Terror and Temptation_A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Vella Day

  “Given it's close to eight, I say we head to Asheville and stay the night. I have an idea where we could go, but I need to check with T-Squared first.”

  “Maybe it would be safer if they did put us in jail. The killer couldn't get to me there.”

  He glanced over at her. She was chewing her bottom lip and her arms were crossed over her chest. He needed to come up with a good plan soon if he expected to keep Susan alive.

  **

  Richard Thomason forced the smile from his lips. He studied his reflection in the men's room mirror. He needed to look upset, worried, and a little out of control. He half unknotted his perfectly tied tie, mussed his hair a bit and left his suit jacket unbuttoned, something he never did.

  With the prize winning photo in hand, he strode into the meeting room, precisely three minutes late. Stanton, Tom, William Burroughs, and Nancy Darden were all seated. He needed to convince them his proof against Jake was irrefutable. Once he was brought in, he could report to the bastard that Jake and Mrs. Chapman were in custody. His job would be done, and his wife and children would be safe from harm.

  If the blackmailer was able to get to Chapman after her release, fine. Her death wouldn't be on his hands.

  As expected, all four of his team stopped talking as soon as he stepped into the conference room and faced him.

  “Thank you for giving up a good night's sleep and meeting with me at such short notice.” He shoved a hand through his hair for effect. “This was just emailed to me.”

  He tossed the 8 x 10 glossy photo on the table and waited for their reactions.

  Stanton was the first to pick up the photo and study it as the others looked on. He glanced up. “I don't get it. What is Jake doing with Gary Cho?”

  Richard took in a deep breath and mentally prepared for his finest acting job. “He was hanging him. The noose is half-way over Cho's head.”

  “This is impossible,” Tom chimed in.

  “Pictures don't lie.”

  Stanton passed the photo to Nancy. “I'm glad to see Mrs. Chapman appears to be alive, but why would Jake harm Mr. Cho?”

  Richard had spent time preparing to answer that exact question. “To protect Peter Caravello. To divert attention away from him.”

  The team searched the faces of the other members. Tom looked more pissed than confused.

  Nancy leaned forward. “Why would Jake want to protect a suspect?”

  Thanks to one of his blackmailers, he'd extracted a lot of information about Jake Yarnell's upbringing. Richard pulled up the remaining empty chair and sat.

  “I think you all know that after Jake's mother died, he was put up for adoption at age seven.”

  The heads nodded. Richard continued. “Apparently neither his grandmother nor his aunt wanted custody, so he went in the foster care program.”

  “That's in his file,” Tom said.

  “What's this have to do with Peter Caravello,” William chimed in.

  “I'm getting to that. When Jake was nine, he was assigned a Big Brother from the program. You'll never guess who it was.”

  Stanton's jaw clenched. “Just tell us.”

  “Nicki Caravello.”

  All eyes but Tom's widened. Interesting. He must have known about Jake's childhood difficulties. Damn. He'd be a hard sell.

  “Shit,” Stanton said. “I guess that means he was friends with Peter when they were growing up.”

  “More than friends. They were like brothers. Peter's mom died of cancer when Peter was twelve and Jake nine. Given Jake was shuffled between four foster homes, he knew what it was like to lose a mom. The two bonded.”

  Richard waited for them to figure out the connection.

  William steepled his fingers. “When we arrested Peter, are you thinking Jake thought that if another juror died while Peter was in custody, we might let Caravello go?”

  “That's what happened, wasn't it? We released Mr. Caravello, and shortly thereafter, the juror in north Florida was killed.”

  Stanton nodded, the bags under his eyes pronounced. He was taking these deaths too personally. He pushed aside his growing guilt.

  Richard waited for the next question that someone surely would ask: What should we do next? He tapped his fingers on the table then stilled. He wanted to wring their necks for being so stupid. Did he have a draw them a picture?

  “We'll have a put an APB out on Jake and the girl,” Stanton said.

  Good man, Stanton.

  Tom shoved back his chair. “Listen to yourselves. Jake is one of us, not some criminal. Maybe he was taking Mr. Cho down after someone hanged him. Ever think of that? I can see Mrs. Chapman in the background. Now way he would he harm Cho with a witness present.”

  Richard needed to step in, to stop this Jake-is-innocent crap. “I've thought of that, but there were no rope markings on Cho's neck. There would be if Jake had found Cho hanging.”

  “Where did you get this photo?” Stanton asked.

  Richard had expected that question too. “It was sent to my phone.”

  “From?”

  “Number unknown.”

  Tom slapped the table. “And you didn't question the source?”

  “I tried to get a trace, but I couldn't. Besides, what's there to question? This is Jake with a juror in his arms. If you look closely, you can see two burn marks on the neck. I'm betting they came from a stun gun. That's why Cho is limp.” He wasn't sure they if they would see through his thin evidence, but it might deflect someone drawing any link between him and the crimes.

  The group remained silent for a good thirty seconds.

  Stanton rubbed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “We have no choice. We have to put bring Jake in and ask him to explain.”

  Perfect. He couldn't have orchestrated the scene any better. “Let's get some rest. I'll see you all in the morning.”

  No one stopped to discuss Yarnell on the way out. Good. They were all on board. He checked the atomic clock on the wall. It was late and his wife would hopefully be asleep. She always worried when he spent too many hours at work.

  At this hour, the usual forty-five minute drive took only twenty-five. He pulled into the garage and headed for the kitchen. He needed a drink.

  Once he mixed his scotch, he went to check on the kids. No matter how late he dragged in, he made it a point to kiss them goodnight. It didn't matter they rarely remembered the visit in the morning.

  He opened Ethan's door. The nightlight next to the bed glowed, but he wasn't in his bed. His youngest son often liked to cuddle with his older sister after Kathleen had her operation. Soon he'd have to insist he stay in his own room, but for now he'd let him have his solace.

  Richard stepped down the hall and eased open the door. The bathroom light poured into the pink and lavender room. His heart nearly exploded. It was empty.

  Richard raced to the master bedroom. Maybe Kathleen had had a relapse. Heart transplant patients were so unpredictable. He threw open the door. She always left the bedside lamp on for him.

  She opened her eyes. “Richard, what's wrong?”

  “Oh, God. Where are the children?”

  “In bed.”

  “No they aren't.”

  Her hand flew to her chest and he ran to her side.

  He shouldn't have upset her, but he needed answers. “Are you sure they aren't spending the night with your sister and you forgot?”

  “No. Claire is out of town this weekend.”

  His mind failed to sort through all of the possible scenarios. The phone rang.

  He jumped up from the bed. “I'll take it in the kitchen. It might be work.”

  “Richard, please—”

  His hand trembled as he ran out the door, blocking out his wife's pleas.

  “Hello?”

  “Don't worry. They're safe.”

  “Who is this?” He tried to keep his voice down to a whisper. He recognized the voice, but he prayed he was wrong.

  “You know.”

  “What do yo
u want?” His legs weakened and he slid down to the kitchen chair.

  “I want you to find Jake Yarnell and the girl and eliminate them.”

  “What the hell do you think I have been doing for the last couple of days?”

  “When they are both dead, I will return your children. I'll be in touch.”

  14

  Jake hadn't slept last night, worrying about whether the cops in Brevard had figured out who'd called in Cho's murder. He mentally ran through everything they had touched. Had he or Susan had left any trace evidence or disturbed anything other than the body? Yes, he'd wiped down the doorknob and the chair, but would they think to lift his prints off Cho's neck where he'd taken the man's pulse?

  The big question was whether the Transylvania County police department was sophisticated enough to draw any conclusions regarding who'd been there? If the cops did check around town, a few people could attest to fact two strangers were asking where to find Gary Cho's place. Would they department call in a sketch artist and search all the databases for a match? He'd shown his badge to the Pisgah ranger. How much would they learn from him?

  Nothing he could do about it now. He thanked the gods he'd gotten an untraceable phone. The 9-1-1 dispatcher would be able to identify the caller as a woman, but since Susan hadn't mentioned her name, they were in the clear on that account.

  Even though they'd reserved a room forty miles away under an assumed name, Jake suggested they sleep in their clothes in case the police roused them in the middle of the night. When the authorities never showed up, Jake began to relax, though he'd only slept in short bursts.

  Faint light eked through the gap in the curtains. He rose, debating whether or not to wake Susan, since she'd looked too peaceful to disturb. She'd tossed and turned most of the night and had settled down only a few hours ago.

  Around three in the morning, he'd been tempted to crawl into her bed next to her and just hold her, to calm her, but getting involved with a client was the fastest road to dismissal. God knows, he might have already lost any chance to keep his job.

  Jake checked the time on his cell. T-Squared should be getting home from work about now. Even though he could call his friend on his cell at work, Tom's ability to talk freely diminished when he was on the job.

  Jake bundled up and stepped outside, not wanting to wake her with the call. The sun was only now peeking over the horizon, but the brisk breeze shocked his system awake. Several motel guests were piling into their cars, even at this early hour.

  After three rings, Tom picked up.

  “It's Jake.”

  “Jesus Christ. Where have you been? I've been calling you for hours.”

  “I tossed the Bureau phone and bought an untraceable.”

  “Smart. That's why you didn't answer. Where are you?”

  “Asheville.”

  “The shit hit the fan at work. You gotta hide.”

  Jake knew that, but how did Tom? “What do you mean?”

  “Richard produced a photo of you stringing up Gary Cho.”

  The anger rippling through his body was the only thing that kept Jake upright. “That's impossible.” He told his friend how he'd raced to save Cho. “Susan saw someone in the window. Shit. That's when he must have snapped the picture. I've been set up.”

  “I told them that. The photo could have been of you taking off the noose rather than putting it on.”

  “It was. Cho was alive when we got there, so the killer had to be nearby.” He turned his shoulder to brace against the wind.

  “Is Cho okay?”

  “No. He died right after I took him down.” No need to mention Gary's last words, or rather the first half of a word. “You said Richard had the photo?”

  “Yes. Said someone sent it to him.”

  “When was this?”

  “Around ten last night. He dragged in Stanton, William, and Nancy too. They weren't pleased.”

  The heavy hitters. “I bet.” Jake leaned back against the motel wall. “Then it couldn't have been Richard at the cabin.”

  “Richard Thomason? What have you been smoking? He's one of the good guys.”

  “Is he? Think about it. We put five people under protection, and their positions are compromised with a day or two. Only Thomason knew of their locations. He has to be the one leaking the information.”

  “Or Julie.”

  Thomason's secretary. “She's nineteen and way too naïve to pull off a crime this sophisticated. With the series of kills, there have to be several different people involved, and I don't see Julie having the brains to coordinate such an effort.”

  “You might be right.” Jake thought Tom chuckled. “Besides, her old man would personally strangle her.”

  “That's true.” Julie's father was third in line to the director.

  “What time was Cho killed?”

  “Only about two hours before Thomason showed you the photo.”

  “Brevard's a good day's drive to Virginia, so he couldn't have personally killed Cho.”

  “He could have paid someone to do it.”

  “What would be his motive?” Jake had no idea why Tom was protecting Thomason. Neither cared for the man.

  “Beats me.” The hole in Jake's theory nagged at him, but he didn't need to spend time in idle speculation. Richard appeared to be an honest man, despite his uptight personality. If Jake had had a wife who'd just undergone a heart transplant, he'd be tense and accusatory too. Richard had said the cost nearly bankrupted him. “What else did Richard have to say?”

  “You won't like it.”

  A man slipped out of his motel room four doors down with a small overnight case and headed straight for a black SUV, not even glancing Jake's way. Jake's body shot to alert, nonetheless. The car that had followed them from north Florida had been a black Ford. What was the probability they were the same vehicle? Slim to none.

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “They think you killed Cho.”

  Tension nearly strangled him. “Because of the photo?”

  The black SUV pulled out of the lot. The plates were from Georgia. It could have been the same vehicle. Lake City was no more than forty miles from the Georgia border.

  “Yes.”

  “And Thomason suggested they put an APB out on me.”

  “More or less.”

  Bastard. Jake's blood nearly burst a vein. “Here I am trying to protect Susan from a killer and my own coworkers think I'm the one who's guilty?” This case had been fubarred from the start. “Did Stanton agree with Thomason's assessment?” He paced in front of the room, his gut churning up a storm.

  “No, but with the evidence right in front of him, he had to do something. Stanton agreed to bring you in for questioning. That's all.”

  Great. At a time like this, Jake wished he smoked. He needed to use up his nervous energy. Going for a run was out of the question since Susan wasn't in any shape to join him, and he refused to leave her alone.

  “Look I need a place to hide until all this mess is figured out.”

  From the noise in the background, Tom must have been tapping his feet or slapping a hard surface. “Why don't you two stay at Dad's in West Virginia?”

  The cabin where Tom and he used to spend every summer. He was hoping Tom would offer the place. “That would be great, but what about your dad? I don't want to put him in jeopardy, nor do I want him arrested for harboring a fugitive.”

  “He's here with me. He came for my birthday.”

  Remorse filled him. He and Tom always celebrated their birthdays together. “Hey, sorry I missed it.”

  “We can party later. You know where the key is, don't you?”

  “Couldn't forget.”

  Jake knew every nook and cranny of the two-bedroom cabin, not to mention all the hiking trails surrounding the remote site. The only problem he might encounter would be convincing Susan to hide in to the woods—the dark, scary woods.

  **

  Maria Francisco slipped out of her nurse's unifor
m and put on tight jeans along with one of Peter's favorite shirts. She posed in front of him after she took off or put on each new piece.

  Peter adjusted his pants. “You look hot. Come here.” He wiggled his fingers for her.

  He wanted to take her to bed right then and there, but his stepmother had called and asked if they could visit her in the nursing home.

  “We can't.” Her bottom lip protruded. “Aunt Sophia is expecting us.”

  “She can wait. Hell, she might not even remember she asked us over.” He smiled, hoping to lure her.

  “You said she sounded good, right?”

  “Yup. Even called me by my right name.”

  A frown creased her brow. “No telling when she'll have another lapse, and I don't like being with her when she rambles. The last time I went there by myself, she kept calling me Angelica. I couldn't convince her I was Angelica's daughter.”

  “I know. She often thinks I'm my dad.”

  Maria settled on his lap and wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his ear. “Did Aunt Sophia say what was so important that we needed to rush right over?” Her warm breath tickled his cheek.

  “No, just that she needed to see both of us.”

  Sophia Francisco Caravello was the only person on earth Peter had told about his affair with Maria. She would understand because she'd been part of both families. About twenty years ago, she'd married Dad right after Mom died. As a kid, he wanted to believe he had a new mom for good. Then things went south.

  Maria jumped up, picked up her purse from the counter and pulled out her lip gloss. She smoothed the shiny stuff on her kissable lips, probably just to torture him. “I'm ready.”

  He stole a kiss anyway after they were seated in the car. She was silent for most of the ride to the nursing home, and he left her to her thoughts.

  When they walked into Sophia's room, the not-so-old woman was sitting with a blanket on her lap, looking out at the lawn. A red and blue awning shielded the bright sun from streaming in.

  “Hello, Sophia,” he said.

  Peter held his breath, wondering if she'd recognize him. Sophia wheeled around and frowned. “James?”

  Damn. He and James looked nothing alike. James' hair was jet black, whereas his was a medium brown. Not to mention James was a good three inches shorter and at least thirty pounds heavier. “No, I'm Peter.” He wrapped an arm around Maria's waist and pulled her closer to him. “And I brought Maria with me as you asked.”