by Rita Herron
Ford laughed. “Settle down, man.”
Nathan reined in his temper and gave Ford the details about his visit with Scroggins and what he’d learned from the Pritchard family about Gerald. Then he briefly described Veronica’s visit to her homestead.
“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re looking at Gerald Jones. He’s done nothing but good for this town,” Ford said. “Everybody’s got a few ghosts in their closet. It doesn’t make them killers.”
Nathan bit his lip. “You may be right. But if he isn’t involved, we have to find out who is. And I damn well intend to do it, with or without your help.” He hung up the phone and cursed Ford. After talking with him, Nathan felt as if he’d made no progress at all.
A low moan came from the bedroom and he realized Veronica must be having a nightmare. Slowly, he opened the door and saw her tossing from side to side, her eyelashes fluttering as she clutched the covers with her fingernails. He took off his shirt and jeans and beeper and stretched out beside her, then pulled her into his arms. He wanted this whole ordeal to be over for her, yet he still didn’t know what would happen between the two of them once it ended.
Would she go back to Florida or to Ron Cox? Would she realize she’d only been drawn to him because of the danger? He was, after all, a cop. And cops made lousy husbands. He had a dangerous job, a profession many women weren’t able to accept. Would Veronica be able to tolerate his crazy hours and the fact that when he left every day, they would both have to face the fact that he might not come home at night?
He knew he could. He would live each moment with her as if it might be their last. With that thought on his mind, he drew her next to him, and closed his eyes.
Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, the telephone jangled, waking him from a deep, warm sleep. Nathan jumped and reached for it, his mind instantly alert in case it was another threat to Veronica. She bolted upright and hugged the covers to her chest, her eyes wide in the moonlight.
He waited for the caller to speak. “Hello. Hello, this is Lieutenant Stevens. Is someone there?”
Lieutenant Stevens—how had he known where to find him?
His already-agitated voice grew louder. “Hello, I’m looking for Detective Dawson. Ms. Miller—”
“Lieutenant, I’m here.”
“I’m not going to ask what in the hell you’re doing,” Stevens said. “But you need to get down here.”
“Why?” Nathan asked, reaching for his jeans.
“Your partner, Ford.” When Stevens paused, Nathan lost his breath. Your partner—the words reverberated over and over in his head. Nathan felt dizzy as déjà vu struck him. No. It couldn’t be happening again.
“What happened?” he finally choked out.
Stevens sighed. “I hate to tell you this, Dawson. But Ford’s dead.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nathan felt his windpipe close. “What? How?”
“Ran his car off a cliff,” Stevens said. “Happened a couple of hours ago.”
“Damn.” Nathan scrubbed his hand over his face and glanced at Veronica.
She looked frightened to death. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Nathan shook his head, self-recriminations exploding in his mind. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have been here in bed with Veronica. He should have been working with Ford.
“Any sign of foul play?” Nathan asked.
“Not yet, but we’ve got a team going over the car right now. Thought you might want to be in on it.”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Do you know what Ford was up to tonight? Were you two working on something?”
Nathan stared at Veronica, his chest clenching painfully. “He was supposed to meet a woman named Falk tonight,” he said. “Around ten at Richard’s Bar and Grill.”
Stevens mumbled something under his breath. “I’ll check it out, but it looks like he was on his way when he had the wreck. I don’t think he ever made it to the bar.”
Veronica clasped his hand. He squeezed her fingers, guilt fogging his mind.
“Who is this Falk woman, anyway?” Stevens asked.
Nathan paused, reluctant to say anything in front of Veronica. She had enough to deal with. But then again, she was involved. She had to know. “She’s Veronica Miller’s secretary. I asked Ford to check her out because she had access to Ms. Miller’s keys.”
Veronica’s eyes clouded with confusion.
“I see. And you think Ford’s accident might be related?”
“It’s possible,” Nathan said.
“I’ll see if we can locate Ms. Falk.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Nathan lowered the phone and turned to Veronica. The shock in her eyes made his stomach churn.
“What happened? What about Louise?”
Nathan took her hands in his, trying to ignore his own turbulent emotions. “My partner had an appointment with her tonight.”
The expression on her face turned to horror. “Did something happen to Louise?”
Nathan shook his head slowly. “No. Ford never made it to see her. He had an accident.”
“Is…he all right?”
He shook his head again, unable to speak. Veronica wrapped her arms around him, but he couldn’t accept her comfort. He didn’t deserve it. His first partner, Rick, had died because he believed in a woman. Ford had died doing legwork for him because he believed in Veronica—because he was in bed with her.
“Nathan?”
Her soft voice barely penetrated the coldness around him. He had to find the truth now. Not just for Veronica. But for Ford, the partner he hadn’t liked, the partner who hadn’t believed him, the partner who’d died because of him. Hadn’t he learned that police work and personal relationships didn’t go together?
It certainly cast suspicion on Louise Falk, but like Ford said, what possible motive could she have to hurt Veronica?
“I have to go.” Nathan pulled away and stood, then reached for his shirt.
Veronica’s eyes shimmered with hurt. She’d had a terrible night, and he felt like a heel for leaving her, but he couldn’t stay here—not when Ford lay dead, and the person who’d been tormenting Veronica was still on the loose.
“Are you all right? I can drive you,” Veronica offered.
Nathan quickly buttoned and tucked in his shirt. “I’m fine. I’ll call you later.” Then he grabbed his gun and headed for the door. Before he closed it, he turned to Veronica. “Lock the doors. And don’t let anyone in. Not anyone.” He pointed to his beeper. “And if you need me, call.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, he was standing at the scene of the accident watching a wrecker tow Ford’s truck up the hill. It would be taken in for a complete workover. By tomorrow they would know if the car had any mechanical problems and if it had truly been an accident.
“No witnesses?” Nathan asked Stevens.
“None.” The lieutenant leaned over and stared at a dark smudge on the back of the bumper, then pointed to the street. “Possibility the car might have been helped off that cliff, though. See the extra set of tire marks?”
“Yep. And by someone who drives a black car.” Nathan examined the paint spot. He remembered Cox’s black sedan. Was he still in town? He recalled seeing another black car at Veronica’s house the day before.
“Did you have someone question the people at the bar and grill?” Nathan asked.
“Done,” Stevens said. “No one saw Ford. And the waitress didn’t remember a woman coming in alone.”
Nathan scratched his chin. “Any news on the Falk woman?”
“She’s not at her place. And her apartment’s been cleaned out.”
Nathan’s thoughts swirled. What in the hell did Louise Falk have to do with all this? Had Eli helped Veronica hire Louise? Was she just a paid assistant in someone’s demented game or was she some psycho who had planned the whole scheme to torment Veronica on her own? And why? Even psychos usually had some twisted logic.
“I’ll run a complete background check on her,” Nathan said. “I’m going to find out everything there is to know about Louise Falk.”
“Get on it,” Stevens said. “I hate to lose one of my men.”
Nathan swallowed. And as much as he disliked Ford, he hated to lose another partner.
VERONICA PACED the apartment, her nerves on edge. She’d showered and tried to finish some paperwork, but her mind raced with worry. Nathan had been upset when he left.
And rightfully so. His partner had been killed because of her—because he was investigating her case. Death followed her everywhere she went. Maybe she should just leave town and forget about her past. If Nathan’s partner had been killed because of her, then Nathan was in danger. And she loved him too much to let him die.
She collapsed onto the couch, brushing away the tears as nausea overwhelmed her. Why did everyone she cared about have to die? Was loving her some kind of awful curse? Had she caused Nathan’s partner’s death as she had her parents’?
The shadows closed around her, clawing at her skin and screaming her name over and over until she buried her face into a pillow and sobbed. She wanted her parents back. She wanted her grandmother back.
And she would not lose Nathan. At least not to death. She wasn’t worth dying over.
Making a hasty decision, she scrambled into her bedroom and started to pack.
ON THE WAY to the precinct Nathan swung by his apartment and picked up clothes for the evening at Eli’s. If he ran short on time, he could change at Veronica’s. Then he went to the station and found everything he could on Louise Falk. She’d been born an illegitimate child, lived with a drug-addict mother and carted from one homeless shelter to another until she was fifteen. Louise had run away and lived the life of a prostitute until she was twenty. After that, she’d gone from one live-in relationship to another.
She’d come to Oakland, volunteered on Gerald Jones’s campaign, and learned general office skills at a local business school. From there she’d taken the job with Veronica. So her connection to the Jones family was Gerald, not Eli. Checking further, he discovered she’d invested in Barrett Pharmaceuticals at the advisement of Gerald. Had she lost a bundle as well?
Why hadn’t he guessed Gerald was the key? They could be lovers. When Veronica returned, Louise had helped him torment Veronica because she was in love with him. A logical reason for a poor, former prostitute to help Gerald.
He stuffed the information into a folder and headed to the car. He wanted to see Veronica, but he’d had a disturbing thought while driving to the station. He knew the sketches she had found at her old house had bothered her, and they had concerned him, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. What if she had drawn the pictures after her parents were killed? Perhaps there was a clue to the murderer in her childish sketches.
He hurriedly drove to her old home. Once there, he stared at the decaying house. It symbolized a host of horrible memories for Veronica, memories that had almost destroyed her life as the termites and weather had destroyed the paint and wood. But she had inner strength. Enough, he hoped, to face the truth, if he found it. And strong enough to go on when they had to part. He couldn’t endanger anyone else because of his own sloppy work or his personal ties.
He went inside the house to find the sketch pad. It was missing. Why would someone take it?
Unless…unless Veronica had drawn the sketches after the murder. When he got back to her house, he would call the psychiatrist and ask. He searched the house but discovered the teddy bear and Veronica’s mother’s music box were also gone. She would be upset. But not as much as seeing the brutal way her bedroom had been vandalized. Someone had completely slashed the comforter, then shredded the curtains into a million pieces.
Hurrying to the car, he fought the panic building inside. What if they had gotten to Veronica? He’d left her alone—totally alone. What if Ford’s accident had been a decoy and she’d been hurt?
He pressed the gas pedal and floored it, zooming through traffic and honking his horn for people to let him by. Ten minutes later he raced into Veronica’s apartment complex. Damn. There wasn’t a parking spot in sight. He didn’t see her car and his pulse accelerated. He skidded to a stop, jumped from his car and left the engine running. His heart pounded as he ran toward her building.
They were supposed to go to Eli’s tonight. She should be home getting ready. Earlier, he’d hoped to solve the case. Now he just wanted to know she was safe.
He ran to the door and knocked, but no one answered. He picked the lock and rushed inside. “Veronica, where are you? Veronica, answer me!”
He quickly searched her apartment, his pulse racing when he noticed her dresser drawers opened, clothes hanging haphazardly from the edges. Either she’d left in a hurry or someone had ransacked her place.
His heart constricted as the silence in the apartment enveloped him. She was gone.
VERONICA THOUGHT she was being followed. She glanced in the rearview mirror and tried not to panic as she turned onto Fourth Street and drove toward her office. The black car was still behind her. Not close enough for her to see the driver, but not far enough away for comfort. Somebody wanted to antagonize her. To scare her. But who?
If Nathan’s partner had been killed because he was meeting Louise, his death implied Louise’s involvement. But how? And why? She’d never met Louise before she’d come to Oakland. What could her secretary have against her?
Then she remembered seeing Louise talking to Gerald at the campaign party. Were they romantically involved? If Gerald wanted to hurt her, that might make sense. She glanced up and saw the black car still two cars back. A shudder rippled through her. Dammit, she was tired of all these cloak-and-dagger games. She would go to Eli’s dinner party and find the truth herself.
She slammed on her brakes to pull into the parking lot adjacent to her office and stifled a scream. A stream of smoke billowed from her office. Was the whole building on fire? Panicking, she drove onto the lawn, shoved the door open, and ran toward the building. If the fire was small, maybe she could save something. She raced up the steps and reached for the door, but someone grabbed her from behind and she screamed. Something sharp and hard slammed against her head and knocked her off balance, and a blinding pain exploded behind her eyes. She reached for something to hold on to, but just like in her dreams, darkness surrounded her and she went spinning and falling, then dropped into a bottomless hole where there was nothing.
A DULL ACHE spread through Nathan. Where was Veronica? Was she still alive?
He rounded the corner near her office going eighty-five and nearly choked when he saw the smoke billowing from the building. Tall orange flames licked the roof and spiraled toward the sky. He jumped from his car and ran toward the building. Please don’t let Veronica be inside.
A small crowd had gathered on the lawn, and he ran up the steps, ignoring their warnings not to go inside.
“We’ve called the fire department!” someone shouted.
But Nathan shoved his weight against the door and burst inside. Heat enveloped him and the smell of burning wood seeped into his nostrils, but his eyes scanned through the haze of thick smoke for any sign of life.
“Veronica!” He screamed her name over and over, then fell to his hands and knees and crawled, coughing at the fog of smoke. Someone at the door yelled for him to come back, but he crawled past the burning desk and gasped when he saw a foot.
“Veronica.” She groaned and he slid on his stomach, dodging splinters of broken wood and burning papers. When he reached her, he dragged her out of her office. Most of it was already in flames and he could barely see through the thick haze of smoke. He coughed and jerked a handkerchief from his pocket and covered her mouth. Quickly he pulled her toward the front door, then swept her up and ran outside. The fire truck rolled up, sirens wailing. People raced toward him but he ran for the grassy area, for clean, fresh air, coughing and choking as he carried her to safety.
“D
ear God, Veronica, come on. You have to be all right. You just have to be,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Here, let me examine her.” A paramedic eased down beside him, and Nathan relinquished control so the emergency worker could give her oxygen. Veronica tried to open her eyes, then brought her hand up to the back of her head and moaned.
“She has a gash on her head,” the paramedic said. “Some wood probably fell and hit her.”
“No,” Veronica said, reaching for him. “Hit me before…before I went in.”
Nathan clenched his jaw in fury. Someone had tried to kill her. “Did you see who it was? A car, anything?”
Veronica closed her eyes, her voice barely discernible. “Thought a car was following me…black.” The emergency worker pressed the oxygen mask over her face.
Damn, Nathan muttered silently. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked, gripping her hands in his.
“Yeah. Her lungs sound good. She must not have been in there long.”
Nathan’s heart pounded with relief. He leaned down and hugged her. “I was so scared,” he whispered.
Veronica pushed the mask away and gently touched his cheek. “I’m okay.”
“What about her head?” Nathan asked.
“A bad lump. She’ll probably have a major headache for a couple of days. But she’ll be all right. We should take her to the hospital overnight.”
“No, please, not the hospital,” Veronica protested.
Nathan read the fear in her eyes and wondered if it related to her childhood. “It’ll just be overnight,” he said. “You need to have medical supervision.”
“They already examined me,” she argued. “I’m fine. I’m not going to the hospital.”
Nathan and the paramedic exchanged worried looks. “She seems fine. But someone should watch her overnight. You can call the hospital if she has trouble breathing.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Nathan said.
Veronica stroked his face. “Thank you.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He kissed her again and she kissed him back fervently. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said, glancing at the policemen. He rushed over and ordered them to call the arson unit. “I want the place detailed,” he said. His gut clenched as he heard the burning embers crash to the ground and saw the smoke billowing into the dark sky. Veronica could have died in that fire. Once again he’d failed to protect someone—and this time it was the woman he loved. He never should have left her alone.