by Liz Johnson
The pounding in his chest felt like it would cause permanent bruising, but he didn’t care. He just had to get there, had to see that she was okay. A phone call wouldn’t be enough to calm his racing pulse, but it would have to do for now.
He didn’t want to scare her, but he needed to warn her. It might not calm him down, but at least Heather would be prepared if anything happened.
He nearly swerved off the road, suddenly thankful that the other lanes were empty, as he grabbed for his phone in the center console. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” he commanded as the phone on the other end rang and rang. Then voice mail clicked on.
Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he accelerated through a yellow light and into Heather’s neighborhood. Two sharp rights and a left, and he slammed on his breaks in the empty spot in front of the town house, which had been fitted with new windows.
Slamming his car door, he ran for the house. The rain still obstructing his view, he thought his eyes were tricking him when he saw a shadow cross between Heather’s home and the one next door. He glanced at the sky, hoping it might have been a cloud moving in front of the moon, but the moon was completely hidden.
And then he saw what looked like an arm, pumping as though the figure was running. Jeremy slipped on the wet grass, putting his hand down in the mud before regaining his balance and chasing the lone figure that he could finally see was decked out all in black.
Just past the row of shrubs growing along the side of the brick house, Jeremy gave up catching up to the wiry man, tried not to think about what weapons he might have and launched himself with arms outstretched.
THIRTEEN
Heather couldn’t tell if the scream she heard was made by a cat or a man, but she grabbed her gun anyway. An entire afternoon and evening alone was a long time for her mind to conjure all sorts of terrible scenarios, and she wasn’t about to take any chances.
As soon as she opened the front door, rain splattered inside. The moonless night seemed especially dark without the aid of the front porch light that she hadn’t fixed yet. Grabbing the small flashlight on her key ring, she stepped into the rain.
She clung to the railing as she maneuvered down the slippery steps without her crutches, and when she reached the bottom, she suddenly wished she’d brought them with her.
But there was no time for wishing, as she awkwardly limped over the slick lawn toward the side yard, where she thought the scream had come from.
Flashing her little light across the lawn, the beam landed on two men wiggling on the ground. One wore all black. The other, in sopping wet jeans and a dark polo, turned his head toward her.
Squinting into the unending spatter, Heather flicked her light onto the face of the man in jeans. Jeremy!
“What’s going on?” she yelled, but they ignored her. The man in black kicked Jeremy’s side and scrambled to get away. But Jeremy grabbed his ankle, sending the other man crumbling to the ground and crying out in agony.
She didn’t know if the noise in her ears was from the rain or her blood pumping so hard, but she ran anyway. Moving as fast as she could toward the brawl, she flashed her light on the man in black’s face. He twisted, dipping his head away from the beam, which gave Jeremy just enough of an opening to push him into the ground with a knee to the back. Meanwhile, she aimed her gun at the assailant.
“Don’t move,” she commanded. He wiggled, trying to get free and she stepped closer, nudging his shoulder with her bare foot. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m not afraid to shoot you. I’ve had about the worst week ever. Being forced to shoot you couldn’t really make it any worse, so do yourself a favor and just lie still. Got it?”
The man grunted, and Jeremy chuckled softly. “You messed with the wrong woman, man.” He cinched his handcuffs around the other man’s wrists and stood slowly, stretching his back and neck. His breath came in shallow huffs, and he quickly leaned back over, resting his hands on his knees. He wheezed, and pounded on his chest several times.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching a suddenly shaking hand toward his shoulder.
“Fine.” He wheezed again, and nodded toward the front. “Let’s get out of the rain.”
Jeremy bent and helped the man in black to his feet. Walking behind him, Jeremy kept one hand on the cuffs at all times. He pulled up slightly, and the shorter man flinched away from the pain in his shoulders.
“You go ahead,” Heather said, her words sending rain flying from her lips. “I’m right behind you.”
Jeremy took a stuttering breath. “We’ll wait.” He held out his free arm for her, and she reached for it, grateful to have something stable to use, as her knee felt like it would fall apart at any second.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked after he let out another wheeze.
“Just knocked the wind out of me when I tackled him.”
Questions rushed through her mind, but she bit her tongue until they were back inside.
As Jeremy closed the door behind their little parade, she realized that he looked more pale than usual, but he no longer gasped for air. He was covered in mud from the chocolate hem of his jeans to the caked slop in his hair. His left arm was particularly dirty, and he shot her a glance of apology at the brown puddles trailing behind him toward the kitchen.
She picked up one crutch from the end of the couch and used it to make her way toward the linen closet next to the bathroom. “I’ll get us some towels.”
Jeremy and Heather took turns mopping their soggy hair and clothes, one always keeping an eye and weapon on the man who sat with his arms behind his back, head hanging low. He had dark brown hair at the moment, but Heather wasn’t entirely sure what real color hid under layers of muck. His face didn’t look any better, so she had a bit of compassion for the guy, wiping his cheeks and nose with her towel.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze and kept turning away from her, so it was Jeremy who first said, “Geoff?”
She turned a surprised expression on Jeremy. “Do you know this guy?”
He nodded slowly. “Isn’t this Geoff from PNW?”
She looked closely at the wrinkles around his eyes. “The mechanic.” She grabbed his chin and turned his face into the light. “I think you’re right, Jeremy. But what was he doing outside my house?”
Jeremy’s shoulders rose and he shook his head. “I think that’s a question for our friend here. Geoff?” He glared at the man who he had just tackled. “The lady asked you a question.”
Geoff’s lips pursed, and he looked like he was going to spit. Heather jumped back, nearly stumbling as pain rocketed through her leg. As he’d taken to doing so often lately, Jeremy was there to save her, his arms strong as he cradled her gently to his side.
She managed a quick peek into his eyes but couldn’t read anything there. Her focus seemed entirely occupied with the touch of his hand on her upper arm, where goose bumps had erupted.
Tearing her gaze away from the streak of mud still smudged across his cheek that made him look like a kid who had just been outside playing, she tried to bring her mind back to Geoff. But it was harder than she anticipated.
Jeremy kissed you then apologized for it. He’s not interested in anything here except solving the case. And you aren’t, either. You have to focus. For Kit’s sake.
But her little pep talk didn’t do much to help her focus. It wasn’t until Jeremy started talking that she was finally able to get her brain back under control and pay attention to more than the butterflies in her stomach.
“What are you doing here, Geoff? And why did you run away from me?”
“I’ve got nothing to say to either of you,” he growled. His throat sounded sore and his face turned sullen. “Either arrest me or let me go.”
Heather eased herself away from Jeremy’s embrace and pulled up a chair. Sitting down in front of Geoff, she leaned forward. “Will you tell me something?” He shook his head, his mouth a twisted scowl. She ignored him. “How did you know where I
live?”
“I didn’t. I wasn’t looking for you.”
Jeremy snickered. “You’re a bad liar.” He leaned over the top of Heather’s head, resting his hands on her shoulders. He smelled like earth and rain, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the scent for just a moment. “Now tell the lady what she wants to hear.”
“Fine.” Geoff spat when he spoke, and she recoiled farther toward Jeremy. “I thought I’d ask her to tea at the Ritz.”
“Gosh, I’m flattered,” Heather mimicked his sarcasm. “But first you have to tell me who you work for. Will he be joining us?”
The thin man just shook his head and swore under his breath. “I’m not sayin’ nothin’.”
“About what?”
“About nothin’.”
Their questions went around and around for several more minutes until Heather leaned back to look up at Jeremy’s chin. He glanced down, meeting her gaze, and she nodded toward the living room.
When they were alone in the corner of the other room, Jeremy whispered, “What do you want to do? I don’t think he’s going to give up anything.”
“Me neither.” She shook her head and looked at her bare feet. “You think a night in the county jail will loosen his tongue?”
A grin broke his solemn features, his white teeth welcome company. “I like how you think, Special Agent Sloan. I think assaulting a sheriff’s deputy is worth at least one night behind bars.”
A fresh swarm of butterflies filled her middle. He hadn’t called her Special Agent Sloan since they first met, and she liked his validation. She liked his smile, too. And his strength. And his kiss. And…
Well, there was no use thinking about any of that.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Jeremy said as he led Geoff to the front door. “Lock up and try to get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll try again.”
He wouldn’t stop looking for her sister’s killer and protecting her, would he?
She liked that about him, too.
Heather woke to a rush of water barreling through her gutters and down the waterspout, a smile still on her face from the night before.
She had been in bed, trying to fall asleep for nearly two hours when she heard the lock on the front door click and the hinge squeak. Footsteps that she immediately recognized at Jeremy’s moved through the living room. His keys rattled on the end table, and two quiet thumps had to be his shoes coming off.
Then the door to her bedroom opened, and Jeremy poked his face into the crack. Silhouetted by the living room table lamp, he leaned into the door frame.
“I’m home. You can go to sleep now.” His voice carried a smile and his words warmed her chest.
“How did you know I wasn’t asleep yet?”
He chuckled low in his throat. “I don’t know. I just did.” As he pulled the door closed, he whispered, “Good night.”
She had yawned and fallen instantly asleep.
Even with the lovely memory still fresh in her mind, she dreaded getting out of bed. Pulling her quilt up to her chin, she tried to burrow deeper into the cocoon of warmth. But they still had so much to do.
After all, they weren’t really any closer to figuring out who had killed Kit and come after her and attacked Clay. They didn’t have a single, solid lead. No witnesses or even third parties involved on the fringe.
She had pretty much ruined their chances of getting Mick Gordon to talk, even if they could find him. Then there was some mystery man, whose name started with an F. He was definitely involved, according to Kit. But what if Kit had been wrong?
Heather shook her head. It didn’t even matter if they couldn’t find him. Kit hadn’t left a phone number or any way of identifying him other than the letter F.
She rubbed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes and wiped away a few flecks of crust from the corners. Letting out a sigh, she rolled out of bed, grabbing her robe and tiptoeing into the hallway.
From his bed on the couch, Jeremy gave a loud snort and flipped over, making the springs creak. Was his hair wild after a night on the couch? Did his feet stick off one end?
Tempted to answer those and other questions, she tiptoed toward the living room, then realized that she’d just woken up, too. Her hair was completely disheveled, and her breath probably wasn’t minty fresh. She ran her tongue over her teeth to confirm.
But why did it suddenly matter? They’d seen each other first thing in the morning. Why was she worried about her appearance this morning?
Oh, she knew the answer, but she didn’t want to think about it. She refused to dwell on that kiss. That sweet, electric kiss. She wasn’t thinking about it at all.
Yeah, right.
Spinning toward the bathroom, she hurried to get ready for the day. Only God knew how much time they had before whoever had hired Geoff got close enough to do what they’d intended the whole time.
After a quick shower, she tried to tame her curls, but after several unsuccessful attempts to straighten them decided on a simple braid that at least kept her hair out of her face. She put on a dab of mascara and some pink lip gloss, just in case they had to interview anyone, of course.
As she padded toward the kitchen in her slippers, her knee ached, but the pain wasn’t the same sting as it had been just the day before. The crutches still sat in her bedroom, where she wanted them to stay forever.
“Good morning.”
She jumped so hard that she spilled the water she’d been pouring into the coffeemaker. “Morning,” she mumbled as she wiped the counter with a towel.
“You sleep okay?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Jeremy stretched out, hands stacked behind his head and feet propped on the opposite armrest. His blanket reached to his mid-chest, revealing a soft-looking gray T-shirt stretched over his shoulders and arms.
“Just fine. You?”
He yawned and ran his hand over his whiskers that were at least two days old. “Okay.” He stretched his neck. “Let me just get a shower and a cup of coffee and then let’s figure out our next move.”
Heather was still standing by the coffeepot waiting for it to finish brewing when Jeremy emerged from showering and shaving, looking and smelling fresh and ready to go. He ran his fingers through damp hair as he grabbed his usual mug and held it out.
She poured him a full cup and one for herself as well, and they settled in at the table. After nearly a minute of complete silence except the occasional sip of coffee, Jeremy finally said, “I don’t know what to do. I think we need more help.” Heather nodded slowly as he glared into his cup. “Geoff lawyered up, and he’s not going to say anything. At least not in time for us to crack this case before…”
He didn’t have to finish. They both knew someone was still out there. This was bigger than one man. Certainly bigger than Geoff.
“Is there someone at the Bureau who could help us?” He didn’t look at her until he finished the sentence, and then just shot a sideways glance.
Heather shook her head, her forehead wrinkling. “No. I can’t go to them.”
He nodded, the corners of his mouth turned down and shoulders sagging.
“I mean, I would. But my boss, Nate, ordered me to take it easy and let you take care of this case.”
Jeremy snorted. “You haven’t been doing such a good job at that, have you?”
“It’s not all that simple, and you know it. I have to be part of this investigation. And if Nate finds out I disobeyed him, it could mean my job.”
“What about someone else at the office? Could someone at least run some names through the FBI database as a favor to you?”
She put her elbows on the table and her face in her hands, smoothing and stretching the skin over her cheeks as she pulled her hands apart. “Are we really out of options? There must be something we’ve overlooked. Something new about Clay’s assault yesterday. What did he say last night?”
Jeremy’s eyes got wide, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you
.”
“What?”
“Clay was gone from the hospital last night.”
“What do you mean?” Her head spun, but she refused to believe the worst, even if it pervaded Jeremy’s tone. “He was discharged?”
“He was gone, gone. The nurse didn’t know where he was, and his IV had been pulled out, but not turned off.”
Her hand jumped to cover her mouth, and she coughed on a sob. “Where is he?”
Jeremy just shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I got worried about you. If someone took him, then maybe they were after you last night, too. So I flew back here, and then I saw Geoff and then…Well, you know the rest.” A sigh escaped his tight lips as he leaned back in his chair. “I am so sorry that I forgot to tell you.”
Fear. Anger. Terror. Heather couldn’t put her finger on the emotion that surged through her veins, but it demanded action, and she stood up so fast that she sent her chair flying backward to the ground. The clatter seemed deafening in the otherwise silent room.
In an instant Jeremy was by her side, his hand on her shoulder.
She shook it off, taking a shaky step away from him. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”
He nodded and stepped back. “We’ll find Clay. We’ll get him back.” He reached for her again, then his arms dropped like overcooked noodles. “We just have to get a plan.”
“No. We have to go get him. Now.”
Jeremy’s forehead wrinkled. “But we don’t know where he is. We don’t know who has him.”
“I don’t care. We have to find him.” She hated how her voice rose, but it was so far from her control in that moment.
“I get that.” His words turned stern. “But we have to figure out where he is. Let’s make a few calls. Try to get back in touch with Gordon. Check with the police to see if they have any leads.”
She shook her hands in front of her, her head starting to spin. “I can’t just sit here. I have to do something. I have to go look for him.”
“You can do something. You can call someone at the Bureau and see if they have something on Gordon.” He looked right into her eyes, but his were too calm, too stable. He didn’t feel the same urgency she did.