Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  “He knows me?” Frost touched his heart. Was Laurel and Caroline’s connection to him putting them in greater danger?

  “Everybody knows you, David. The point is, he’s been watching us—Caroline and me—and he saw us with you. I figured if he’d left Janice’s house and wasn’t coming after us, he might be going after you. The card you gave me was in my pocket, so I called.”

  “No sign of any crazed killers—not that I’ve noticed, at any rate. I don’t know how he’d find me anyway.”

  “You didn’t go back to the cabin?”

  “I’m at a hotel about five miles away. You can expect me on your doorstep as soon as I can get there. We need to talk face-to-face.”

  “Okay.” The word sounded a little dazed and distant, as if she was listening to thoughts that were louder than his voice.

  “The police are here.” The thin squeal came from Caroline, and the connection went dead.

  A long breath exhaled between David’s teeth. No goodbye, but the woman had a lot going on. He dressed with the speed of a fireman on a callout and left the hotel room.

  What kind of person thought about someone else’s safety when she and her dearest family member could be in mortal danger? A selfless one, that’s what. A genuine, caring human being—too unfortunately rare in this world.

  David pushed the speed limit on the drive to Laurel’s neighborhood. Déjà vu smote him as he pulled up to find a police car parked in her driveway. He got out and strode up the walk. Laurel’s front door stood open, the back of a uniformed officer blocking most of the entryway. The officer held a lighted flashlight that lent some illumination to the porch. Voices carried to him, but not the sense of what they were saying.

  A high-pitched cry greeted him as he reached the steps, and a slight figure rocketed past the officer and straight into him. Reflexively he hugged the quivering teenager.

  “Hang in there, kiddo.” He patted her on the back. “We’re going to figure this out.”

  She gazed up at him. Traces of wetness on her cheeks reflected the glimmer of the bubble light wheeling atop the squad car behind them. David’s heart twisted.

  She sniffed and rubbed at her face. “Maybe you can give Mom a hand with the cops. They went into Janice’s house, guns drawn, all cop-show style, but didn’t find anybody. One of them is trying to figure out why the light won’t come on in the family room, while this guy—” she jerked her head in the officer’s direction “—talks to Mom. With all the same questions asked twenty times different ways, she’s about to tear her hair out. What happened to yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Your hair.”

  David put a hand on the top of his head and found a damp rat’s nest. He’d known there was something he forgot in his rush out the door. “Just showered and haven’t run a comb through it.”

  The officer at the door turned, tucking an electronic notebook into his pocket. “We’ll file the report, ma’am.”

  Laurel came out after him, arms hugging her jacket-clad body. “Will you at least do more frequent drive-bys tonight?”

  “That’ll be up to the captain, ma’am. I’ll put in the request.”

  The officer swiveled his head forward as he headed across the porch, then pulled himself to a halt nearly chest to chest with David. The policeman was stockier and about half a foot taller but he took a step back. David’s jaw clenched. He seemed to have that effect on people.

  “You done over here, Josh?” The voice came from behind them.

  David turned to find a second officer standing on the sidewalk.

  “Took a statement,” said the first cop. “What did you find over there?”

  “Blown fuse. These old houses, you know.” He shrugged and smiled toward Laurel.

  “But the phone call,” she said. “He told me to look out the window, and the light went out just like that.”

  Officer number two shook his head. “There’s no evidence anyone was there.”

  “But you do believe me about the call.”

  Josh pulled his electronic notebook from his pocket and tapped it a few times. “Just verifying my memory. Your caller ID shows a call coming in at that time from an unregistered number. Probably one of those throwaway cell phones.”

  “So you won’t be able to get a lead on his identity from it?”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Josh frowned.

  At least he looked genuinely apologetic about that.

  David cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about keeping an eye on the ladies tonight. I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

  “How do you plan to go about that, sir?” Officer Josh’s nostrils flared.

  “Yeah,” said Caroline, but she sounded intrigued rather than skeptical.

  David looked toward Laurel, who was staring at him with her eyes narrowed and lips parted. “I plan to work out those details with Ms. Adams, thank you.”

  Josh grunted and trooped down the porch steps. The other officer followed, shaking his head.

  David turned his back on them. “Would you and Caroline prefer to move into a suite at the Hotel Monaco, where the security is excellent, or would you rather I call a security company and have them send their best man to camp out in a van at the curb while you get some decent shut-eye?”

  “David, I can’t afford either option.” Laurel planted her hands on her hips.

  “I can.”

  “This is not your problem.”

  “Isn’t it? I’m up to my neck in this murder and mayhem, especially now that this joker is dropping my name into your ear. Keeping you and your daughter safe is my top priority while the authorities track down whoever is terrorizing you and sees me as part of the equation.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Greene, for the vote of confidence in our department’s investigative abilities.” Detective Berg’s voice carried to them out of the dark, and then his form took shape, striding toward them across Laurel’s winter-crisp lawn. “Even if you seem less sure about our success in providing protection,” he added.

  Laurel gasped, and Caroline grabbed her mother’s arm.

  “I’m operating on an assumption,” David said, “or perhaps it’s more like a desperate hope, that the Denver P.D. will do a better job of solving this case than the San Antonio P.D. did with mine.”

  “Then you’ll be happy to know that there’s been progress.” Berg planted one foot on the bottom step and crossed his arms.

  “What?” Laurel stepped forward. Under the moonlight, her breath puffed little white spurts into the cool air.

  “I heard on the police band radio the report of this alleged incident and thought I’d drop over with an update.”

  “Alleged?” Laurel’s tone went shrill.

  Berg spread his hands. “Everything is alleged until it’s been verified and documented, Ms. Adams.”

  David would give a three dollar bill for the genuineness of the smile beneath the detective’s shark stare.

  “Let’s have the news you came to give us,” he said.

  “Ms. Adams, do I have your permission to speak in front of this unauthorized person?”

  “You do.” Laurel edged closer to David. He repressed a grin…and the urge to grab her hand in his.

  “In that case,” said Berg, “I’ll share with all of you that the forensics team has determined the lock was broken on the deck door of your home from the inside.”

  “What?”

  “Huh?”

  Laurel’s and Caroline’s exclamations erupted simultaneously. The breath left David’s lungs as if he’d been sucker punched.

  The detective planted both feet on the ground. “Whoever broke the lock was already inside the house when they did it.” His gaze sifted through each of them. “Whenever you want to come clean with what’s really going on, you know where I am. But rest assured, we’ll find out, with or without your cooperation. Have a nice night.”

  Berg turned on his heel and strode away.

  Mouth agape, David’s gaze follow
ed his lanky figure into the darkness. Did this development mean he should believe the worst about Laurel and Caroline when he’d just begun to believe the best?

  SEVEN

  A sob spurted between Laurel’s lips. She staggered to the porch railing and leaned into it, gripping with both hands.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. The blows keep coming. What is going on?”

  “Oh, Mo-o-om!”

  Caroline’s arms wrapped around Laurel, and she turned to hold her shuddering daughter. At least this time the child sought the parent rather than the virtual stranger, David Greene. She knew it was petty to be jealous when she’d leaned on the very same man for comfort herself, but the question still rang through her head. Why had Caroline formed a bond with this man—equating him with safety, rather than her mother? Hadn’t Laurel spent her life attempting to provide security and stability for her daughter?

  She looked over at David. He stood head down, still as a post, with his hands in his jeans pockets. She may not be comfortable with the way Caroline had taken to the man, but she couldn’t deny that having him around made her feel safer, too. That is, if he was planning to stay after what the detective had just revealed. What must he think of them now?

  “I think,” he began, then halted, lifting his head and meeting her gaze as if he’d heard her silent question. “I think someone very clever is doing his best to ensure suspicion sticks to you forever, whether or not you are convicted of a crime.”

  A degree of tension unwound in Laurel’s middle. At least he continued to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  If his words hinted at a potential correlation between his situation and theirs, she was willing to concede the point—to a degree. Not that the cases were related, but that it was possible for what seemed apparent—her and Caroline’s guilt—not to be true at all. It was as if she and Caroline were now walking the proverbial mile in David’s shoes. Should that put to rest in her mind any suspicion of his guilt?

  If only the problem were that simple. She knew she and Caroline were innocent, but with the sort of man David Greene was before the Lord entered his life, how could she lay down caution entirely? Then again, when he did and said so many right things, how could she stop her heart from warming toward him?

  “At the moment,” she said, “the vote of confidence means more than we can say.”

  “Yeah, what she said.” Caroline scrubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

  Laurel touched her daughter’s thin shoulder. “Let’s get those pillows we came over for and then scoot back to Janice’s house. Maybe David would be kind enough to walk us home.”

  “Happy to do it.” He smiled. “I take it you’ve chosen the independent security service option.”

  “Nothing of the sort.” She opened the door and motioned them to enter the foyer.

  Caroline breezed through, but David waved Laurel to precede him. She complied, but then turned toward him and found herself within inches of his lean, athletic frame. The light filtering down from the upstairs hallway illuminated his face. Staring into those ocean-fog eyes, she attempted to speak but her tongue seemed trapped behind her teeth.

  She hauled in a deep breath and took a step backward. Time to assert her independence. Becoming more beholden to David Greene than they already were was not an option.

  “Since there was no intruder in Janice’s house,” she said, “Caroline and I should be perfectly safe there until our own home can be made secure again. Janice has a pretty sophisticated security system, and believe me, I plan to upgrade mine as a part of the necessary repairs.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like a wise plan. Would it be too intrusive of me to ask for your cell number in case I need to call you there?”

  “I suppose not. I’ll enter your number in mine while we’re at it.” Her hands dived into her jacket pockets, but didn’t find the cell, only the card with David’s number on it. “I guess I left my phone at Janice’s. Here’s my number anyway.” She rattled off the digits, and he entered them into his contact list.

  The tap of feet on the stairs brought her head around to find Caroline trotting down with pillows puffing around her as if she’d become part marshmallow.

  “Here, Mom.” As she reached the bottom of the steps, Caroline thrust one toward her.

  “That’s it then?” David asked.

  “I think so.” Laurel nodded.

  She was careful to turn out all the lights and lock the door. Then they trooped next door. As they neared Janice’s porch her car turned in to the driveway, and the door of the detached garage rattled upward.

  “As you can see,” Laurel told David, “our hostess is home. She’s a graduate of our local police academy’s self-defense class, so I think we’ll be fine.”

  He chuckled—a warm sound that feathered an unexpected peace around Laurel’s heart. “Then I guess I can head back to the hotel for some shut-eye.”

  “Thanks for everything,” Laurel said.

  “Yeah, thanks, Mr. Greene.” Caroline waved.

  “You’re more than welcome.” David lifted a hand, then strode away.

  For some odd reason, the night seemed colder without his presence. Suppressing a shiver, Laurel followed her daughter up the porch steps.

  “Oh, say!”

  Laurel turned at David’s call. The outline of his figure showed at the end of the walk.

  “I know you said you might hire the cleanup done at your place, but there will still be some things you’ll want to handle in person. May I give you a hand in the morning with whatever needs doing?”

  Laurel laughed. “You want permission to be put to work?”

  “That’s about the size of it.” A grin carried in his tone.

  “Yes,” she said, and then bit her lip as a second thought whispered no.

  “Great!”

  His enthusiasm dampened her impulse to retract her permission. What could it hurt to have a strong back around if they wanted to set some furniture to rights while cataloging missing property for the police and the insurance company?

  “Come at ten. The insurance adjuster is supposed to show up at nine in order to photograph the damages. I don’t want to touch anything until after that.”

  “You got it.”

  David left and Laurel went inside. Welcome warmth enfolded her until a chill grazed her heart at her daughter’s excited chatter to Janice about their scare this evening. Laurel joined them in the kitchen.

  Janice’s stunned gaze traveled to Laurel. “This is seriously bent! What is going on?”

  “My question exactly.”

  “I haven’t gotten to the worst part,” Caroline piped in.

  “The worst part?” Janice blinked.

  “We had another visit from Detective Berg,” Laurel said. “He thought it necessary to drop by and tell us that whoever broke the glass and the lock on our deck door did it from the inside, not the outside.”

  Janice gasped.

  “Way weird, huh?” said Caroline. “How are the cops going to catch whoever did it if they aren’t looking because they think we did it?”

  Janice shook her head slowly, as if recovering from a knock to the skull. “Let’s check out the family room. This house may be old and overdue for an electrical upgrade, but I rarely have issues with blown fuses.”

  Without stripping off her coat, she led the way to the family room. Laurel followed on weighted feet. What if the uniformed officers had been too quick to dismiss the intrusion?

  Janice stood in the middle of the room and did a slow-motion three-hundred-sixty-degree scan of the area. Laurel held her breath, and from the corner of her eye, caught Caroline gnawing her lower lip.

  Their friend flapped her arms against her sides. “I don’t see anyth— No, wait!” She pointed toward the fireplace mantelpiece. “Did either of you change the order of the frames?”

  Laurel’s gaze traveled over the framed eight-by-tens and five-by-sevens of butterflies and moths collected and m
ounted by Janice’s late husband along with photos of Janice at fun activities with friends. There were no family photos. The woman didn’t have any close relatives left in this world, one of the common denominators of their relationship and a reason they so dearly treasured one another.

  “I didn’t,” Caroline spoke up.

  “Me either.”

  Janice walked over to the mantle. “I’m almost positive the locations of the framed butterflies at either end have been switched, but when you see something every day, you tend not to register the details. Could I have changed the arrangement when I dusted last? I don’t remember, but as you can tell—” she swiped at the mantle’s surface and displayed a mottled fingertip “—I haven’t dusted recently.”

  Laurel stepped closer and studied the spots where the photos met the surface of the wood. “I don’t see any disturbance in the dust like what might happen if someone moved the frames.”

  Janice blew out a breath. “Probably just a false alarm. Anyone on board for some popcorn and cocoa?”

  “Me!” Caroline’s hand shot up.

  “Come on, sugar, and give me a hand in the kitchen.”

  The pair scuttled off, chattering and chuckling. The happy sounds grated on Laurel. Not that she begrudged a lighthearted moment to the people she loved most in the world, but the displaced photos bothered her.

  The frames appeared to sit squarely in undisturbed dust. And yet, since these two frames were identical in size and style, it might be possible for a meticulous person to lift them and make the switch in such a manner that it would be impossible to tell the deed had been done unless someone remembered the exact order of the pictures before they were changed.

  Laurel closed her eyes, conjuring up a mental image of the mantelpiece and the display. Her recollection proved sketchier than Janice’s. She couldn’t have said in what order any of the items were placed. An exasperated sound puffed from her chest.

  Should she call David and take him up on his offer of professional security services? Sweat dampened her upper lip.

  She patted her pockets, hunting for her cell phone, and discovered she was still wearing her winter jacket. No wonder she was sweating. She shrugged out of it on her way to the foyer closet. There sat her cell phone on the small table next to the closet door. Had she put it there? She couldn’t remember, but she must have. Was she losing her mind or what?