The Survivor

by DiAnn Mills

  Now, as Kariss attempted to drift into sleep’s twilight, that place where her mind would completely shut down, her thoughts stayed fixed on Tigo instead.

  Seeing him at the hospital had shaken her to the core.

  Being near him caused her to question why she’d ended their relationship.

  The scent of him and the sound of his voice created a longing so intense, Kariss couldn’t think. She wanted to be in charge of her feelings, not overcome by them.

  In the past, when he’d been upset with her, his tone had always demonstrated his caring. She missed what they’d had together. If only he’d told her everything about his life instead of omitting the most important thing she should have been told. A failed marriage.

  Honesty was so painful.

  She swung her feet over the side of the bed and walked to the kitchen for a drink of water, her last-ditch effort to coax her body to sleep. Shadows played across her furniture, conjuring memories of times she and Tigo had spent together. After filling a glass, she stepped into the living room and made her way to the window.

  Kariss startled and ducked to the side. Who was standing at the end of her driveway? A man, who had his hands shoved into his pockets, appeared to be staring at her house. Odd. Her community was gated, and she didn’t recognize the man’s build. He didn’t have a dog with him, which eliminated the most obvious reason he would be out at this hour …

  He nodded, as though addressing her, then walked away.

  CHAPTER 28

  6:00 A.M. MONDAY

  Kariss read the morning news from her iPhone while walking the third mile on her treadmill. It was a great way to surf through the headlines and read the articles that seized her attention while also getting her exercise. She’d love to read good news for a change. Instead, reality ticked on about an African country that was committing genocide among its own people, about a country that threatened the free world with plans to test a nuclear bomb, and about Christians being blamed for the world’s economic woes. She hesitated to weed through the articles about the United States.

  Her body ached from lack of sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d called the security gate with her concern about the man who’d been in her driveway, but the guard hadn’t observed anyone unusual. Those entering the gated community had all been accounted for.

  “We have some visitors,” he’d said. “Maybe one of them was out walking.”

  But she’d still been too keyed up to sleep. She’d gotten up to check her security system at least four times and then chided herself for being obsessive-compulsive like Amy.

  Kariss turned her attention again to the news on her iPhone. While reading a Houston headline, fear gripped her—“Noted Psychologist’s Car Bombed.” Blinking, Kariss attributed her rising anxiety about Amy to the weekend’s series of one trauma after another. She swept her finger across her iPhone screen to read the full article.

  A car bomb detonated at 12:30 a.m. Monday in a Walgreen’s parking lot in northwest Houston. No one was injured in the blast, but some collateral property damage was reported. The vehicle involved in the explosion was registered to local psychologist Dr. Amy Garrett. Dr. Garrett is the director of Freedom’s Way, a clinic that treats women who have been victims of violent crime. Dr. Garrett, who was inside the store at the time of the blast, declined to comment on a possible motive for the bombing. Authorities are investigating the explosion.

  Oh no. Would Baxter resort to hurting his sister? How could Kariss find out if an arrest had been made?

  Tigo.

  He’d have information about this.

  She should tell him about Baxter. She doubted Amy would mention her brother unless she had substantial proof of his guilt, and maybe not even then. Kariss shook her head to dispel the dilemma of letting the authorities work through the matter themselves or contacting the one man whose skills, in her opinion, rivaled any mastermind.

  Without another moment of hesitation, she pressed in Tigo’s personal cell phone number and powered off the treadmill.

  “You’re calling pretty early. This must be important.” His deep voice caused her heart to work faster than it had during exercise.

  “It is. The car bombing early this morning, the one concerning Dr. Amy Garrett? I think I may have some helpful information.”

  “What do you know?”

  She imagined Tigo scrabbling for a pen and any slip of paper that would hold ink. “Dr. Amy Garrett is a new friend of mine. We’re collaborating on a book project, and I have a little insight into her situation.”

  “Kariss, have you gotten yourself into trouble again?”

  Had she? “I don’t think so. I was with her Saturday afternoon, and there was an incident with her brother that creeped me out.”

  “His name?”

  “Baxter Garrett.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I was at Amy’s office, talking with her about her story, when he let himself in. He is strongly opposed to the writing project, though it’s a pretty amazing account. Anyway, he blew up, and they had a horrible argument. He didn’t sound rational.”

  “Most angry people don’t.”

  She heard a click and envisioned Tigo tapping his pen on a hard surface, probably the kitchen counter. She’d seen him take notes on a paper towel before.

  “Tell me all of it,” he said.

  “Baxter was near violent. Threatened me. I’d received an email Friday night warning me about writing the book, and he basically admitted sending it. I don’t know if Amy would ever implicate her brother. But she did tell me she had to call the police on her brother twice later Saturday.”

  “Could this Baxter be the guy who ran you off the road?”

  “Not sure. Amy told me Baxter has a black truck, but he doesn’t have custom rims.”

  “What are you not telling me?”

  What mattered was keeping Amy safe. “I gave Amy my word not to pass on everything she’s told me about Baxter. But you might want to talk to him.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay.” He blew out a sigh. “I’m working on another case, but I’ll see what I can do with this one.”

  “Amy has history,” Kariss added. “It’s the root of the problem with her brother.”

  “What kind of history?”

  Kariss hesitated, but he could read it all on Amy’s website. “A cold case. As a child, she was abducted and viciously assaulted. Left for dead. Never found the man who did it. That’s our book.”

  Tigo moaned. “How do you manage to meet these people? Did you place an ad in the Gullible Times?”

  “I may have. Makes for great reading. But this one found me.”

  “Congrats. Brew a pot of coffee. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Be looking for me so I don’t have to ring the doorbell and wake Vicki and the baby.”

  The phone disconnected. Kariss hurried to her bedroom for a quick shower, wondering if she was looking forward to seeing Tigo or dreading it.

  7:15 A.M. MONDAY

  The moment Kariss appeared in the doorway of her condo, Tigo’s resolve to handle the Garrett car bombing like a routine case vanished. Last summer he’d thought Kariss was hot. He still did. Dark hair and lips that begged to be kissed. He gazed into the pecan-colored eyes that had held him captive since he and Kariss had first met.

  The longer he was around her, the more time he craved with her. At the hospital he’d done a good job of masking the feelings that had nearly driven him crazy. But this morning was different. She could have asked him to climb on her roof and knock down a dozen wasp nests, and he’d have done it.

  Slow your hormones. You’re not eighteen. This is business. Or so he told himself.

  “Coffee’s ready.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Black and strong.”

  “Thanks.” He could handle this—just get the facts.

  “I need to than
k you for coming over.”

  “No problem. Strictly business, of course.”

  She nodded.

  They were both liars.

  “Come in. I think I heard Vicki and Rose moving about.”

  “Good. Would love to see them again. Vicki doing all right?”

  “She says so, but I’m keeping an eye on her. Still having headaches, but what else would a person with a mild concussion expect?”

  “And stitches.”

  “Oh, she covers them with her hair—as if I could forget.”

  He followed Kariss to the kitchen. “Is she still whipping up five-star restaurant food?”

  “When Rose isn’t keeping her busy.” Kariss reached into the cabinet and pulled out his favorite supersize black mug that had a picture of a chromed-out Harley on the side.

  The gesture gave him hope. If not for today, perhaps tomorrow. She poured two mugs of coffee, leaving room in hers for half-and-half. Her slender fingers wrapped around his mug to hand it to him.

  “I made cinnamon rolls.”

  Her specialty. “Homemade with frosting?”

  “Yes. Lots of butter too.” She blushed, and he enjoyed every inch of added color.

  He wanted to think this was a homecoming, but he knew better.

  “Do I hear Tigo?” Vicki rounded the corner wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Rose was nestled in her arms, wrapped in a pink blanket.

  “You do.” He held out his arms. “May I hold her? We got along fine at the hospital.”

  Vicki placed the baby in his arms. Rose was so little, but she already possessed the Walker women’s charm. He planted a kiss on Rose’s forehead.

  “Tigo, are you a baby whisperer?” Vicki’s voice rang with laughter.

  “Yeah. Gives me a protective feeling, and I know she can’t break my heart.” He ignored Kariss. Vicki chuckled, but he wasn’t going to glance her way either. “She is a beauty.”

  “Thanks. I doubt you’re here to see me or Rose, so I’ll grab a glass of OJ and make my escape.”

  In less than two minutes, Tigo was alone with Kariss, feeling as awkward as a schoolboy. “I need to hear the whole story about what happened at Amy Garrett’s office. Word for word. To give insight into the car bombing. I’ve moved an interview, so we can talk until eight thirty.”

  “What do you know about the case at this point?” she said.

  “Triggered by a cell phone. No forensic report yet. No one hurt. The blast destroyed the car and caused some property damage. Dr. Garrett has no idea who planted the bomb. All that you can get online.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “You don’t believe Amy?”

  He shrugged. “With her profession, she has files full of suspects.”

  She sat on a stool at the counter, reminding him of a few months before when his world’s axis tipped in her direction. She sipped her coffee. “I had an appointment with Amy at two thirty on Saturday afternoon. The first thing that struck me as odd was the number of times she checked the locks on her door and her office’s elaborate security system. I assumed the extra precautions came from her childhood experience, but now I wonder who else she’s afraid of.”

  “I googled her earlier.”

  Kariss took a generous sip of coffee before continuing. Tigo listened, storing the testimony about the volatile brother where he could recall it later.

  “I can’t give you confidential information, only my observations and what happened to me,” she said.

  “I’ll have her brother brought in for questioning, and I’ll talk to Amy myself.”

  “Thanks. I don’t want to betray her confidence.”

  Tigo’s Buzz Lightyear watch beeped, bringing his time with Kariss to an end. If only she’d express what he saw in her eyes. But she wouldn’t, and his idiocy was to blame.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said, “but I’ll check back with you later.” He saw her hesitation. “About the Garrett bombing and our discussion.”

  She stared into her coffee. “I … I admire who she is and what she does. With the bomber behind bars, Amy and I will be able to continue our work on the novel without any more interruptions.”

  “I understand. If Baxter Garrett contacts you again, let me know.” He finished his coffee. “One more question.”

  “Sure.”

  “Writing Amy’s story seems dangerous. Can I ask you to put it on hold, at least until we nab the bomber?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You must have a short memory. It’s a cold case, which means the assailant is still out there. Apprehending the bomber won’t eliminate the danger.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Heard that before.” He walked toward the door. “You—”

  “Tigo.”

  The tone in her voice stopped him cold. Did she have to be so stubborn?

  “It’s my job to make sure the innocent are safe,” Tigo said.

  She took a breath. “I understand, and I appreciate it.”

  Real men didn’t wimp out over a woman.

  Yes, they did.

  Tigo still owed Kariss an explanation about his past. He could almost hear his mother’s warning. “Santiago, until your standards are the same as God’s, your pride will win.”

  CHAPTER 29

  9:00 A.M. MONDAY

  Vanessa Whitcom nursed a cup of coffee in an FBI interview room while Tigo and Ryan poured their own. Tigo studied the woman. She wasn’t a glamorous type, but she was attractive and personable. His mind zipped to other possible situations that could have occurred at her office. Had Jonathan taken notice of Vanessa? Perhaps because he and Joanna were having problems?

  Tigo sat opposite her. This time he’d handle the interview. “Why weren’t you at the funeral? You’d stated that you and Joanna were close.”

  “Flu,” she said. “Or some kind of bug. Couldn’t stop vomiting. Ended up going to the ER.” She sat the cup on the table.

  “Drinking this is a bad idea.”

  “Which ER?”

  “Methodist downtown.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out the treatment plan and discharge papers. “I figured I’d be on your most-wanted list.”

  He grinned. “The FBI’s website was calling your name.”

  “I wanted to be at the funeral. But my stomach objected. Guess the stress threw my immune system out of whack.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Joanna and Alexia probably think I don’t care.”

  “What about Jonathan?”

  “I texted him from the ER about my illness.”

  Tigo allowed a few moments to pass. “Were you and Jonathan involved?”

  The crinkles around her eyes deepened. “Jonathan loved Joanna. Period.”

  “What about you?”

  “My feelings for him are of friendship and respect.”

  Tigo wouldn’t explore her response unless she gave him reason to. She’d been at work the day of the bombing. “What can you tell me about Darena Willis?”

  Vanessa shuddered. “She’s a b—witch. Lying and manipulating. Borrowed thousands of dollars from Joanna, and I know she never paid back a cent of it.”

  “What did she spend it on?”

  “Clothes, jewelry, credit card debt.”

  “Joanna was a smart woman. Why would she give Darena money?”

  Vanessa blinked. “Trying to buy her sister’s love.”

  “How did Jonathan feel about the relationship?”

  “They argued. He gave in.”

  Tigo leaned in closer. “What else did they argue about?”

  He waited.

  Several seconds passed.

  “Vanessa, what else did they argue about?”

  She toyed with her cup. “I suppose you’ll find out about this during the investigation anyway. They argued about Ian. His behavior seemed to be getting worse.”

  “Why did they disagree?”

  Vanessa hesitated before speaking. “Joanna wanted to ship Ian off to a military school. Jonathan couldn’t handle the tho
ught. I was caught in the middle.”

  “Is Ian why she filed for divorce?”

  Vanessa reached inside her purse for a tissue. “I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Jonathan and Joanna were committed to their marriage and their children.” She swallowed. “They were working on their problem with Ian.”

  So Tigo’s suspicions were true. Vanessa was in love with Jonathan. “Is he why you befriended Joanna?”

  Vanessa’s gaze darted about the room before coming back to his. “In the beginning. But I enjoyed her company and admired her. She had a genuine desire to help others. We became good friends. God put Jonathan and Joanna together.” She leaned back in her chair.

  “What else, Vanessa? We need to find out who bombed that car.”

  “Jonathan didn’t know everything about her.”

  “Most men spend a lifetime getting to know their women.”

  Vanessa stared at her trembling hands. “A man from her college days wouldn’t leave her alone. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but it had to be horrible.” Vanessa tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “He’d been harassing her, and she was afraid. He wanted money. He said he’d go to the local papers with some news if he didn’t get it. Said he’d ruin Jonathan’s name. Joanna told me last Monday at lunch. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that’s why she filed for divorce—to save Jonathan’s reputation.”

  Now a few things were starting to click.

  9:35 A.M. MONDAY

  When Amy didn’t answer her cell phone, Kariss phoned Freedom’s Way and learned that Amy planned to be in at ten o’clock. Kariss grabbed her keys. Although their friendship was in the embryonic stage, she wanted to be there for Amy. The car bombing had to have rattled some old fears, and if Kariss was right, Amy would need a listening ear.

  Within fifteen minutes, she arrived at Freedom’s Way. The office building’s parking garage was full, leaving her no choice but to park across the street. A steady rain, cold and unforgiving, beat against her windshield, characteristic of Houston winters. The dampness sent the cold into her bones, and she often thought the freezing temps of the north might be easier to handle. Shouldering her purse and balancing her umbrella, she entered Freedom’s Way.