by LENA DIAZ,
“What things?”
Logan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Come on, Logan. You’ve got my attention. Spill.”
Logan already regretted mentioning his suspicions. He didn’t want to put a stain on Riley’s reputation, not if he was innocent. But if there was even a chance Riley could be involved, he had to look into it.
Pierce was watching him expectantly. Logan blew out a frustrated breath. “First of all,” he said, holding up one finger, “He meets the general description Amanda gave of the killer. Second,” he ticked off another finger, “He didn’t notice the trail of footprints leading from the O’Donnell crime scene into the woods until I pointed it out.”
“Half the male population of this town meets the general description Amanda gave. And Riley was waiting for the medical examiner. You told me that.”
Logan ignored the interruption and continued. “Third, he didn’t mention the Branson case when Carolyn was abducted. Fourth, by walking through the grid and inside the boxcar, he’s given himself a perfect alibi if we find any trace leading back to him.”
“Go on.”
Logan dropped his hand. “That’s it. I don’t have anything else. Just my gut.”
Pierce sat silently for several moments, considering. “From what you told me about your gut this morning, about when you stopped that white van because you thought something was off, I’m inclined to trust your instincts. I’ll call the field office in Birmingham, have them check out the conference alibi, make sure Riley was really there. Do you want to send any of your men to Alabama?”
“No. I don’t want Riley or anyone else to hear about this, especially without any evidence. I don’t want to hurt his career or his reputation if I’m wrong. Can someone out of your Jacksonville office run a quiet investigation into Riley’s background? See where he was at the time of the other murders during the past four years?”
“You bet. In the meantime, we could put a tail on him.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Logan said. “I may have been born here but I moved away for over a decade. To my men, I’m still an outsider until I prove myself. Riley’s one of them, a local. None of them could keep this a secret from him.”
“Then I’ll have one of my men tail him.”
“Can you spare the manpower?”
“I’ll get the manpower. If there’s even a slight chance Riley could be our man, I want to know.”
“You don’t think I’m nuts?”
Pierce’s mouth quirked up in a wry grin. “I think you’re desperate. I don’t think Riley has anything to do with the murders. But I’ll humor you. In a few days I’ll have proof, one way or the other.”
Chapter Seven
One of Amanda’s constant shadows opened his car door down the street from her house, apparently thinking she was about to go for a walk. She waved him back and pointed to her mailbox at the end of the driveway to let him know she was just checking the mail. He waved to let her know he understood and closed his car door.
A white Camry turned the corner onto the street. Amanda glanced at the unfamiliar car. A flicker of unease passed through her. She hurriedly grabbed the mail, quickly noting there were only bills, not the new movie from her mail-order movie club that she’d been expecting. Maybe tomorrow. She had plenty of movies in the house she could re-watch. No big deal.
The sound of the car’s engine was much louder now. Amanda closed the mailbox and hurried up the driveway, back toward the safety of her house. Tires squealed behind her, and she jerked around to see the Camry barreling into her driveway. She gasped and dove out of the way, hitting the ground hard and rolling onto her back as the car screeched to a halt, its front bumper narrowly missing her.
A man holding a camera jumped out of the car, along with a familiar-looking blonde woman. Amanda’s stomach lurched with dread.
“Ms. Stockton, Tiffany Adams, Channel Ten News,” the woman announced as the man who’d gotten out of the car shoved his camera toward Amanda’s face.
Car doors slammed down the street. Shouts of “Police, stop!” were accompanied by the sounds of shoes slapping against the pavement.
Amanda desperately raised her hands to hide her face, and struggled to get up with the camera so close to her. “Back off,” she bit out through clenched teeth. The man stepped back, giving her just enough room to stand, but not offering to help her up.
“Ms. Stockton,” the blonde continued, as if nearly running someone over was nothing to worry about. “Can you comment on the recent murder of Carolyn O’Donnell? How does it make you feel to know that the man who attacked you and killed your friend may be back in town killing again?”
Amanda’s face flushed hot as she shoved past the anchorwoman. How did they think she felt? That had to be the dumbest question ever asked and it was usually the first one out of a reporter’s mouth when interrogating a crime victim.
When the reporter stepped in front of her, Amanda took childish relish in stepping on the toes of the woman’s designer high-heeled shoes and seeing the woman flinch. “Get off my property,” Amanda told them as she ran to the carport.
“Hey, what are you doing? Get your hands off the camera.”
Amanda heard the commotion behind her and knew the undercover policemen had reached the news crew. She jerked open her side door and rushed inside the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her.
“I hate morgues.” Riley stepped into the elevator. “Even hospital morgues. They smell.”
Logan rolled his eyes and punched the button for the parking garage level.
“I’ve smelled worse,” Pierce said. “At least the medical examiner’s tests were able to confirm the burn marks on Carolyn O’Donnell’s body were from a taser, just like the taser he used in the Branson/Stockton case.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like he’d use the same taser four years apart. No one’s that dumb. I sure wouldn’t do that,” Riley said.
Logan exchanged an uneasy glance with Pierce. He hated being suspicious of Riley, but once the doubt had planted itself in his mind, he couldn’t shake it. Everything Riley did or said now made Logan more suspicious. He hoped the Feds would finish their investigation into Riley’s alibis soon. If Riley wasn’t involved, then Logan could clear his mind of that worry and concentrate on other leads.
What few leads they had.
When the elevator opened and they stepped out into the parking garage, Logan’s cell phone started ringing. He reached into his jacket pocket just as Pierce and Riley’s phones began to ring. The three men shared a startled glance, then took off in a sprint toward Logan’s car.
“You’re a material witness,” Pierce said to Amanda from his perch on the couch next to Logan. “We can force you into protective custody.”
Amanda’s nails dug into the arms of the recliner. “If you’re going to lock someone up, lock up that reporter for trespassing.”
“No one’s going to jail,” Logan said.
“But, Pierce said he would—”
“He’s bluffing. He can’t declare you a material witness without a suspect in custody. No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thank you,” she said to Logan. She narrowed her eyes at the FBI agent, letting him know she didn’t appreciate his threats.
“Pierce,” Logan said, his voice hard. “See if Riley has found out who leaked Amanda’s address to the press.”
“Riley doesn’t need my help,” Pierce said, his voice equally hard.
Logan slowly turned to face the FBI agent. Something silent passed between them. Pierce mumbled beneath his breath and threw his hands up in the air. He left the room without another word, the front door closing behind him with a sharp click.
“Sit with me,” Logan said. He stood and held his hand out. “We’ll figure out what to do. Together.”
She didn’t hesitate or flinch away like she’d done that night he’d stood in her kitchen doorway. She put her hand in his, immediately
feeling secure as his warm fingers wrapped around hers. He led her to a seat on the couch beside him, surprising her by not pulling his hand away.
“How bad is it?” she asked. “Does the entire Panhandle know where I live now?”
“It’s worse than that. You’ve gone national. All the major networks picked up the story. Your front lawn is full of reporters and the street’s lining up with news vans.”
She groaned and shook her head. “What are my options?”
“Obviously, staying here in your house isn’t viable anymore. We need to put you in a safe house.”
“Hawaii would be nice.”
Logan’s mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin, doing funny things to her heart. “I’m afraid that’s not in my department’s budget. How about somewhere close by, like Tallahassee or Pensacola?”
“Why do I have to leave Shadow Falls? Can’t I just stay in a motel or something?”
“I thought you’d be thrilled to get out of town. It’s the safest option.”
She tugged her hand from his and stood, too keyed-up to sit still. She crossed to the fireplace and paced in front of the couch, hugging her arms around her waist. Logan sat, quietly watching her, waiting. He probably thought she was crazy to hesitate about leaving. Maybe he was right.
When she’d mentioned Hawaii she’d only been half-joking. The idea of leaving town was vastly appealing. But leaving would delay the computer work she was doing to help Logan with the investigation. Still, she wasn’t a martyr. She didn’t want to make it easy for the killer to find her. “Do you think I should leave town? You still think I can help with the investigation don’t you? Besides the database, you think I might still remember something that will help, right?”
He considered her question for a moment, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “I’d be lying if I said I wanted you to leave. There aren’t many leads in this case. Right now you’re my best chance at catching this guy. I have to believe that after being with him for three days there’s something else you know about him, some kind of clue that will help me nail this bastard.” He shrugged. “But it’s your life. You’re the one taking risks if you stay. This has to be your decision.”
His voice sounded matter-of-fact, like he was willing to accept any decision she made, without argument.
“What would you do?” she asked. “If you were me?”
His eyes were hard and unreadable, remote . . . as if her questions took him far away, to another place or time. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then his expression changed, as if he’d just made an important decision. He stood and stepped over the coffee table to stand directly in front of her by the fireplace. He reached out to take her hands in his. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded her permission and he entwined his fingers with hers. Her pulse leaped at the feel of his warmth surrounding her.
“I started my career as a beat cop, here, in Shadow Falls. I made a rookie mistake, one that had terrible consequences. When I realized what I’d done, I quit the force, moved to New York, tried to start a new life. But running didn’t do any good. I think about the mistake I made every day. That’s why I came back, to face what I’d done.” His hands tightened around hers. “Whatever you decide, just make sure you do it for the right reasons. Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
Tears burned at the backs of Amanda’s eyes. “I already have,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word as the memory of Dana’s screams echoed in her mind.
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
The front door opened and closed, followed by the sound of shoes on the foyer’s tile floor. Pierce and Riley entered the living room, their faces drawn and tense.
“Chief,” Riley said. “Got a minute?”
Logan didn’t move or respond to Riley’s question.
“Amanda?” he asked, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. “What did you do that you regret?”
Panic flowed through her. No, she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t tell him what she’d done. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust that would twist his face if he knew. She shook her head and tugged her hands from his. “Never mind. Go, see what Riley wants.”
“Chief?” Riley repeated, his voice sounding urgent.
Logan’s expression mirrored his disappointment, as if he’d expected Amanda to tell him something that would help with the case. If it were that simple, she’d tell him everything. But what she’d done wouldn’t help. It would only make him hate her.
“This isn’t over,” he assured her. Amanda shivered at his words and fervently wished she hadn’t said what she’d said.
He crossed to the far end of the room to join Pierce and Riley at the opening to the foyer. They spoke too quietly for Amanda to hear them, but she didn’t have to hear the words to know Logan didn’t like what they were telling him.
He shook his head and heatedly mouthed the word “no” several times. Riley appeared to be the calmer of the three. He spoke to Logan for several minutes and then Logan’s mouth tightened but he gave one short, crisp nod. Pierce immediately turned and rushed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Amanda warily watched Riley and Logan cross the room toward her.
“Riley found the leak,” Logan said. “Mr. Reynolds, a flower vendor at the cemetery.”
Amanda recoiled in shock. “Are you sure? I can’t believe he would tell the reporters where I live. He’s always been so nice to me.”
“Reporters can be quite persuasive,” Riley said, “especially if they threaten to report someone to the IRS. Selling flowers is a side job for Mr. Reynolds. Apparently he hasn’t reported any earnings from his flower sales on his tax returns.”
“You need to make a decision, Amanda,” Logan said. “Do you want to stay in town or go somewhere else?”
“I’m staying.”
Riley looked pleased with her answer. Logan’s face was harder to read. She wasn’t sure if he was glad or not.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, feeling chilled by the change that had come over Logan since she’d mentioned her regrets. “So, what do we do next? Do I go to a motel?”
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” Logan said. “In a town this small it would be too easy for the killer, and the press, to find you in one of the local motels. No matter how careful we are, someone is bound to notice the extra police presence, even if my men don’t wear uniforms.”
“Besides that,” Riley added. “Pierce isn’t comfortable with the setup around here. He said all our motels are old and lack modern security features.”
“You’re staying at Logan’s house,” Pierce’s voice called out from the entryway, announcing his return. He strode across the room and stood beside Logan. “Only a handful of people know he owns that property. It’s not even in his name. It’s listed under a real estate investment company he set up. I’ve already made the arrangements. All you have to do is pack a suitcase.”
“Wait, wait. I’m confused,” Amanda said. “What are you telling me? That I’m staying at the chief of police’s house? That’s . . . unusual, isn’t it?”
“Ms. Stockton,” Riley said, drawing her attention. “It might be unusual but it’s an excellent alternative. Most of the department still thinks the chief lives in town in an apartment, but he loaned that out to the FBI and moved outside of town when this case started.”
“A police officer would stay with you during the day,” Pierce said. “Logan would be there at night. You’d have ‘round-the-clock protection in a secure location. Close enough that you can continue to assist with the investigation. But perfectly safe.”
“I guess it makes sense,” she allowed, watching Logan carefully. He’d remained silent during the entire exchange, watching her with a solemn expression on his face. “But I don’t think Logan wants me there.”
His mouth tightened. “I want you safe. That’s what I want.”
“What’s the p
roblem then? Wouldn’t I be safe at your house?”
One of his brows arched up, as if she’d asked a ridiculous question. “Of course you’d be safe.”
“Good, it’s settled.” Pierce said. “We have two unmarked cars waiting on the street behind your house to escort you to Logan’s house. A female officer is on her way here to act as a decoy for the press out front.”
In spite of her decision to be brave, panic filled her at the thought of leaving her sanctuary. “I didn’t say I would go to Logan’s house.”
Logan’s expression softened and his eyes filled with concern. He reached out and took her hands again, oblivious of the two men watching. “I think having a witness living at the chief of police’s house is a conflict of interest. I need to concentrate on solving the case and I’m worried my attention will be divided.”
She started to interrupt but he squeezed her hands to let her know he wasn’t finished.
“For now, though, if you’re determined to stay in Shadow Falls, then staying at my house is the best alternative.”
She noticed the tension in the tiny lines at the edges of his eyes for the first time. Riley looked agitated too. It dawned on her that what they’d been arguing about earlier had nothing to do with the decision about where she should stay. “There’s something else, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitated, as if carefully weighing his words before he spoke. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
“What? Tell me.”
“There’s been another murder.”
Frank Branson didn’t mingle with the reporters in front of Amanda Stockton’s house. He remembered some of them from four years ago, and he was afraid they might remember him. Drawing attention to himself was not part of the plan.
The overgrown shrubs on the property next-door gave him the perfect vantage point. Hiding beneath the bushes, he could see both Amanda’s side door that opened onto the carport, and the sliding glass doors in the back. When the press got tired of their vigil out front, and the cops thinned out, he’d pay the Stockton bitch a visit.
Two hours later he was stiff and sore, he’d drained the last of his six-pack, and he really needed to take a piss. He stumbled through the bushes, away from the cops and reporters, and relieved himself behind the neighbor’s house.