by Diana Palmer
The man whistled softly. “I thought about going with them, once, but after six months of being called, interrogated, lie-detected, background-checked and otherwise investigated to death, I gave up and joined the police force. The pay’s lousy, but I’ve only been involved in one shoot-out in ten years.” He grinned. “I’ll bet you can’t say that.”
“You’d be right,” Tony had to admit. “I’m carrying enough lead in me to fill a revolver. They can’t take some of the slugs out because of where they lodged.”
“You knew the deceased, I gather.”
He nodded. “He was my best friend since high school.” He grimaced. “But it turns out I didn’t know him at all. He was stalking a woman we both knew and I thought she was lying about it.”
The man pulled out a notepad. “That would be Miss Millicent Evans.”
“Yes.”
“She wasn’t lying,” the police detective told him. “She called us in on a 10-16 domestic, physical,” he added, using the ten code for a domestic disturbance call. “He’d knocked her around pretty badly.”
Tony felt two inches high as he remembered Millie’s unexpected reaction when he’d moved so abruptly in the funeral home. He couldn’t speak.
“But when it was time to press charges, she wouldn’t,” the detective said flatly. “We were disappointed. We don’t like women beaters. She said he was drinking heavily and had apologized, and it was the first time he’d hit her.”
“Was it only the one time?” Tony had to know.
“I think so. She isn’t the sort to take that kind of abuse on a routine basis. About a week later, he killed himself.” He leaned closer. “We got word that a local gang boss took money to have her killed. That’s why we were at the funeral. You got a friend named Frank?”
“Yes.”
“He and my lieutenant are best friends,” the man told him. “He’s got us looking for people who might fit the description of a hit man.”
Tony laughed. “And I fit the description.”
“I’ve seen mob hit men who look just like you.” He cocked his head. “You Italian?”
Tony grinned. “Cherokee,” he said. “My mother’s husband adopted me, but he wasn’t my father.”
“Goes to show,” the detective said, “that you can’t tell who people are by looking.”
“Absolutely.”
* * *
Tony went by the library the next morning, hoping to apologize to Millie and go from there. But the minute she spotted him in the lobby, she went through a door that had the sign Employees Only and vanished. He asked for her at the desk, as if he hadn’t noticed. The clerk on duty went back through the door and reappeared a minute later, red-faced and stuttering.
“I’m sorry, I…couldn’t find her,” she finished.
Tony smiled sadly. He didn’t blame Millie for hating his guts. “It’s okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
He left. Apparently protecting her was going to be done at a distance, unless he could think of a way to get her to listen to him.
He tried calling her at the library when he got back to his hotel. The minute she heard his voice, she hung up. He sighed and called Frank.
“She ran the other way,” he told his friend. “I expected it. But I can’t convince her that she needs protection if I can’t get within speaking distance of her. Any ideas?”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “I’ll go by her apartment and speak to her.”
“Thanks. Tell her I’m sorry. It won’t do much good, but I really mean it.”
“I know you do.”
“I bought one of our tails a drink,” Tony told him. “He said they were looking for guys who fit the profile of a hit man. He thinks I do.”
Frank burst out laughing. “If the shoe fits…”
“Thanks a lot,” he muttered.
“I’ll get back to you when I’ve seen Millie,” he promised.
“Okay. I’ll be here.”
* * *
Frank called him the next morning. “She’ll talk to you,” he told Tony. “But it took a lot of persuading. And she won’t believe that John would do anything so drastic as to hire someone to kill her. You’re going to have a hard time selling her on the idea of protection,” he added.
“Well, I’ll work on my people skills,” Tony replied.
There was a pause. “I heard a comedian say that you can get a lot more with a smile and a gun than you can with a smile. That about sums up your people skills.”
Tony burst out laughing. “You do have a point,” he conceded. “I’ll try to mellow before I go to see her. Any news from your detective friend?”
“Not yet. He anticipated me, it seems.” He chuckled. “He already had his men working on the gang angle, to see if anybody hired a shooter. Maybe he’ll turn up something.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can to safeguard Millie,” Tony replied. “See you.”
“Yeah.”
* * *
Tony dressed casually for the visit to the library, hoping he wouldn’t attract too much attention if anyone was watching Millie. He wore jeans and a cotton shirt under a leather jacket. He looked outdoorsy, like a cowboy, but he refused to put on a wide-brimmed hat. He’d never liked to cover his black wavy hair, and he still wore it in a ponytail. He wasn’t going to be conservative, no matter what the job called for. He was too much of a renegade.
He walked to the desk and asked for Millie, smiling at the clerk. She smiled back, obviously interested in him. She picked up the phone, pushed a button and told Millie she had a visitor out front.
As she spoke, she was sorting mail. “Oh, and you got a package,” she added, still talking to Millie on the phone, her hand reaching toward a flat but lumpy-looking brown envelope with spiky writing on the front.
“Don’t touch that,” Tony said at once, whipping out his phone. He dialed the emergency services number and requested a squad car and the bomb squad.
The clerk looked at him as if she thought he’d gone nuts.
“Get everybody out of the building,” he told her in a tone bristling with authority. “Don’t waste time,” he said when she hesitated. “There’s enough explosive in there to blow up a city block. Hurry!”
She rushed into the back as Millie came out front. She stopped at the desk, where Tony was still arguing with the dispatcher about the bomb squad.
“Listen, I work for the government,” he said in a deep, steady tone. “I’ve seen letter bombs before. I know what I’m talking about. Do you want to read in the newspapers tomorrow morning that a library blew up because you didn’t take the threat seriously? They’ll even spell your name right…yes, that’s what I said, the bomb squad. And hurry!”
He glanced at Millie, his face hard, his eyes glittering. “We have to get out of here,” he told her. “Out? I’ve got a package there…”
He caught her hand as she reached for it. “If you like having two hands and a head, you’ll do what I tell you. Come on!” he called to the clerk, who was hurrying several patrons and a couple of employees out the front door.
“You are out of your mind,” Millie said primly. “I’m not leaving…!”
“Sorry,” he said as he whipped her up in his arms and carried her right out the front door, which a grinning patron held open for him. “I don’t have time to argue.”
* * *
A squad car rolled up along with the bomb squad. Tony went to talk to the sergeant in charge.
“It’s a letter bomb, on the counter in there,” he told the man. “I worked a case in Nairobi with one that looked just like it, but I couldn’t get anybody to listen to me. It killed two foreign workers when it went off.”
The sergeant sighed. “Okay. We’ll check it out. But if you’re wrong, you’re in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m not wrong,” Tony told him, and showed his credentials. The sergeant didn’t say another word. He went straight to work.
The librarians were skeptical; so were Millie and the patrons. But th
ey all stood patiently in the cold while the bomb squad went hesitantly into the building and looked for the brown envelope Tony had described.
The sergeant came back out, grim-faced. “I’m not completely convinced,” he told Tony, “but we’ll go by the book. It does look suspicious.”
They had a robot with a gripping arm. They sent it into the building to retrieve the package. It took a long time, and many spectators gathered, kept back by two more units of police who arrived to help with crowd control.
There was a camera crew from a local television station on the scene now, and people with camera phones were snapping images to send to the media as well. Some of them were laughing. One man, a grumpy library patron, said he was going to catch cold while the police wasted their time on a bomb threat that would turn out to be a package of photographs or something equally stupid.
As he was speaking, the robot reached the containment bin in which the bomb squad collected suspicious packages. No sooner had it gone in than there was a terrific explosion which knocked the robot onto its back and had spectators screaming and running away.
Tony glanced at the bomb squad sergeant who grimaced. He turned to Millie. She was white-faced and sick at her stomach. If Tony hadn’t come in when he did, if she’d opened that package…
He caught her as she slumped to the pavement.
* * *
When she came to, she was lying in the backseat of Tony’s rented car. He was holding a cold soft drink at her lips, supporting her with one big arm.
“Come on. Take a sip. It will help,” he said quietly.
She managed to swallow some of the fizzy liquid. She coughed. “I fainted. I never faint.”
“If somebody sent me a bomb, I’d probably faint, too,” he replied with a grin. “You’re okay. So is everybody else.”
She looked up at him quietly. “Why?”
The grin faded. “Some men take possession to the grave with them. John couldn’t have you. He wanted to make sure that nobody else ever did. He paid somebody a lot of money to do this. And he almost pulled it off. Now we have to keep you alive while they find out who he hired.”
She sat up, breathing heavily. “Surely they won’t try again? They’ll know that the police are watching now.”
“The police don’t have the sort of budget they’d need to give you round-the-clock protection. The bomber will know that. Of course he’ll try again.”
“He’s already got the money,” she faltered.
“I wouldn’t bet on that. More than likely, John set it up so that he can’t get it until you’re dead and the bomber has proof that you’re dead,” he told her flatly. “If a gang leader is holding the money, it will be a point of honor with him. Don’t look like that, they do have honor among themselves, of a sort. Especially if the leader was John’s friend and felt an obligation to him for some reason.”
“You knew it was a bomb without touching it,” she recalled. “How?”
“It isn’t my first bomb,” he replied. “I don’t do ordinance, but I know guys who do. I learned a lot by watching, the rest by experience.”
She frowned. “In the Army? Or working on construction gangs?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I work for the government, in between freelance jobs,” he said. “I’m an independent contractor.”
“A what?”
“I’m a professional soldier,” he told her. “I specialize in counterterrorism.”
She was very still. Her pale eyes searched his dark ones. “Did your foster mother ever know?”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t have approved.”
“I see.”
His eyes narrowed on her averted face. “You don’t approve, either, do you?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. She rubbed her cold arms. “My opinion wouldn’t mean anything to you.”
She climbed out of the car, still a little rocky on her feet. He steadied her.
“You need to get your coat and your purse and come with me,” he told her. “We have things to talk about.”
“But—” she began.
“Don’t argue, Millie,” he interrupted. “If you stay in there, you’re endangering your coworkers.”
That hadn’t occurred to her. She looked horrified. “But I have to work,” she protested. “I have bills to pay…!”
“You can ask for a leave of absence, can’t you?” he persisted. “A few days off won’t put you on the streets.”
He was making sense, and she knew he was right, but she was afraid that if she asked for time off, she’d lose her job. She’d been at the library all her working life, and she loved what she did. Her superior still hadn’t gotten over the gossip John had caused by insinuating that Millie had a wild lifestyle. God knew what she’d say when she heard about the bomb.
“I may not have a job when my boss finds out what happened here today. She’s out of town until next Monday,” she added sadly.
“Come on. I’ll go in with you.”
He escorted her back into the building and insisted on seeing her supervisor with her. He explained the situation matter-of-factly, adding that he was certain her colleagues wouldn’t like to risk another such incident by insisting that she stay on the job until the culprit was apprehended.
“Certainly not,” Barry Hinson said at once. “Millie, we can manage without you for a few days. I’m sure Mrs. Anderson would agree.”
Millie sighed. “I don’t suppose I have a choice. I’m very sorry,” she began.
“It isn’t your fault,” Barry said firmly. “None of us ever blamed you for what that man did. He should have been locked up,” he added, unaware that Tony had been John’s friend.
Millie flushed. She didn’t look at Tony. “Well, I’ll get my things and leave. I’ll be back next week.”
Barry smiled. “Of course.” He glanced warily at Tony. “You won’t let anything happen to her?” he asked, assuming that the big man worked for law enforcement.
“No,” Tony assured him. “I won’t.”
Millie didn’t want to feel that enveloping warmth that his words caused. She’d risked her heart on this man once before and had been crushed by his rejection. If only, she thought, you could banish feelings and make them leave you alone forever. She went to get her purse and coat and explain to the clerk what she’d been working on before the bomb disrupted their day.
* * *
“Now, what?” Millie asked as she paused by her little black VW in the parking lot. It was used, but clean and well looked after.
“Now, we go somewhere and talk and make decisions.”
“There’s a cafeteria down the street, where I usually have lunch,” she said, naming it.
“I’ll meet you there.”
She nodded meekly and got into her car.
* * *
Ten minutes later, they were having sandwiches and coffee, a late lunch because disposing of the bomb had been a protracted business. Millie ate and drank automatically, but she didn’t taste much. It was disconcerting to realize that John actually meant to kill her.
“Stop brooding,” Tony said as he sipped coffee. “It won’t help.”
“I never thought John would want to kill me,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “He beat you up.”
She gasped. “How did you know that?”
“Frank.”
Her lips made a thin line. “He’d been drinking. He said it was all my fault that his life was falling apart, because I wouldn’t marry him. I tried, for the twentieth time, to explain that I didn’t love him in that way, but he wouldn’t listen. He lost his temper and the next thing I knew, he was slamming me into a wall. Even when it happened, I could hardly believe it. I screamed and screamed, and when he let go of me, I locked myself in the bedroom and called the police.”
“You didn’t press charges,” he muttered.
“He was in tears by the time the police got there. He swore it was the alcohol, that he didn’t realize how much he’d had.
He said he loved me, he couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing. He begged me not to press charges.” She shook her head. “I should have. But I felt sorry for him. I always felt sorry for him. He had mental issues, but he wouldn’t face that, and he wouldn’t get help. I thought I could do something for him.”
“You can’t fix a broken mind,” Tony said heavily. “He was obsessed with you.”
His tone intimated that he didn’t understand why. She knew what Tony thought of her, because John had told her, time and again. Tony thought she was the most boring woman on earth, and he’d need to be drunk to want to touch her. Looking at his expression now, she was certain that John had been telling the truth. She was plain and prim and unexciting. It was a fact she’d faced long ago.
She pushed back her coffee cup. “After that night, it got to the point that I couldn’t walk out of my apartment without running into John. He said he was going to make sure that I didn’t have any other man in my life, and he was going to watch me night and day. When he told those lies about me, and then started spending the day in the library, it began jeopardizing my job. I finally decided that I had no other choice than to file stalking charges against him.” She ran a hand over the tight bun she kept her long brown hair in. “It was what pushed him over the edge. I even knew that it would—it’s why I waited so long to do anything about the problem. He swore he’d get even, no matter what it took.” She looked tired, drained of life. “When I knew that he was dead, I was so ashamed, but all I could feel was a sense of relief. I was finally free of him.”
“But you came to the funeral home,” he commented.
Her face tautened as she recalled Tony’s attitude when he’d met her there. “Yes. It was the guilt. I had to see him. I thought it might make amends, somehow.”
“And you found me, instead,” he replied, grimacing at her expression. “You have to understand, all I had to go on was what John told me. And he told me a lot. He left me a letter, blaming you for his death. I had no reason to doubt him, at the time. Not until Frank told me the truth.”
Of course he’d believed his friend, she thought. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that Millie wasn’t a wild girl. He didn’t know Millie. He didn’t want to know her. It hurt, realizing that.