High-Caliber Holiday

by Susan Sleeman

  “You’d be surprised what guys might do,” Rossi said. “I’ve seen it all. Tell me more about Preston.”

  Rossi was barking up the wrong tree, but she’d answer his questions so they could get to how he was going to find this stalker. “He comes from a well-respected family. They own Orion Transport. Our family businesses work hand in hand so we go way back. In fact, I’ve known him since we were children. It was natural for us to start dating and get engaged.”

  “Why’d you break up?” Brady asked, surprising her for a moment. She hadn’t realized that he was still standing there.

  “We weren’t compatible.” She crossed her arms and hoped he’d leave it at that.

  “How so?” His gaze remained fixed on her, direct and searching.

  So much for hoping he’d let it go. “I’m more laid-back. He’s controlling.” The desire to explain her actions had her opening her mouth to continue, but then she clamped it closed. Neither Brady nor Rossi had a reason to know about Preston’s incessant need to plan her life and activities.

  Both Rossi and Brady’s eyebrows rose.

  “No, wait,” she said. “If you’re thinking there’s something sinister there, you’re wasting your time. I still see Preston on occasion when I visit my parents, and we are completely cordial. And, like I said, he has a new fiancée. Someone far more suited to him than I was.”

  “And her name is?”

  “Natasha something. Sorry, I don’t remember her last name.”

  Rossi scribbled something in his notepad then shifted on his feet. “And you really haven’t dated anyone else since then?”

  “No.”

  Rossi tapped his pen against the paper. “No one. Not a single guy. Really?”

  “Really.” She tightened her arms and tried to hold on to her temper.

  “You’re an attractive woman, Morgan, so that’s hard to believe.” Rossi turned to Brady. “Isn’t that hard to believe, Owens?”

  “Yes,” Brady said, his gaze fixed on her. “But then, I’ve seen how strong willed she is and if she set her mind against dating, I suspect she would succeed.”

  Searching for a response, she looked at Brady. “You don’t have a ring on your finger. How many women have you dated in the last few months?”

  “Darcie fixed me up a couple of times. I tried to get out of them, but she’s kind of pushy.” He frowned. “If not for her, I wouldn’t have gone on a date, either.”

  Morgan switched her focus to Rossi. “Brady’s single and attractive. Does it surprise you that he hasn’t been dating?”

  “Don’t know about how attractive he is,” he scowled. “But we’re not talking about Owens, here. He isn’t claiming someone left a surprise in his apartment.”

  “Claiming?” The word shot out, ending Morgan’s plan to keep to the point. “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I staged this for some reason.”

  “Honestly?” Rossi arched a brow as the charged air hung between them. “Your story rings false. I’m more inclined to believe you had a fight with a boyfriend, and now you want him to get in trouble so you call us with a bogus story.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I did no such thing, and I certainly hope you’re planning to investigate my complaint.”

  “Frankly,” he said flipping his notebook closed, “I’m not. There’s no proof of a break-in and our resources are stretched thin already...”

  “Hold up,” Brady stepped in. “You can at least canvass the neighbors and dust for prints. Maybe talk to the management company.”

  Rossi scowled at Brady, but Morgan smiled her thanks at him.

  “That I can do, but you should know, every minute I spend on this takes time away from looking into the other threats that have been made against you.”

  “That’s obviously a priority,” Brady said.

  Rossi held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I understand and I’ll do my part. Just know that I have a lot on my plate right now. So I’ll grab my fingerprint kit and get started.” He stepped out of the kitchen.

  Morgan sighed out her frustration. She caught sight of the rose again. Red and threatening against the white countertop. Like blood. Vivid and terrifying. A sharp jolt of fear stabbed through her. She looked at Brady, found his focus fixed on her.

  “Are you going to leave now?” Her voice caught as she asked.

  “I’ll stay until Rossi finishes up,” he replied.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in relief.

  She hated that she sounded weak. Hated feeling weak, but she hated the thought of being alone even more. For the first time since she’d moved into her apartment, she wondered why she’d ever been so desperate to be alone.

  FIVE

  Morgan slung the straps for her briefcase and gym bag over her shoulders and stepped to the door. Fear that had plagued her all night made her hesitate and her hand lingered on the knob. “You’re being ridiculous. No one’s waiting to hurt you.”

  She pulled her shoulders back and stepped outside. Wind howled down the tree-lined street, but the sun shone bright and the snow was melting. She huddled into her coat and carefully made her way down the slippery sidewalk. A nutty scent drifted up from the coffee shop on the lower level of her building. Her salary left little money to spend on coffee, and she rarely did, but after her lack of sleep and the unusually cold morning she couldn’t resist the aroma.

  She took the steps down to the shop and ordered a large mocha with whipped cream. She’d have to work harder tonight at the gym to burn off the extra calories, but after her day yesterday she deserved a treat.

  The barista was efficient and Morgan was soon pressing the remote for her car. She checked for oncoming cars on the busy street as she sipped her coffee, the chocolaty goodness sliding down her throat and leaving a warm trail. Traffic cleared for a moment and she quickly opened the door before another car could charge past and sideswipe her door. Her gaze landed on the driver’s seat. She jumped back in horror. The coffee cup dropped from her hand, exploding on the pavement, darkening the brilliant white snow and splashing up her leg. She yelped at the pain but even that couldn’t take her eyes from the seat.

  Two long-stemmed red roses crossed like an X lay on the seat, an envelope beneath them. She was curious about what the envelope contained, but the roses captured her thoughts. Maybe the X meant something, maybe not. Didn’t matter. What mattered was that someone broke into her car without damaging it. No broken windows. No jimmied lock. The roses were fresh, as if they’d just come from a garden or a cooler, not been exposed to freezing temperatures for hours. They’d been left recently, which meant her stalker had to be close.

  She fired a look down the street, searching for anyone watching her. Two people headed for their cars. No one looked at her. At least, no one standing out in the open.

  Could her stalker be hiding in the bushes across the street—behind trees down the road—while she stood out here? Vulnerable. Her life in danger.

  A car horn sounded behind her, and she spun around, clutching her briefcase like a shield. A man sat behind the wheel of his car. His gaze frustrated, he made shooing gestures with his hands.

  Feeling as if she was coming out of a fog, she looked around. She’d backed into traffic, but she didn’t care. Could she ask this man for his help? Ask to sit with him while she called 911? Could she even trust this man? Was he the stalker?

  You’re still vulnerable. Move, now. Go. Quickly.

  She slammed her car door and ran for her apartment building. She frantically slid her fingers along the ring to locate the right key for the main entrance. Her hand trembled. The key refused to fit the lock. A noise from behind startled her. The keys flew from her hand as she shot a look over her shoulder. Spotted a woman walking her fluffy white dog down the street.

  Not a threat, but on
e still existed. She had to get inside. She scrambled to find the right key. Got it into the lock and twisted.

  Now what? The thought came unbidden. With the rose and photo left on the counter, you’re no safer inside.

  You’re not safe anywhere.

  * * *

  Brady’s phone rang, dragging him out of a deep sleep. He groaned and glanced at the clock. Better be important for someone to get him out of bed at 6:00 a.m. when he’d stayed with Rossi until two o’clock. Fat lot of good it did them. They’d lifted a few fingerprints but located no other leads.

  He grabbed his phone and when he saw the caller ID, he was instantly alert.

  “Morgan,” he answered. “Is something wrong?”

  “Roses,” she whispered. “Two of them. In my car with an envelope.”

  A vision of her standing near her vehicle, a dangerous stalker nearby, had Brady lurching to his feet and grabbing a pair of jeans. “Where are you?”

  “In the coffee shop of my building. I thought staying in a public place would be the most secure location right now so I hurried down here.”

  “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

  “Thank you, Brady.” He heard the relief in her voice, and he hated to admit it, but he liked that she’d called him to come to her rescue.

  He pulled on a T-shirt and quickly brushed his teeth, then grabbing his jacket on the way out, he made a mad dash down the stairs to his ancient pickup truck. One set of footprints led across the asphalt to Jake’s car.

  “Brady?” he called out.

  “It’s Morgan. More roses,” he explained and jumped into his truck. He used the wipers to clear the snowy windshield and coaxed the ancient truck to start in the unusual cold. On the road, Brady called Rossi who was even grumpier than last night, but he agreed to meet Brady at Morgan’s car.

  Rush hour had begun, but with the snow, most people would stay home until later, allowing Brady to pull up to the coffee shop in less than ten minutes. He grabbed latex gloves from his console and headed over to talk to Morgan, searching the area for potential threats on the way.

  He didn’t like what he saw. Plenty of places for a stalker to hide on the street and watch Morgan’s movements. No way would he bring her out into the open like this. He’d insist Morgan remain in the shop while he checked her car.

  She met him at the door. Dressed in another suit that appeared tailor-made, this one blue, she looked professional, but it was the fear darkening her eyes that struck him hard.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, sounding like he’d arrived at a social event instead of another invasion into her life.

  Part of Brady was impressed that she could control her emotions, the other part was mad that she was hiding her real feelings. Still, her body language told the story. Arms clutched around her waist. Leaning forward as if she might drop any minute. Her face pale. Her hands trembling.

  “Tell me exactly what you found,” he said, making sure he sounded comforting and reassuring.

  She flicked a gaze outside then quickly back at him, the fear stronger now. “I stopped for coffee, then unlocked my car with the remote. When I opened the door, I found two roses lying in an X pattern and sitting on top of a white linen envelope.”

  Likely another picture. “This X pattern mean anything to you?”

  She shook her head.

  “And the envelope?”

  “I didn’t open it. I was too afraid.” She was shaking, and looked like she’d melt to the floor.

  He took her elbow and moved her to a chair. She looked up at him, seeming small and defenseless.

  He wanted to rail at the injustice heaped on her head, but he held it together by shoving his hands into his pockets. “Did you notice anything else?

  She stared off into the distance. “The windows weren’t broken or the doors jimmied. I guess he could have used one of those bar things I see on TV shows, but since my key is on the same ring as my apartment key, he likely made a copy of that one, too.” She paused and chewed on her lip for a moment.

  “Anyone else have your car key? Do you keep a spare set hidden somewhere?”

  “Just at my parents. No other spare set.”

  “Have you checked with them to see if anyone stole the keys overnight?”

  “I called my mom right after you. They’re still in the drawer.” She looked like she wanted to add something but stared over his shoulder instead.

  He followed her gaze through the street level window. “Which vehicle is yours?”

  “I’ll show you.” She started to rise.

  “No.” He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You stay here. It’s safer.”

  She jerked free and cast him a defiant look. She was suddenly all fire and passion, much like last night. He watched, enjoying the metamorphosis from timid victim to fierce warrior and waited for her to refuse his directive. He didn’t like the thought of her rushing out onto the street, but he respected her determination in the face of danger.

  She kept eye contact with him for a long while until she finally sighed, her agitation disappearing with it. She dug her keys from a leather briefcase, then handed them to him. “It’s the blue BMW. Three cars behind your truck.” Panic returned to her eyes.

  So she’d let her fear take over enough that she’d been watching for his arrival. A protective feeling surged to the surface and the urge to touch her was strong. She needed reassurance. Needed to know that he’d be there for her. Any hour of the day. The minute she called.

  Not a good idea. She should call Rossi instead.

  Brady shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled to ease her fear. “You hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, he fought through the biting wind as he passed his truck to get to the sleek BMW. Talk about contrasts. Battered and rusty from Minnesota winters, his pickup was on its last legs. Her Beemer, a metallic blue coupe that Brady recognized as the top-of-the-line, was polished and shiny. Of course. He should have known by now that she’d have nothing less than the best.

  Snapping on gloves, he clicked the lock. He noted a paper cup lying by the front wheel, the snow tinted with chocolaty coffee. He suspected Morgan had dropped it as she’d dropped the glass last night. Another shock to her system.

  He leaned inside the spotlessly clean vehicle. Perfect, like her apartment. Just as she’d said, two red roses lay on the leather seat and were positioned in an X shape, which was unusual, but what really drew his attention was the freshness of the flowers. The temperature had dropped well below freezing last night, and if the roses had been inside long they’d be damaged.

  He lifted the envelope and dread filled his gut even before he opened it. He pulled out an official-looking invitation printed on quality paper. It wasn’t engraved, but printed on a laser printer.

  He read the front page, inviting the recipient to a wedding celebration. Inside, the details claimed Morgan Thorsby would marry Her One True Love. Grimacing, Brady scanned down the page to the date.

  Saturday. Only five days away.

  Could this creep be planning to abduct her on that date to force her to marry him?

  Crazy. Totally crazy. And dangerous.

  Brady’s stomach churned. He had less than five days to find the stalker before this jerk harmed Morgan. Hopefully the car contained a lead. He took his time, looking through the front, in the glove box, under the seats, in the back, the trunk. Came up empty.

  He was starting for the coffee shop when Rossi pulled up. He double-parked, proving he wasn’t intending to stay long.

  “Owens,” he said and stepped to the driver’s door where he made a cursory inspection of the vehicle. “No forced entry again.”

  “No,” Brady said. “And I searched the entire vehicle. Nothing.”

  “At least we kno
w where Shaw is and he couldn’t have planted the roses.” Rossi stood staring at the car. “You getting the same vibe about this as I am?”

  “Depends on what vibe you’re getting.”

  Rossi looked at Brady. “Bored little rich girl. Decides to invent a stalker to get back at an ex who jilted her.”

  Brady stepped back. He’d been thinking of Morgan as a little rich girl, too, but his anger rose at Rossi’s tone. Why, he didn’t know. The guy was right. She was rich, maybe pampered. Maybe spoiled.

  Brady was trained to read people. He did it all day long on the job. Read them, predicted what they might do, then acted accordingly. Morgan was many things, things he didn’t want to dwell on now, but he’d spent enough time with her to see she wasn’t an attention seeker and he trusted his gut instinct.

  “I’m more inclined to believe her,” he said making sure his tone carried his conviction.

  Rossi arched his brow. “She tell you something I’m not getting from the scene?”

  “No. Her story was simple. She opened the car door. The roses and invitation were here.”

  “Odd that they’re so fresh. Not wilted from the cold, right? Seems unlikely that the stalker put them here in broad daylight. Means she could’ve left them.”

  No. The word shot into Brady’s brain but he held back from saying it. If he was going to get Rossi fully on board, he’d needed proof of Morgan’s actions this morning. Maybe a video. Brady searched for surveillance cameras on the nearby buildings. Found none. So what else could prove her innocence? A money trail.

  “You could pull Morgan’s financials to see if she’s bought any flowers lately,” Brady offered.

  Rossi rolled his eyes. “Credit card receipts for three roses? Nah. She could’ve paid cash.”

  He was right and Brady was grasping at straws here, but he wouldn’t give up easily. “What about showing her picture at local flower shops? See if anyone recognizes her or they have invoices for a purchase?”

  “Same thing. Flowers can be bought just about everywhere these days. And if she was trying to hide the purchase, she’d make sure she got them from an untraceable source, like a street vendor.”