by Regan Black
It wasn’t good news.
At the end of the block, he turned and made his way back toward the hotel. He’d spent more time in this neighborhood of the city tonight than he had in years. It pressed in on him, and he gripped the wheel. At one time, this was the very heart of his biggest goals and dreams.
“I can’t do this, Karen,” he said, addressing his dead wife. “Not with her.”
She and the baby she’d carried had been gone for two decades, both of them dead in a complication during delivery. Every so often he felt as if she was still by his side. A breeze would brush his cheek and he’d be right back in those days, reaching for her. They’d been inseparable from the first moment they’d met, happily married before they could legally drink and worrying both of their families in the process.
“She’s smart, but she takes risks. I’ll never be able to protect her,” he continued. “I can’t get close to a woman like that.”
She could make you happy.
The words echoed in his head, so clear he wanted to believe the light of his life was right here in the car, listening to him vent about another woman.
“I’m happy enough,” he told himself. He had more than enough money. As a property owner, he held substantial influence in this city and others. The only thing missing was his wife and the half-dozen kids they’d dreamed of raising. But he’d lost her and the baby in one dreadful afternoon. They’d gone to the hospital together, full of hope and wonder, and he’d left a shell of a man, lost and haunted.
“I’m happy enough,” he repeated with more determination this time. Widowed at twenty-two, overcome with loss and grief, he funneled all of his energy into business as a property developer, working day and night to reach a substantial net worth by a young age.
And you keep pushing.
For the first time ever, he was annoyed with the memory of his wife’s voice.
“How could I quit?” He parked in his reserved space at the rear of the hotel and rested his head on the steering wheel.
In those early days, if he stopped for more than a few minutes the loss caught up with him, knocked him down and threatened to keep him there. So, hell yes, he kept going. He let the media dub him an eligible bachelor and took hold of that moniker with both hands.
By the third year of grieving, his mother tried to set him up, urging his siblings to bring female friends to family events. He put up with it, knowing they loved him, but he wouldn’t let anyone close again. The day he’d buried Karen and the baby, he’d buried his broken heart with them.
He stared up at the Grave Gulch Hotel. This was the first major undertaking in his real-estate venture, his only true passion now. His joy. He poured everything he would’ve given his wife and children into the businesses. Life had given him another shot at happiness. It just looked a whole lot different.
Back in his office, his cell phone chimed with a text message from an unknown number. Not unheard of, but at this hour it usually meant some kind of emergency. He was tempted to ignore it, and then realized he couldn’t.
Antonio looked at the screen and the text in the preview sent a chill across the back of his neck.
Call her off or else.
Should he respond or ignore it? He took a screenshot. Antonio wanted something solid to add to the police file tomorrow.
Annoyed and in a contrary mood, Antonio texted back.
Or else what?
For several long minutes he waited for a reply that never came. He gave up on Orr and stretched out on the couch to get some sleep when his phone started ringing. Seeing the caller ID for the alarm company that monitored his home, he picked up and gave his security code.
“Mr. Ruiz, we have two alerts at your home. An open back door and the smoke detector in your kitchen. The fire department is on the way. Are you in the house, sir?”
“No,” Antonio replied, his blood thundering in his ears. “Is there video footage?”
“No, sir, not at this time.”
That was zero comfort. “I’m at the office, but I’ll head over and meet the fire department.”
“Just stay clear of the house, sir.”
With a promise to cooperate, he ended the call and headed back out into the freezing January night. When he reached his home he could see smoke rising into the night from the rear corner of the house. Exactly where his kitchen windows overlooked the lake.
Antonio parked as close as he could and jogged the rest of the way to join the first responders. The fire department seemed to have everything under control and there wasn’t anything he could do about it, anyway.
He recognized one of the police officers who’d responded to the drive-by shooting. “Busy night, Officer Warren.”
“Mr. Ruiz, I’m glad you’re not in there. Your security company informed us the house was empty at the time of the fire.”
Antonio glanced around, but most of the homes on this street were nestled back into wooded lots. His nearest neighbor probably wouldn’t notice anything amiss until tomorrow.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Officer Warren offered. “Anyone we should call?”
The generosity surprised him. “Me? No, thanks. I was planning to stay at the hotel tonight, anyway, to catch up on work.”
“That’s good, that you have a place to stay. I meant to say thank you earlier. Everyone in the department is grateful for your help finding Danny.”
That explained the new heights of friendliness. The GGPD officers who responded to calls at the hotel were always polite, but not always this warm. “You’re welcome.” It came out more like a question that it should have. “I was happy to help.”
“That little guy means the world to all of us.”
They both turned as the firefighters emerged from the house, sparing Antonio from further praise or conversation.
“Wait here,” Officer Warren said, then jogged over to converse with the firefighters. When he returned, he was shaking his head. “The fire’s out, Mr. Ruiz, but please don’t enter the premises until further notice. We’ll need some time to investigate.”
“Do you suspect arson?” If that was the case, he had a good alibi, right up until the point when Melissa went home. Then again, swiping in and out of the various areas within the hotel would confirm his whereabouts. Not to mention he’d have no motive to burn down his own house... “What concerns you?”
“The damage around the sidelight at the back door,” Warren explained. “As I said, we’ll look into it and coordinate with your security company.”
After leaving details of where and how to reach him, he drove back to the hotel. This time, he stopped by the security office to let them know he was moving to the secure penthouse. “Unless this particular building is coming down, I am not to be disturbed before nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
That gave him time to get some sleep before he took Orr’s text message to Melissa...or before she came looking for him once she heard about the fire.
Apparently, Melissa was right. It seemed he was the target after all.
Chapter 6
Sunday morning came far sooner than Melissa had hoped for. On top of her derailed Saturday night, she wasn’t in the best of moods when she rolled out of bed the next day. She set a cup of coffee to brew and walked to the front window. The patrol car was still in place. When she sent the officers a text to check in, they confirmed they were fine, and coffee and breakfast had been dropped off by another team.
Satisfied, she checked for any new messages while she let the caffeine kick her brain into full function. A run would be nice, so she could breathe out the last of the tension from the chaos of last night, but she changed her mind when she saw a voice mail from Desiree.
Her cousin had called and left a whispered message that she couldn’t stop watching Danny sleep. All of the sincere thank-yous and I-love-yous held a sharp edge
that sliced through her frazzled nerves. It was wonderful to hear the love, to know two of her favorite people in the world were content and safe. But it was tough to swallow that the GGPD was the reason they’d been subjected to the trauma and nightmare to begin with. She needed to track down the forensics reports in question today and set up a face-to-face with the CSI on the Orr case.
She sent a text message reply to Desiree, just in case mother and baby were sleeping in. Her phone rang immediately when Desiree called her right back.
“Good morning,” Melissa greeted her cousin.
“It’s a fabulous morning,” Desiree gushed. “Say hi, baby. Say hi to Mel.”
“Hi.” It was Danny’s sweet voice.
Her heart swelled to bursting with love and relief all over again. That bright greeting intensified her longing for children of her own, despite all of the chaos with her career as chief of police. If most of her department could juggle family and work, surely she could figure it out.
“Hi,” Melissa said through the guilt that chased the happier emotions.
Desiree came back on the line and talked about the weekend plans and the newlyweds for a few minutes. “Do I have to press charges?” she asked abruptly.
At last, the crux of the call. “We’ve already charged her,” Melissa replied. “Right now, it’s out of your hands. First-degree kidnapping is the tip of the iceberg. I’m not sure what else the DA will pile on.”
Desiree sniffled. “Forgive the waterworks. I just want it to go away, Mel. I saw her face on the news this morning. She looks like the sweetest grandma. And she did it to help her own granddaughter.”
More guilt wound around Melissa’s heart, although she knew she had to hold firm. “Hannah McPherson struck me the same way. Caring and devoted. I know you can relate to that. Although I don’t believe she ever would have hurt a single hair on Danny’s head, she did steal him.”
“To get your attention.”
“Trust me, that’s clear,” Melissa said. “I’m following up on everything we learned last night.”
“I just want it on record that I forgive her. And then I want to forget it all happened.”
Melissa understood completely. “We’ll sort it out,” Melissa promised. “No guarantees, because the DA is in control, but I will let you know if there’s anything you can do for Mrs. McPherson.”
“Thanks. Swing by anytime if you want some fresh air and sunshine with a handsome guy today.”
Antonio’s face flashed into her mind before Danny’s and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Good thing she was alone. “I’ll call first,” she promised. “One more thing.” She took a deep breath. “There was some additional trouble last night.”
She explained the drive-by shooting with the fewest details possible. Calming Desiree’s initial concerns about her well-being, Melissa continued, “As much as I’d like to believe it was random, chances are high that this is a problem. We don’t have a definite ID on the shooter, but if our best guess is correct, it’s possible—not likely, just possible—that the person involved will try to manipulate me by going after my family. So please take extra care in general. I’ll let the rest of our relatives know, too.”
“Mel, it’s me,” Desiree said. “Do you think this is connected to Everleigh Emerson?”
“No. This is about a different case, but it is the potential indicator of another GGPD error and that worries me.”
“Oh.”
There was a wealth of meaning in that single syllable. “Just be careful,” Melissa said. “If you see or feel anything that makes you uncomfortable, report it or tell me right away.”
“I will,” Desiree promised.
One down, Melissa thought, ending the call. What a way to start a Sunday. She dialed her parents next. They were the most vulnerable, not just because she enjoyed a close relationship with them, but because they weren’t tied in any way to the GGPD themselves. Travis, as a businessman, had a good handle on his surroundings at all times. Clarke, as a private investigator, and Stanton, owner of a protective detail agency, were always ready for anything. Not invincible, but sharp. Still, she had to call each of them about this new risk. While she spoke with her immediate family one by one, she finished her second cup of coffee of the morning.
It was past ten and bright sunlight made a run irresistible. She pulled on layers to ward off the cold and laced up her running shoes. Stepping outside and breathing in the bracing winter air was an immediate improvement.
Striding to the police car, she made sure they could track her phone and gave them her planned route. “Just keep an eye on the house,” she said. “I’ve got pepper spray and a whistle with me, too, if something happens.”
“Are you wearing any headphones, chief?”
“Not today,” she assured him with a smile. “I promise, I’ll stay alert. It’s just a two-mile loop.”
Broad daylight and a Sunday morning when most people would be home made it a bad time for Orr to take another swipe at her. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t, but it did increase his chances that he’d be seen or caught in the act.
She’d be okay with that. And maybe, in the back of her mind, she was silently daring Orr to take another shot. As she found a good pace, her mind wandered while her ears and eyes were aware of every detail. No, she wasn’t impervious to bullets or fear. Though she didn’t relish being shot at again, the fact remained that they had to get the man off the street. And that meant doing whatever it would take—even putting herself in the line of fire—to bring in a bad guy.
And she felt an obligation to her officers to behave with confidence despite the sudden onset of problems. She absolutely believed that as a team, the GGPD could get to the bottom of these issues together.
Antonio was certain his former associate had killed a woman last summer and equally certain he’d fired at them last night. She needed a last known address for Drew Orr and then to get eyes on him. Thanks to Antonio’s statement at the scene, one of her officers would be working on that already, making time to speak with Orr and confirm his whereabouts.
As a near-victim of the incident the night before, she had to allow the responding officers to handle it. She was fine with that, too. That freed her up to dig deeper on the Emerson and Paxton cases.
Wrapping up her run, she waved to the officers in the car, just as she’d done with the neighbors she’d seen, and headed inside. Her cheeks were cold and her body felt rejuvenated and loose. She took the time to stretch out the last of the aches before her shower.
Feeling warm and edging toward starving, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked into her bedroom. She tensed up at the realization that someone was in the house and reached for her phone. Relief followed immediately as she recognized the voices drifting from the kitchen. Her parents were here.
Mildly exasperated that they’d enter when she was already on high alert, she quickly dressed in her favorite jeans, fuzzy socks and a cozy half-zip fleece with the GGPD logo embroidered on the shoulder. In the kitchen, her mother whipped up eggs at the counter while her father sipped coffee at the breakfast table, a travel magazine in his hands.
It was always a joy to see them, although she had no idea why they’d chosen to surprise her today. “What are you doing?” she asked. “We just talked about keeping your distance for a few days.” Hadn’t they heard a word she’d said? “This... I didn’t even hear the door chimes.”
Last night, she’d adjusted her security-system settings so she’d hear the chime if a door was opened.
“You were in the shower. We called out and sent a text,” her mother said, as if she showed up to cook every Sunday.
“And then she just got to it,” her father explained. That was the way it had been for as far back as Melissa could remember. Either Frank Colton or Italia Vespucci Colton would start a sentence or a thought and the other would finish it. Frank had met his
wife during a vacation to Italy. When asked, they both claimed it had been love at first sight and Italia swore there had never been a moment’s regret making the move to Michigan.
They were so adorable and content she didn’t have the heart to kick them out. Shoving her concerns down deep, she kissed her mom’s cheek. “Can I help?”
“Go talk to your dad,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
Filling a glass with water, she did as she was told. Thirty-six and still a child, even in her own home.
“Desiree and Danny doing all right?” Frank asked.
“They are. I, um, put her on notice, too, that she should be alert and careful of the person I mentioned to the two of you.”
“We’re fine,” her mother said. Forty-one years in America hadn’t dulled her Italian accent. “Obviously.” She dipped slices of bread into the egg wash and placed them on the skillet. “Get the plates out, sweetie,” she directed. “This will be ready soon.”
French toast was Melissa’s favorite. She couldn’t stay upset when her parents were going to such lengths to offer their support.
“Sounds like quite a bit of drama in the department,” Frank said.
“Unfortunately true,” Melissa confirmed. “We’ll sort it out,” she replied. And if there were errors, they would find a way to put the right killers behind bars.
“Will any of these unpleasant things jeopardize your position?” her mother asked. “You are a good chief of police.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She appreciated the love and the faith. “As I said, we’ll sort it out.” She carefully filled a small dish with powdered sugar for her dad and set out butter and syrup for her and her mom.
“Is that fire last night connected to any of this?” Italia asked, bringing over a plate piled high with piping hot slices of French toast.
“What fire?” Melissa looked from her dad to her mom and back again. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”
Her dad speared two slices of the bread with a fork and dropped them on his plate, adding butter and powdered sugar. “The news reported it as Ruiz’s place. Said no one was home at the time and there were no injuries.”