by Vella Day
Crap. Jamie hadn’t planned for that topic to come up. “And your other brother?”
“Jack is forty-one. He never got along with the folks and moved out after high school. Twenty years later, he landed his ass in Mississippi at a pest control company. Doing pretty well, too. Has a wife and two happy kids.” His voice trailed off as if he envied that part of his brother’s life. Max set down his fork. “I never asked if you had siblings.”
Jamie’s throat constricted. “Only a half-sister. Let’s just say Evelyn and I never saw eye-to-eye.”
“A tale better told later, I take it?”
She liked that about Max. He seemed to know when to probe and when to pull back. “Yes.”
Elissa came over with the bill, and Max paid. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll drive you over to Richardson’s Automotive so you can pick up Grayson.” He stood and helped Jamie with her coat. “But don’t think that means you’re free to roam, young lady.”
“You’re a spoilsport.” But he sure was a loveable one.
On the way to his SUV, she caught him glancing right and left, most likely checking for black vans or men wearing caps. That didn’t help her anxiety level.
Max held open the car door and she slid in. Once he was seated, he drove toward his house. “As much as I love having a roommate, with the clinic closed for a while, have you considered leaving town for a few days until we figure out who harmed your friends?”
Harmed? Try murdered. She could tell from the sincerity that he was thinking what was best for her. “You mean like fly home? To California?”
“Would that be so bad? You’d be safe there.”
She shrugged. “I guess, but it cost a lot to fly, and seeing my mom would be depressing.” At least Evelyn had moved out of state a few years ago.
He glanced over at her. “You two don’t get along? I didn’t realize the animosity extended beyond your sister.”
Jamie didn’t want to get into it. “Being around my mom is like stepping into a pool of disappointment.”
“That bad, huh? If you ask me, your mom is a fool. She should be very proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
His words helped. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on the sunny vacation.”
“If you went, you could sleep without worry.”
“You seem quite convinced that I need to hide.” The food in her belly churned.
Max worked his mouth and gripped the wheel. “Here’s the thing. We don’t know what we’re up against. If I knew for sure, I would warn you. The offer stands for me to be your temporary bodyguard.”
“Thank you. I’d like that. Do you think we could stop at my house so I can pick up some more clothes? I only packed enough for one night.”
He grinned. “You got it.”
He turned off the road into her neighborhood. Once in her drive, he cut the engine. Once more he opened her door and she slipped out. Max was worming his way into her heart fast. Hell, he was already there.
As soon as they stepped onto her porch, she stopped. “Are you kidding me?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the broken living room window. “Someone broke my freaking window. I can’t believe it.” The porch light barely illuminated that side of the house, so it was difficult to tell the extent of the damage.
She’d taken but one step toward the damaged area, when Max stopped her. “Jamie, get in the car.”
His words turned her stomach into knots. “You don’t think this has anything to do with the clinic break-in, do you?”
“Now.” With an arm around her waist, he half-guided, half-lifted her to the passenger side. He pulled open the door, hurried her in, and then closed it.
He ran to his side, jammed the car in reverse, and high-tailed it out of there.
Her heart jammed in her throat. “Shouldn’t we see if there’s any more damage? Someone could have robbed me.” The words gushed out without much thought behind them. The ramifications scared the shit out of her.
Max fished out his phone and handed it to her. “Call 911. Tell them about the break-in.”
Oh, shit. “Do you think the intruders are still there?” That seemed to be the only logical explanation. It didn’t matter there was no car in the drive. “Are you thinking they’re the same men who’d killed Yolanda?”
“It’s possible.”
With maybe more fear than when those men were chasing her down the street, she punched in the emergency number and relayed what they’d seen.
Max held out his hand. “Let me.”
She handed him the phone. He pulled off to the side then told the emergency operator to contact Trent Lawson of the RHPD. He also gave her some code, which Jamie assumed meant it was a robbery-in-progress. The cops might get there faster if they thought the threat was still there.
He disconnected and punched in a new set of numbers. “I’m calling Dan Hartwick.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain in a minute.” He tapped his foot while the phone rang. “Dan. It’s Max. Someone just broke into Jamie’s house.” He glanced over at her. “No. We called 911. Near her house, keeping out of trouble. Sure. Is that wise? If you think I should, I will.” He clicked off his phone. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Sixteen
With Jamie’s life now possibly in danger, the FBI finally agreed with Max that Jamie needed to know about the terrorists.
“Tell me.” The poor woman was shaking.
Max faced her, dreading the idea of heaping more bad news on her. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
Her lips firmed. “How about at the beginning?” The crack in her voice tore at his gut.
“I thought you weren’t practical?” This probably wasn’t the time for levity, but seeing the fear in her face was messing with his head.
Some of her tension seemed to disappear, but she didn’t crack a smile. “Max! Please.”
“Okay. After the warehouse fire, Detective Hartwick came to see me—about Jonathan. He said there was something odd about the vagrant.”
As expected, her body stiffened. “Odd?”
He told her about the makeup, the wig, the retainer, and the fat suit. “That sent up a red flag to the department.”
She clenched her fist and pumped it. “I knew it.”
“Jonathan Rambler’s real name is Vic Hart. The FBI confirmed he’s one of their agents. Just as you suspected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I couldn’t. I take my oath to uphold the law seriously.”
She shook her head as if she was trying to make sense of what was true and what she believed to have been true. “Do you think Jonathan only befriended me to make his homeless act look legit?”
The stress had to be screwing with her mind. “No. I think he was desperate for some normalcy, and you provided it. That’s all.”
She tugged on her seatbelt, and shifted to face him. “Why would an FBI agent be in Rock Hard? What was he trying to uncover?”
Max blew out a breath. Here goes. Sorry, Jamie. “That was my first question. Long story short, the Feds said Vic Hart was investigating a case regarding domestic terrorism.”
She planted a hand on her chest. “Here?”
“Montana is a big state. It’s easy to hide out. There’s a lot of empty land, and people will leave you alone if you wish.”
She slid her hand down to her lap and picked at the hem of her jacket. “I’m speechless. Did Yolanda’s death have anything to do with these terrorists?”
“We can’t be sure.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “This is so much to take in. If these terrorists targeted the clinic, what were they looking for?”
Jamie glanced up at him. Except for the rays from the quarter moon, he couldn’t see her expression very well and he didn’t dare turn on the overhead lamp. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
She looked off to the side, then back at him. “Like I said befo
re, I know nothing.”
“I’m sorry to keep asking, but I thought if you knew these murderers were terrorists, something new might come to mind.”
She was silent for a moment. “No. Nothing. You know I’d tell you if I could.”
“I know you would, honey. Come here.” Max unbuckled his seatbelt and slid over next to her. She crawled into his arms and hugged him tightly. Max kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry that you had to get caught up in this, Jamie.”
“Me, too.”
Flashing lights came toward them. “Cops have arrived.”
She sat back up and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Can we go back to my house now?”
He wanted to return to his home, but the police would need to question Jamie about the damage—assuming there was some. If these were the same men, and if they didn’t find what they wanted at the clinic, Jamie’s house might look similar to the clinic crime scene. God help her. She’d need him more than ever.
“In a bit. I want to give them a chance to clear the scene.” Two patrol cars whizzed by.
Max hated to see anything else destroy the thread of control Jamie was clinging to. If there was something he could do to help, he would do so in a heartbeat.
* * *
Jamie grunted. “What’s taking them so long?”
Max had parked in front of her house over half an hour ago, but he wouldn’t let her leave the car and ask about the progress of the investigation. He said they had to stay in the vehicle until one of the cops said it was okay to enter.
Finally, Trent traipsed down the porch steps toward her and knocked on the car window. Jamie pushed open the door and stepped out, her legs stiff.
His mouth was pinched. “You can come in, but be prepared. It’s bad in there.”
Jamie planted a hand behind her to steady herself on the car door. Her knees actually buckled, but she caught herself before falling. Her body was numb, as if part of her realized it couldn’t absorb any more blows. “Did they take a lot?” She’d just purchased a television. It didn’t matter it was used.
Trent shook his head. “Hard to tell. From the looks of it, they were searching for something.”
Just like in the clinic.
Max came around the back of his SUV and placed his palm on her back for support then stepped next to her. “Trent knows about Vic Hart, so you can speak freely.”
It took a second before the name registered. Jonathan was Vic Hart. How could she have been fooled by such a nice man? He’d seemed so sincere. “Tell him what? That I was nice to a man who betrayed me?”
Sympathy swamped his eyes. “Remember, Vic was undercover. It wouldn’t have been safe to tell you he was an agent looking for terrorists.”
“You’re right.” She turned and faced Trent again. “I swear Jonathan, or rather this Vic guy, never told me any secrets. Whoever did this didn’t find what they were looking for because it wasn’t there.”
Trent dragged a hand down his chin. “Could Vic have handed you a paper cup or a bag to toss on your way back to the clinic that had information written on it?”
She ran their encounters through her mind, recreating her daily routine. “If he gave me some trash, I threw it out. I’m sorry, but I just don’t remember that kind of exchange. I’d bring him food then leave. He didn’t have time to eat it before I had to be at work.”
Trent nodded as if he knew when he’d reached a dead end. “If you think of anything, tell Max. He’ll let me know.”
As Trent turned to go back inside, Max led her up the steps, and she leaned against him for support. When they reached the door, Max held it open for her. The moment she stepped inside, her heart stopped beating, and she grasped the doorjamb to keep upright.
“Oh, my God.” Every pillow had been sliced open, and any item she’d placed on top of a surface had been tossed on the floor. Between all the food and junk strewn about the kitchen counters and floor, she didn’t dare try to go in there. From where she stood, the cupboards and drawers were mostly empty.
A whisper of air finally entered her body and blood pounded in her ears.
Max leaned over. “Anything missing?”
She faced him, her emotions in total turmoil. Was he talking about a large ticket item? “Missing? It’s too soon to tell. They didn’t take my television, and I don’t own anything of value, except for my computer.” At the destruction, bile raced up her throat.
“How about jewelry? Or maybe some antiques? Thieves can sell just about anything at a flea market.”
She stood on her tiptoes and tugged on his shoulder. He bent down. “I thought you said these were terrorists.” She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to mention that in front of the crime scene techs.
“Alleged terrorists. I’m hoping it’s a random robbery, but I doubt it.”
She understood that the cops were trying to be thorough. “I have a few rings that belonged to my mom, but I think they were costume jewelry. All the trinkets I’ve accumulated over the years seem to be on the floor.” She spotted a picture of her grandmother. “Oh, no.” Of all her relatives, her Gram was her favorite. Jamie rushed over to see if the photo itself had been damaged. The glass was broken, so she stepped around the debris.
As Jamie bent to examine the picture, Max clasped her shoulders before she could retrieve it. “We can’t touch anything,” he said.
Her heart broke as he helped her rise. Jamie turned and faced him. “Did they have to break this?”
“I wish I knew the answer.” Max gathered her in his arms, and she placed her head against his chest, the action giving her strength. As much as she’d like to stay there, she needed to see the rest of the damage. She stepped out of his embrace and studied the rest of the living room from where she stood.
“Why trash the kitchen and rip the artwork off the walls? It’s stupid.” Her pots and pans came from a discount store, and her patients had painted most of the pieces that had been hanging on the walls.
“Perhaps they were looking for something specific. Something hidden.”
“What? Like a wall safe?” Her eleven-hundred square foot home with its broken shutter and loose front porch step didn’t scream wealth. Jamie threaded her fingers through her hair. Her lip trembled, damn it. “I just want to yell. Scream. Stomp. Anything to make this go away.”
Slowly, as if he feared she’d crumble, Max once more enveloped her in his arms. This time she didn’t pull away. Instead, Jamie cried—for Yolanda, for Vic Hart, for her ruined belongings. She hiccupped and Max held her even tighter. The security he was offering made the tears flow hard and fast.
“Shh. It’s okay.” He patted her back like a child.
She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her—especially Max. He’d been through a lot himself. Zoey claimed anger was good and Jamie had plenty of it. It was time to use it. She stepped back and swiped a hand across her face. “I need to look at the rest of the house.”
Max nodded as if he recognized that her take-charge attitude was healthy. “Let’s do it.”
The first room she checked was her small second bedroom that she used as an office. When she spotted her laptop, she heaved a sigh of relief, until she realized something wasn’t quite right.
Max placed a hand on her back. “Something wrong?”
“I always close it.” The top was up.
He withdrew a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and wrapped it around his index finger. Max tapped the spacebar, and the screen shot to life, looking just the way she’d left it.
“You don’t have this password protected?”
“I’m the only one here.” He turned his back to her and scrolled through the file names in the finder. “What are you hoping to learn?”
“Not sure.” When he appeared satisfied, he asked the man taking photos to have them dust the keyboard for prints.
“Won’t that mess it up?” Jamie couldn’t afford to buy another laptop.
“He’ll be careful.”
This was a nightmare. After the office, she stepped into her bedroom. If she had thought the kitchen was bad, this room was even worse.
Jamie’s chin wobbled. “Assholes. The thieves didn’t miss a drawer.”
Clothes had been tossed all over the floor, the pockets of her pants and coats turned inside out. She should have been embarrassed that her underwear was in plain sight, but she was too upset to worry about propriety now. Christ. It was going to take forever to clean everything up.
“Fuck.” Max dragged a hand over his head. “What the hell were they looking for?”
“Whatever it was, they didn’t find it. If they had, the destruction wouldn’t have extended to the whole house. They would have stopped when they located it.”
“You’re right.”
“Do you think they’ll come back, thinking they can beat it out of me?” Shivers of fear skated up and down her body at the possibility.
“They won’t get the chance since you won’t be here.”
She’d be at Max’s. Jamie looked up at him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Max leaned close and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to think about it.”
She and Max were still in the bedroom surveying the mess when a tall man knocked and stepped in. Jamie recognized him from the wedding. He was Dan Hartwick, Cade and Thad’s boss, and the man Max used to work for.
“Jamie,” Dan said. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. Max placed a light touch on her shoulder. “Go ahead and gather what you can. I have a washer and dryer so you can recycle your outfits.”
“How long before I can come back?”
“It could be weeks. If domestic terrorists are responsible for this, I think it would be wise if we lock down the house until this issue is cleared up.”
“Weeks?” At least she’d be with Max.
“Or more, honey.” Max tugged her close. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m counting on it.” While she knew very little about domestic terrorists, she bet they had military training and were experts at hiding. “I just hate that some crazy men get to decide how to run my life. Hell, we don’t even know if the person or persons who broke in had anything to do with Vic Hart or the clinic.”