Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  Andrea eyed him. She ought to defy him and march right out that door, but he was right. At least in the windowless kitchen, the shooter couldn’t get a bead on her. They played visual chicken for a moment before she settled back against him. “Why do you think they want me to shut down? Why listen in on my sessions? How does this all tie in to Wade?”

  Josh hesitated, then slipped an arm around her and drew her head to his shoulder. “They’re pretty sure that was him in the truck.”

  “What do you mean by that? Can’t they just look at him and tell?” It hadn’t dawned on her till now that Josh had never really answered her question about Wade.

  Josh shook his head, and cold realization ran down Andrea’s spine. Her life was officially the worst horror story ever written. Thugs and bullets and men without faces, theoretically and actually.

  She fought back tears. Crying was getting old. Trembling was getting old. Fear was getting old. “Well, I’m no good to anybody dead.” She shook her head and nestled deeper into his shoulder, willing to believe the lie that she was safe right here.

  “Something doesn’t make sense.” Josh squeezed her closer. “Why not take the shot when you were in the open, close to Cameron’s truck? Why wait all this time for the police to show up then aim through a partially covered window?” The last word trailed off, as though swallowed by a thought Andrea couldn’t follow. He slipped his arm from her shoulder and looked down at her. “They aren’t trying to kill you.”

  “So bullets are the new way to say ‘I can be your friend?’”

  “You hide behind that sarcasm when you’re scared.”

  Her mouth opened, but the planned denial didn’t come.

  “If they wanted you dead,” Josh went on like he hadn’t just laid a finger on her emotional pulse, “you’d be dead. In front of the PX two days ago.”

  “They tried to hit me with a car.”

  He nodded. “I watched it play out. The driver swerved away from the direction you jumped. And yesterday, at the church, they gave us time to see them before they opened fire. I’d already pulled you out of the way when the bullets started flying.”

  Andrea squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the too-bright room. “You’re not making any sense.” Maybe she was woozier than she’d originally thought. Maybe the shock of flying glass and blood and bullets had dragged her into a panic attack that completely wiped out reality, but Josh’s words didn’t compute. “Why go to all this trouble if they don’t want me dead?”

  “Because of what you just said. You’re no good to them dead, but for some reason they want you scared.”

  Andrea pulled away from Josh and stood, pacing her kitchen. She felt exposed, even in this windowless room with policemen outside her door. She picked up a spoon rest and let the cool weight press against her palm. “Scared of what?” Metal clanged against granite as she slammed it to the counter. The utensils in the drawer beneath jumped and rattled.

  “Nothing else makes sense.”

  “Nothing at all makes sense.” She leaned against the counter and stared at the front of the refrigerator, where a picture of her and her parents at graduation hung beneath a magnet. The urge to rip it from the door and tear it into pieces made her fingers ache. How good a therapist was she when the client she was most proud of dove into this kind of ridiculous situation and got himself killed?

  “These are people who aren’t thinking rationally. But think about it. Now is the perfect time to come at you. Your parents are on vacation. Grace is out of town, too. You’re alone.” He opened and shut two cabinet doors, as if he was taking out his frustration on the wood. “They just didn’t count on me showing up.”

  Andrea’s head couldn’t take the banging anymore. “What are you doing?”

  “Where are your glasses?” He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “You need water or something. You’re still shaking.”

  Balling her fingers into fists to stop the tremors she hadn’t realized were so obvious, Andrea nodded toward the cabinet beside the sink. “Up there.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “So what do I do? How do I make this stop?”

  The silence drew tight, and Andrea looked up at Josh.

  He stared into her cabinet at her coffee mugs. “I think we just got one step closer to our answer.”

  *

  Josh lifted a finger toward the back wall of the cabinet then stopped, mindful of the dangers of contaminating the evidence. There, scrawled across the wood in the same red marker as the hidden message from the wall locker were the numbers 00 12 30.

  Andrea studied the writing. They’d been staring at it for the past two minutes, but so far she hadn’t said one word. She looked tense, as if the ink were a coiled rattlesnake that could strike at any moment.

  “Andrea, do you have your phone? I left mine in the car.”

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and automatically snapped a picture of the numbers before slipping the phone back into place.

  “Could you take a picture of it?” Josh bumped her shoulder with his. He was trying to draw a smile, a chuckle, from her, anything but the silent stoicism that had her locked inside herself. When she didn’t respond, he scanned her profile. Nearly colorless lips pulled tight against her teeth. He contemplated having the paramedic check for shock again when her voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Will you stop staring at me?” She didn’t look away from the cabinet in front of her, though the corner of her mouth tipped up. “You’re wrecking my focus.”

  “What focus? I thought you’d gone out of your head.”

  She nodded toward the writing. “I know I’ve seen this someplace before. It’s just not kicking in. There’s an emotional memory tied to it, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

  Josh turned and leaned back against the counter so he could be free to watch her face as she puzzled out the riddle. “What is it you’re remembering?”

  Her eyes flicked to him and back to the cabinet as an embarrassed little blush pinked her cheeks. “Gym socks.”

  Josh drew his head back and suppressed a smile. “Gym socks are not an emotion, Donovan.”

  “I know. But it’s almost carefree and happy to me. For some reason, when I look at this I see and feel—”

  “Sweat?”

  “Not helping.”

  “Well, neither is gym socks. Although I could go for a long workout to clear my head if they ever let us out of here.” Josh couldn’t stop himself. He ran a hand down her hair and tucked a lock of it behind her ear, pulling back the curtain that shaded her face.

  She didn’t spare him a glance. “How did it get here? It sure wasn’t there when I came home last night, and trust me, nobody came through that door before you got here.”

  “It had to be while we were on our wild goose chase at your office.” The detective’s earlier comments whispered against the edges of his thoughts. “This wasn’t a setup. It was a chance for Cameron to communicate with you. He’s trying to tell you something.”

  “Why me?” She tipped her head back, and Josh had to look away from the curve of her neck. After a second of looking for answers in the popcorn ceiling, she sighed. “We have to tell Detective Simmons. See if she can figure it out.”

  “That’s a different tune than you were singing earlier.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before somebody died and I nearly got killed. Again.” Her eyes hooded, like she was about to retreat. If this kept up, he might lose her forever to that dark room that fed off the fear in her heart.

  Josh slapped his hands together, jolting Andrea nearly out of her skin. “Before we do, let’s go with that whole gym socks thing. Whaddaya say? I can psychoanalyze you this time.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Want to go in the den so you can lay on the couch? Every time I dreamed of being a psychologist, I dreamed I had a couch.”

  “You never dreamed of being a psychologist. You majored in sports medicine.”

  His eyebrow arched high, pulling at the bruise on his ch
eek. “And you know this how?”

  There went that pink blush again. “Maybe your mom told my mom.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” While that was a path he’d like to meander down, there wasn’t much time before someone came in and caught them with the latest evidence. With the dressing down he’d received from Detective Simmons earlier, if they were busted again it wouldn’t go easy. “So, smelly…dirty…” He rolled his hand as if asking her for more images.

  Andrea swallowed hard and squeezed her eyebrows together. “Gym clothes…lockers…” She stopped breathing. Excitement widened her eyes. “High school. Our gym lockers had combination locks. Mine started with a double zero.” She gripped Josh’s right biceps and he tried not to wince as the motion jerked at his elbow. “Just like that one.” Yanking her hands from his arm, she fluttered them in front of her face as though the action would make the memories come faster. “That’s a combination to a lock.” She reached into her pocket and yanked out her phone, scrolling through the screens. “And locks lock lockers—”

  “Or storage units.” Josh straightened and gestured to her phone. “That other message was a storage unit, wasn’t it?”

  A tap on the door frame ended their furtive guesses. Andrea slipped her phone into her pocket as they turned.

  Detective Simmons stood in the kitchen entry. “You guys look as guilty as two kids playing hooky on the first day of senior year.”

  Josh arched an eyebrow. The woman was growing on him, becoming more of an ally every second. “I think we found something.”

  “Where and when? You haven’t left this apartment since that shot was fired.”

  Josh waved her closer, then shifted to make room for her at the cabinet. “Y’all find the shooter?”

  Detective Simmons’s steps across the white linoleum were as measured as her demeanor. “No. But we found where he holed up—in the tree line on the other side of the parking lot. The angle he had on this place would have allowed him to hit Cameron and still hit that window. But I’m going to tell you…” Her gaze pegged Andrea. “He’s a crack shot to have hit Cameron from that angle and at that distance. He missed you on purpose.”

  Josh met her eyes over the detective’s shoulder. Just like he’d said. “They’re out to scare her.”

  “That’d be my guess.” Detective Simmons focused on the red scrawl. “How did you find that?”

  “Looking for a glass,” Josh replied.

  “Either of you touch it?”

  Josh shook his head and aimed a finger at the front edge of the door. “Just that part there, when I pulled it open. I wasn’t sure what you needed to check, so I was careful.”

  She shot him an impressed glance. “Ever thought of being a cop when you retire?”

  “I don’t plan to retire.”

  “Old soldiers never die,” she muttered. “I’d say nice work, but that would make me sound like a TV cop, wouldn’t it?” She removed gloves from her pocket and pulled them on with a snap. “I’ll get someone in here to photograph it. You two have any more theories to pitch?”

  Before either of them could say anything, a uniformed officer appeared at the door. “We found something.”

  Simmons nodded and headed for the door. “You two clear out. You can’t hang around until we’ve gone through this place. Just stay low.” She left before either of them could say anything.

  Andrea’s shoulders slumped. “My apartment is a crime scene. My office is a crime scene. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “One thing at a time.” He tugged at her hand, desperate to shake her out of what was certain to be a spiral into shock. “Simmons said the words. We’re free to go. Anywhere you want.”

  “Anywhere out of rifle range.” The fight inside her played out across her face. The instant she won, it was obvious in her expression. Her eyes opened. “Maybe I just need food.” Andrea grabbed her keys from the counter and shoved them into her pocket, then glanced around. “Somewhere without windows.”

  Josh watched her and wondered how much longer this would go on. His four-day weekend ended tomorrow. She’d planned to reopen the counseling center. Time to protect her was running out.

  Someone cleared his throat and jerked their attention to the door. The man Andrea had been talking with at the church yesterday stood watching them. He stepped up and extended a hand to Josh. “Detective Martin.”

  “Josh Walker.”

  The detective’s grip was steady, his eyes serious. “Detective Simmons had a few questions for you about what you found up here.”

  Josh nodded, though his stomach protested so loudly, he knew everyone heard it. Now that things had calmed down, all he could think about was food.

  Detective Martin arched an eyebrow.

  Andrea whacked Josh in the abs with the back of her hand. “Leave it to you to start thinking with your stomach.”

  He rubbed the spot like she’d wounded him. “What can I say? Near-death experiences make me ravenous.”

  “Then I should be dead of starvation.”

  As Josh started to walk away, Andrea moved to follow him, but Detective Martin held up a hand. “I’ve got a couple guys going over to the center to check out a few things, but I assume your office is locked.”

  “If you want, I can give you the key. How’s that?” Andrea pulled the key ring from her pocket.

  “Perfect.”

  Josh waited as she twisted the key off, but she waved him away. “Don’t just stand there, Walker. Women and children are starving. Go answer her questions.”

  “You sure?”

  She leveled a gaze on him like his mother used to do when he wasn’t moving fast enough to stow his ball glove and mow the lawn.

  He flipped a salute and was halfway down the stairs when she called, “And see if she can arrange an armored car for us.”

  Josh chuckled and descended the stairs, scanning the apartment’s parking lot. A uniformed officer stood on the sidewalk, and Josh stopped. “You know where Detective Simmons went?”

  The man pointed toward the trees, where Detective Simmons was heading toward the wood line, crossing the small lawn. Josh jogged across the parking lot and caught her as she reached the trees.

  She tipped her head to the side. “Think of something else, First Sergeant?”

  “Detective Martin said you wanted to ask me a few more questions.”

  Her expression hardened before she shook her head. “I’m the only detective here. We don’t have a Detective Martin.”

  FIFTEEN

  Detective Martin watched Josh leave, then turned to Andrea. He let her fiddle with the key ring for a second, then glanced at his watch. “Would you mind walking out with me while you wrestle that thing? They’ve put me on a timeline. Sooner I get over there and back, the better.”

  She shrugged. “No problem.”

  He stepped through the door onto the cement walkway ahead of her, glancing both ways, then motioned her forward. “Heard you found another piece of Cameron’s puzzle.”

  Andrea nodded, abandoning her keys as she navigated the steep steps. “Detective Simmons is working on it. And we think we’ve figured out what it is.” She grunted as her forehead crashed into the shoulder of the detective, who had stopped dead at the foot of the stairs.

  He stood there, his eyes on the parking lot, then grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her toward the thin stretch of asphalt. “You figured it out?”

  Her feet tripping under her, Andrea skidded along behind the detective and tried to jerk her arm away. “A storage unit. But—” she yanked again “—what are you doing?”

  The midsummer blast of air when they stepped into the sunlight was heavy and warm. Andrea had a tough time taking in a satisfying breath.

  “We’re going to where you can tell me what you know.”

  The ambulance Andrea had seen pull in earlier was backed up to the sidewalk. Before she could protest, Detective Martin shoved her inside, climbed in after her and yanked the door shut. “Go. Now.”
His voice rang deep and angry.

  The ambulance lurched forward, and Andrea turned back to the man in front of her.

  He studied her with eyes that glittered hard, and reality crashed in. She was in a wide-awake nightmare with no way out. She wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to do something, but no sound or movement would come. The moment she opened her mouth, the man who called himself Detective Martin was on her, his hand blocking any sound.

  God, help me.

  “Don’t,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “You’re only alive now because you’re the only person who holds the information we need, but don’t think I’ll hesitate to shut you up by any means necessary.” His fingers pinched her skin so tight she could feel bruises rising.

  He pinned her to the seat until the ambulance picked up speed and Andrea knew they were on the main road. Once they were a safe distance from her apartment, Martin backed away. He pulled a pistol from his pocket and braced it on the seat beside him, not physically threatening her, but letting her know without words that she dare not try anything.

  She drew in a welcome breath and eyed the oxygen tank, wishing for a jolt of pure air but surprised at the deep calm she felt. Her heart raced triple time, but her mind dragged slower, methodically thinking through every option. From here, there was nothing she could do. Her goal was to stay alive until someone figured out she was gone and came after her.

  But who knew how long that would take?

  Andrea squared her shoulders, bound and determined to show her attacker he didn’t scare her, even though her pulse rate said otherwise. “You’re no detective.”

  “Very good.” He tipped his head toward the front of the vehicle.

  “How did you get so close to me? Yesterday, you were at the church. And today…”

  He shrugged. “When you’re there before the area’s taped off, it’s easy to blend in. When I started asking you questions and dropped the right names, you made a lot of stupid assumptions about who I am. And everyone who saw me talking to you assumed I was someone you knew. It wasn’t that hard. I just stayed out of your detective’s way.” He leaned forward, false compassion burning in his eyes. “Next time someone tells you they’re a cop, you should ask to see a badge.” He sat back and patted his pockets with his free hand. “Seems I left mine at home.”