If you come to church with me on Sunday, maybe Reggie will give up and leave me alone.”

  “Whether he gives up or not, I can’t say. But I guarantee, he’ll leave you alone,” he said firmly.

  “As long as you’re with me, anyway.”

  And if he wasn’t… Erik didn’t take time to sort through the emotions that flooded him at that thought, but they left him certain he didn’t want her anywhere near that guy, or any other, without him.

  “Maybe I should plan to go with you every Sunday,” he suggested.

  “Don’t forget Wednesdays,” Amber quickly replied. “It’s about time you settled down. And found a church home, I mean.”

  “I think you’re right. Do you mind if I tag along with you?” he asked. He wanted to make sure that expectation was established.

  “I’ll mind it very much if you don’t,” she retorted.

  “Then it’s a deal,” he smiled. She laughed, and shook the hand he offered.

  “Deal,” she said with satisfaction. For as long as he stayed in Ocotillo, even after their mystery was solved, she’d have those two days a week to count on. They might just be friends, but friendship was a whole lot better than nothing. She’d be thankful for what she could get.

  How Caleb’s mother would factor into that, once she was back… Amber had no idea. She decided to worry about that later.

  The lights of the city did little to dim the night sky above the fields they passed between. Erik looked up at the stars that glittered, and wondered how Rob and Samantha were faring.

  “How does the weather look on Pine Mountain?” he asked.

  Amber removed her cell phone from her pocket, and swiped the screen. She studied it for a moment.

  “The forecast still doesn’t predict an end to the storm. There are a couple of lighter patches, but it’s not going away. Not in the next twenty-four hours, anyway. Not according to this.”

  “Maybe the forecasters aren’t any more right about that, than they were the clear weather we were supposed to have in the first place,” Erik replied optimistically.

  “I hope so, because otherwise…” Amber’s voice trailed off. Erik waited several seconds, then glanced at her. The stunned look in her eyes concerned him.

  “What’s the matter?” he wondered.

  “I can’t believe this…” she said in astonishment. “But it makes sense. Maybe.”

  “What does?” he asked, as her eyes moved rapidly across the screen of her phone.

  “We can forget interviewing Amos Burns,” she declared. “There’s no way we’ll get anything out of him, now.”

  “Why?” he questioned.

  “Because he’s dead,” Amber answered.

  “What?” Erik exclaimed sharply.

  “It’s in the newsfeed. Two bullets to the chest, it wasn’t suicide.”

  “When?” Erik asked.

  “It doesn’t say. He was found in his vehicle, in the parking garage on Eighth and Commerce.”

  “He was inside his own vehicle?”

  “That’s what this says. It was parked in the garage. An SUV going the wrong way, swerved to avoid an oncoming car, and crashed into his truck.”

  “Good grief,” Erik exclaimed. “When was he shot? Was he in the driver’s seat, or passenger? Did the accident kill him, or was he already dead?”

  “It doesn’t say. I don’t think they could do an autopsy that fast, could they?” she wondered.

  “Probably not. Do they have a suspect? In the shooting?”

  “It doesn’t say that, either, although it does give a number to call with information. Several people witnessed his truck getting smashed into, including the driver of the SUV that did it. But he was shot before that.”

  Erik pulled into the parking lot of Amber’s apartment building, and located a space. They were both silent as they exited the vehicle, and he walked her to the entrance.

  “Come in, if you want, and we’ll talk,” she suggested. “I’d rather not wait until tomorrow.”

  “Talk about—what?” he asked with concern. She couldn’t know what he was feeling… could she?

  Amber raised an eyebrow, and she gave him a look that left him even more concerned.

  “Uh… about our mystery, for goodness’ sake!” she retorted. “Although if some other topic comes up, I won’t insist that our conversation remain solely mystery-related.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure,” he said, holding in a sigh of relief. “It’s either talk now, or I end up calling you later. There’s a lot to process.”

  Including his feelings and what to do about them, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, he didn’t want to rush into pursuing a relationship and risk losing her completely. He was five years older than Amber. What would her parents think? What would she think? What did he think?

  He ordered all such thoughts aside—again—and followed Amber to her apartment.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m cold,” she shivered, as she hung her coat on the rack by the door, then did the same with his. “Coffee, or tea?”

  “Whatever you’re having,” he replied.

  “Tea it is, then. Want to pick which kind? We’ve got about a million. Or do you trust me?”

  “I trust you,” he replied.

  He did, when it came to tea. But did he trust her with his heart? Should he trust her? Did he have a choice? Because his heart seemed bent on entrusting itself to her, whether it should, or shouldn’t. Whether she wanted it, or not.

  He swiftly took his desperation, uncertainty, and fears to God, and did his best to leave them there. The last thing he wanted—one of them, anyway—was to lose the easy camaraderie he shared with her. He couldn’t let his thoughts and feelings distract him, because she’d be sure to notice.

  As Amber waited for the tea to steep, she turned to him.

  “We need to come up with a plan of action,” she said, and he was confused for a moment. Then he understood.

  “Right! Yes, now that we know Burns was killed, we need a new plan,” he hurried to agree.

  Erik seemed kind of jumpy. Amber decided he must be really thrown by the news of Burns’ death.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said reassuringly, and hugged him for good measure.

  Erik said goodbye to his heart, and returned her hug.

  “We will. We’ll figure it out,” he replied. He knew she was talking about the mystery. He hoped they could figure out the rest of it too, in a way that didn’t leave his runaway-heart, broken.

  “Come on. We’ll go sit, and brainstorm,” she said assertively. They carried their tea to the living room, and had a seat on the couch. She turned to face him, and began.

  “It stands to reason that whoever killed Burns, is the one behind the Pine Mountain sabotage.”

  “It does. But, we don’t have enough information to be certain of that,” Erik pointed out.

  “That’s true. About all of it. We don’t have enough information,” she frowned. “And now, we’ve lost the one lead we did have.”

  “We didn’t intend to talk to Burns directly, a
nyway,” Erik reminded her.

  “No, but we were going to investigate him. Now that he’s been murdered, looking into him could result in a homicide detective looking into us. Especially if they find out why we’re doing it. That gives us motive.”

  “Good point,” he admitted, his forehead furrowing in concern.

  “So Burns is off-limits. What else do we have?” Amber considered.

  “Randall Jerome’s apartment.”

  “And that’s off-limits, too,” Amber replied. She tapped her fingers against her mug as she gave that some thought, then reached for her phone. She opened her contacts list, and selected one.

  “You’re calling someone?” Erik wondered.

  “My cousin.”

  “It’s kind of late,” he pointed out, with a glance at the clock.

  “What, you think he’s asleep?” she half-laughed.

  “After the way you’ve described him, I think he might be in a bar, buying drinks for disreputable strangers,” he replied dryly.

  “He may,” Amber said with a shrug, and tapped the screen. It rang, then there was a faint click. As Amber held the phone to her ear, Erik heard her cousin’s faint voice.

  “This is Jack.”

  “Hi Jack, this is your cousin, Amber. I need help.”

  “Alright. Go,” Erik heard Jack reply.

  Amber rapidly packed the details of their mystery into a nutshell. Jack asked a few questions, most of which Erik understood, and Amber answered them. Jack’s reply was lengthy, and harder for Erik to piece together. The growing concern in Amber’s eyes, was another matter.

  “Okay, well… are you sure?” she finally asked.

  Erik couldn’t make out her cousin’s words, but his tone was offended and somewhat sarcastic.

  “Okay, alright, I get it,” she replied, rolling her eyes a little.

  There was a sharp crack on the other end of the line. Amber jerked the phone away from her ear, then listened again.

  “Jack? Hello?” she asked. She waited a moment more, then glanced at the screen.

  “What happened?” Erik frowned in concern.

  Amber shook her head slowly, and set her phone aside.

  “I don’t know, exactly. I guess he’s okay, though. He said ‘nice shot, Charlotte,’ then hung up.”

  Erik stared back at her for a moment, then decided to let that go.

  “What did he say before that? Was he any help?”

  Amber hesitated, and reached for her tea.

  “He said we can sit back and wait, and see if the homicide detectives find Amos Burns’ killer, and if they do, maybe they’ll uncover the plan to discredit you and your brother.”

  “Or maybe they won’t,” Erik finished for her. “What else?”

  “If they find the killer, discover the plan to discredit you, and prosecute the guilty, then your problems are solved. If they find the killer but don’t discover the plan to discredit you, either we wait to find out if there’s another attempt, or there is another attempt. If they don’t find the killer, then we wait and see if the person behind the sabotage strikes again, or not.”

  “Is there a bottom line?” Erik wondered. “Because there’s a fairly unlimited number of possible scenarios.”

  “And you don’t want to hear all of them,” Amber said, and resigned herself to the inevitable. “Jack said we have nothing to take to the police that isn’t hearsay.”

  “Well—sure, not right now. But the attempted destruction of model F, and the attempt to freeze the pipes to the rest of the homes…” Erik’s voice trailed off slowly as he thought that through, then closed his eyes and sighed.

  “There’s nothing to prove any of it,” Amber said sympathetically. “We’ve got Rob’s word that he found the pipes turned on, and the house rigged, not that either of them are, anymore. We’ve got two dead guys, and no proof they were doing anything but trespassing on private property. We’ve got cancelled orders, and Mário will say he was hired to pick up your granite, but there’s no proof Burns did that, or that anyone did. And I don’t think you want to go after Mário, which is about all you could do.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Chances are better than not, that someone associated with this, killed Burns. Maybe because they no longer needed him, or he threatened to blackmail, or they signed a contract with another developer, and decided they no longer cared about Pine Mountain. Whatever the reason, this person is dangerous.”

  “And not someone to trap in a corner,” Erik said, rubbing his forehead.

  “It’s not safe to have this person running around loose, either,” Amber added. “If they realize we know there’s been sabotage, and we’re investigating it, what’s to stop them from cornering us, like they did Burns? I’m sorry, Erik, I don’t mean to make you anxious. I’m just repeating what Jack said.”

  “Yes, and you also said you wouldn’t be in any danger if I let you help me,” Erik retorted, his concern sharpening his voice, and filling her with alarm.

  “I won’t, but you will be, if you ditch me,” Amber snapped. She gripped his arm with both hands, and was instantly distracted. “Good grief, you must work out a lot!”

  Erik couldn’t help laughing a little, then so did she.

  “I do a lot of lifting on the job.”

  “I can tell,” she admired him some more. “I mean, you look great, and—what were we talking about? You’re not ditching me, so don’t even try!”

  Her fierce tone was due to embarrassment as much as concern for him, and he felt encouraged. If she was attracted to him—if that’s what this was—but then there was the age difference, and—Erik ordered his thoughts to quit straying from the subject at hand.

  “I’m not leaving you behind,” he assured her.

  “Okay, well… good for you,” she retorted, and reluctantly relinquished his arm.

  “Did your cousin have any suggestions? We can’t go to the police, we can’t look into Burns, and I assume he didn’t say we should play sitting ducks, and wait to see what happens next.”

  “No… he said we should track down our only other lead,” she said, and winced, as she gave him a sideways glance. Erik thought about that, and sighed.

  “Randall Jerome’s apartment.”

  “The sheriff has no idea the man’s dead, as long as your brother hasn’t called him yet. Randall’s death isn’t the result of foul play, so as long as we don’t leave any trace behind, we can check out his place without having to worry about being suspects in anything. As long as we knock first, and no one’s there. That’s what Jack said he’d do.”

  “Of course he would,” Erik said with a groan, and leaned back heavily.

  “That doesn’t mean we will,” Amber hurried to remind him.

  Erik closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then took out his phone.

  “What are you going to do?” Amber wondered.

  “Call Rob, and find out if he called the Sheriff. Whether he did or not, will determine what we do next.”

  Erik placed his call. After several rings, his older brother picked up.

  “What?” Rob snapped.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Erik replied.

  “Yes! Is this important?”

  “Very. Have you called the sheriff yet?”

  “No, I’ll do it tomorrow,” was Rob’s hasty and not entirely friendly response.

  The soft tone emitted by his phone, told Erik their call was ended.

  “He hung up,” he said, glancing at the screen.

  “He must not like getting woke up,” Amber figured.

  “Yeah, I guess… he said he hasn’t called the sheriff.”

  Amber watched him, waiting to see what he’d say next. Erik was lost in thought for several minutes. When he finally looked back at her, his eyes were serious.

  “What do you think we should do?”

  Amber’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Is this a trick question?” she wondered, and he smiled a little. />
  “No. I’m serious. You’re my partner. I’d rather that not be ‘in crime’, but… the idea of waiting to find out if we’re seen as a threat, doesn’t appeal to me either. I want to hear what you think.”

  “Alright,” she replied, as she rapidly processed all that her cousin said, and pulled forth that which was relevant. “I know you don’t want to commit a crime, and I don’t either. But, if we go to Randall Jerome’s apartment and look around, we won’t be.”

  “How do you figure?” Erik’s eyebrows knit.

  “The apartment is vacant. No one lives there, anymore. He’s dead, and who would press charges, anyway?”

  “Jerome’s beneficiaries, assuming he has any. Or the landlord,” Erik countered.

  “Maybe. But why? No one knows he’s frozen to death on the mountain, in the middle of a perpetual blizzard. If someone shows up, we’ll come up with an excuse for being there. Considering it’s late, and the night before Thanksgiving, in a one-bedroom apartment building facing an empty lot, in a college town, chances are best that no one will.”

  “If we decide to do this, how will we get in?” Erik considered.

  “The deadbolt is an old Kwikset. It’s not like the new ones. It’ll be easy to open,” she replied with confidence.

  “How do you know that?” he questioned.

  “Because I know what to look for. Newer locks have a small slit near the keyhole. The older ones don’t, and they’re easy to get into. If you know how.”

  Erik felt compelled to ask.

  “Do you know how?”

  “Of course,” Amber replied.

  “It’s amazing how innocent you look when you say that,” he tried not to laugh.

  “I am innocent,” she retorted. “You never know when this skill might come in handy. What if you get locked out of your apartment? Or office, if you have one. It could spare the little old lady next door the cost of a locksmith, and the worry that her cat will starve before he gets there. What if you forget your purse—or wallet—inside a classroom, and when you go back, it’s already locked? You left your books too, and have a big test to study for, and it’s Friday, and—There are all sorts of reasons why it’s useful, not nefarious.”

  “I was just teasing, and I get the picture,” Erik conceded.