A lone pillow sat atop the bed, a knife plunged hilt-deep into it, spearing a piece of paper. On it was written “You’ll pay.” The crudely printed message was all the more sinister for it appeared to have been written in blood.
Instinctively, she recoiled.
Jake pulled her away from the bed, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the hideous scarlet words scrawled on the paper. He framed her face with his hands, his touch gentle, but she could feel the tension in every finger.
When he dropped his hands, she felt the coldness seep back into her.
She tried to concentrate on the practical. “The knife looks like one from my kitchen set.” She had seen countless crime photos. It came with the job. It was different, though, when the crime scene was your own home.
Is that what I’m supposed to learn from this, Lord? she asked silently. Am I supposed to learn more compassion for the victims, more empathy? It was a question she would have to take out at a later time and ponder.
She sniffed. There was something in the air...the scent of aggression, hatred? The air was foul with the stuff. Or was she being fanciful? She didn’t know.
Jake placed a hand at the small of her back. She leaned into it, once more grateful for his quiet support. It was the only thing that kept her from spinning out of control.
At her feet lay scraps of paper. Kneeling, she started to pick them up before stopping herself. They were pieces of a photograph, one of her mother and herself together at Dani’s graduation from law school. It had been a joyous day, filled with promise and expectation and heady excitement.
She dropped the scraps and stood. Her gaze moved around the room and landed on her collection of antique perfume bottles. They had once paraded across a shelf in bright array. They had been smashed against the wall, their jewel-like colors now shards against the hardwood floor. Unable to help herself, she picked up a broken piece.
The razor-sharp edge of the glass pricked her finger. Beads of blood appeared, but she scarcely registered that she was bleeding, so stunned was she by the hatred that must have spawned this destruction. Once more, she wondered what she could have done to cause this.
Jake took the piece from her and brought her finger to his mouth, where he gently kissed the blood away. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re just things.” She tried to make herself believe it.
“But they were important to you. We’ll find who did this,” Jake said. “That’s a promise, and I’m not in the habit of breaking promises.”
Because he expected it, she nodded, but her gaze kept straying to the shards of glass that littered the floor. She had collected each bottle piece by piece, finding them at estate sales, in out-of-the-way antiques shops, even online.
He was trying to reassure her. She appreciated that, even as she wondered if she had the strength to fight this latest war, despite her resolve. She was shaking, more than she had before, and hated revealing that sign of weakness. She was a professional. Why couldn’t she act like one?
“Give yourself time,” Jake said, effortlessly reading her thoughts.
She was cold and still couldn’t stop shaking. Her heart was thumping faster than it should have been, and she fought to get it under control. She had to get ahold of herself. This wasn’t who she was. She was Danielle Barclay, Deputy District Attorney. She had stuck out a job no one thought she would get in the first place.
Stop shaking.
Jake took her hand, pressing much-needed warmth back into her cold fingers. The words You will pay were scrawled across her bathroom mirror in her favorite peach lipstick. Makeup had been spilled over the bathroom counter, along with shampoo and conditioner. The liquids had congealed into a nasty mess that was not mitigated by the scent of her shampoo. The flowery smell lent a macabre air to the scene.
“Why?” she asked brokenly. “Why?” She wrapped her arms around herself, but it was not enough to still the tremors that racked her body.
“Someone just upped the stakes.” Jake’s voice was hard, unforgiving, and she shivered at the barely controlled anger in it. He was in warrior mode now, his body tensed, poised for action, his face set in hard, resolute lines.
And now it was her turn. She knew Jake’s anger was for her. She placed a hand on his arm, whether to calm him or herself, she wasn’t at all sure.
God was with her. The feeling settled in her mind with quiet insistence. She grabbed on to it as she would a lifeline. Remembering the Lord was at her side, she let her practical nature take over, and with it came a blessed numbness that she welcomed, for it gave her the strength to act.
She couldn’t start setting things to rights, not yet, though she longed to do just that. “I have to call the police. The insurance agent.”
And then she found it, a small porcelain plaque, now broken, that had borne the words The most important things in life aren’t things. No, she agreed silently, they weren’t. Things could be replaced.
She squared her shoulders and prepared to do battle. Her gaze returned to the plaque, and she lifted her chin. She refused to shatter over broken glass. She was made of stronger stuff than that.
Detective Monroe arrived within minutes. He gave a low whistle. “Somebody sure did a number on your place.”
He and Jake went through the rooms. She didn’t expect them to find any evidence as to who had trashed her apartment. There was just mindless destruction, as though whoever had done it wanted her to know just how much she was despised.
“This one wasn’t Newton,” Monroe said unnecessarily.
“No,” Jake said thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. “There’s a kind of viciousness to it. The kind that a man who beats his wife might think up.”
Monroe tugged at his beard. “You’re thinking Brooks.”
“I think it’s worth checking his whereabouts for tonight, see if he has an alibi.”
“He wears an ankle monitor,” Dani reminded him.
“If a person’s determined enough, there are ways around that. Just like he got around the lock. You didn’t miss that it was unbroken, did you?”
Monroe shook his head. “No. I didn’t miss that. And Brooks has himself a whole lot of hate for you, Dani, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”
If she hadn’t been so weary and discouraged, she would have smiled. Detective Monroe was a Southern gentleman bred and born. Even in the midst of disaster, his breeding and manners shone through.
With the detective following them, Jake drove to his home. “Let me know what you find out about Brooks.”
“Will do.”
“Appreciate it.” Jake took the plastic bag from Dani, draped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s see if we can get some sleep for what’s left of the night.”
She knew there’d be little sleep for either of them. The viciousness of the attack was beyond anything she had witnessed. Was Jake right and Brooks was behind it?
She wouldn’t put it past the man who had beat his wife until she was black-and-blue with bruises. If he thought this would scare her off, he was wrong.
Dead wrong.
* * *
When Jake heard Dani moving around in her room, he pushed himself up from the sofa and waited. He hadn’t bothered going to his room. He was too wired.
He’d hoped Dani could get some sleep, but evidently she was as restless as he was. Who could blame her?
Her apartment had just been vandalized, her belongings slashed and destroyed. She’d been too shell-shocked to take it all in, which was probably a blessing. She needed to talk about it, to process what had happened. So he waited in the dark.
When the door to the bedroom opened, he was ready.
Only he wasn’t ready for the pale-faced woman who stumbled into his arms. Automatically, his arms went around her and he held her, just held her. That was all. They s
tood there, locked in the embrace, for a long moment.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said unnecessarily. “I tried.”
“I know.” There was more, so much more, he wanted to say, but he kept it to himself.
He reminded himself that she didn’t need him to go all mushy on her right now. She needed his strength, and that was what he would give her.
“I can’t stop thinking about it, but I want to. I want to put it out of my mind. At least for a little while.” The corners of her lips quivered, then firmed, as though she wanted to cry, needed to cry, but was determined not to.
Still, there was a flash of brightness in her eyes, tears that, with a few blinks, were quickly banked.
Gently, he pushed her down onto the sofa. She was as unsubstantial as a wraith, as compliant as a child. She looked fragile, almost breakable at the moment. Her dark green eyes pleaded with him to talk about anything, anything at all, just so she didn’t have to think about the destruction and the reality of what awaited her in the morning.
He’d never been any good at talking just to talk, but he’d give it a try, if it would take her mind, if only for a moment, from the nightmare they’d found at her apartment.
So he started talking. He talked about what it had taken to become part of Delta Force. Of the bone-numbing nights he’d spent on maneuvers. Of the sloshing through murky waters filled with creatures who made their homes there. Of the thrill of jumping into nothingness from the belly of a plane and then floating in a cloud-filled sky. Of the quiet before an air strike. Of the horror of watching friends die.
And, as he talked, he discovered something. He was talking as he’d never done with another living being. Certainly he’d never talked with the army shrink this way. Not even with Shelley had he shared this much.
He’d started talking about his Delta experiences to take Dani’s mind off the devastation they’d found in her apartment. Now he was talking about things he’d shut away, and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop.
After he’d emptied his soul of more than he knew was there, Dani looked at him with gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you.”
His shrug was more than a little embarrassed. “For what? Bending your ear about things you didn’t need to hear. Probably didn’t want to hear.”
“For sharing that part of you with me. I know you were trying to distract me, but it was more. Much more.”
“I’ve never told anyone some of this.” He couldn’t look at her as he said the words. What was he trying to hide? Weakness? Vulnerability?
“Maybe you needed to.”
He nodded. “Maybe I needed to.”
“You love the army. I hear it in your voice. But you walked away.”
“I couldn’t stay. After what happened, I couldn’t trust myself anymore. I was damaged in ways that had nothing to do with my leg. That...” He grimaced. “...that could be fixed. With a lot of therapy. The rest, I don’t know.” He thought of what Dani had endured with the disappearance of her mother. “How did you survive not knowing what happened to your mother?”
“I almost didn’t. There were days when I could barely drag myself out of bed. Then I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“What’s that?”
“I got to my knees and asked the Lord to take the pain from my heart. I quit pretending that I could do it on my own.”
“And did He? Take the pain?”
“In a way. I started living again. I got up each morning and went to work. After a while, the pain didn’t hurt so much.”
“How did you keep believing?” He didn’t understand it, and only now did he realize that he really wanted to. There’d been a time when he’d have gone to the Lord and laid his heart bare, just as Dani had, but that time was past.
“I remembered the Lord never said that we wouldn’t go through trials in this life, but that He’d always be there for us. For me. He’s never let me down.”
With all his heart, Jake wished he felt the same, wished he had a fraction of the faith of which Dani spoke so eloquently. “You’re a special kind of woman, Danielle Barclay.”
Jake pulled her closer, so close that he could feel the soft beat of her heart. Abruptly, he set her from him. He couldn’t afford to get involved with this woman. Though he respected her faith, he didn’t share it. Not any longer.
“Don’t give up on the Lord,” she said, “because I know He hasn’t given up on you.”
He chucked her under the chin with the ridge of his knuckles. “What do you say we both try to get some sleep now? I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long day come morning.”
She stood. “You’re right. And thanks to you, I think I can sleep.” She pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you, Jake. You’re a good man.”
That wasn’t the first time she’d uttered those words to him, and he longed to believe her. Longed to believe that he wasn’t the damaged man who had holes inside his heart that he feared would never be filled.
He walked her back to the bedroom, then closed the door gently behind her. Her words seeped into him, and, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the loneliness press into his heart.
EIGHT
When Dani came to work the following morning, it was to find her coworkers huddled together, whispering excitedly. They broke off when they saw her, but not before shooting guilty looks her way. It didn’t take much guesswork to know they were talking about her.
Though she didn’t socialize with Trevor and Sarah, she’d always thought she had a good working relationship with them, but now she wondered. It wasn’t possible, was it? That one or both of them was behind the stalking? She gave a brisk nod and continued on her way.
An officer from the Atlanta P.D. was standing guard outside her office, his presence a grim reminder of last night.
Dani settled behind her desk and began going through her messages and emails when Clariss appeared, her face flushed. “Ms. Barclay—I mean Dani, would it be all right if I left a little early this evening? I have a date with my boyfriend.”
Dani looked up from her keyboard and smiled. “Of course. Have a good time.” She was glad Clariss had a date, a reminder that life went on. It was nice to think of something other than her own troubles.
Jake showed up after lunch. The morning had been filled with meetings with the insurance agent and claims adjuster. In between meetings, she’d sprinted through a store, picking up a few essentials with Jake at her side. Sometime, she’d have to carve out time to replenish her wardrobe.
When she’d finally made it to the office, Jake announced that he wanted to check with Monroe about lab results. She wanted to go with him but couldn’t afford to take any more time from her own work.
The D.A.’s office didn’t shut down just because her apartment had been vandalized. Her head pounded as she struggled to keep all the balls in the air without dropping one.
A key witness had backed out of testifying and was ready to bolt, and she was needed to put out the fire. She’d held his hand, promising him protection and then making good on that promise with a call to the Atlanta P.D. to arrange round-the-clock security, which made her feel guilty about the man stationed outside her office. The department didn’t have enough manpower to assign someone to babysit her.
Last night, Jake had given her strength and truth, not pity or lies. Fear could be paralyzing. Jake understood that and had gotten her past it, had helped her to temper it with action. She owed him for that.
Someday, they’d sort out what was happening between them. Someday.
All of that went through her mind as she asked, “Any news?”
“The lab checked out the writing on the paper. It was pig’s blood.”
It was a relief that the blood wasn’t human, though it was hard to find anything positive about what
had happened.
“No news about the paper itself. Run-of-the-mill bond. Monroe’s taking a look at Brooks’s monitoring records. So far, they’re clean. But a monitor can be short-circuited.”
“So you said. A person would have to have specialized knowledge to do that, wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he bribes someone to do it for him. Or to look the other way when the monitor registers that he’s moved outside the prescribed area.”
She had already thought of that for herself. The implications were something she didn’t like to consider but couldn’t afford to overlook. “You mean someone in the department.” A fresh shiver of fear skated down her spine. Her heart pounded in counterpoint to her growing headache.
Jake’s silence was answer enough.
“I assume Monroe is checking on the people in his division.”
“You know the drill. If he finds anything suspicious, he has to call in IA. No cop wants to do that to fellow officers. So he’s taking it slow.”
She understood the seriousness of calling in Internal Affairs. “Most of the cops in IA aren’t witch hunters. They’re good cops dedicated to weeding out dirty ones.” She paused.
“You think it’s Brooks. Does that mean you think he’s behind everything?” She’d thought about that during the night, praying that Brooks was the one who had been stalking her. He’d be arrested, and that would put an end to the terror. Somehow, though, she didn’t think Jake believed Brooks was the stalker.
“I don’t know.”
Her sigh came in a long gust. “I wish he were. Then it would be over.”
Jake skimmed his palm down her cheek. Her heart pinched a little, and she tried not to make the gesture into something it wasn’t. Offering comfort, which was what he’d done, wasn’t love.
And since when had she started thinking of the L word in connection with Jake? Obviously, she was more tired than she’d believed. Otherwise, she would never have entertained the thought.
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