The Witness (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Style, Linda

  “I better go,” Alex said, rising. “I’ve taken up enough of your evening.”

  Crista stood, too. “I’m glad you brought the picture over. You did the right thing.”

  In the living room, Alex reached around her for his jacket, brushing against her as he did.

  “I’ll go out with you,” Crista said. If Diego hadn’t called by now, he wasn’t going to.

  Her building had no elevator and three floors later, they reached the front door. Crista stepped outside with Alex, glad to breathe in the crisp fresh air. The evening had been emotionally taxing, but it had also been fun.

  As they stood quietly together, she felt as if something had passed between them tonight. Their new intimacy was…exciting.

  Alex reached out and, with two fingers, tilted her chin up. “Despite my reason for coming, I enjoyed spending time with you,” he said.

  Arousal grew low in Crista’s groin. And standing there with Alex gazing into her eyes, she wished he’d kiss her. And just as she wished it, his lips brushed hers.

  Her heart leaped, and she was seized by a physical need so intense she thought she might combust at any second. She brought her arms up and clung to Alex, deepening the kiss, letting him know she enjoyed the evening as much as he had.

  More. She’d enjoyed it more.

  At that moment, it didn’t matter that he was the worst possible man in the world for her. The only thing that mattered was how she felt right now. And when he crushed her in his strong arms, she knew he felt the same. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe and all she could hear was her heart thumping in time with his.

  A loud screech of tires broke the spell.

  POP! POP! POP! A trio of gunshots ripped through the air.

  Crista threw Alex to the pavement and, covering his body with hers, she glanced up to see if she could I.D. the vehicle, a license plate. Anything.

  But the moonless night and the dim street lighting were good cover. All she could see was an old dark-colored truck speeding away.

  A dark truck. Like the one in Sam’s drawing?

  CHAPTER SIX

  “10-38. OFFICER NEEDS ASSISTANCE,” Crista said calmly into Alex’s cell phone after she’d practically ripped it from his hand.

  As she spoke, Alex heard the wail of sirens and with lightning speed, three squad cars descended on them. Within minutes, a dozen officers were on the scene. He’d never seen anything like it.

  “Let me handle this,” Crista said, handing him back the phone.

  Alex stiffened. “I can speak for myself.”

  She glared at him, her attitude subzero. “I meant the police stuff.”

  Okay. He should have known that’s what she meant. But after getting shot at for the second time in a week, he was a little shaken and had automatically taken the remark as a stab against his masculinity. And who wouldn’t? She’d brushed him aside like he was nothing when she went over to talk to one of the other officers.

  He was still steaming when, a few minutes later, she told him, “The captain wants to talk to you.”

  “I thought you were going to handle it?” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

  “I did. But he wants your version. Everyone sees things differently.”

  He wondered if she’d told them what they were doing before they were shot at. “I didn’t see anything.”

  She frowned. “He still wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” He agreed, but then had to ask, “Does it matter that I didn’t see anything because I was busy doing something else?”

  She glanced away. “No, I didn’t mention that. It wasn’t important. Just talk to them. Tell them what you saw—or didn’t see.”

  It wasn’t important. He felt like a kid being told to go play so he wouldn’t be in the way. Hell, he’d only asked because it occurred to him she might get in some kind of trouble for fraternizing with someone involved in a case she was working on. Though irked at her behavior, he nodded his okay. After all, it was his fault she’d been in that position in the first place.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Del Rio. Don’t leave,” one of the officers called out from a few yards away. “I’ll need to talk to you.”

  The man wore plain clothes with a badge on his lapel.

  “Sure,” Alex said. He motioned to Crista to come with him to talk to the guy, but she didn’t budge.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “He just wants your version of what happened.”

  Alex waited a second, then, impatient, walked over to where the detective was standing. “I’m Alex Del Rio. You wanted to talk to me?”

  “I’m Captain Englend, Mr. Del Rio, and yes, I need to ask you some questions.”

  “I doubt I can add anything to what Detective Santiago told you. I had my back to the street.”

  “Why was that?”

  Surprised at the sharp tone in the captain’s voice, Alex straightened his shoulders. He didn’t like the guy already. “We were talking.”

  “About what? What were you doing at Detective Santiago’s apartment?”

  And now he felt like a criminal under interrogation. “I came by to give her some information about the case.”

  “What kind of information?” The captain picked at something between his teeth, his manner crude and disgusting.

  Alex planted his feet apart and crossed his arms.

  Englend wrote something on a pad.

  “Specifically, I came over to show her one of Samantha’s drawings because I thought it might be important to her investigation. I was just leaving. We were standing on the steps when it happened and, as I said, my back was to the street and—”

  “You didn’t see anything. But what happened then?”

  “We hit the ground.”

  The captain’s gaze lifted from his paper. “I meant, what did you hear?”

  The back of Alex’s neck prickled. Why didn’t the guy just ask the right question in the first place? “I heard a car, then a round of gunshots. Three of them. We ducked down and I heard the squeal of tires as they sped away.”

  “I thought you didn’t see anything.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then how do you know it was a car and not another type of vehicle.”

  “I don’t. I just assu—”

  “Yeah. I know,” the captain said. “Everyone does that.” He tapped his pen against his pad. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  The captain wore an expression of complete boredom, but the questions in his eyes said he didn’t believe Alex was telling him everything. Tough. Alex didn’t give a damn what the guy believed. It was up to Crista to tell her boss the personal stuff—if she wanted to. He’d said why he was here and it was the truth.

  After that, the captain went into all the same questions that Crista had after the first shooting. Did he have any enemies? Did he know anyone who might want to harm him, etcetera, etcetera.

  Just as quickly as the police came, they were gone. Alex turned to Crista with a bewildered shrug. “What just happened?”

  “Not a helluva lot,” she answered, her voice laced with irritation. “Until they know otherwise, they have to consider it a random act. They can’t do anything without concrete evidence.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think we’ll know more when we get information from Ballistics. They found two of the bullets.”

  Crista didn’t believe for a second that the shooting had been another random act. Two drive-bys, both involving Alex, could only mean one thing. Alex had to know what it meant, too. “We need to talk about this, Alex. And I need to talk to Samantha as soon as possible.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I can talk now if you want. But Sam’s in bed.”

  “Tomorrow is okay.” Actually, Crista had to look at the file and put her information together. She needed to get the results from Ballistics as soon as she could. They might have something.

  “I’m worried. What if Sam saw the shooters
and they know she did. She could be in danger.”

  “Has anything happened to make you think that?”

  “No. Nothing. I’m just worried.”

  She nodded. “I know how you feel. But until I talk to Sam, we have to go on the assumption that because her bedroom light was out they didn’t see her. Has she heard anyone talking about the night of the shooting?”

  “I don’t know. Elena and I have had conversations, but not when Sam is around.”

  “Not that you know of, anyway.”

  “What are you implying?”

  Crista took a deep breath. “Sometimes children hear people talking and say what they think their parents want them to say. They make things up.”

  “Sam wouldn’t do that.”

  “I didn’t say she would. But it happens. Kids have vivid imaginations.”

  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. When he opened them he said, “She does have that.”

  “If you’re worried about Sam’s safety, I can come over and stand watch.”

  Alex did a double take, looking at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “I’m not going to have you put yourself in danger.”

  “Excuse me? I do it all the time. It’s my job to serve and protect. I protected you tonight.”

  He looked surprised, then admitted, “Yeah, you did. I guess I owe you a thank-you for that.”

  “Thanks aren’t necessary. It’s all in the line of duty.”

  “You weren’t on duty.”

  “I’m always on duty if something happens that requires an officer of the law.”

  He shook his head and exhaled noisily. Purposefully. He gave her a wry grin. “Doesn’t seem right to me. It goes against the laws of nature or something.”

  He might have said the words with humor, but she knew there was truth in what he said. “If you don’t want me to stand watch, I can give you the name of someone who can.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” he said. “I’ll take care of Sam myself.”

  Crista didn’t know what that meant, but she knew he wasn’t going to accept her help.

  “And I better go do that right now. I’ll call you in the morning so you can talk to her.” He turned to go.

  “Be careful,” she said. When he was gone, Crista hurried back upstairs to her apartment. She knew Alex was worried about Sam, but after tonight she was fairly certain it wasn’t Sam who was in danger. Only she couldn’t do anything about it. Her suspicions weren’t evidence, and she’d be way off base to tell Alex what she thought until she had that evidence.

  Reaching the door, she suddenly felt emotionally and physically exhausted. She stuck her key in the lock, but as she started to turn it, she realized it didn’t catch. The door wasn’t locked. A chill crawled up her spine. The door was weighted to automatically latch when she closed it.

  Stepping inside the apartment, her gaze darted from corner to corner. Nothing seemed out of place. She took out the gun she kept hidden in the front closet, then she did a quick search of the three small rooms and bath. Everything seemed fine and she felt a little foolish. Maybe she hadn’t pulled the door tight when she and Alex went outside? That had to be it. She went to Calvin’s cage and lifted his cover.

  “What do you think, Calvin?” She reached in and took him out.

  Calvin was silent when usually he repeated everything she said. She checked his feathers, brushing his back as she did. “You okay little bird? What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” Calvin suddenly repeated. “Are you mute? Dumb bird.”

  Though glad to hear him say something, Crista puzzled over where he’d heard that particular line. She didn’t remember watching any TV shows that referred to a mute or dumb bird. But then she’d fallen asleep in front of the television more than once and wouldn’t know anyway. She set him back in his cage and went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine. She enjoyed a glass of wine once in a while, and tonight she needed it.

  Chardonnay in hand, she sat on the couch, slipped off her shoes and put her feet on the laminate coffee table. Too much had happened in just a few short hours and she was overtired. Imagining things.

  She took a sip of wine, mentally cataloguing the events. She’d learned Sam was a possible witness to the crime, and then someone had taken shots at them while they were standing outside. To her, it was obvious that someone wanted to hurt Alex.

  Which made her wonder if Alex knew more than he’d told her. How could he not know if someone wanted to do him harm? How could he not know who his enemies were?

  She knew her enemies. She’d met the most dangerous one face-to-face at Diego’s. A sick feeling settled in her stomach at the thought. But she quickly dispelled it. She’d handled the meeting with Trini. Maybe not well, but she’d stood her ground. And it had felt damn good.

  Remembering the incident reminded her again that Diego hadn’t called when he said he would. She hoped nothing had happened to him and debated driving to his house to see if he was okay. She nixed the idea. God knew who she might run into over there, and she didn’t need any more surprises tonight.

  After finishing her wine, Crista showered and attempted to meditate—to no avail. She went to bed and tried to sleep, but all she managed to do was worry. Sam. Alex. Diego. Her job. It was almost overwhelming.

  Just as she started to drift off, a sharp ringing jerked her awake again. Groggy, Crista fumbled in the dark and snatched the receiver on the third ring. “Hello,” she croaked. “Santiago, here.”

  “Sorry to call so late, but I couldn’t get to a phone before now.”

  Hearing her brother’s voice, Crista pushed to a sitting position. “That’s okay. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “I don’t want to do it over the phone. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?”

  Without hesitation she said, “Sure. Where and when?”

  “Dave’s Diner at two o’clock. It should be quiet then.”

  “Okay—” Crista barely got the syllables out when she heard a muffled sound on the other end and then the drone of the dial tone.

  Bewildered, she slowly replaced the receiver and tried to go back to sleep. But how could she sleep when someone had tried to kill Alex tonight? She didn’t have any proof, but given that he’d been shot at before, she had to consider the worst-case scenario. And then there was Samantha’s drawing.

  A new kind of fear pulsed through Crista. Both Alex and Sam might be in danger.

  Or they might not. Like a carousel, her thoughts went around and around. It was all speculation on her part, but she did have good reason to believe what she did, and she had to do something about it. Maybe Alex didn’t want her help, but she knew a couple guys, former cops who did security work after they retired….

  She drifted off, only to awaken again in the wee hours with something else on her mind.

  Alex had kissed her. With everything that had happened, she’d put it out of her mind. She touched her mouth with her fingertips. Alex had kissed her and she’d enjoyed every second. Just thinking about it, she could almost feel the heat of his lips against hers.

  How had she let that happen? Getting personally involved in a case was unprofessional. For her, it could be career suicide.

  Crista rolled over and jammed the pillow over her head, wishing she had someone to talk to because she sure could use some advice about now. A familiar pang jolted through her, reminding her once again how much she missed her friends—and how much she needed them.

  She awoke in the morning groggy from a disturbed sleep, and first thing out of bed, she went for her latte. The coffee gave her the jolt she needed to get into the shower and, a half hour later, she was at the station. She hung up her leather coat and went directly to Captain Englend’s office. The team’s response last night had been reassuring. More than reassuring. Given her previous experience, she truly appreciated the speedy backup support and had to let Captain Englend know how she felt—regardless of any other issues she might have with him
.

  Englend was sitting at his desk reading the paper when she reached his door. Even though she knocked, he didn’t lift his head. She went in and stood behind one of the chairs until he finally said, “Detective Santiago. What can I do for you?”

  He seemed on edge, his tone annoyed.

  Drumming her fingers against the chair, she said, “I just wanted to say thanks for the team’s quick response last night. I thought maybe you could let everyone know that.”

  Englend shrugged as if to say it was nothing, or simply part of the job. He gave her a studied look, and leaning back in his chair, steepled his fingers. “So what really happened?”

  Taken aback by the question, Crista’s breath caught. Was he implying she hadn’t told him everything? She didn’t know what he was referring to, but answered anyway. “In my opinion, the shooting was not another drive-by.”

  The captain’s passive expression remained fixed, but his brows raised mechanically—two straight, dark lines that contrasted markedly with his silver hair and looked as if they’d been drawn on with a black marking pencil.

  “And what evidence do you have to support that opinion?”

  “Two drive-bys involving the same person. In my book, that’s no coincidence.”

  “It’s also not evidence.”

  “My neighborhood isn’t the greatest, but as far as I know, it doesn’t get many drive-bys. I think the hit was planned, I think someone wants to harm Alex Del Rio.”

  “Your opinion isn’t evidence, either.”

  Crista gritted her teeth. “Right. But hopefully we’ll have that evidence soon.”

  “Good. Come talk to me when you have it.”

  She turned to leave when he added, “How close are you to wrapping up the case?”

  How close? Not even. “I don’t have the results from Ballistics yet. It will be a week or so before I do. It’s going to take time.”

  The captain’s lips thinned. The cords in his neck suddenly popped out like a bas-relief road map. He leaned forward, both hands on the desk as he rose to his feet.

  She cringed a little inside. It was obvious her statement rubbed him the wrong way. Hard as it was, she had to watch what she said. Especially now.