Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4)

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “That’s because he wandered into town about six years or so ago while Gage was still working in Columbus. He reminded me of a stray dog my husband brought home once. Hungry, malnourished, scruffy looking and with a wariness in his eyes. Literally growled when you’d try to get him to talk.” Lorna stared off into the distance, a sadness on her face as she remembered. “Don’t know where he stayed those first few days. Not at the Inn or out at the motel on the highway. I suspect he was camping out in the woods or under the old Wilson Bridge. Lots of homeless traveling through the area still take refuge out there in the summer and fall.”

  Bobby nodded. In the past year she’d driven out there to find the remnants of hiker or the homeless under the bridge. In fact, that was the first time she’d ever met Earl.

  “Gage said you came to his father with concerns about Wes’ mental state.”

  Lorna shook her head. “I’d seen men coming back from war before with a lost look in their eyes. Pete was one, but he was easy to help. Put a knife in his hand and a warm place to sleep and he slowly came back into the world with a purpose, although I still can’t pull much of his past out of him. Wes was different.”

  “Different, how?”

  A sadness came over Lorna’s usually good-natured features. “There wasn’t just a savageness to him, it was a coldness. As if his soul were already dead and he was planning to help his body along.”

  “That’s when you went to Gage’s daddy?”

  Lorna nodded. “Seemed the best thing to do. We didn’t really have a veteran’s support group out here back then. Since Lloyd was the local law authority and served in Vietnam, thought he might be able to get through to Wes. He came over and had a chat with him, but didn’t really seem to make a difference.”

  “How did Harriett end up involved in the story?”

  “That was Lloyd’s doing. I’ll be right back.” Lorna said, stepping away to meet two customers at the check-out.

  Bobby sat contemplating everything Lorna had told her. What little she knew of PTSD was that many soldiers found it hard to return to civilian life, and often alcohol, drug addiction, and even suicide were their final solutions. Somehow Wes had managed to find his way out of that situation.

  Lorna returned to her seat with a fresh hot chocolate for Bobby. “When he realized he wasn’t making any headway with Wes, Lloyd decided to call in what he called his secret weapon.”

  “That’s what has me puzzled,” Bobby admitted. “Why have Harriett talk to him? What did she say that had him changing his mind?” She laughed. “I mean, seriously, the woman isn’t known as a conversationalist. Drives Doc Clint crazy with her taciturnity.”

  It was Lorna’s turn to laugh. “That she does. I suspect she takes delight in doing just that. He and his brothers were three of the orneriest little boys back when they’d come to town to visit their uncle.” She took a drink of her cooled chocolate. “But Harriett was the perfect person to talk with Wes, given her own past.”

  “What past? Did she serve in the military?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Bobby scrunched her brows down. The woman was as bad as Gage. “Lorna, I’m trying to understand what happened.”

  “Harriett was an Army field nurse right out of nursing school, long about the end of the Vietnam war. In fact, she met Lloyd Justice back then. He’d been wounded and she was one of the first persons to see him off the helicopter at the hospital. He said, her quick thinking to move him up in the triage line and the hand holding the towels on his abdomen kept him from bleeding out until the surgeon could get to him.”

  “So that’s how she came to Westen? Because she became friends with Gage’s father?”

  “Not really. And she didn’t come to Westen for about twenty years. She had…other duties, first.”

  “Other duties?” Bobby asked quietly.

  Lorna leaned in closer. “After the war ended, Harriett traveled quite a bit. She’s quick with languages. Russian, Chinese, Spanish, French. She’s also quite adept at blending into the scenery.”

  Bobby mouthed an Oh. Then paused to let the meaning of Lorna’s words sink in. “You mean she worked,” she looked around as if someone might actually be watching them, then whispered, “for the CIA?”

  “For years it’s been a rumor. I think the only one, besides Harriett, who truly knew the answer was Lloyd.” Lorna paused for a moment. “And now possibly, Wes.”

  Before Bobby could ask more questions, Glenna returned with a brown paper to-go bag with her lunch order.

  “Lorna, is there any chance I can get off work a little early today?” Glenna asked her boss. “The boys are out of school and home already. While they’re good boys, I hate to leave them alone too long. Besides, my brother Dave over at the Greasy Motor said they’re starting to get calls for tows due to the weather.”

  A single mother of two middle school boys, Glenna worked days at the café during school hours and evenings in the summer when her brother and his wife could watch the boys.

  “Give me one more hour, Glenna. Rachel should be in the door by then and you’re on your way home.” Lorna slid from her perch, grabbed Bobby’s ticket and took it to the register. “And you’d better get the sheriff’s lunch to him, Mrs. Justice, or we’ll have one hungry bear on our hands. And given the state of the weather outside, we might need him in his best mood.”

  Bobby pulled on her coat and hat, grabbed her lunch bag and followed Lorna to the register. Apparently finding out more about Harriett and Wes was going to have to wait until after the storm.

  * * * * *

  Seated in a tall, comfortable Queen Anne style chair in the receptionist area, Wes, slowly flipped through an investment magazine, not really paying much attention to the articles and barely registering the ads. What he was doing, was observing. Whenever he’d been on an assignment he’d always wanted as much information as possible about the environment he’d be operating in, the locals and their routines. This was no different.

  So, he sat quietly observing the people moving about. Employees. They came with an air of confidence, knowing where they were going, what their direct path to an objective was. Some paused to chat with other co-workers. Other than Kelly, the receptionist, none noticed nor interacted with him. Clients. Like he had, they all stopped to talk with Kelly. Some were shown directly to a lawyer’s office, others were seated until their appointment time. Auxiliary staff. Most people never noticed the maintenance workers or the person maintaining the indoor plants.

  Today he was taking notice of anyone and everyone who entered Chloe’s sphere of work. Someone in her world was stalking her, terrorizing her. He’d seen how pale she’d gone when the call had buzzed her phone. Her fear was so acute, he’d wanted to scoop her up, carry her out of the building and tell her everything was going to be okay.

  Only he couldn’t. Until he knew who was threatening her or why, he couldn’t keep her safe.

  Anger still coursed through his blood. Chloe might be opinionated, bossy and way too self-assured for her own good, but she didn’t deserve to be frightened like he’d seen her in her office. Problem was, he was hunting an elusive monster in a concrete and technological jungle. Chloe might not be able to identify her stalker from the anonymous phone calls and texts, but he had tools the average person didn’t. He damn well planned to use them to keep her safe—whether she liked it or not.

  At the thought of her reaction to finding out he’d cloned her phone, he lifted the corner of his mouth slightly. He had no doubt she was going to be pissed. The fireworks were going to be spectacular.

  Pulling out his phone once more, he studied the two cell tower areas that the satellite had pinpointed the caller had been near. Unfortunately, Chloe hadn’t kept the mysterious caller on the phone long enough for the third tower to ping. It really didn’t matter, though. Both of the towers they’d gotten a lock on served the downtown Cincinnati area. As he suspected, her stalker was local.

  Commotion came from the end of the l
ong hall where he’d determined the senior members of the law firm—the big wigs—held offices. A middle-aged man, mostly bald with tufts of salt and pepper hair cut close, exited one office, talking to his entourage. Two younger men and a middle-aged woman close on his heels. The two men typed away on their electronics—a phone for one, a tablet for the other—while the woman jotted notes on a legal pad as she walked. All four wore winter coats, obviously on their way out to a meeting.

  Wes glanced at his phone, lying discretely in his lap, covered by the magazine from curious eyes. He’d pulled up the law firm’s webpage, leaving it open at the list of attorneys on staff and their pictures. The man walking briskly towards the door was none other than Aaron Berger, the most senior member of the firm. According to his conversation with Chloe back in Westen, Mr. Berger was a defense attorney with some high-power clients. Which in Wes’s book meant criminals or shady politicians.

  He’d seen the female senior partner, Kathleen Dennison, come in just after he arrived at the firm. A short, thin blonde whose hair color probably came out of a bottle, full of cool aloofness. She didn’t speak to the receptionist, just held out her hand for any messages while she chatted with someone on her phone. He suspected it was a constant attachment to her ear and hand. Another defense attorney, according to Chloe. Wes could see how she would be the ying to Berger’s yang in a court case. He was fire, she was ice.

  So that left just Dale Napier. The other senior partner. Head of the financial division. Mergers, acquisitions, contracts, real estate. And Chloe’s immediate boss.

  Time passed.

  Kelly, the receptionist, offered him coffee at least twice. The door to Chloe’s office remained closed, but he could see her from his seat. Or at least see her silhouette and that of her coworker through the etched glass window extending from the floor to the ceiling next to the door.

  Around five o’clock the office started thinning out. Dennison left. Several junior associates, along with most the secretarial staff. The lights in the office had been dimmed in most of the cubicles and desks. Even faithful Kelley packed up and left, after he reassured her he was quite comfortable waiting on Chloe to finish for the day.

  About fifteen minutes passed then another door at the far end of the hall opened. There he was. Good old Dale. Chloe’s boss. Tall. Probably close to Wes’s own six feet two inches. In fairly good shape for a man just into his fifties, with just the right amount of gray hair at his temples. Probably thanks to the liberal use, but judicious placement of, hair dye. Married.

  Confident in his place, not only in the firm’s hierarchy, but in the world at large, he seemed to just glide through the office halls. No questioning his path. No hesitation. A direct line to Chloe’s office.

  Wasn’t that interesting?

  From his vantage point, Wes watched Napier enter Chloe’s office without even a courtesy knock. A moment later the junior partner—Justin was what she’d called him earlier—slipped out of the office, like a mouse scurrying out of the cat’s line of vision.

  Wes set the magazine on the end table next to his seat, pocketed his phone into his jeans and slowly strolled towards Chloe’s office once more.

  Thanks to the etched glass wall, he could see Napier was seated on the corner of her desk, his body leaning in towards hers. Someone looking in might think it was an intimate pose. Someone who didn’t know Chloe. Wes knew it for what it was. Intimidation, pure and simple.

  Justin had left the door ajar in his hasty retreat. Wes moved close enough to hear the conversation inside.

  “I told you before Mr. Napier. I’m not interested in private drinks or dinner with you,” Chloe said, her voice going all tight and emphatic, without raising in volume.

  “I’ve told you before, you can feel free to call me Dale when we’re alone,” the dickhead said in a voice slick and as nauseating as week-old frying oil. “You know we’ll be considering applicants to add as partners this spring, Chloe. I’d love to put your name in the ring, but I’d need a few assurances that you’d be appreciative of my efforts.”

  Through the glass, Wes could seem him slide one hand up Chloe’s arm.

  Wes saw red. He stepped through the open door.

  “Ready to go to dinner, Chloe?” he said as calmly as he could manage, especially after seeing the pallor of her face. Napier was now his number one suspect as her stalker. And if he was wrong, the man’s intimidation tactics alone made Wes want to clock the asshole.

  Napier nearly jumped off the desk and to the side.

  Wrangling in his inner caveman, Wes held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met, Wes Strong. A friend of Chloe’s sister and brother-in-law.”

  “Dale Napier,” the other man shook his hand, his eyebrow lifting at Wes’s extra-firm grip.

  “Ah, you would be the Napier part of Berger, Dennison and Napier and Chloe’s boss?” Wes asked moving a little closer to the man, letting his size speak volumes about his intention to protect Chloe.

  The other man took a step back and towards the door, putting space between him and Chloe. “Yes. In fact, she’s one of the best assets of my team.”

  “She does have many fine assets,” he said, letting the lawyer know he was aware exactly which of Chloe’s assets the man was interested in, and he was damn sure it wasn’t her brain or negotiating skills. From his periphery, he saw her spine stiffen as she pushed some buttons on her mouse and turned off her computer.

  “And she is right here in the room,” Chloe said, shoving herself out of her chair and grasping her handbag. Taking a deep breath, she reached for her coat, but Wes took it off the coat stand in the corner and held it for her to put on. She cast him a slightly furious look full of daggers that only Wes could see as she slipped her arms into the sleeve then turned to give her boss a polite smile. “If you’ll excuse us Mr. Napier, Wes and I do have dinner reservations and can’t be late.”

  As he shrugged into his own coat he’d left hanging in her office, Wes grinned inwardly. She might be pissed at him for treating her like a piece of the furniture to make a point to the other man, but she knew he’d also given her an excuse to leave without stepping on her employer’s toes.

  “Of course.” Napier glanced at his watch as if he suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be. “I should be heading home, too.”

  They followed him out of her office. Chloe turned off the lights and closed the door before addressing Napier once more. “As I told you earlier, Justin and I hammered out the details, final figures and wording of the Richardson contract. He should have it on your desk first thing in the morning. Plenty of time before you’re meeting with them.”

  “Perfect. I’ll let you two go then.” He stepped back.

  “Nice to have met you, Dale,” Wes said, grasping Chloe by the elbow in yet another male proprietary—yeah, dude, the woman’s going with me and not you—maneuver as they walked to the elevator. She even let him keep hold of her until the doors closed with them inside.

  “Seriously?” she asked, pulling her arm loose and turning to confront him.

  Wes leaned back against the elevator wall, enjoying the fireworks headed his way. “I take protecting you very seriously.”

  She focused her gaze on him and took a step forward, pointing a finger into his chest. “That battle of testosterone back there wasn’t about protecting me. It was about seeing who had the biggest dick.”

  “It was about letting your boss know he needed to back off,” he said quietly, ignoring the spicy scent of her perfume swirling around them.

  She swallowed hard. “I can handle Dale.”

  “Really?” It was his turn to sound incredulous. “Seems to me like he had you cornered in your office after most of the staff had left, thinking no one could see him threatening you.”

  “You can’t possibly have seen that through the frosted glass.” She lowered her eyes, the fire in them replaced by a wariness.

  “Two things I knew when I entered your office,” he said and paused, s
lipping a finger under her chin and gently forcing her to look at him once more.

  “What?”

  “I’d seen him touching you in a suggestive way before I got to the door.”

  “And?”

  “You were pale and terrified when I walked in.”

  Before she could respond, the elevator door opened. He grasped her elbow again as they exited into the parking garage, recognizing her BMW parked three spots from the stairwell. Interesting.

  “I parked on the street,” he said. “Why don’t you give me a ride to my car and I’ll follow you to wherever you want to have dinner.”

  “I thought you said that just to give me an excuse to interrupt Dale.” She pulled her car keys from her handbag as they approached her car and clicked the electronic lock button.

  “I’m hungry. You’re probably hungry,” he said, already knowing the woman had a healthy appetite from the short time they’d spent together in Westen last month. “Might as well eat while we talk.”

  “I could just leave you stranded here and drive off,” she said opening her door.

  He moved slightly closer. “You could, but you won’t.”

  She arched one delicately shaped eyebrow at him. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you’re tired of being scared.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something then slammed her lips together. With a nod, she climbed into the driver’s side. Wes hustled around to the passenger side, slightly surprised she didn’t want to argue further. Apparently the lawyer had some sense after all.

  As they exited the parking garage, she waved at the large security guard. Wes directed her to turn right and two blocks up to the parking meter where he’d parked his SUV, slightly covered in a light dusting of the snow that had fallen off and on all afternoon.

  “Did you add money to the meter all afternoon?” she asked, pulling into the open spot in front.

  “No. I paid for the entire day.”

  “How did you know I wouldn’t leave early?”