Absolutely not. The words were on the tip of his tongue. That afternoon when he had watched her drive away, he’d been reminded of how painful getting involved with a woman could be. Undertaking the task to prove their innocence when they were falsely accused was one thing. He had his buddies to help with that. But going to a woman’s apartment alone, when she hadn’t even been accused of a crime?
And yet, fear rang out unmistakably in her voice. Fear, the great tormenter. It was not God’s plan for anyone to be afraid.
With a sigh, Caleb knew he would help her. More than likely the whole thing was nothing more than the stress of the day playing itself out in paranoia. But what if he was wrong?
But I’m keeping this thing on a strictly nonpersonal level, Lord. I’ll listen to her, help calm her down. But that’s it.
Hanging out at her apartment was too personal, especially if there was no more evidence to see than a moved quilt. All she wanted was an ear, someone to help her talk this out.
Neutral ground, that’s what he needed.
“Tell you what. I haven’t eaten yet. Can we meet somewhere for dinner?”
Another pause, and then he heard what might have been relief in her answer. “There’s a Mexican restaurant called Taco Cabana on Piedmont Avenue. Do you know where that is?”
He did. “Give me twenty minutes.”
“Okay. And Caleb? Thank you.”
He sat holding the phone for a long moment after she’d disconnected. Something churned in his gut, something uncomfortable.
“I am not going to fall for this girl.” The sentence was aimed at the ceiling and beyond. “I’m going to listen to her and calm her down. Nothing else.”
In the ensuing silence, which seemed even heavier after the firm tone of his voice, he glanced at his paint-splattered clothing. Taco Cabana wasn’t far from his place. If he hurried, he’d have time for a quick shower first. After all, he might only be offering a sympathetic ear, but he didn’t have to go sweaty and covered in paint, did he?
He rose from the chair and aimed a final decision heavenward. “And I’m not paying for her dinner, either.”
That settled, he hurried toward the bathroom.
THREE
The Taco Cabana was nearly deserted. Of the dozen or so sturdy wooden tables scattered around the restaurant, only two were occupied. Caleb selected a location along the rear wall, far enough away from the others that their conversation would not be overheard. He was dunking his third tortilla chip in the salsa bowl when Darcie arrived. The waiter followed her to the table and took her drink order as she slid into the empty chair across from him.
When she had settled her purse strap on the back of her chair, she finally looked at him long enough to give him a quick but distant smile. “Thank you for coming.” Her gaze dropped to the paper place mat in front of her. “After we hung up I almost called you and canceled.”
“Really? Why?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I started feeling a little foolish. I may be jumping at shadows.”
Caleb picked up another chip. “If so, it’s understandable. You’ve had a rough day.”
A humorless laugh came out on a breath of air. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
The waiter returned with her tea, and they placed their orders. When he had collected the menus and gone, Caleb clasped his hands and laid them on the table.
“Are you saying you don’t think your apartment was searched after all?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I really do think it was.” Her lips twisted into a sheepish smile. “But I’m starting to wonder if my judgment is impaired.” She leaned forward and looked earnestly into his face. “I mean, I can’t think of a single reason someone would go through my things.”
Looking into her eyes, Caleb saw that she didn’t believe that, not really. Fear still lingered in those brown depths.
“Let’s assume for a moment that you aren’t imagining things. Do you have jewelry? Cash?”
“Nothing like that. I don’t own anything of value.”
“Maybe it was a random break-in, then. A thief hoping to find something worth stealing to sell for drugs.”
“Wouldn’t a thief have broken the door to get in, or a window?”
“Do you have a dead bolt?”
She shook her head again. “Just a regular door lock and a chain, which of course I couldn’t latch when I left this morning for work.”
Caleb shrugged. “It’s not hard to pick a lock.”
“But they didn’t take anything,” she pointed out. “Wouldn’t they have taken the television set or the DVD player or something?”
He conceded the point with a dip of his head.
“And besides,” she continued, “that doesn’t explain the man I saw leaving my apartment complex. I’m positive I’ve seen him before, up in Indiana hanging around outside my mother’s house.” She shivered. “He gave me the creeps.”
It was possible she had imagined the resemblance to a passing stranger in her anxiety after finding a strangled body. Caleb didn’t point that out, though. She was already going through enough self-doubt without his contribution.
The waiter arrived and set two steaming platters of food before them. Caleb noticed the cross hanging from a chain around his neck.
“That was quick. Thanks, brother.” He glanced at Darcie. “Do you have a prayer in you?”
The look she gave him was guarded. “Pardon me?”
“Never mind. I’ll pray.”
He bowed his head and, without seeing if she followed suit, asked a quick blessing over their food and their conversation. When he finished, he looked up to find her studying him with a measuring look.
“So,” he said, unrolling the napkin from around his utensils, “if this guy did follow you from Indiana and go through your apartment, that means he’s looking for something specific. Something you don’t know is valuable, maybe.”
“The only thing I have is this.” She held up her right hand to show him a ring. Yellow gold, with small green stones inset in the band. “But I don’t think it’s worth much. It was my mother’s, and, trust me, she wasn’t wealthy.”
Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, which sent a ripple of sympathy through Caleb.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” An overused phrase, but surely there were no words that would truly offer comfort at such a devastating death. While she struggled to regain her composure, he gently changed the subject. “Was it her brother who worked for the Fairmonts?”
The tears dried instantly. She picked up her fork and avoided his gaze by toying with her food. “Yes. Uncle Kenneth was Mr. Fairmont’s financial manager. I think he must have had the same job as that guy we met today, Aaron Mitchell.”
“And did he really steal from the Fairmonts?”
Forehead drawn with misery, she nodded. “The newspapers said it was about three hundred thousand dollars.”
Caleb gave a low whistle. “No wonder Mrs. Fairmont is bitter.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame her for that.” The tines of her fork pushed lettuce back and forth on her plate. “But I think there’s another reason she dislikes me so much.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I think it might be because of my mother.” She glanced up and then focused her attention on spreading the mound of sour cream over her salad. “A year ago, when cancer started really making Mama sick, Mr. Fairmont sent her a gift. Percy. He’s one of those little dogs like we saw at the kennel today.”
Understanding dawned. “The dogs Mrs. Fairmont breeds.”
She nodded. “I assumed at the time that it was a nice gesture from both of them. Magnanimous, even, considering my uncle. But then after Mama passed, I found the letters.”
Caleb paused in the act o
f lifting a forkful of enchilada. “Letters?”
“Not letters, really. More like cryptic notes. They were in a shoe box in the back of Mama’s closet along with a few trinkets. None of them had a date, and only one was signed. It said, ‘Per our agreement. Richard Fairmont.’ The handwriting was the same in all of them.”
He leaned against the chair back, his mind busy. “Sounds like a note that would accompany a payment of some kind. And there were several of these notes?”
“Fifteen or sixteen, maybe.” She finally gave up the pretense of eating and set the fork down. “Most of them said, ‘I trust you are both well,’ or something like that.”
Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “So you think your mother had some sort of relationship with Mr. Fairmont, and Mrs. Fairmont is holding a grudge against you because of it.”
“More than that.” She looked up then, and her eyes met his. “I think Richard Fairmont might be my father.”
* * *
Darcie stepped through the restaurant door into the humidity of a warm Atlanta night, the take-away box containing her uneaten dinner in one hand. They’d solved nothing over the last hour, but somehow she felt better. She had not mentioned the notes to anyone in the months since she had found them, and simply telling someone else of her suspicions had eased some of the tension that plagued her.
Caleb followed behind her. “I still think you should confront him.”
“To what purpose?” She turned to face him. “If Mr. Fairmont is my father, he apparently didn’t want to claim me for the past twenty-two years. If he’d changed his mind, he would have said something when I called him last week to ask for his help in finding a job. Or at least made an arrangement to see me in person, rather than hiring me sight unseen to be his maid.”
Calling him had been a mistake. She knew that now. One she would not repeat. What did she need with a father who wanted nothing to do with her? She was already alone. Best to keep it that way rather than risk the humiliation of being the unwanted offspring who resurfaces when she should have remained quietly out of sight.
Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay to go back to your apartment? Do you want me to come with you?”
Though she appreciated the gesture, Darcie shook her head. She felt silly for her earlier jumpiness. No doubt she’d fabricated the whole stranger thing in her mind, as Caleb clearly thought. She’d made enough of a fool of herself already. “Thanks, though. And thanks for meeting me.”
The restaurant’s business had picked up after sundown, and now the parking lot held a handful of cars. The single streetlight had burned out, or been knocked out, so the only light came from the glowing neon signs in the restaurant windows.
“I’m parked over there.” She pointed toward her car, which was at the far end of the lot on the other side of a van.
“And I’m over here.” He jerked a nod in the opposite direction, toward the pickup she’d recognized when she had arrived. But instead of turning that way, he stood looking down at her. “Promise me one thing.”
She had to tilt her head to look him in the face. Red neon lit his features and turned his blue eyes light purple.
“What’s that?”
“If you see anything unusual, call the police first and me second.”
What a complex man he was—so much more considerate and caring than she’d have expected at first glance. He looked like a thug with that hulking, muscular body and ink covering his arms, but he prayed over his meals in restaurants and called the waiter “brother.” Throughout dinner he had paid close attention to her fears and suspicions, but she had sensed a reluctance to reveal anything personal about himself, as though he was determined to keep her at arm’s length. And yet, here he was, offering to come to her aid if she needed him.
She wouldn’t call him again though. He’d loaned a friendly ear tonight, but she couldn’t rely on anyone else to solve her problems. Especially not a man she barely knew, no matter how kind he seemed.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thanks again.”
She was aware that he stood watching her head for her car for a moment before turning toward his own vehicle.
As she crossed the lot, she balanced the leftovers on one hand while rooting in her purse for her keys with the other. Her fingers grasped the keyless entry device. The headlights flashed and she heard the audible click of the driver’s door unlocking as she punched the Unlock button. Before she turned between the van and her car, she glanced across the parking lot to see Caleb watching from beside his truck. She lifted her hand for a final wave, which he returned as he slid into the cab. She stepped into the shadows and reached for the door handle.
A hand from behind clamped down over her mouth. At the same moment, a strong arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her body. The salad dropped to the asphalt, and she was jerked roughly backward, deeper into the darkness of the van’s shadow.
FOUR
Panic gripped her even more tightly than the arms that held her captive. For a moment, her brain froze as she struggled to breathe with the rough-skinned hand clamped over her mouth and nose. The sound of the van door sliding open jump-started her thoughts. She was being kidnapped. She had to act, and quick.
Her attacker was taller than she was, and far stronger. The pressure of his fingers against her mouth was intense. Her arms were useless, pinned. But her feet were free. And she was wearing sandals with heels. Short ones, but maybe...
As she was dragged backward, she lifted one foot. With as much force as she could manage, she brought it down on her attacker’s, hoping against hope that he wasn’t wearing boots. At the same moment, she opened her mouth as wide as she could. The force of his grip pushed his fingers between her teeth. She chomped down.
“Ow!”
The deep-toned exclamation was followed by a string of foul words. For one second, the hand slipped away. Not for long, but long enough. Darcie screamed. She didn’t have enough breath in her lungs to produce much volume, and the sound wasn’t high-pitched and piercing as she’d hoped. More like a yell than a scream.
But it did the trick.
“Darcie?” Caleb’s voice came from across the parking lot, immediately followed by the sound of a door slamming and feet pounding on asphalt.
“Hurry!” said a man’s voice from inside the van. The engine roared to life.
Her attacker swung her around, intending to throw her inside. No! If he got her into the van, she might never get out. Instinct took over. Her legs rose almost of their own accord and slammed into the van’s door panel. Pain exploded in her shin, but the gesture stopped her attacker for a second.
That was all it took. A roar filled the night, and she was released. She fell to the pavement with an excruciating thud. It took a second to recover. Then, scrabbling on her hands and knees, she hurried away. Only when she was out of arm’s reach did she turn.
Caleb held her attacker in much the same grip that the man had held her a moment before. His powerful arms wrapped around the thug’s body, one across his neck and the other threaded around his arms, pulling them backward at a painful angle. Darcie tried to identify the man who’d grabbed her, but all she saw were patches of white skin around shadow-darkened eyes through a black ski mask. The man jerked sideways and thrust backward to head butt Caleb in the face.
Now that she could get her breath, she screamed again, as loudly as she could. A satisfyingly loud screech ripped from deep in her throat to fill the night.
“What’s going on?” The question came from the direction of the restaurant.
“Help!” Darcie shouted. “We’re being attacked.”
An arm stuck through the van’s open front passenger window. Darcie barely had time to register the fact that the hand wielded a hammer before it struck.
“Caleb!”
&nbs
p; The big man released her attacker and staggered backward. The masked thug dove into the van’s open side panel. With a screech of tires, the van roared out of the parking lot. Seconds later, a pair of men rushed toward them from the direction of the restaurant.
“Are you okay?” one of them asked.
Caleb put a hand to the back of his head. When he pulled it away, it was covered with dark, sticky blood.
He stared at his hand. “Did anybody get the license plate of that truck?”
Darcie would have laughed at the lame joke, but in the next moment, he crumpled to the ground.
* * *
“If you won’t go to the hospital, you’ll need to sign here. This says we aren’t liable if you’ve got a concussion.” The EMT thrust a clipboard and pen toward Caleb.
He sat on the rear bumper of the ambulance, an ice pack held to the back of his head. Flashing red lights reflected in the windshields of the cars parked nearby, keeping tempo with the throbbing pain in his skull. Other lights flashed in the parking lot as well, blue ones. Darcie stood near a police car, speaking with a pair of officers, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle.
Caleb signed the paper and handed it back to the man. “Thanks, brother.”
He slid off the bumper, wavered on his feet until a wave of dizziness passed and then walked over to Darcie.
Concern colored her features at his approach. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” He gave a weak laugh. “It’s a good thing I’ve got such a thick skull.”
She peered closer. “You’ve got a thick lip as well.”
He slid a finger over his swollen lip. That head butt had brought stars to his eyes, stars that exploded a second later when the hammer had hit him. “I guess that thug’s head is almost as hard as mine.”
One of the police officers held a pen poised over a small notebook. “What can you tell us about the attacker, Mr. Buchanan?”
Prime Suspect Page 3