Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2

by Terri Reed

  “Thank you.”

  “Between working to pay the bills and Sarah finishing school in Toronto, restoring the house has gone really slowly. Especially since I’m doing it all myself and pretty much just on the weekends. That door right behind you leads to the other room that’s finished. Sarah’s using it as a bedroom right now while I take the study. The big door beside the window is the staircase heading upstairs. It’s really pretty if you like ornate wood. But trust me, you don’t want to try climbing those stairs.”

  He didn’t quite know where the impulse to give her the grand tour had suddenly come from. But Olivia just nodded.

  Then she turned back to Sarah. A professional smile spread across her gentle lips. She stretched out her hand. “I’m really sorry, we weren’t properly introduced. As Daniel mentioned, my name is Olivia Brant. I’m a writer for Torchlight News. Daniel and I met at the diner to discuss your situation. But someone tried to abduct me, and your stepfather was kind enough to come to my rescue.”

  “Former stepfather.” The teenager ignored Olivia’s outstretched hand. “I hope you thanked him for bringing you out to the absolute middle of nowhere, where there’s no cell service or internet access. I, for one, know I feel so much safer being somewhere I can’t go online or chat with my friends.” Blue eyes, so much like her mother’s, cut toward Daniel. “I’ve changed my mind and I’m not okay with this anymore. I flipped through those copies of the paper you gave me and decided the Torchlight is not my thing. It’s a ragtag small-time paper and Olivia doesn’t even have any good bylines.” She glanced vaguely in Olivia’s direction. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Olivia pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “I assure you, though, that you can trust Torchlight News with your story. While my paper might be small, it’s honest, and I know a fair bit about your family and the case against your uncle.”

  What must she think of him now? Knowing he once married Mona Leslie? Knowing he hadn’t petitioned for a divorce after she’d left? That he’d then kept his youthful promise to his unfaithful former wife to protect her daughter all these years? The baggage of his past felt so heavy at times, and even with Sarah turning eighteen, there was no real end in sight. She still needed him, whether she wanted his help or not. He was bound to the choices he’d once made. And now he was the last kind of man who a woman would ever choose to build a life with, no matter how much his battered heart seemed to want to tug him toward Olivia.

  “I really need to try to call my colleague to let him know I’m okay.” Olivia’s voice cut cleanly through his thoughts. “Also, the police should be calling back soon.”

  “There’s a lamp just inside the office door. There are spotlights on the basement floor, too. They run on a basic extension cord.” He opened the door to what would someday be a large beautiful living room but was now just a nicely dug pit surrounded by cool stone walls. A pathway of planks lay balanced across the foundation posts. She glanced into the gloom, then crossed the boards without once hesitating or looking down.

  Sarah turned back to her coffee. “I don’t like her. Her newspaper is small and boring, and I don’t like how she looks at you.”

  Where was all this coming from? How exactly did she think Olivia looked at him? Daniel blew out a frustrated breath, and reminded himself that despite her brash exterior, here was a young woman who’d lost her mother barely four years ago and was now reeling from the death of her uncle. He glanced to the ceiling in silent prayer. Lord, all I can do is advise and guide her. Help me find the right words to say.

  “I know you’re old enough to make your own decisions,” he said. “I just want you to be cautious and really think things through. Don’t be too quick to dismiss Olivia. I think she’s got a decent heart and isn’t out to exploit you. Plus, she understands the stakes. She could’ve died in the same explosion and gun violence that killed your uncle, and someone just tried to abduct her at gunpoint—”

  “Which should mean what to me, exactly?” Sarah folded her slender arms across her slight figure. “I mean, yeah, it’s tragic and terrible, but there’s no proof that any of it has to do with me, or even with Uncle Brian. She’s a reporter. Someone could be after her for lots of different reasons. I’m just trying to live my life here, Daniel, and you’re totally in controlling mode. I appreciate that you care and all, but just because you’ve cut me off from my friends and dragged me out here to your stupid construction project doesn’t mean I’m actually in any kind of real danger. Whatever mess my idiotic uncle got himself into has nothing to do with me.” She shook her head like a stubborn pony. “And just because you’ve now brought some pretty little journalist here doesn’t mean I’m going to give her an interview.”

  *

  The lamp was yellow, chipped and looked like the kind of relic one would find for fifty cents at a yard sale. But it was enough to cast a gentle glow in the room. A maze of rag rugs covered the cold stone floor. A paint-stained desk sat by the wall. She was almost surprised the clunky phone on top of it had push buttons instead of rotary dial. Olivia tried her answering machine first, half expecting to hear a panicked message from Ricky. There was only one message.

  It was from her sister, Chloe. “Hey, little sis. I did some digging around into the Leslie Construction thing and I think you should find another story. Without going into details, that case looks big and messy, and there’s more going on there than you can handle. We’re talking about some pretty nasty people, and I don’t want you getting hurt. So please—give this one up. Let it go. Let the people with the guns and the badges handle it. I’m sure your boss will understand and give you something easier. Okay? Call me back. Love you. Bye.”

  The phone went click. Olivia stared at it a moment, too stunned to even hang up. It was the first time she’d heard from her sister in weeks, and all she’d gotten was a lecture about how this story was too big for her to handle. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and blinked back hot tears.

  Chloe had never taken her or her writing seriously. Six feet tall, athletic, top of her class in the police college, had always treated her artistic, five-foot-one little sister as some kind of cute little nuisance who couldn’t take care of herself. While their dad’s employment problems had kept them moving from town to town, Olivia hadn’t just idolized her big sister—Chloe was the only friend she’d had. She’d been the one person who made her feel she wasn’t alone. Until Chloe had left to join the Ontario Provincial Police.

  Then I found the Torchlight News “family.” Which I’m about to lose, too, if I don’t do something to prove to Vince that I should be allowed to stay. Besides, I’ve already faced my share of danger and survived—

  A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the feel of the thug’s gun pressed up against her head. Yes, her sister could be overprotective, but surely Chloe wouldn’t ask her to drop a story unless she was actually worried, would she? Except, it was too late now. She was right in the middle of this story whether Chloe believed she could handle it or not.

  She needed to call Ricky. Fortunately, she could still access her address book on her phone even though she couldn’t get a signal, so she was able to pull up his number and call him on the landline.

  “Hey!” His voice echoed as though he was using his phone’s hands-free setting. “Sorry, I know I’m running really late. I got a bit lost. Some cop pulled me over and then sent me on this ridiculous detour. But I think I’m on the right road now.”

  Ricky hadn’t even made it back to the diner yet? She glanced up at a clock on the wall and blinked. It had only been an hour and a half since he’d dropped her off.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m not at the diner anymore.” She ran through the basics as quickly as she could—the masked man trying to force her into a car, heading back to Daniel’s house, finding the photo memory card, meeting Sarah.

  Ricky let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So which of the three men was it
? Brute, Rake or Shorty?”

  There’d been so much going on she hadn’t even thought to compare her attacker to the names and descriptions from the Faceless Crew website printout. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, was he incredibly skinny, really short or built like a brick wall?”

  “None of the above.” She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the gravelly-voiced man who’d pressed a gun to her face and threatened to shove her into the trunk of his car. “He was kind of on the large side, but nowhere near as big as the really huge masked guy I seem to remember shooting Brian. He did have a mask, but more generic, not one that matched the pictures of the Faceless Crew.”

  Did that mean the Faceless Crew weren’t the killers—that she’d misremembered the men from the parking garage? She’d had a head injury and there had been a lot of smoke. Maybe it was only her imagination that the attackers resembled the Faceless Crew. Certainly the man from tonight hadn’t matched any of the crew’s profiles.

  She sat down on the floor and leaned back against the battered couch. “I have no idea if Sarah’s going to let me interview her. She says she’s changed her mind about it, but I don’t really know. She’s young and kind of temperamental. Maybe I could use Daniel to get through to her.”

  But even as she heard the words leave her mouth, she felt guilty. Daniel had saved her life. How could she possibly think about using him to save her job? She glanced to the window above her head. The rain seemed to have stopped for now, but thick, humid air was pressing its way through the screen. Get a grip, Olivia. Daniel was nothing more to her than a potential source. She was nothing more to him than some random reporter who’d stumbled into his life, and was pretty close to tumbling right back out again. “Daniel is a really good guy, but he doesn’t seem to care that as reporters we have a job to do, too. He’s pushing me to turn the photo card over to the police right away, skipping Vince entirely, without even making a backup.”

  Not that she could entirely fault him now that she knew he was worried about protecting Sarah.

  “Do you want me to go grab a laptop and see if we can download those pictures right away?” Ricky asked. “I’m sure I have a spare one at my folks’ house.”

  “Yes! Absolutely.” She sat up straight. That was perfect. “The diner’s closed already and Daniel didn’t seem that keen on that clown motel. But maybe he can suggest somewhere else he’d be willing to drop me off that we could meet up. Or we could meet back in Toronto really early tomorrow morning.” It’s not as if there could be a huge amount of difference between handing the pictures off to police at eleven-thirty at night or nine in the morning. She doubted cops would be working through the night on Brian’s murder.

  The phone’s call waiting beeped. “I’ve got a call on the other line. It’s probably the police. Go to your folks’ house, and once I figure out where and when to meet up, I’ll call you back.”

  “Sounds good. I just hope the storm holds off.”

  The phone beeped again. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Talk soon.” She hung up and accepted the incoming call. “Hello?”

  Breathing on the other line. Heavy. Slow.

  “Hello? Anyone there?”

  “Hey there, sunshine.” The voice was male, raspy and deep. “Just want you to know that I know where you are and you’re not going to get away from me so easily. I’m going to come hunt you down. And then I’m going to kill you.”

  SIX

  Olivia slammed down the phone. Her whole body shook as though someone had just poured freezing water down her back.

  It was him.

  It was the voice of the man who’d pressed a gun to her face, tied her hands behind her back and threatened to toss her into his trunk.

  Somehow he’d found her.

  She leaped to her feet and pushed open the study door. Then she paused. Daniel and Sarah were arguing in the kitchen. Loudly. She forced a deep breath into her lungs and let it out slowly.

  It didn’t make sense. The call had come in on Daniel’s home phone. How had the kidnapper known how to reach her?

  The phone rang again. The loud noise reverberated off the walls around her.

  Come on, Olivia. You’re not Chloe’s tagalong little sister anymore. You’re a reporter. You’re a strong, confident woman. If the man on the other end tries to intimidate you, just grab a pen and write down everything you can hear. Everything he says. Every bit of background noise…

  The phone rang again. She snatched it up firmly. “Hello.”

  “Hello?” The voice was male. But also youthful, eager and earnest by the sound of it. “My name is Constable Henry. I’m with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Is this by any chance Olivia Brant?”

  Oh. A cop. “Yes. Hi, I’m Olivia.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Brant.” Sounded as if the Mountie was smiling. “I’m sorry to hear of the difficulties you’ve experienced in the past couple of days and I want to assure you we’re doing everything we can to see that those responsible are brought to justice. Now, would you have time to help me out by answering a few questions?”

  She grabbed a small notepad and pen off the desk. “Absolutely. Just give me your phone number and I’ll call you back.”

  Never could be too careful.

  “Oh, no problem.” He gave her his badge number, too. She wrote it down, hung up and called the number he’d provided. It rang through to a RCMP call taker who put her back through to Henry. Looked as if the cop was legit. Not that she figured anyone would fake being that chipper. Judging by the background noise, Constable Henry was on his cell phone.

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  He started by taking her through the attempted kidnapping outside the diner, helping her remember every detail about the man who’d tried to take her by gunpoint. She told him about the terrifying phone call she’d just answered as well, and everything she knew about the so-called Faceless Crew. To his credit, he managed not to sound skeptical. Then he started asking her detailed questions about the day Brian died.

  It was only then that she felt the hairs of suspicion rise on the back of her neck. The RCMP was Canada’s national police force. A federal police officer had called her back, on a Friday night, to take her statement on an attempted kidnapping, barely half an hour after her initial 9-1-1 call. Just how often did that happen? She forced a professional smile into her voice. “Excuse me if this is an odd question, but why is the RCMP investigating this?”

  “No problem.” Henry’s voice was so cheerful she couldn’t help but imagine him wearing a bright red uniform. He probably even had freckles. “I’m part of an investigation that’s looking into Mr. Leslie’s murder and things surrounding it.”

  Which was the opposite of an answer. “So are you taking my statement about the kidnapping because I was a witness to Brian’s murder, then? Does the fact the feds are investigating both his murder and my attempted kidnapping have anything to do with why the case against him was dropped? Tax evasion is a federal crime.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to divulge information in an active investigation. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Absolutely.” She did. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a reporter. “Can you at least tell me if you’d even heard of the Faceless Crew before I mentioned it? Or if you think this crime could be connected to any other car bombs or fires they’ve taken credit for?”

  “I’m afraid I really can’t say.” The smile hadn’t left his voice for a moment.

  Again, fair enough. He was a cop after all, and she had no reason not to trust him. But it definitely felt as though something else was going on.

  “It’s getting pretty late,” she said, “and I’m still hoping to return to Toronto tonight or at least find a good hotel. Would it be okay if we continued this at the newspaper offices on Monday? I’d really love to have my editor, Vince, sit in on this. I’m sure he’d be fascinated by it all.”

  Fascinated was one word for it. Vince had a healthy r
espect for cops as much as a marine biologist had a healthy respect for sharks. He admired them and could swim alongside them quite comfortably. But he was always quick to notice when the current shifted.

  Headlights flashed through the window above her. There was the sound of tires on gravel and the hard but indistinct thumping of heavy music.

  “Sure, sure,” Henry said. “Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Brant. We’ll be in touch soon.”

  A second set of lights brushed the window. She stood up and looked out. A cavalcade of vehicles and camper trailers were pulling into the driveway.

  “Have a good night, Ms. Brant.”

  “You, too.”

  Constable Henry had already ended the call. A blare of horns filled the air. She stuffed the pen and pad of paper into her pocket and started down the planks toward the front porch.

  *

  Daniel flung the kitchen door open and ran outside. There had to be at least six vehicles now trying to find somewhere to park, including two motor homes and three trucks dragging camper trailers. Former members of Leslie Construction crews spilled out onto his lawn. Some carried coolers. Others had chairs. What was happening? He spun back toward the house. Sarah was standing in the doorway. “Tell me you didn’t invite the crew up here for a party?”

  Sarah craned her neck to look past him. “Are you kidding? They still hate me, remember?”

  Some of them probably did, and not without reason. She was inheriting the company that had owed them a lot of money, and had wrecked some of their lives. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of them had shown up here in an attempt to put pressure on her to make things right. Just how long were they planning on camping out? Until they were paid? Or until the police showed up and dragged them off?

  He pointed Sarah toward the kitchen. “Go back inside and don’t come out. Be prepared to call 9-1-1 if you have to. But I’m really hoping it won’t come to that.”

  While he didn’t want an attempted siege on his lawn, he wanted a bloody brawl even less. They’d be waiting forty minutes for the cops to show up, maybe even longer. That was plenty of time for things to get a whole lot worse. These people had driven a long way to get here. Knowing the cops had been called would only ratchet up the tension. For now, he was still hoping it would be possible to de-escalate things.