“Did you take the welder off site on Friday when you left work?”
“No. I wouldn’t have done that unless Tom asked me to drop it at another site on the way. Kathleen and I had an appointment at a broadcasting studio on Friday afternoon at four to tape Harping on the Truth, so I picked her up at work an hour early. Then on Saturday I went with her to see an apartment she was interested in, then to Balboa Park to a couple of the museums.”
“What was the address of the apartment, and which museums did you go to?”
Walker just wouldn’t give up. Fortunately he recalled the street address of the apartment. “Afterwards we went to the photo museum and the Art Institute. She’s an architect and draws, so I thought she’d like those.”
Officer Walker’s cold, hard stare never wavered. “How did the welder get in your truck on Sunday afternoon?”
Cal shook his head. All he had was the truth, and they’d either believe him or they wouldn’t. “I really don’t have a clue. You could canvas the neighborhood and see if anyone saw another truck dropping it off or something.”
The guy gave him the forty-mile stare, like he took exception to being told how to do his job. “When I got home and saw it in my truck, I called Tom to see what was going on. He didn’t know how it had gotten there either, so he came over. He decided we should go ahead and take it back to the site and unload it.
“He also said there would be paperwork in the office indicating who took it off site and how it was transported. He was going to check on it while we were there. We were attacked before we even got it unloaded.”
Officer Loche returned and murmured something in the other’s ear. Walker didn’t look happy.
Obviously Zach’s backing didn’t please him. Look elsewhere, asshole, this is not my screw-up.
Cal couldn’t allow himself to think about what Kathleen was saying to the other police officers. He’d told her to stick to the truth. If they avoided answering completely, it would make it appear that they had something to hide. Neither of them had any other choice.
“Have you heard anything about Tom’s condition?” Cal asked. Head injuries were tricky. The chances of Tom remembering anything about the attack were iffy.
“He’s been in and out of consciousness, so we haven’t had a chance to talk with him. We will as soon as he’s stabilized.”
If he was still going in and out…It didn’t sound good. The news was disheartening. “He’s a good boss, and a stand-up guy.” He shook his head. “He’s given me a chance to use my skills when other foremen might not have.”
The officer eyed his prosthetic. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Crowes?”
“I do steel work. I’m part of the crew assembling the steel frame for the building, the rebar for the concrete poured to create the floors, that kind of thing.”
“Is that how you injured your leg?”
“No. I was injured in an IED explosion in Afghanistan.”
“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you or Mr. Hill?”
Would Warren go to such lengths to get back at him for whatever wrong he’d imagined?
“No.”
“Anyone with a grudge against you who’d try and set you up for something?”
So even the cop was wondering? Well good, he needed someone to. But he couldn’t point a finger at Warren. All he’d done was insult him. “No.”
The officer stood and the other one got to his feet. Walker, who’d done all the questioning, produced a business card. “If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call that number.”
“I will.” Cal cupped the card in his hand for a moment, then laid it on the bedside table.
Kathleen joined him ten minutes later looking very tired. He wanted to ask her how her questioning had gone, but they both needed to distance themselves from it for a while.
“They should be processing the paperwork to send me home. If you want to go on home and try and get some sleep before you go to work in the morning, I can catch a cab.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m good. I’m going to call in sick tomorrow.”
Cal lay down and scooted over in the narrow bed to make room for her. She slipped in next to him and he folded her in close to spoon. He breathed in the summer sun scent she wore, wanting nothing more than to bury his nose against her neck and go to sleep, but he fought to stay awake.
She half turned to whisper. “How would they have known you were taking the welder back to the site?”
“I don’t know. Unless someone was watching.”
“It would take someone with a real grudge to plan all this.”
“I know Warren has something against me, but would he really take it this far? It’s just plain crazy.”
She wiggled around to face him. “There’s something I need to tell you.” She placed a hand against his bare chest, which only partially soothed the instant concern that zinged through him. “I got a strange email on Friday morning. It said you were responsible for someone’s death here in the states.”
Cal absorbed her words like a punch. He dragged air into his lungs. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“After what happened at work, I thought it might be Warren, but it wasn’t his normal inter office address. And he wasn’t there on Monday, he’d taken some vacation days and wouldn’t be back for a week. I had a big meeting that morning, and you had the interview later that day and I just didn’t… The opportunity never came up for me to mention it.”
“You had all day yesterday, Kathleen.”
“I didn’t believe what the email said, Cal. I know you had to do things in Iraq and Afghanistan, but I couldn’t picture anything you could have done that would make you culpable for someone’s death.”
“Damn straight, because I’m not.” He fought the urge to explode. Warren had to be the person after him. And now he’d tried to drive a wedge between him and Kathleen. Warren was the only one he’d had any kind of confrontation with.
Kathleen broke into his thoughts. “Can you think of anything at all that happened after you got home that this person could be referring to?”
“No. This has gone too far. Did you print out the email?”
“Yes. It’s in my purse.”
Cal reached for the cell phone in his pocket. “Hand me that card on the table. Maybe I can catch the cops before they get too far away.”
*
Kathleen studied the strong, shadowed jaw of the man she lay next to. Though she’d only slept with one other man, he’d never stolen her breath like Callahan Crowes. There was something about that rugged jaw and beard stubble that just did it for her.
They had shared the same bed all night. Well, from about four-thirty until now. He’d actually shared his space at a time he was at his most vulnerable. Another boundary fallen. But not without some encouragement.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was seven-thirty and she needed to call in. But instead she wanted to stretch out close against him and enjoy being where she was, where they were. The sling that held his arm stationary crossed over his chest like a warning, and also reminded her of the caution Cal had given her the night before about his dreams and about waking him too suddenly.
He’d admitted it had been another stumbling block to having a steady girlfriend in the past. Was that why he hadn’t asked her to stay the night sooner? For every step they took forward as a couple, another issue in his recovery was laid bare. But she wasn’t just any woman. She was the sister of several men who had chosen to serve. And she could handle this.
She eased out of bed, tugged the T-shirt down over her behind, and went into the living room to retrieve her purse. She dug her phone out to find it dead. Shit! She couldn’t just not show up. She tiptoed into the bedroom and scanned the room for Cal’s cell phone. It lay on the dresser. She grabbed it and took it into the living room. If he had a password on it she’d have to wake him to ask what he was.
She pushed the button to turn it on, brushed her finger over the
screen to activate the phone icon and keyed in the number. She called Jack Allison, her supervisor, and explained she’d spent the night in the emergency room with a friend. She’d be willing to extend her days the rest of the week to make up the time, but she needed to sleep.
He was understanding and told her not to worry. She had no meetings scheduled. She could make up the work. Company policy was that office staff had three personal days, and this could be one of them.
“Thanks, Mr. Allison. I appreciate it. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Get some rest. I hope your friend is recovering.”
“Yes, he is. He has no permanent damage to his arm and will be better soon.”
“Good. We’ll see you on Tuesday.”
She set the phone on the end table and went into the kitchen to make coffee. She hovered around the pot until it was done, then took her first cup into the living room to enjoy. God, she needed this. She’d barely slept. After the grilling the police had given them during the second interview, because they’d both withheld information, she’d been both chastened and relieved to turn everything over to them.
They’d given Cal some serious looks when they left. But if he’d done anything wrong, he wouldn’t have called them back, and they knew it.
The screen lit up on the phone next to her. An unfamiliar number flashed, then the light died. Then another call came in. She watched it glow again and again and finally curiosity drew her to it. She pushed the phone button and the number of voice mail messages came up and a warning that the memory was full.
She had no right to listen to any of them, and she backed away. When screen lit up again she tried to ignore it. But her curiosity was piqued. She’d ask him about it later. After finishing her coffee, she lay back on the couch and was sound asleep in minutes. She pushed down the feelings of suspicion and worry. Cal was not Lee. She had to get that through her head.
Cal wandered out of the bedroom around nine-thirty, just as she was getting her second wind. His sprung shoulder made using crutches impossible so he’d put his prosthetic on. His sleep pants hung low on his hips. He looked sexy as hell despite the dark circles under his eyes.
“I just made fresh coffee.”
He got a cup of coffee and brought it to the couch with him. The cell phone lit up again as he sat down. “You used my phone?”
“Mine was dead and I had to use yours to call in to the office.”
Cal dug at his sleep-deprived eyes and ran a hand over his jaw. “That fucking show started an avalanche of calls and text messages five minutes after it aired.”
“You mean the viewers have found your cell phone number and are calling?”
“Yeah. I called my phone service, and there’s nothing they can do other than change my number. I’m going to try and ignore them and wait them out. I’ve already done a blanket purge of all the messages and numbers twice.”
“Record a message saying something like please respect my privacy and they’ll quit leaving you voice mails.”
Cal shook his head. “I worked on that in the hospital, and they’re still calling. It’s fucking amazing. People think the rule applies to everyone but them. Do you think Harpy posted my phone number on her website?”
Kathleen struggled not to smile at the name. “I wouldn’t think so, but I do believe she went out of her way to give your sequence a different feel than the rest.”
He dropped his hand from his face. “How so?”
“She showed you as a sexy, vibrant male instead of the suffering survivor. The public is responding to that.”
“If she did, she did it because it benefitted her.”
“I’m sure ratings for her show probably had something to do with it.”
The phone lit up again and he hit the button to turn it off without looking at the number.
She didn’t need an emotional compass to read his mood. “Are you in pain?”
“A little. I’ll take some Ibuprofen or something.”
“We did get the prescription the doctor gave you filled last night.” If she offered to get it for him, he’d think he was being handled. So she got up instead. “I’m going to get dressed.” He needed some time alone.
Cal caught her arm and pulled her between his spread legs. He rested his cheek against her belly. “I know I’m being an asshole.” He ran his fingertips up and down the back of her leg.
Kathleen tried to ignore the sensual tug of the caress. He needed to rest. She rubbed a spot between his shoulder blades and felt his tension start to dissipate. “You need to go back to sleep. Four hours doesn’t constitute a full night’s rest.”
Cal flashed her an upward glance. “I don’t want to wear this sling. It’s driving me crazy.”
“The doctor said to leave it on for at least a couple of days, not a few hours.”
“Fuck the doctor.”
“No, thanks. He isn’t my type.”
Cal drew a deep breath and sighed. “Good thing. If he so much as touched you I’d kick his ass.”
Kathleen was woman enough to revel in his possessive proclamation.
He released her. “All right, I’m done bitching. I’ll call Beverly, Tom’s wife, and check on him while you get dressed.”
Kathleen smiled. “I knew you’d come around.” She headed for the bedroom. “I’d suggest you eat something and take some pain meds before you make that call.”
Cal quirked a brow at her, but he went toward the kitchen.
She leaned against the bedroom doorjamb. “Are you grumpy every morning, or is this a special occasion?”
Cal poured a bowl of cereal and flashed her his aw-shucks grin. “If you’d still been in bed with me when I woke up, I wouldn’t have been grumpy at all.”
Kathleen laughed. Since dumping the email in the police’s lap, her own stress had eased. Had she ever doubted him? No. She’d fought against it because she believed in him. And he was earning her trust despite the phone calls from all the female viewers. She just had to keep boosting her own psyche. He wanted her. And he didn’t make it a secret. She’d hold onto that until these feelings of inferiority gave up in disgust. Otherwise those negative feelings might destroy a good thing.
“Why are you up so early?” he asked.
“I have to go and sign the lease agreement for my apartment at one…I was going to go during my lunch break today. I also have a couple of errands I have to run, and it takes my hair like an hour to dry.”
“I forgot. I can shower and shave and go with you.”
She sauntered back to him. “You need to take things easy.” Careful of his arm she went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Take a pain pill and go back to sleep for a few more hours. I’ll come back and we’ll go out to lunch to celebrate me signing the lease.”
Ten minutes later she came out of the bedroom dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before. She’d shower and change at Zach’s. Cal ended his call, and she could see some of his tension had eased. “Tom woke up. He’s going to be okay.”
“That’s wonderful.” Relief loosened a few more of her knotted muscles. If Tom had died, Cal would have held himself responsible because the attack happened while Tom was helping him.
“The bad thing is, he doesn’t remember shit about what happened last night.”
Chapter 22
‡
As relief settled in to ease some of his guilt, Cal stirred a bowl of brown flakes without much interest. The pain medication was doing a number on him, and nausea rolled his stomach. Eating anything seemed a bad idea. And his arm hurt every time he moved it, so he’d decided the sling was probably a good thing despite his bitching.
He turned on his phone and once again cleared the unwelcome messages to free up the phone’s memory.
What had he ever done to deserve Kathleen? Her reaction to his short bitchfest made him smile. Though they’d only been together a few weeks, she was the real deal for him. He just needed to pick a good time to say the words.
His phone lit up
with another call and he picked it up, an idea forming. He’d appeal to the romantic in each caller. He pushed the icon to set up the message for his voicemail and taped a new one.
When a knock came at the door he was grateful for the excuse to set aside the cereal and rose to answer it.
Paul Warren stood on the porch. Cal scanned him from head to toe, looking for a weapon. He’d rather not have to try and kick his ass one-armed. It would hurt like hell.
“The police came to see me today. I didn’t email Kathleen a message on Friday. The police are at the office right now going through the computer system, trying to trace it.”
With the strong light glancing off his features, Cal saw a man in distress, not the raging man who’d tried to instigate a fight at Wiley Designs the week before.
Warren urged, “I think we need to talk.”
Cal stepped back and gave Warren a wide berth as he walked in. Short of asking to frisk him, looking him over was the only way to determine if he was carrying. Warren wore dress slacks and a button up shirt with no jacket, and Cal didn’t see any telltale bulges at the small of his back, at his waist, or in his pockets.
“I’m still under investigation, and I probably deserve that,” Warren said as he entered. “I don’t have an alibi for last night. I was at home alone. But I didn’t attack you and Tom Hill at the site, Cal.”
Warren had always called him Crowes—making it sound like a swear word—never by his first name. The change made him wary.
Cal scanned the man’s appearance once more. He looked thinner, but calmer. Recognition stuck; Warren had the fragile appearance of someone who’d been through an emotional war. He’d seen that fine-lined exhaustion in his own face often enough.
“Have a seat,” Cal offered, gesturing toward the couch.
Warren edged toward the matching leather chair, leaving the couch for Cal. He clasped and unclasped his hands as though he didn’t know what to do with them. And didn’t attempt to hide the tears streaming down his face. “Mitchell Ellison was my nephew.”
Cal, staggered by the emotional punch, remained silent. Now he knew who the man was, he could see the family resemblance in the shape of his jaw, hair color, and build. He’d been too busy deflecting Warren’s anger to recognize it before.
Breaking Boundaries (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 5) Page 21