Midnight Reckoning (Fortress Security Book 2)

by Rebecca Deel

  “Straight through the living room and veer right. Sophie’s at the kitchen table. Do not upset her again, Abbott.”

  A glare from his repeated warning. He followed the detective into the kitchen where Sophie stood in front of a counter, measuring coffee into a filter. Water glistened in a carafe near her hand.

  “Have a seat, Detective. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Appreciate that, Ms. Valero.” He dropped into a chair, scooted aside one of the boxes, pulled out his notebook. “Winter tells me you received phone messages.”

  “That’s right.” She slid the coffee basket into place, poured in the water, turned on the machine. Opening a cabinet, she started to reach for coffee mugs.

  Micah, moving behind her, placed a hand on her back. “I’ll get them,” he murmured. “Go sit down. You want tea?”

  “That sounds good. Thanks.” Sophie opened a drawer on her right.

  His eyes widened. She had to have thirty different kinds of individually bagged tea stored in little compartments. How much tea could one woman drink? “You have a tea kettle or something?” His mother always used a ceramic tea pot, but he refused to go through the routine of heating water to heat the pot, then heating water for the tea itself. He didn’t understand his mother’s obsession with brewing the perfect pot of tea. In his book, tea was tea and the sweeter, the better. Sophie would have to make do with nuked water in a mug. He probably needed to stock decaf coffee and some herbal teas for her at his cabin. Whether here or his place, Sophie wasn’t staying alone until she and Junior were safe.

  She handed him a blue-green packet of chamomile mint tea and sat across the table from Abbott. “Do you want to listen to the recording?”

  “In a minute. Recognize the voice?”

  “It’s the same man who waited for me last night.”

  “Did he add anything new?”

  “He threatened Sophie and the baby,” Micah said. He set the mug containing Sophie’s tea in the microwave with a thud and punched a few buttons before turning to the pair at the table. “Won’t be able to prove it from the messages. Anyone who didn’t know better would think this guy and Sophie had a personal relationship. If your lab can’t analyze it soon, I’ll have it sent to our lab.”

  “Other crimes take priority over this one, Agent Winter. It’s a case of breaking and entering, harassment, and assault at this point. I’ll do what I can, but you aren’t sending this to Washington. You’re out of jurisdiction and on medical leave. The feds won’t want to use their resources on this.”

  Micah had a few markers he might call in. More than a few. No one would question his request if he explained about the danger to his son. He’d throw his federal weight around if it netted answers he needed to nab this thug and protect what was his. However, Micah’s threat might be enough to move the evidence higher in Metro’s new crime lab. If the detective didn’t get results quick enough, Micah would find a way to ship the evidence to D.C. and he’d ask questions while protecting Sophie and Junior.

  “Don’t push me, Abbott. You won’t like the rebound.”

  The microwave dinged. Micah pivoted, retrieved the mug, dumped the tea bag in the trash and set the mug in front of Sophie. He stared into the depths of the brown liquid, frowned, wondered what she put in her tea. “Need sugar or milk?”

  “No, thanks.”

  With a nod, Micah dropped into the seat beside her, his arm stretched across the back of her chair in a manner he hoped communicated to Abbott. The detective might not have picked up the hint, but Sophie caught on to his caveman tactics based on the glare she sent him. He raised one eyebrow. A man was allowed to posture to make a point. At least he hadn’t resorted to beating his chest.

  Abbott rose. “Where’s the answering machine?”

  “Down the hall. My bedroom is on the right,” Sophie said. She started to get up. Micah squeezed her shoulder.

  “Drink your tea.” He didn’t want her to hear those messages again. When she wrapped her arms around her belly, he knew he’d made the right call. Her actions spoke volumes regarding the state of her emotions.

  Micah’s leg ached as he limped behind the policeman’s long-limbed gait. Climbing the ladder and hauling boxes of papers from the garage had worked the muscles in his leg and left him tired after yesterday’s grueling session with the physical therapist. Mulling over the implications of Sophie’s pregnancy most of the night finished what the therapy session hadn’t taken out of him.

  Abbott stopped in the doorway of Sophie’s bedroom. “Is Ms. Valero staying tonight?”

  “No.” Micah’s curt answer fit his mood. Didn’t matter if Sophie preferred to sleep in her own bed. She wasn’t safe here. “Her place isn’t secure enough.” He closed the door, passed the detective and grabbed the handset, punched the playback button for her messages.

  The thug’s voice sent a fresh surge of anger through Micah. Spineless cowards preyed on the weak. He looked forward to meeting this one. Sophie wasn’t weak and no longer alone, helpless against an unknown enemy.

  The messages ran their course. Abbott scowled. “You’re right. Nothing much to work with. I’ll have the lab run it for any background noises, inflections, see if we can match the voice print to something on file.”

  “If your lab doesn’t get to the recording in the next few days, I’ll send it to the feds. In the meantime, this guy isn’t giving up. He may attempt another infiltration to find what his employer wants.” Micah leaned into Abbott’s personal space. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I expect a call when you arrest him. I want to watch the interrogation.”

  “This isn’t your case, Winter.”

  “It won’t become my case as long as you’re making progress. I won’t hesitate to use the Secret Service card for Sophie and the baby’s safety.”

  “You better have a court order in hand, Agent Winter. Otherwise, you won’t get squat from the lab or me.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sophie eyed the two men as they returned to the kitchen. Abbott carried her answering machine, scowling. Micah’s stony expression indicated the men exchanged some heated words in the back room.

  “I’m taking your machine with me.” He sent a pointed glare over his shoulder at Micah. “The crime lab will work on finding something to identify the perp. I’ll have a man watch the house for a while. Agent Winter thinks the thug will return soon.”

  She stared at the detective. He didn’t seem bothered by that idea. Of course, he wasn’t in danger and he carried a gun. She contemplated the wisdom of asking Micah to teach her to handle a weapon, discarded the idea as impractical. Fat chance she’d learn how to shoot a gun with any degree of accuracy in the next two days. Unlike Sierra, Sophie’s eye-to-hand coordination wasn’t worth mentioning.

  “I’ll fill out a receipt and bring it to you in a few minutes for your signature.” He walked outside without any further comment or backward glances at either of them.

  So much for leaving his attitude at the door. “You have quite a gift for charm, Micah.”

  “Yeah? I’ll pass that on to my mother.” He grinned. “She gave up on me. I don’t have to charm people in my job, just flash a badge.”

  She and Micah resumed sorting through the papers piled on the tabletop. Nothing. Sophie dropped her pile into the shred box and maneuvered another into position. Halfway down, she uncovered a bound notebook, marbled black and white, the kind students used for lab notes. Sierra always used that type. She’d laughed about the plain, staid front being a great cover for her creativity. Was this her latest painter’s journal or one of the older ones in her collection?

  Sophie fingered the cover, debated opening the book now or waiting until the detective left. Curiosity twisted in her gut, nearly wrenching the decision from her hands. Outside, the policeman slammed his vehicle door. She sighed. Guess that answered her question.

  She hoped Sierra had continued her practice of photographing and dating each painting she completed. The
front door opened and shut as she slid the notebook under a pile of papers. She glanced up to find Micah watching her actions, speculation in his gaze. She focused her attention on the entryway to her kitchen. She didn’t know how to explain her actions, just knew they were necessary.

  Abbott swept into the room bringing the snap of cold air inside, cheeks reddened, paper in hand. He dug in his jacket for a pen and handed both to her. “Sign on the bottom. Might be a while before we return the answering machine.”

  “Get some answers for me or hand it off to Micah’s employer. If you return it, erase the messages. I don’t ever want to hear his voice again.” She signed her name and returned the paper and pen.

  The detective nodded, tore off the receipt’s second copy, and laid it on top of the nearest box. “Call me if something else happens.” He nodded at Micah. “Later, Winter.”

  “Count on it,” came the soft reply.

  Sophie waited until Abbott drove away, then dug the notebook from the paper pile in front of her.

  “Is that what we’ve been looking for?”

  “Maybe. Sierra always used this kind of notebook for her journal, but it might not be the latest. If we’re lucky, it’s the right one. I don’t look forward to digging through all those boxes if this is the wrong one.”

  Micah sat next to her and pushed back the pile of papers. “How will you know?”

  “If Sierra kept to her old patterns, she dated the entries.” Hands trembling slightly, Sophie flipped open the front cover. Tears blurred her vision for an instant. Sierra and David smiled at her from a photograph attached to the first page. Her sister’s cryptic notations indicated the portrait had been completed six months before Sierra’s death.

  Micah leaned over her shoulder, peering at the writing beneath the photograph. “She painted that picture for my mother? Mom didn’t mention the portrait. I haven’t been home in almost a year either.”

  “Why don’t you ask her about it? If she doesn’t have the picture, we can look for it. Sierra had several portrait-sized boxes stashed in her art studio. I didn’t have the heart to uncrate them after her death. They’re in Junior’s closet. I figured climate-controlled conditions were better for her paintings than the garage.”

  “Do you paint as well?”

  “Oh, no.” Sophie laughed. “That was Sierra’s thing. I can’t draw a decent stick figure or paint a picture by the numbers. Of all the Valeros, I’m the only one without any creativity.”

  Micah’s brows rose. “I wouldn’t say that. You obviously have a flair for business, one which kept you on the right side of the law.” He paused, frowned. “With the exception of your burglary sideline.”

  “And an eye for detail which kept me out of the clutches of your fellow law enforcement officers for the most part.” She turned to the next page and caught her breath. The Carrington diamond. Her lips quirked. How like Sierra to cut off Kathleen Carrington’s head and focus on the thirteen-carat diamond necklace draped around the old harridan’s neck. Sierra never liked the woman. Carrington had insisted on a do-over. Said the picture wasn’t a true representation of her beauty. Sierra had complained Carrington must not have any mirrors handy in her twenty-bedroom mansion since her portrait was an exact likeness, the woman’s bad attitude included free of charge.

  “What’s the deal with the picture? Can’t imagine Sierra having such bad aim.”

  “She was more interested in the jewelry than the wearer.”

  Micah’s attention shifted to Sophie’s face. His eyes narrowed. “How interested?”

  “The Carrington necklace is back where it belongs.”

  “Should I ask how?”

  Sophie smiled. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. How long ago did this gaudy necklace reappear in the Carrington household?”

  “About two weeks after this picture was taken. Sierra’s smug attitude gave away the game.”

  Micah waved his hand. “No more info, sweetheart, in the interest of protecting the innocent.”

  “Who are you talking about, Winter? You or the baby?”

  “I’m not joining you in the pokey, babe. Somebody has to take care of Junior while you languish behind bars.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  “Yeah, sure. That’s what all the criminals say.”

  Sophie smiled. Secret Service Agent Micah Winters had a sense of humor after all. “When do we need to leave?”

  Micah sobered. “Before dark. If your attacker is going to make a move or try to follow us, I want to see him coming. Any information I get will help me nail him.”

  Sophie couldn’t argue with his reasoning. The thought of facing that creep again in the dark sent a shiver cascading down her spine. She glanced at the apple clock on her kitchen wall. Only an hour or so before the sun disappeared for the night. “Do I have time to search the rest of these boxes for more notebooks or sensitive papers before we go? We can take our time going through them at your place.”

  “Sounds like a workable plan.” He opened the rest of the boxes and deposited the contents in piles on the oak table.

  For the next thirty minutes, they sifted through months of paperwork and located two more of Sierra’s notebooks. Sophie grabbed the journals and stuffed them in her bag. While Micah carried the boxes they needed to his SUV, she traipsed back to the baby’s room and dragged Sierra’s paintings from the closet and into the kitchen. Didn’t know if they needed the paintings, but better to be safe. She hated the idea of the thug breaking into her house again and pilfering through her sister’s belongings. Besides, if it did turn out she needed Sierra’s work, Sophie dreaded another two-hour drive one way to retrieve the painting in light of wet roads sure to refreeze after sunset.

  She lifted the portraits and carried them to the garage.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? You shouldn’t be hauling those around.” He took the box from her hands.

  “It’s not heavy, Micah, just awkward to carry these days. The only thing a pregnant belly is good for at this stage is a portable table to hold up my dinner plate.”

  He chuckled, the raspy tone sending a curl of warmth through her body. Wow, the man’s laugh was lethal. Good thing she was immune. Her conscience stung. Mostly immune. Sophie’s lips tightened. She made it a practice never to lie to herself. Her family did enough of that without her adding untruths to the mix. The lot of them would be horrified at her cooperating with the police as much as possible without landing behind bars herself.

  “Is that everything?”

  “I haven’t packed clothes for the next few days.”

  Micah frowned with a pointed look at his watch.

  “It won’t take me long. Maybe ten minutes. I promise.” She hurried back in the house. In her head, she made a list of items needed. Grabbing a suitcase from her closet, Sophie dumped in armfuls of underwear, shirts, jeans, socks, and a pair of tennis shoes. On further consideration, she added more warm pajamas and a couple of her favorite body creams. Just because a woman was pregnant didn’t mean she had to give up a little luxury. And the luxury was for herself, not the good-looking cop/bodyguard who slept down the hall the night before. Maybe if she repeated that to herself often and loud, she might believe it.

  She zipped her suitcase and slid it to the floor. Good thing it had rollers or Micah would nag her about hauling the baggage around. Sophie made it out to the hallway and passed Junior’s bedroom, paused. Should she bring the bear too? What self-respecting thug would vandalize a teddy bear? She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, sick at the thought of leaving the toy. She didn’t want to leave her sister’s only gift to the baby behind. She dropped the suitcase strap and retraced her steps to the crib. A large, stuffed fuzzy brown bear sat in the corner, jaunty beret perched on his furry head.

  His soft fur felt like silk under her fingertips. Would Junior’s hair feel like the bear’s? She wished once again that the baby would have had a chance to know Sierra and David. Her vision misted. The
boy would have loved them. Sierra might have been a thief, but she was great with children.

  “Is anything wrong?” Micah’s voice came from the hallway behind Sophie.

  She snatched the bear from Junior’s crib. “I wanted to bring this along.” Keeping her face averted, Sophie carried the toy to Micah’s SUV and climbed in the passenger seat. With her luggage stored behind the last row of seats, Micah buckled in, cranked the engine and backed down the driveway.

  Sophie closed the garage door with her remote. They rode in silence until he merged with traffic on the interstate. She twisted her body sideways as much as her belly allowed. “Aren’t you going to ask me about the bear?”

  “I hoped you would tell me.” He flashed a grin at her before returning his attention to the road. “Of course, if you admit the toy is yours and you can’t sleep without him, I’ll have to tease you unmercifully.”

  She smoothed the bear’s beret. “He belongs to Junior. It’s a gift from Sierra and David. They bought it a couple weeks before the accident.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you or are you only saying that?”

  “You don’t want the thug touching Junior through this gift. Sierra and David gave it to him, their hopes and dreams bound up in his furry little body.”

  “I promised Sierra I would take it to the hospital when Junior was born. It was supposed to be his first gift from them. She called it his inheritance.”

  “And so it will be.” Micah reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll make sure he knows who they were, Sophie. By the way, did they have a name picked out for him?”

  “Sierra wanted to wait until we knew if the baby was a boy or girl. My sister hated to waste effort like debating a boy’s name only to find out the baby was a girl. She said it wasn’t an efficient way to handle the job.”