His gaze searched her face. “Do you really believe that?”
“I definitely believe it,” she said firmly. “For God’s sake, let yourself off that particular hook, Jake. This person is broken, and was probably broken long before you ever met him.”
He leaned back in his chair and released a deep sigh. “I guess I’m just feeling discouraged this morning.”
“I’m sorry you’re discouraged. What else can we do? Do you want to call the police and tell them you believe Adam is the killer? You don’t have to tell them about the pact. You can just say you know him and you believe he’s the killer.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to ruin an innocent man’s life and I’m still not one hundred percent sure Adam is our man. It’s possible the killer could be Matt Harrison.”
“Why haven’t you talked much about him before?”
He sighed once again. “Because of all the men, I really didn’t want it to be Matt. Matt and I got particularly close when we were attending the meetings. He’s my age, and separate from our grief and anger, we had a lot of other things in common. We’d stay at the bar after the others had left and just talk.”
“So, what’s his story?” she asked.
“His mother was beaten to death by Brian McDowell. Matt believed that McDowell didn’t know she was home when he broke in. She surprised him and he used a baseball bat to kill her.”
“Another tragedy,” she replied softly. “Brian McDowell was the first victim of the Vigilante Killer.
He nodded. “That’s right. Is that a clue? Did the Vigilante Killer murder the man who had wronged him and he then moved on to the others?”
It was a question that hung in the air with no answer. She fought the impulse to reach out and touch him again. She could feel the weight of discouragement wafting off him and she wished she knew how to take it away from him.
He remained quiet through the course of the day and at a little after four they were in his car and headed to her house to meet the glass guy. Jake wore a pair of jeans, a navy T-shirt and another lightweight blazer. She knew beneath the blazer he had on his shoulder holster, which he’d worn each time they’d left the house since the night of the shooting.
“At least with the window fixed the house will be ready for me to come home to,” she said as they pulled up in her driveway.
“You’re still going to have some work to do on the wall that got shot up,” he said. “Don’t be in too much of a rush to get back here.” He shut off the engine and together they got out of the car.
“You’ve been so quiet today I thought maybe I’d worn out my welcome.”
“That’s definitely not the case,” he replied. “I guess I have been quiet today, but it’s just because I’ve spent the day trying to see how this all ends and right now I just don’t see it.
She withdrew her key from her purse, unlocked her front door, and then turned and smiled at him. “I hope it ends with us being friends long after this is all over.”
“I’d like that,” he replied.
She shoved her door open but he pushed her behind him and drew his gun. “Let’s just check things out before we get comfortable.
She followed him into the dark living room. With the board on the window, it felt like an alien space. His gun led them into the kitchen, where he opened the pantry door to make sure nobody was inside.
Her heart was once again thudding an unnatural rhythm as they left the kitchen and he then led her down the hallway. Was there somebody hiding out in one of her bedrooms? Somebody just waiting for their return here?
He whirled into the first room...her guest room. He walked past the queen-size bed covered in a turquoise spread and right to the closet. He threw open the closet door and then relaxed, but a knot of tension still worked in his jaw.
They cleared the hall bathroom and the room she used as her office and then approached her bedroom. If anyone was in the house they were somewhere in this room.
Her heart beat more rapidly as they stepped into the room, where the bed was covered with her lavender floral spread and wispy lavender curtains hung at the window. This room had always brought her a sense of calm and peace, but not now.
He checked her master bathroom and then stared at her closet door. There was no sound in the air except for her slightly panicked breaths.
He jerked open her closet door and they both breathed a sigh of relief. “It looks like we’re alone,” he said, and holstered his gun.
“Thank God,” she replied.
Together they returned to the living room, where she quickly turned on one of the lamps on the end table next to the sofa, but even that illumination seemed inadequate to chase away the darkness of evil the room held to her.
Would this ever feel like her home again? Not only did she need to get the window replaced but she also needed to contact somebody about fixing the walls where the bullets had hit. Once all the damage was taken care of, would she be able to embrace this space as her own little haven once again?
“Are you okay?”
Jake’s question pulled her from her thoughts. She forced a smile. “I’m fine. It’s just that this doesn’t really feel like my home right now.”
“Once you get things taken care of here I’m sure you’ll feel better. Did you contact your insurance company?”
“I gave them a call that first morning at your house. Unfortunately, I have a fairly high deductible so I think these repairs will be out of pocket for me.”
“Do you have the money to take care if it?” His gaze turned soft. “I don’t mean to pry into your finances, but I’d be happy to help you with this expense.”
Her chest swelled with emotion. “Thanks, but I’ve got this,” she replied.
Before she could say anything more, Mitchell Blackmore of Blackmore Windows and Glass and his assistant, a kid named Kurt, arrived. Mitchell and Jake removed the plywood from the window and then Mitchell measured the space.
“I drove by here earlier and eyeballed the window. I guessed at the size, which is fairly common in these homes in this neighborhood, and I have a window that will fit on my truck,” Mitchell said.
“Great, then let’s get it done,” Monica replied.
She sat on the sofa next to Jake, and as Mitchell and Kurt worked to replace the window, the three men talked about sports. Monica fell into thoughts of everything that had happened since she met Jake.
His offer to help her pay for the damage had touched her heart. Heck, everything about him touched her heart. Making love with him had been her idea and she now realized it had been a big mistake. She’d thought she could have sex with him and not get emotionally involved.
She’d been wrong.
She was more than a little bit crazy about him and she hadn’t seen that coming. She watched him now as he laughed at something Mitchell had said.
Why didn’t he want a relationship? Was it just that he didn’t want one with her, or was it that he didn’t want to have one with anyone?
Didn’t he want a family? Children? They hadn’t really talked about these things and now she was curious. And then she told herself it didn’t matter what his answers were to those questions. She just wanted her story.
Why couldn’t you have your story and your man? a little voice whispered inside her head. She’d always thought that it had to be one or the other. Her career or love. So, why couldn’t she have both? She dismissed the very idea. No matter what she felt for Jake, he’d made it clear there was no future with him.
The window was done. Monica paid them with a check and then Mitchell and Kurt left. “Is there anything you need to get from here before we leave?” Jake asked as he got up from the sofa.
She should tell him she was just going to stay here. It would be the smart thing to do. That way she could gain some much-needed distance from him before she fell
for him so hard her heart would be scarred forever.
However, she had to admit she wasn’t ready to be here all the time and all alone. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get out of this place right now. Even with the brightness of late afternoon drifting in the new window, she still felt a darkness that lingered. Maybe in another day or two she’d be ready to return here.
“Yeah, I might grab a few more things.” She could use a couple more T-shirts and maybe a few more blouses for her podcasts. It didn’t matter what kind of pants she had on because her viewers saw her only from the waist up. But she always wore a professional businesslike blouse when she was being reporter Monica Wright.
“It will just take me a minute or two.”
“Take your time,” he replied, and sank back on the sofa to wait for her.
She went back in her bedroom and dug a duffel bag out of her closet and then packed it with the items she thought she might need.
When she was finished she realized she’d packed far more than she needed if she intended to move back here in the next day or two. Oh well, she could always carry it back here when it was time.
She returned to the living room and Jake stood. “All set?” he asked. He reached a hand out to take the duffel bag from her.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” she said.
“Okay, then, let’s get out of here,” he replied.
She locked the front door and they stepped out into the late-afternoon sunshine. She tossed the duffel in the backseat and then slid into the passenger side of his car. He was about to slide in behind the steering wheel when a gunshot sounded and the bullet slammed into Jake’s car door.
“Jake!” she screamed.
Chapter Eight
“Get down,” Jake yelled at Monica frantically. “Get down and stay down!”
He crouched low behind his car door and looked in the direction from which the bullet had come. Another shot and another bullet slammed into the door. At the same time Jake spied the shooter hiding behind a tree in the distance.
He grabbed his gun and returned fire. Adrenaline spiked through him and his heart beat so fast it felt as if it might explode right out of his chest.
He was vaguely aware of Monica crying, but he had no time to comfort her. His focus was solely on the shooter, who, to Jake’s surprise, left the cover of the large tree and began to run away.
There was no way Jake was going to let him get away. This was his best chance to catch and identify the man once and for all.
He stepped away from the cover of the car door. “Jake, no!” Monica screamed.
He didn’t listen to her; instead, he took off running after the man. He had a big lead on Jake, but Jake was determined to catch him.
Not only was Jake running all out, but he was also trying to stay close to trees or anything else that might provide cover if the shooter stopped, turned and fired on him.
Yet he half hoped the man would turn around so Jake could get a good look at him. Was he chasing Adam or was it Matt? Both men were built about the same, so he couldn’t identify him just from body size alone.
His breaths became pants as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He fought past the hitch in his side as he raced after the man.
He knew it was the killer. Nothing else made sense and if he could just take him down, then this would all be over. And God, but he wanted it over.
With this thought in mind he pushed himself harder, but the man was apparently running just as fast because Jake wasn’t gaining ground on him.
Look back, he willed the person. Just look back for one minute so I can see your face. Dammit, look back so I can identify you.
He thought about shooting him and then quickly dismissed the idea. If he shot the man in the back, then he’d probably be the one who wound up behind bars.
The man cut through a yard and quickly climbed over a chain link fence. A dog began barking frantically. Jake followed right behind him, stumbling a bit as he got over the fence.
Another fence rose up before him and he got over it, too. The man disappeared around a corner and when Jake went around the corner as well, the man’s gun fired again.
Jake hit the ground. What little breath he had left whooshed out of him. Thank God the man didn’t have a perfect aim. Dammit, he hadn’t even had a chance to see his face and now he was running once again.
Jake made it to his feet and continued his pursuit.
Once again he pushed himself harder and faster and just when he was beginning to gain some ground, the man jumped into a car parked at the curb and roared off.
“No!” Jake yelled. He instantly bent over at the waist and drew in deep lungfuls of air in an effort to catch his breath. “Dammit.” He released a mouthful of curses. He couldn’t believe the man had gotten away. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been able to identify him.
He turned to head back in the direction of Monica’s house. He hadn’t even managed to get a license plate number and the dark sedan the man had left in had been completely unfamiliar to him. Neither of the men he suspected of being the killer drove that color car.
He heard a siren coming closer. Monica must have called the cops or perhaps it was one of the people in the neighborhood.
Monica was probably scared out of her mind for him. Or maybe she was terrified for herself, fearing that Jake would be shot and then the man would come after her.
As his car came into view, he saw Monica leap out of the passenger seat and run down the sidewalk toward him. She was crying and when she reached him she threw her arms around his neck. “Jake, thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid for you.”
“Hey...stop those tears.” He swiped her cheeks with his thumbs and then framed her face with his hands. “I’m okay, Monica. We’re both okay.” He dropped his hands and led her back to his car.
They had just reached it when a police car turned up her street and cut the siren. “I called them,” she said. “I... I was so afraid I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her as an officer with a familiar face got out of the patrol car.
“Can’t you two stay out of trouble?” Officer Brian McDonald asked as he approached where they stood.
“Apparently not,” Jake replied ruefully.
“So, tell me what happened,” he said. “I was called out here because of shots fired.”
Monica explained about meeting the glass guy to put in the new window and then Jake took over the story when it got to the bullets flying.
“And you didn’t see the man’s face?” McDonald asked.
“No,” Jake replied in frustration.
“He got into a black sedan?”
“It was either black or dark blue.” Jake released a deep sigh. “None of this is going to help you, is it?”
“Not really,” McDonald replied. “Is there anyone you can think of who might want you dead?”
“Nobody I can think of,” Jake lied. How could he possibly tell the truth about things right now?
“What about you, Ms. Wright? Are you still running those stories about gangs on your podcast?”
“The final one aired last night,” she replied.
“Then my advice to the two of you is the same as it was last time I spoke with you. Stay away from here until things have had time to cool off.” He looked at Monica. “While I appreciate what you were trying to do with your gang-related reporting, that can be a dangerous world to deal with. It’s obvious this guy was sitting on your house and just waiting for you two to return here.”
They spoke for a few more minutes and then McDonald waited until they were in Jake’s car and pulling out of the driveway before he got into his patrol car and left.
“We both know this had nothing to do with gangs,” she said after they had driven a couple of blocks.
“I just wish I�
��d seen his face.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as a deep frustration once again swept through him. “Then I would have been sure who the killer is.”
“We’ll just have to keep sitting on Adam’s place until something breaks,” she replied. “I was actually thinking about telling you that I was ready to move back to my place before this happened.”
“You can move back home when this killer is behind bars,” he said, and then realized his voice had been harsher than he’d intended. But the idea of her being in that house all alone right now was untenable. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to growl at you, but there’s no way I want you alone through this. If I had my way I’d buy you a plane ticket and send you off someplace for a nice vacation.”
“And where would you send me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Aspen. You could ski during the days and then sit in front of a fireplace and enjoy hot rum drinks during the evenings.”
“I really don’t see myself as a snow bunny,” she replied lightly. “And besides, there’s no snow in Aspen in August.”
“Then I’ll send you to a Caribbean island.”
“Hmm, I’m not much of a sun worshipper, either. You know, the whole skin cancer thing. I guess this nails it, you’re just stuck with me until the very end.”
He knew she was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn’t want her with him until the end. The gunshot coming out of nowhere had scared him in a way nothing else had. Despite her window being shot out, he hadn’t expected a gun. He definitely hadn’t expected anything in the middle of the afternoon.
The bullets today were meant for him, but that didn’t mean tomorrow there wouldn’t be bullets aimed at her. The bad news was the killer probably knew she was a reporter and so she would be seen as a threat.
Nothing was going to change that. Even if Jake was killed, she’d still be a target. The killer didn’t want her to talk and tell whatever she might know, just as he didn’t want Jake to talk. They both would continue to be in danger until the killer was behind bars. This had gotten far more dangerous than he’d ever thought it would be.
Desperate Measures Page 11