Locked, Loaded and SEALed

by Carol Ericson

  “He never canceled before?”

  “Never. I mean, I did once or twice, but once Dr. Fazal made plans he kept them.”

  “If they’d just killed him, that would’ve been the end of it. But why the search?”

  This time she knew it was a rhetorical question, as Austin stared out the window at nothing.

  He reached for the ignition. “Should I park here or do you have a parking spot?”

  She released a breath. He wasn’t ditching her—yet. “If you go up ten feet, there’s an entrance to our underground parking garage. I’ll direct you to my spot.”

  They rolled into the garage and she pointed out her parking space, which she’d left what seemed like a lifetime ago but had only been that morning.

  “I’ll go up with you just to make sure everything’s okay, and then I can check your security and monitor the front of your building and watch the elevators.”

  “A-all night?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  He said those three words with such conviction, she had a feeling Austin would always do whatever it took.

  “Thanks.” Was that enough? What did you say to someone who’d just saved your life? She hadn’t even thanked him for that. “A-and thanks for saving me from the man with the gun back in Cambridge.”

  “Of course.”

  She slipped out of the car and he was beside her in a second. When they got into the elevator, she pushed the button for her floor. “I’m on the third floor.”

  As they passed the second floor, Austin pulled a gun from his waistband and crowded her to the back of the car. He raised his weapon and the door opened—on her empty floor.

  She huffed out a breath, feeling dizzy with relief. “My place is on the left, smack in the middle of the floor.”

  She held out her hand for her key chain but he shook his head.

  When they reached her door, he tucked her behind his body and dangled the keys from one finger. “Which one?”

  She tapped her front door key and he inserted it into the deadbolt lock above the door handle and unlocked it. Then he opened the door, and stepped inside, leading with his gun.

  “Wait outside the door for a minute.”

  She held her breath as he stepped inside, continuing to lead with his gun.

  He disappeared inside and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything look okay?”

  “Just a minute.”

  His voice sounded muffled, and a picture flashed in her head of Austin going through her closet and personal effects. Gripping the doorjamb, she leaned into her small living room. “Nothing looks out of place in the living room.”

  Austin emerged from the hallway, his gun still out but dangling at his side. “I wanted to make sure no one was hiding in the back.”

  “First time I’ve ever felt good about my small apartment.”

  “Nothing’s out of place?” His eyes flicked over the sparse room, devoid of personal photos and treasured mementos.

  She pulled back her shoulders and marched to the console that housed her TV and a few books and placed the cracked photo of her and Dr. Fazal, which had been stashed in her purse since she’d left the office, on a shelf.

  “Everything looks fine in here. Nobody under the bed?”

  “Or in the closets or hiding in the tub behind the shower curtain, but only you can determine if anything’s messed up.”

  Again that quick glance around her sterile living room. Could she help it if she traveled light? She’d always had to pick up and go at the drop of a hat, so she kept her possessions at a minimum.

  “I’ll check the bedroom and bathroom—good thing there’s only one of each.”

  Austin trailed her as she took a few steps down the short hallway and turned into her bathroom. A small row of bottles stood at attention on the right-hand side of the vanity, her electric toothbrush claiming the left. She tugged open the mirrored medicine chest that contained toiletries, no medicine. She didn’t believe in drugs.

  When she closed the cabinet, she met Austin’s green eyes in the mirror. How had she missed those eyes before? Probably because this was the first time she’d seen him in full light. Even the bar in Cambridge had been dark.

  “All good.”

  She pointed to the shower curtain dotted with blue seahorses. “You moved that, right?”

  “I swept it aside and back again.”

  “Next room.”

  She kept her distance as Austin awkwardly backed out of the bathroom. His presence overwhelmed the small space—overwhelmed her.

  He stood aside, flattened against the wall as she brushed past him on her way to the bedroom.

  She walked into her room and surveyed the matching bed, nightstand and dresser, and a little smile curled her lips. She’d just bought the matching set two months ago—her very first matching furniture, her very first new furniture.

  She passed by the bed and ran her fingertips along the green-patterned bedspread. Then she tripped to a stop as a wave of adrenaline washed through her body and a strangled cry twisted in her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Austin placed his hand on the small of her back.

  She turned toward him and had the strongest desire to throw herself against his solid chest. Instead she dragged in a long breath and whispered, “Someone was here.”

  Chapter Four

  Austin’s gaze dropped to Sophia’s trembling bottom lip and he had the strongest desire to take her in his arms and make this all go away for her. But a woman like Sophia—prickly and independent—wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Would she?

  “How do you know?” He flicked a lock of her black hair from her eye and she jerked back. He dropped his hand.

  “It’s the bed. Someone was on my bed.”

  His gaze skimmed the neatly made bed covered with a green floral bedspread and fluffy pillows stacked against the headboard. “How can you tell?”

  “Look at the center of the bed.” She tugged his sleeve. “There’s an indentation. The pillows are flat...and the smell.”

  He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed the faint perfumed odor. He’d figured it had come from a candle or room freshener. It was that faint.

  “What is that smell?”

  “It’s men’s cologne. I hate men’s cologne.” She grabbed one of her decorative pillows and pressed it against her face. “And it’s all over this pillow.”

  He took the pillow from her, dipping his head to the pillowcase covering it. He noticed a spicier, slightly musky scent now and raised his eyebrows at Sophia. She’d make a great detective, but she was perceptive just about her own possessions. The occupant of this apartment could be a monk if he didn’t know better. Everything had a place. Fazal’s killers couldn’t have picked a worse apartment to try to get away with a covert search.

  “They were very careful. This guy—” he motioned to the bed “—must’ve had a temporary lapse or maybe he just got tired after a full day of killing, stalking and searching.”

  Sophia sucked in a breath and grabbed his sleeve again. “What does this mean? Nobody followed us from Cambridge.”

  “They already knew where you lived, Sophia. Probably knew all about you, like we did.”

  “What are they looking for?” Her head cranked back and forth, taking in the bedroom.

  “The same thing they were looking for in Fazal’s office when they killed him.”

  “Why do they think I have it?” Her eyes widened even more. “Do you think Ginny, Morgan and Anna could be in danger, too?”

  “The receptionist and the nurses? I don’t think so. They didn’t have the same kind of relationship as you did with Dr. Fazal.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know what they think I have or what I can tell them. Dr. Fazal w
ouldn’t confide anything like that in me. Sh-should I just talk to them and tell them that?”

  “No!” He took her by the shoulders, his thumbs pressing against the creamy skin above her sweater. “You don’t want any contact with these people. Do you think they’ll just question you and release you? They’ll question you, all right, but it won’t be pretty.”

  She clamped both hands over her mouth, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

  “I’m sorry.” This time he did pull her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “But that’s a really bad idea.”

  Her body stiffened, and he loosened his grip to allow her an escape. Sophia Grant would always need an escape. She surprised him by leaning into his body, although she kept her arms dangling at her sides.

  “What should I do now? They obviously broke into my apartment without any great effort and without anyone seeing them.”

  “Right this minute?” He took her hands. “You’re going to call the police and let them know what happened. The Boston PD has a criminal investigation open in the case of Dr. Fazal’s murder, and you’re going to let that play out.”

  “You don’t think the cops will ever find his killers, do you?”

  “No, but given who the victim was in this case, the FBI will be moving in shortly, anyway.”

  She broke away from him and swept her arm across the bed. “And what do I tell the cops? I noticed a wrinkle on my bedspread? You believed me because you know who we’re dealing with. They’ll just think I’m crazy—been there, done that with the cops.”

  “Your coworker and friend was just murdered today and you found the body. I think the officers will be understanding.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the cops like I do. And you won’t be here to back me up, will you?”

  “No, I can’t be here, but you need to report this and get it on record—whether they believe you or not.”

  She backed away from him and fell across the bed, flapping her arms like she was making a snow angel. “This’ll make it a little more believable.”

  “You could’ve just contaminated some evidence.” He eyed the rumpled covers.

  She peered at him through the strands of hair that had fallen across her face when she’d collapsed on the bed. “C’mon, Foley. You and I both know the guys who broke into my place didn’t leave any evidence behind—just the smell of some cheap cologne.”

  His nostrils flared. Did the aftershave he used smell like cheap cologne? Good thing he hadn’t shaved this morning.

  “Then call the cops and I’ll take a walk around the neighborhood. They’re going to ask you if anything’s missing. Is there? Computer?”

  “I take my laptop with me to work, and it’s still in the trunk of my car.”

  “Not a great idea to leave it there.” He snapped his fingers. “Why don’t you give me your keys so I can go down and get it? You can call the cops in the meantime, and while they’re here I’ll take a look at your computer—if that’s okay.”

  Hoisting herself up to her elbows, she asked, “Look at my computer? What for?”

  “To see if I can find out what Fazal’s killers might be looking for. Maybe you do have something from Hamid and you just don’t know it.”

  “I really don’t want anyone going through my computer files.”

  “I understand.” He held up his hands. Not that he didn’t already know a lot about her life.

  She studied his face as if reading him. Then she bounced up from the bed. “Okay. You can look through my computer, but stick to my emails and a folder on my desktop called Work. Anything Dr. Fazal sent me went into that folder.”

  “Got it.” He followed her into the living room, where she swept her key chain from the table by the front door.

  She dangled it in front of him. “I’m going to call the police right now. You don’t have to come back up here.”

  “They might ask to see your keys.” He tossed the key chain in the air. “Call them now, report the break-in and make it known you found Dr. Fazal’s body today. They’ll come out for that. I’ll return your keys and hang around until the cops get here, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

  “I won’t be afraid. I have a nice little .22 tucked in my closet—not that I’m going to show it to the cops.”

  His brows shot up. “Did you check to see if it’s still there? In fact, you’d better give this place the once-over again to see if anything’s been taken. The police are going to ask you, and it’ll seem off if you haven’t bothered to check.”

  “I will. Go.”

  He grabbed the jacket she’d shrugged off earlier and headed back to her car. The trunk lights illuminated her laptop case and a canvas bag, so he grabbed both. When he got back to her apartment, she met him at the door.

  “I called the police and they’re sending two patrol officers over to take a report.”

  “Gun still there?”

  “The gun and everything else—not that I have anything of value in here—but we both know these so-called thieves were not here to snatch some jewelry and a camera.”

  “I’ll be watching from the twenty-four-hour fast-food place down the block. As soon as they leave, I’ll be back.” He dumped her keys into her outstretched palm.

  As he turned, she grabbed a handful of his jacket. “Where was I between the time I left the crime scene and the time I walked into my apartment and realized someone had been in here?”

  “Stay as close to the truth as possible. You stopped for a drink to settle your nerves, but you were nowhere near Cambridge. We don’t want them putting you near the shot that was fired and start asking why you ran from the officer there.”

  “Glad to see I’m not the only one who lies to the police.”

  Slinging Sophia’s laptop case over his shoulder, he made his way to the sidewalk in front of her building. He looked both ways. Did Fazal’s killers realize that Sophia had a companion now—one who could take down a man with a gun? They might just have him pegged as a random boyfriend who knew a few moves.

  He strode to the next apartment building and ducked behind a wall, away from the glow of the streetlamps. He transferred his weapon from his waistband to the pocket of his jacket and waited.

  About fifteen minutes later, a patrol car rolled down the street and stopped in front of Sophia’s apartment. Austin waited until the two officers disappeared into the building, and then he loped down the sidewalk toward the orange neon sign boasting all-night burgers.

  Pushing through the glass doors, he did a quick survey of the room, his gaze sweeping past the old homeless guy in the corner warming his hands on a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a hipster couple sucking down a couple of milk shakes. He narrowed his eyes at a single man sitting at a table against the wall, clicking away on his laptop.

  Must be here for the free Wi-Fi.

  Austin approached the counter and nodded to the young woman welcoming him with a big smile and a jaunty hat. He had to give her credit for keeping up the enthusiasm at this time of night.

  “Can I get a cup of coffee and an apple pie?”

  “Is that for here or to go?” She tapped the computerized register.

  “For here, ma’am.”

  He waited for his snack at the counter, and then took a seat across from the front door where he could keep an eye on it and the man on the laptop.

  He pulled Sophia’s computer from its case and centered it on the table next to his coffee and prefab pie. As the laptop powered up, he drummed his thumbs on the edge of it and held his breath. He’d forgotten to ask her about a password.

  The monitor blinked to life and an array of folders appeared on a backdrop of wildflowers. He recognized the scene as a standard selection from the computer’s templates—not that he ever expected Sophia Grant to have a personal photo
as her computer’s desktop background. Did she even own any personal photos?

  He spotted the Work folder and double-clicked on it. The folder contained more folders, some with last names as titles and some with dates.

  Only Sophia could tell him if these folders had anything unusual in them. Would Dr. Fazal have put any sensitive information on Sophia’s computer if that data could endanger her life? Maybe he’d done so inadvertently.

  The folders with the last names were obviously patient files. What had Sophia said about a mysterious patient? Fazal had given her the person’s file but hadn’t entered the information in their patient database, so maybe it was one of these.

  She’d have to show him which one.

  Yawning, he popped the lid off his coffee and took a sip. He broke off one corner of his pie to get the slightly burned coffee taste out of his mouth.

  The couple with the shakes made a move and exited the restaurant with their heads together. The guy with the laptop followed the pair with his eyes before meeting Austin’s gaze for a split second and then returning to his work. Probably idle curiosity—unless he was a private eye spying on them.

  Austin took another bite of his warm apple pie, licked the cinnamon goo from his lips and brushed the sugar from his fingers. He closed the Work folder and clicked on the email icon.

  Sophia’s inbox opened, and a few new messages loaded—all from the same person, someone named Spark or Sparks. He hunched forward and then jerked back when he realized Spark was the online dating site she’d mentioned earlier.

  His fingertips buzzed. He wanted to open one of those messages, but she’d realize he’d been snooping. He tracked down the list of messages and saw a few more from Spark—already opened. Didn’t he have a right to snoop a little? He was trying to protect this woman.

  He double-clicked on one of the messages and immediately felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he read some guy’s advertisement for himself. He closed the message.

  He had no right to delve into Sophia’s private business that had occurred before Fazal’s murder. He took another bite of his pie. But he’d ask her to go through her new messages and look for anything unusual. She had to be careful now.