High-Caliber Holiday

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High-Caliber Holiday Page 16

by Susan Sleeman


  At the look of surprise on her face, he regretted mentioning the last bit. He hadn’t meant to, but she deserved to know there were people in her life who wanted to help her with no strings attached. He could almost see the thoughts running through her head.

  “I think staying at the firehouse sounds like a good idea,” she finally said.

  Her simple words flooded his heart with happiness. The rush of emotion surprised him, and he needed some breathing room.

  He jumped to his feet and headed for the door. “I’ll be out in the hallway if you need me.”

  “Don’t tell me needles make you squeamish?” Morgan teased.

  “Nah, they don’t bother me,” he said, and pulled open the heavy door without making eye contact.

  The way I’m thinking about you is another story. He let the thought chase him out of the room and hoped it would stop distracting him by the time she was ready to step outside where if they were wrong about Preston, her stalker could be waiting for her.

  * * *

  Morgan had barely been discharged when she walked into PEA’s building, carrying fresh energy drinks made at her apartment. With each step, she wondered if she had the strength or might drop to the ground. The nurse had warned her to take it easy, but Morgan had to deliver the drinks to set up the sting. They could wait a day for her strength to improve, but the search of Preston’s home and office turned up nothing, and Rossi was starting to think they were wrong about Preston. That her stalker was still out there. She didn’t want to waste a minute trying to put an end to being stalked.

  She went straight to the refrigerator and set the neatly labeled drinks on the top shelf, then headed to her cubicle. As much as she knew spending time with Brady wasn’t a good idea, she still wished he was with her, giving her the sense of security she always felt when he was around. But he believed it would put her coworkers on edge if he came inside so, instead, he remained in his truck.

  Lacy poked her head around the cubicle doorway. “You’re back. I didn’t think you were supposed to come in yet.”

  “I’m not, but I wanted to turn over a few clients to you so they don’t fall through the cracks.” Morgan felt as if she was lying to her friend, but technically she wasn’t, as she did want to check in on her clients.

  “You shouldn’t have bothered.” Lacy watched Morgan carefully. “I’ve got everything under control.”

  “I’m sure you do, but you know me. Just wanted to double-check.” Morgan nodded at the chair by her desk. “Have a seat, and we’ll run through the client list.”

  Lacy sat. “Who do you want to talk about first?”

  Morgan opened the first client file and they worked down the list until lunchtime. Morgan wasn’t hungry, but as Lacy sat back and stretched, her stomach grumbled. The girl had an appetite that would even challenge the men of the FRS.

  “I’m planning to order a pizza,” Lacy said. “Will you still be here and want to share it with me?”

  “Thanks, but I’m set with this.” Morgan held up her drink. She’d added blueberries this time, making the liquid a bright purple. She wanted the color to tip off her coworkers that she’d made a change.

  Nantz walked past the cubicle, then did a double take and backed up. “Blueberry, huh?”

  She forced out a laugh. “And here I thought you’d be surprised to see me.”

  “That, too, but man, what’s in that thing?” He smiled. “It’s glowing an alien color.”

  She chuckled again, but her mind was all over the fact that he took particular notice of her drink, which is what she’d hoped to accomplish.

  “I don’t know how she comes up with the combinations.” Lacy mocked a shudder.

  Another coworker stopped to welcome her back and soon a small group huddled around her cubicle. She assured them she was fine and when they departed, she settled down to finish the list with Lacy.

  Morgan glanced at the clock. Noon. She’d been there long enough, and though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she was wiped out and needed to rest. She grabbed her belongings. “Thanks for humoring me on the list, Lacy. I’ll rest easier. You can reach me on my cell if you need anything.”

  “I won’t bother you,” Lacy said firmly as they walked to the door together.

  “Just don’t be afraid to call if you need to.” Morgan stepped into the sunshine, pausing to let it warm her for a moment, then crossed the alley to Brady’s truck.

  He wore an earpiece and a mic hung on a cord around his neck. He was talking to Jake and Archer, who sat in a carpet-cleaning van down the alley. In addition to placing cameras here, they’d put them in the gym and her apartment, too, and they were monitoring all the camera feeds.

  “I’m signing off now to take Morgan home. Call me if anything happens.” He pulled out the earpiece and tossed it into the cupholder.

  She buckled her seatbelt and swiveled toward him. “Anyone take the bait?”

  “Not yet.” He frowned. “Maybe now that you’re gone, something will happen here.” He shifted into gear. “Did it seem like any of your coworkers were onto the real reason for your hospital stay?”

  “No, and I even talked to Nantz. He was his usual self.” She frowned. “I hate that we’re keeping the poisoning from everyone. And I especially hate that we haven’t told them Fred’s real cause of death.”

  “I get that, but we can’t risk them knowing.”

  “I know,” she said, and let the conversation drop.

  “On the plus side, Rossi just called. Eckert was hauled in last night for a bar fight. He had a set of lock picks in his pocket.”

  She shot forward in excitement. “Meaning he knows how to pick a lock and could have gotten into my apartment?”

  Brady held out a hand. “Hold up. Don’t get too excited yet. Eckert has the tools and the skills, but we still don’t have anything to connect him to your apartment. And he’s claiming he has them because he’s into locksport.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a sport where guys try to defeat locking systems.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m serious. They have groups to share knowledge plus participate in activities and contests. He said his former brother-in-law is a locksmith and got him started. Rossi said it checks out.”

  She sat back. “Still, we have a guy who clearly knows all about antifreeze and could break into my car and apartment. Since Preston seems iffy now, Eckert sounds like our best lead.”

  “Rossi thinks so, too. It’s illegal to own lock-picking tools with the intent to use them in a burglary. Eckert claims that’s not what he was doing, but it allows Rossi to hold him for additional questioning while Rossi investigates. It may not pan out, but at least we have a lead and Rossi has reason to dig into Eckert’s background more.”

  She nodded.

  “Rossi also said that he finally interviewed the last guy who sent a threatening letter. He was traveling during the times in question. So that rules out all of the people from the lawsuit who sent threats.”

  “I’m glad it’s not one of them,” she said. “I’d hate for more lives to be ruined.”

  All the talk of who was trying to kill her took the last bit of her energy. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The doctors said she would feel weak and tired, not only from the poison but from the dialysis, but her lack of energy surprised her, as did falling asleep for the drive to her apartment where she packed a suitcase.

  At the firehouse, Brady held her elbow as he escorted her up the steps to Skyler’s condo. He carried her suitcase in the other hand. Morgan knew she should shrug off his help to assert her independence, but honestly, she needed him right now and liked his help. Problem was, she also liked the warm feel of his hand on her arm.

  Brady unlocked the condo door and stepped back. “Skyle
r says you should make yourself at home.”

  Morgan whipped around to look up at him. “Don’t tell me you called her on her honeymoon.”

  “Are you kidding? I’d like my head to remain attached to my neck.” He chuckled. “They’re coming back tomorrow night, and she called Darcie to ask her to do a favor. Girl stuff, she said.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Hey, now.” She grinned. “Girl stuff is important.”

  “If you say so.” He laughed again, and his smile warmed her to the core.

  She quickly averted her eyes and caught sight of a Christmas wonderland. “Wow.” She turned in a circle to take in the stockings on the fireplace, two tall trees and garland mixed with small candles strung everywhere else. “It’s like a magazine.”

  “Skyler loves Christmas. Her parents never celebrated the holiday so she goes overboard with it.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Your parents weren’t big on Christmas, either?”

  Morgan shook her head. “Just the opposite. We had party after party, but they were for grown-ups and business associates. No children. The house had to be professionally decorated, and I wasn’t allowed to touch anything.” She circled the room and ran her fingers over soft pine boughs. “But this? This all looks very touchable and fun.”

  He didn’t speak, so she turned to look at him and found him staring intently at her.

  “What?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

  “You sound so excited. Like a little kid. But you only have one tiny tree at your place.” He paused as if thinking about going on. “It looked perfect to me. Like you described your parents’ decor.”

  What? Perfect? Her? She flashed him a surprised look and considered how not including any memories from her past in her apartment had made it barren and sparse, like a model house rather than a real home. “I guess maybe I embraced more of my parents’ lifestyle than I thought. But when I have children, you better believe the whole place will be filled with decorations, presents and, most importantly, love.”

  He suddenly sobered and swallowed hard. She had no idea what she’d said to change the atmosphere.

  “I should let you rest,” he said. “I’ll be downstairs in the office. I want to check the video feed from our cameras and do more research on Eckert.” He rested his fingers on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. He seemed to come to a conclusion before he took a deep breath and blew it out. “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “I will,” she said, but she decided she wasn’t going to call him for anything that wasn’t life threatening.

  At the door he turned. “We’re pretty secure here, but lock up after me, just in case.”

  She closed the door and twisted the dead bolt, then went straight to the bathroom to slip into a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. She didn’t feel right about sleeping in Skyler’s bed so she dropped onto the sofa with a soft pillow and fuzzy blanket. She’d thought she might need to work on emptying her brain of the craziness that was her life. Empty it of the feel of Brady’s touch. But her eyes were heavy, and she quickly drifted off to sleep.

  She dreamed of a blazing fire in Skyler’s fireplace, the Christmas stockings hanging over it. The warmth of the fire felt so real that she tossed off her blanket. Her feet tangled in the fabric and she struggled to push it off. Her throat felt dry and parched, and a cough started deep in her chest. She must have slept with her mouth open. She was almost too tired to get a glass of water, but it was so dry. So hot. She heard a sound. Crackling. Near the floor. She coughed again, her whole chest heaving with exertion. She forced her heavy eyelids open.

  Flames licked at the end of sofa. The drapes. The carpet.

  “Fire,” she called out, her dry throat leaving the word nothing more than a whisper. She drew her feet under her body and shot a look around the room.

  Smoke surrounded her, billowing up in clouds to obscure her vision, the heat intensifying. Searching. Destroying.

  “Help,” she called out, but knew the concrete walls would muffle her cries.

  Panic welled up. Flowed over. Her heart started racing.

  She searched for an exit. A way out. The thick smoke stung her eyes. They watered and blurred her vision. She blinked hard, but could see nothing.

  What should she do?

  Father, please help me. Please.

  Drop to the floor, she remembered. But flames circled her as if the fire was set to consume her.

  Of course it had been. The poison hadn’t worked. This was the killer’s second option. Had to be.

  She frantically scanned for a way out. Anything. The door. The window. Both were blocked.

  Her throat closed as panic settled in. The irony of her situation wasn’t lost on her. Here she was in a firehouse, and barring an act of God, a fire was going to take her life.

  SEVENTEEN

  Something felt off to Brady. He didn’t know what. Just a sixth sense that he’d developed in the marines. It had kept him alive for two tours in Afghanistan, and he’d learned to trust it. He had to heed the feeling and check on Morgan.

  He left behind the research he’d been conducting on Eckert and stepped into the family room. A hint of smoke tainted the air. A fireplace.

  Maybe...or... Morgan!

  He charged to the top of the stairs. Saw fingers of smoke creeping under Skyler’s front door.

  Dear God, no. Not Morgan.

  Running, Brady dug out the keys from his pocket, then his phone to call 911. He blurted out the situation and listened as the operator confirmed his call.

  “Hurry,” he said, dropping his phone and grabbing the knob. It was hot to the touch. He released it. Inserted the key in the lock.

  “Morgan!” he shouted as he felt the edges of the door. Not that it mattered if flames made the door hot enough to burn his hand. He was going in for Morgan. He turned the knob and used his shoulder to press the door partway open. Flames licked around the corner and up the side.

  He closed the door, ripped off his shirt and tore it into shreds. He tied strips around his hands and his mouth. After a deep breath, he shouldered the door open again.

  The entire room was in flames. Smoke obscured his view of the space.

  Morgan. His heart refused to beat.

  “Morgan,” he screamed.

  “Here,” her weak voice came from the middle of the living room.

  He heard the hallway smoke detector go off. Good. Jake would be notified of the fire. Brady didn’t think twice but charged through the flames. Got low, below the smoke. He felt the heat. Inferno hot. Licking at his bare arms. He ignored it. Moved across the polished concrete floor, thankful it wasn’t wood.

  “Call out, Morgan,” he shouted. “I can’t see you.”

  “Here,” her voice came from close by.

  He dug deep for strength. Crossed the distance. Felt around. Found her on the sofa curled into a ball. He grabbed her in a hug. “Hold on, honey. I’ll get you out.”

  He lifted her over his shoulder, then reversed course. Hand by hand, inch by inch, he crawled. Flames crackled around him. Smoke choked off his oxygen. Morgan’s, too, as she gasped for breath. The smoke got to him. Dragging him down. He felt like giving in. Collapsing.

  No. Stay with it. Get Morgan to safety.

  He dug even deeper. Surged forward, his body landing in the hallway. He pulled in a deep breath, but the air was still contaminated, and he coughed so hard he thought he’d heave out a lung. He managed to get to his feet and move down the hallway to cleaner air where he set Morgan down. She was coughing, but dragging in air. He took deep breaths of his own while scanning her from head to toe looking for any injury. She’d tied a scarf over her mouth and nose to hold off the smoke. Soot covered her face, but she hadn’t suffered any burns.

/>   “Your leg,” she screamed.

  He looked down surprised to see flames engulfing his jeans. He dropped to the floor. Tried to pat it out. Morgan leaped on top of him, extinguishing the flames with her body.

  She was quite a woman. Brave beyond words. He couldn’t believe she’d fallen onto fire for him.

  The reality of the event hit him. He could have lost her. Fear coursed through his body, and he pulled her into his arms. Held her as they both worked to get fresh air into their lungs.

  They lay there together until firefighters pounded up the steps and insisted they exit the building. Together they stumbled down the stairs and outside. An EMT rig was pulling in, Darcie launching herself out the door before the vehicle stopped. She rushed across the parking lot. Scanned them from head to toe as he’d done with Morgan, but Darcie was looking at both of them with a clinical eye. She grabbed Brady’s hand and dragged him to the back of the rig. Her partner had the door open.

  “On the gurney,” she demanded.

  “Morgan first.”

  “Morgan doesn’t have any burns and Mickey here will see to her breathing.”

  Brady let Darcie minister to him. He knew it was hopeless to argue when she was in her mad-mother mode. As he lay there, the rest of the team arrived one by one. Jake nodded at Brady, acknowledging his survival in Jake’s usual terse way, and then he marched to the front door where he met with a firefighter.

  Archer and Cash stepped up to the gurney.

  “If Cash hadn’t been with us,” Archer said, a snarky smile on his face, “I would’ve wondered if he was cooking again.”

  Cash shook his head, then squeezed Brady’s arm. Brady wouldn’t admit it, but tears welled up in his eyes at seeing his friend’s concern.

  Cash huffed a laugh. “Burn the place down, why don’t you.”

  Glad to have the sentimental moment over with, Brady laughed, but started coughing.

 

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