by LENA DIAZ,
“All you had to do was ask me to take you back to town and I would have.” He shoved the keys in the ignition and started the engine. “Slashing a five-hundred-dollar tire and stealing my friend’s truck was completely unnecessary.”
She was silent as he did a three-point turn in the middle of the road and headed toward Cooper’s farm.
“I didn’t slash your tire.”
He glanced at her.
“I just let the air out,” she clarified. “I don’t have a knife.” She held out her hands in a placating gesture. “Not that I would have cut the tire if I’d had a knife. I just needed a head start. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, or their property. I would have left this truck parked in town for the owner.”
“The owner is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He doesn’t need the stress of being told by someone that his one and only truck has been stolen and then found downtown. Why did you do it? Why did you sneak out of Dillon’s house and then hide in the back of my truck, only to steal Cooper’s truck and make a run for it? It’s not like you were under arrest. And you have a phone, don’t you? If you’d wanted a cab, you could have called for one.”
She snorted and gave a little laugh. “I would have called a cab, but I forgot the name of your friend’s farm. And the GPS on my phone couldn’t figure out where I was. Apparently, that horse place doesn’t exist in whatever maps my not-so-smart phone has.”
He steered around another curve. “It’s called Harmony Haven.” He glanced at her. “Are you afraid of me?”
“What? Afraid of you? Why would you think that?”
He shook his head in exasperation. “You snuck away, stole a truck to avoid me. Call it a hunch.”
This time it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Okay, okay. I may not completely trust you, but I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone else for a long time. It’s just that the longer I sat in that guest room thinking about the questions you’d be asking me in the morning, the more I realized I didn’t want to involve you further. This is my battle. Not yours.”
He turned onto the long dirt driveway up to Cooper’s farmhouse. When he reached the house, he threw the truck into Park but left the engine running to keep the cab cool. The summer heat was already uncomfortable even this early in the morning.
Turning to face her, he put his right arm across the back of the bench seat.
“Let me see if I have this all straight in my mind. Your husband tried to kill you—twice. I’m the police officer who had to kill him to save you. I think I’m already involved almost as deep as I can be.”
Her face flushed a light pink. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound like too little, too late. But at least I can protect you from here on out by not involving you anymore.”
“What part of I’m a police officer did you not hear? Julie, I’m a detective and part-time SWAT officer. It’s my job to protect you, and to find out what’s going on, administrative leave or not. And if you’re still in any danger, it’s my job to figure out why and who is after you.”
Her eyes widened.
He shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “I’ve been a cop since I got out of college thirteen years ago. I can read body language. And right now yours is screaming that you think there’s more to your husband’s attempts on your life than typical domestic violence, if there is such a thing as typical in these cases.”
When she didn’t say anything, he shut the engine off and shoved his door open. “Come on. At least let me take you inside while we talk this out. And, once we do, if you still want to go into town, I’ll take you myself. In my truck.”
She didn’t agree with his plan, but she didn’t try to run either. He supposed that was progress.
They were heading toward the front porch when the sound of galloping hooves reached them. He immediately shoved her behind his back and drew his gun. The palomino gelding appeared around the corner, tossing its mane and blowing out a snort as it stopped a few feet from him.
Chris holstered the gun and opened the front door.
“Go on in,” he said. When she didn’t move, he added, “Please?”
She hesitated, then stepped inside.
Chris started to pull the door shut but she stopped him with a hand on his.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to put the horse back in the corral. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Eleven
A few minutes later, Julie sat at the kitchen table in Cooper’s house, watching a shirtless Chris sit down across from her. His shirt had been soaked with sweat from his ride on the horse, so he’d washed it out in the sink and hung it on a chair to dry. He’d also rinsed his hair under the faucet. Julie had freshened up in the bathroom as much as possible without taking a real shower. And now she was desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t completely distracting her.
His thick hair was beginning to dry in waves of cinnamon brown that made her fingers itch to touch it. But far more enticing was his golden-skinned, impressively muscled chest.
Chris Downing had a mouthwatering body to go along with his handsome face. And she was in no way immune to his appeal. The only thing keeping her from blatantly staring at the dips and valleys of his muscular chest and abs was the fact that he was grilling her with questions—questions that were going a long way toward dampening her enthusiasm for the incredible male specimen sitting across from her.
He’d asked her to give him more details about her husband attacking her five months ago. She told him about that night and that right after he’d paid bail, he’d disappeared, gone off grid, only communicating through his lawyer. Which had left Julie looking over her shoulder all the time, worried he’d try to come back and finish what he’d started.
“The first month after he disappeared, things were okay. But then his family filed a civil suit, alleging I was lying about the attack. And little things started happening, like someone slashing my tires. I was convinced that either Alan, or his family, was harassing me. The ADA’s office didn’t have the budget to offer 24/7 protection, which I needed if I was going to stay in Nashville. Since most of my accounts have been frozen as a result of the civil case, I can’t afford that kind of security, either. So I’d moved here until the criminal case against my husband was settled, or until I had to go back to fight the civil case. I was trying to keep a low profile.”
“That worked out really well,” Chris said, his tone dry. “Why do you think your husband’s family is suing you? Sounds to me like there’s plenty of evidence against your husband.”
“Kathy said it’s a device to try to undermine the criminal case against him.”
Chris nodded. “The threshold for proof in a civil case is much lower than in a criminal case. A civil judgment could sway the media in their favor, maybe turn a juror, even though they’re supposed to ignore things like that.
He tapped a hand on the table. “So the reason you called the ADA after the shooting is because of the criminal case? To keep Nelson in the loop?”
She nodded. “That and I really didn’t know anyone else to call. It’s not like I have a lawyer on retainer. I wanted her advice, and she immediately said she was on her way.”
“Awfully nice of her.”
“I guess.”
He studied her for a moment. “What were you and your husband arguing about when he found you in Destiny?”
“Arguing?”
“I heard you scream, twice, heard voices raised in argument before I confronted your husband. The screams, I get. He threatened you, cut you with the knife. But what was it that you were fighting about?”
“I remember he was angry that I’d shot him in Nashville, and that I ran away, as he called it. He threatened me, grabbed my arm, shook me. I probably cried out when he did that. Mostly I just kept telling him to go
away and leave me alone.”
He stared at her as if he didn’t believe her. She tried to remember what she and Alan were saying when Chris had barged into the house. But she’d been so scared. The angry words they’d exchanged were all jumbled up in her mind.
“The last time he confronted you, you shot him. Was he worried about a gun this time?” Chris asked.
“I don’t have a gun. I had to surrender it as evidence when the police arrived at my home that night.”
“Did your husband know that?”
“Probably. We never talked about... I can’t be sure. Actually, I seem to remember him asking if I had my gun. So, yeah, I guess he was concerned about it.”
Some of the suspicion seemed to leave his face, as if he’d been testing her and she’d passed. What would happen if she hadn’t passed?
“Did he have the knife with him when he came inside? Did he take it from the kitchen? Or did he take it from you?”
So much for him not being suspicious anymore. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you the one who had the knife first? Did your husband wrestle it away from you?”
“I never had the knife.”
“Then we won’t find your fingerprints on it?”
She held her hands out to her sides. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He sounded incredulous.
“When I came out of my bedroom, Alan was standing there, holding the knife. I don’t know if he brought it with him or grabbed it from my kitchen.”
“You have to know what knives you brought with you when you rented the house. Judging by all the boxes I saw, you didn’t have time to unpack before your husband got there.”
“True, I didn’t get to unpack everything. But I did unpack the boxes for the kitchen. I was looking forward to preparing my first decent meal since arriving in Destiny. I really don’t know whether he’d grabbed one of my knives or brought his own.”
“What were you arguing about?” he asked again, barely giving her a chance to catch her breath between questions.
“I told him to leave me alone. Why are you badgering me?”
“Because things aren’t adding up. If your husband’s goal was to kill you, he’d have snuck up on you, stabbed or shot you before you even knew he was there. Instead, he confronted you. So here’s the real question. What do you have that your husband wanted so badly that he was willing to risk getting killed?”
Chapter Twelve
Chris checked his shirt hanging over the kitchen chair beside him. It was finally dry enough to wear, so he pulled it over his head and smoothed it into place.
“I think Alan might have been talking about the key to the safe,” Julie said from her seat across from him.
“Safe? What safe?”
“When Alan and I separated, about nine months ago, I had all the locks changed while he was at work. He’d been angry, moody, aggressive—like, in your face aggressive but never actually hitting me. I’d never seen him like that before and it scared me. So I got a restraining order. And had the locks changed. That made him even angrier. Over the months that followed, he kept calling. He would say he needed different things from the house. Every time he’d mention something, I’d pack it up and ship it to his apartment. But he was never satisfied. It seemed like he was making excuses to try to get me to let him come over. That whole back and forth arguing went on for four months. Then he broke in one night and you know the rest.”
“Was there a specific incident that made you separate from him nine months ago?”
She considered his question, then shrugged. “More like a series of them. In the first years of our marriage, he never mentioned my family. But this past year, he started bringing them up for seemingly no reason. He asked if I had anything to remember them by. I told him I had what mattered, memories. That seemed to make him really angry. Then I said all I had of them, physically, was a box of pictures and junk. He demanded that I show him what I had. If he hadn’t acted so odd, I probably would have. But he’d been acting so strange, I refused. He went ballistic. The next day I changed the locks.”
“You mentioned a safe. Is that where you put this box?”
“No. The pictures, costume jewelry, Naomi’s hair clips, my dad’s baseball cards—they’re all in a safety deposit box that I haven’t opened since their deaths. The safe I’m talking about is in our house in Nashville. When Alan broke into my house here in Destiny yesterday, after calling me vile names and ranting about the shooting and me leaving, at some point he demanded that I give him the key.”
“What key?” Chris asked.
“I was about to ask him the same thing when you came in and things spiraled out of control. I got the impression he had a lot more he wanted to say. But he never got a chance. If he thought I had something in the safe that belonged to him, he was wrong. The thing is, I filed for divorce after Alan attacked me. And I gave him everything that was listed in the pending divorce decree, on top of what I’d already given him. So all I can figure is that he lost something, maybe some important papers that he didn’t want anyone to know about. I’m not sure. But, like you said, it had to be important. It just occurred to me that he might have been talking about the floor safe in the house in Nashville. It was there when we bought the place and I remember him saying it would be a good place to keep our birth certificates and passports, things like that. But then I forgot about it. I never used that safe, but maybe he did. And maybe he thought I had the key.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Alan was practically a hoarder. I was all about keeping things neat and simple. Any time he left stuff lying around the house I’d put it up. It’s very likely if he left a key somewhere that I might have thrown it in a junk drawer. But even if he thought I had the key, wouldn’t it be easier for him to break into the house and try to, I don’t know, pick the lock? Seems crazy that he’d track me down out here just for a key.”
“It probably depends on what’s in the safe, if indeed that’s why he came here. Floor safes are generally extremely heavy and require special equipment to install. He couldn’t have just broken into your house and taken the safe with him. And unless he’s a master lock-picker, he’d need a locksmith to help him break into the thing. It would be hard for him to get a professional locksmith to pick the front door lock and a safe lock. They’d know something was up and would probably call the police.”
She nodded. “When you put it that way, I suppose that coming here might be worth the risk—if we’re even going down the right path. There could have been another reason entirely for him coming here. But that’s the only key I can think of.”
“Have you told Nelson about the safe?”
She shook her head. “Why would I? You asking me about what Alan said is the only reason I thought of it now.”
“Don’t.”
She frowned. “Don’t tell the ADA? Why?”
“How well do you know her?”
“Again, why?”
“Because she’s the one who told you to leave town, to hide so your husband wouldn’t find you. And yet, he did. Besides her, who knew you were here, in Destiny?”
She grew very still. “There isn’t anyone else. Kathy is the only person I told. But she wouldn’t tell Alan where I was. Kathy is the one who’s been helping me fight him in court.”
“Then how did your husband find you?”
“You’re the detective. You tell me.”
Her sarcasm and obvious frustration had him smiling. He was pushing her hard, probably harder than the chief would have if she were back at the station undergoing an official interview. But this was probably his only chance to ask her questions before turning her over to the team, and he intended to get as many answers as he could.
“Did you come directl
y to Destiny after leaving Nashville?” he asked.
“No. I wasn’t sure where to hideout. I drove around the state, checking out several small towns before settling on this one. It took me about a week of exploring to decide that Destiny was where I wanted to land.”
“The car you drove here, is it yours?”
“It’s mine.”
“How have you bought gas and food since leaving your home?”
“All cash. I’ve seen enough TV crime shows to know not to leave an electronic trail.”
He nodded. “Good. How did you lease the house here in Destiny?”
“Cash again. I saw the place in an ad, called the number, met the landlord in person, paid cash and signed a fake name.” Her face flushed a light red. “Probably not legal, exactly, but again I was worried about Alan being able to find me. I suppose if the landlord had pushed for ID I’d have been in trouble. But he didn’t.”
“Around here, people aren’t as suspicious as they might be in a big city. You never answered my question about Nelson. How well do you know her?”
“We’re casual friends, just barely. I met her and Alan a couple of months into my senior year in college.” Some kind of emotion flashed in her eyes. Sorrow? Pain?
“You okay?” he asked.
She drew a bracing breath. “Yes, sorry. Just...thinking. Anyway, I...was...having a tough time in school and pretty much kept to myself. Kathy was in one of my classes. I knew her name but that was about it. I think she took pity on me. We started hanging out every once in a while. One day, I guess she could see how down I was and she insisted that I go to the school’s football game that night. She had an extra ticket because a friend had canceled. When we got there, we sat by Alan. Neither of us knew him, but he introduced himself and we got to know each other a bit during the game. After that, we’d occasionally go to movies or other college events.”