Grafted into Deceit

by Sherri Wilson Johnson

  “Why is it closed?”

  “We’re done with the corn maze and pumpkin festivities, and we always take a week off to recuperate from the rush.”

  “I see. You’re going to call your parents and let them know what happened?”

  “They’re out of town.”

  He cocked his head. “I’m sure they’d want to know you’ve been in a wreck and are hospitalized.”

  Her face warmed. He’d asked the dreaded question. “I hate to admit this, but I like my independence. If I call them, Mom will make Dad bring her home to hover all over me.”

  “I get that.”

  “Yeah, plus, I don’t want to ruin their time away. There’s no need to make them worry or come home early.”

  “Right. Sure. Two murder attempts on their daughter’s life in one night, a totaled vehicle, and a hospital stay aren’t enough reasons to bring someone’s parents home from vacation.”

  Marina widened her eyes and opened her mouth, but when he cracked a smile, she exhaled with a gasp. “They’re away on a mission trip. They need to focus on the people who need them most.”

  “You’re a thoughtful daughter.”

  “Maybe. But really, I don’t want Mom hovering.” She laughed. “What did you mean when you said you came for your security detail?”

  “We had security stationed outside your door all night.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “Because somebody tried to kill you … twice. There wasn’t much of an option other than to have an officer on you.”

  She smiled. “Wow, I’m honored.”

  “Just doing our job.”

  “Thank you, Detective—” Why couldn’t she remember his last name?

  “Pennington, Steven Pennington.” He smiled and reached into his suit coat pocket again.

  Steven was a nice name and fitting for such a nice man. Wait. “Did you say Pennington?”

  His hand paused inside his pocket, and confusion flickered in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Why?”

  She laughed. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  Squinting, he studied her face. “I’m sorry, no.”

  He probably met hundreds of people every week. How could he remember her? “I used to come to Singles Night at your church about five years ago. My hair was blonde then.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “You’re the girl who said no to all the guys who asked her out.”

  She threw her hands to her chest. “No, I didn’t!” Leaning forward with a hint of flirtation, she asked, “Did I say no to you?” There’s no way she would’ve said no to him if he’d asked.

  “Well, no.” His cheeks blazed.

  “See …”

  He withdrew his hand from his pocket and pointed at her. “Because I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

  “Couldn’t take the rejection from a pretty girl like you.” He cleared his throat and blushed.

  She shook her head and focused her gaze on the ceiling, the idea that the detective found her attractive sinking in. If skin could catch fire, her cheeks would burst into flames right now. “Well played.”

  “I like your hair better now.”

  She scratched at the crown of her head with both hands and attempted to fluff her hair. “Matted with dirt and blood?”

  “Dark with golden highlights.”

  “Me too.” Dark with golden highlights? She sighed. Why couldn’t regular men be this observant? After another sip of tea, she focused on his eyes and added. “You know, I went out with your brother Mark a few times.” Although it had ended badly, she couldn’t help but be curious about how he was. “How is he doing these days?”

  His eyes clouded and shoulders slumped. “Killed in the line of duty a few months back.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t hear about that.” She couldn’t win.

  He nodded then shrugged. Was he shaking off the pain he’d allowed to slip through? Reaching into his pocket again, he redirected the conversation. “Here’s your phone.” He handed her a quart-sized, zippered plastic bag filled with rice. The phone, separated from the battery, was buried inside the rice.

  “It’s not working yet?”

  “Not yet. It could take another day or so to dry out. You may have to get a new one.”

  “I hope it works. I forwarded the business line to my number.” She scrubbed her hands over her face and across her eyes, probably smearing what was left of yesterday’s eyeliner and mascara and making her look like a raccoon. She sighed again.

  He nodded, still wearing on his shoulders the obvious hurt from the mention of his brother.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do about today’s shipments.”

  “You had orders going out on a Saturday?”

  “Yes, that’s not the norm, though.”

  He pursed his lips. “I thought the business was closed for the week.”

  “Officially on Monday.”

  Out came the notepad again, and he jotted something onto it.

  Marina explained further before he had the chance to ask more questions. “Several of the local churches were expecting fall arrangements for their services tomorrow. They like decorating early for Thanksgiving. Iris, my business partner, always takes care of the orders, but she got behind getting ready to go out of town with her husband, Mack, and didn’t get them out yesterday. Because of that, they’re going out tomorrow, and I’m supposed to handle them.”

  “I see. What’s your usual role within the company?”

  “I design landscapes for universities and hospitals, and I’m the sales department. I also facilitate field trips when local schools come to learn about horticulture. Our annual pumpkin patch and corn maze ended a week ago, and I manage that each year. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “It’s a lot of responsibility too. And now this added responsibility. I can’t let those orders go undelivered.” She buried her face in her hands. “This accident couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

  He tapped on the tray until she connected her gaze with his. “Can you contact someone else from your company? Who was supposed to deliver them?”

  “Our delivery guys were all set to come get them today. I have no way of knowing if they did. I can’t get in touch with them because their numbers are in my cell phone that no longer works.”

  “Do you know the names of any of the churches? I could look up the numbers for you, and you could call them.”

  She relaxed her shoulders. He was trying hard to help and going over and beyond the usual call of duty. “I know a couple of them. You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No, I’ve got to stay here with you until you get discharged anyway. We might as well make some phone calls.”

  After Marina had contacted all the churches she could remember who expected deliveries, Detective Pennington stood and eased his way toward the door. “I’m going to step outside and call the station to see if there are any updates.”

  “You’ll be back, though?”

  “Either I will be, or I’ll place another officer outside your door.”

  She frowned and tried to ignore the crush to her heart. She hated being alone right now. “I’d feel better if it were you, someone I know.”

  He stretched his neck and rotated his head, showing his exhaustion from the long night of investigation. Her request was selfish, but genuine. “Okay, I’ll come back. I have a few more questions for you, anyway.”

  “You can ask me now.”

  Did the look on her face betray her desire not to be alone? After last night, she might never want to be alone again.

  “It can wait.” He began to leave, but then he pivoted toward her again. “Okay, one question. What were you going back to the office to get?”

  “Like I said, some files I wanted to look through while the business was closed this week.” She wasn’t comfortable enough with him yet to tell him she’d gone back hoping to catch
someone in the act of stealing from her.

  He rubbed his stubbly chin then held up his finger. “One more question?”

  Marina’s heart raced. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew everything.

  Chapter Four

  Steven had few leads on the case. He needed to dig deep even if it made her uncomfortable. “Anything I should know?”

  “Umm, I don’t think so.” She chewed on her bottom lip. A telltale sign she was withholding information. “I’m examining some of our accounts.”

  He raised his right eyebrow but tried to look like he believed her. “Okay. I’ll touch base with you later. Now get some rest.”

  When Steven revisited Marina’s room later, he opened the door to find her sitting up in the bed, freshly showered, out of her hospital gown, and back in the soiled dress she’d worn the previous night.

  The grass stains, blood, and dried mud on her dress didn’t do this woman justice. Everything from the top of her brunette head down to the bottom of her now clean but still bare feet screamed out she didn’t deserve the trauma she’d been through. Although he’d bet she was a savvy businesswoman and a strong and determined person at her core, she’d need assistance for the next day or so. More assistance than he could—or should—give her. Knowing he should distance himself from her and keep things professional didn’t keep him from desiring to be the one to assist her.

  When he made his way across the room and to her bedside, she smiled. “The doctor says I can go home now.”

  He folded his arms across his stomach and nodded. “Congrats.”

  She fingered her garment. “I’ll be glad to get home and change out of this thing. It was my favorite dress, but it’s going in the trash—or the fireplace—as soon as I get home.”

  He reclaimed his place on the bench. “I need to brief my unit before you get there.”

  “You mean I’m going to have a policeman outside my house?”

  “No one will be stationed there, but officers will drive by from time to time. Until we apprehend the escaped suspect and locate the man you hit, you’ve got to stay on alert and call anytime you suspect something.”

  She slumped. “I hate being watched.”

  A police officer on watch was better than being tracked by a killer, but most of the time victims resented the protection instead of coveting it. What was it about people and their need for privacy that they’d leave themselves vulnerable? “Think of it as protection. Because that’s what it is. Do you have a landline at your house?”

  “No.”

  “You could use a burner phone until you get yours repaired or replaced, then. How can I get in touch with you?”

  “Through email? I have my computer at the house.”

  “Okay, write down your email address for me.” He reached into his pocket and handed her his notepad and pen. “I see you received flowers.”

  “Yeah, odd. I don’t know who sent them.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “The card says they’re from my brother, but I don’t have one.”

  Steven jumped from his seat, yanked the card from the holder touching nothing but the edges, and examined it. “Uh, this is unsettling. No one knows you’re here, right?”

  “As far as I know.”

  He paced. “We need to get you out of here.”

  She glanced up from writing her email address. “You think someone’s watching me?”

  He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and groaned. “Do you have a secret admirer?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then, I’d say someone’s watching you … and it’s not one of my guys.” He returned to his seat and rubbed his palms back and forth against each other.

  Marina handed him the notepad and pen as a nurse came into the room with a wheelchair and interrupted Steven before he could ask any further questions.

  “You ready to get out of here?” The nurse adjusted the elastic band which captured her wavy blonde hair. Her smile seemed genuine—the dimples helped validate her kindness—and the softness in her voice hinted of sincere compassion.

  Marina swung her legs off the side of the bed with ease and rose to her bare feet. “More than you know.”

  “Do you want some booties or slip-on Velcro shoes?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I’m going straight home. But thanks.”

  “Okay, how are you getting there?” The nurse wheeled the chair up next to Marina, locked the brakes, and lowered the foot pedals.

  “I’m not sure. Could I convince a nice detective to escort me?” She looked up at him with bluish-green sea eyes, hooded by sleepy lids. “Unless my car is ready.”

  Steven shook his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I’d guess your car’s not drivable, but even if it were, it’d still be with Forensics and wouldn’t be here at the hospital. You’re in no condition to drive anyway.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Her frown and the inquisitive look from the nurse were more than he could take right now.

  “I can drive you.”

  Marina smiled and straightened in the bed. “Really?”

  Although he should call a female officer to escort her, he wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight since whoever escaped last night was still out there. “Sure.”

  Marina directed her attention to the nurse. “Tabitha, looks like the detective will escort me home.”

  “Very well.” Tabitha turned to Steven. “Sir, if you’ll pull up out front, I’ll have her downstairs in a few minutes.” Turning back to Marina, she said, “Don’t forget your flowers.”

  Marina slid her gaze to Steven. “I don’t want them. They’re from a stranger, and it creeps me out to bring them home with me.”

  “I’ll take the card as evidence. And, nurse—Tabitha, I’ll walk with you.”

  Tabitha nodded as she helped Marina into the chair. “Yes, sir. Follow me then.”

  Steven kept his hand on his holstered gun all the way out to the hospital entrance and divided his attention between Marina and their surroundings.

  Steven left Marina with Nurse Tabitha at the hospital loading zone only long enough to get his SUV out of the parking deck. He kept watch on them both until he had to make his way down the two levels to the bottom. He tackled those levels faster than he should have, tires squealing on the concrete, but he couldn’t afford for Marina to be at risk.

  When he pulled into the covered circular drive, he slammed on his brakes and jammed the car into park. Marina sat in her wheelchair splattered with something red. Was it blood? He threw open his door and bolted around the front of the car as the blood in his veins became like ice water.

  “What happened?” Steven screamed at Tabitha. “I wasn’t gone more than a few minutes.” He knelt in front of Marina, not giving Tabitha time to answer. “What happened? Are you hurt?” His victim sat helpless and stunned in the wheelchair, thanks to his neglect. “Marina, what happened?”

  “Someone shot me.” She looked down at her soiled dress.

  “What? Shot you?” Steven ran his index finger through a puddle of red on the ground and blew out a puff of relieved air. “It’s paint from a paintball gun, not blood.” He leaned closer to Marina but directed his attention toward Tabitha, who had red stains on her scrubs he’d failed to notice. His lack of sleep last night had dulled his senses. “Tabitha, what happened here?”

  Tabitha stared at him with blue eyes that sparkled. Tears ran down her face, and she trembled. “Someone in a white van drove by and shot at Ms. Acres.”

  He positioned his feet to keep from losing his balance and studied Marina’s red-stained face. “A white van? Were there any markings on it?”

  Tabitha squeezed the handles of the wheelchair. “I didn’t see any. I was more focused on making sure she was safe. I tried to wheel her back into the hospital, but I’d put on the brakes, and by the time I released them, the van was gone.”

  “Did the person yell anything at you? Did you
get a look at him at all?”

  Marina scrubbed her face, smearing the paint, and shook her head. “Once I felt what I thought was a bullet, my mind went blank. I didn’t even have the fight in me to duck or run. What’s wrong with me that I’d sit here and not defend myself?”

  He placed his hands over her forearms where they rested on the arms of the wheelchair. “You’ve been through a lot in the last twelve hours. You’re in shock. But you’re safe.” He growled and could kick himself. “I’m to blame here. I should’ve gotten the nurse to keep you inside the building until I pulled up.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Marina reached for his hand.

  Back inside the hospital, Tabitha cleaned the dripping paint off Marina’s face and clothing while Steven called the station and reported the incident. He asked the hospital security to review the surveillance footage and have it ready for arriving officers.

  He secured Marina in the front seat of his SUV and departed the hospital with a wave of thanks to Tabitha. “We’ve got a lot of questions to answer. Don’t we?”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “But first, where to?”

  Marina stared out the side window, keeping her face hidden from him, but she didn’t hide her trembling hands. “My office?”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go straight home?”

  She clasped her hands, but they still trembled. “I need some things from work. Then I won’t leave the house again until necessary.”

  He opened the console and pulled out a bag of pretzel rods, slid one out, and placed it between his lips. Then he offered the bag to her. “Want one?”

  “No thank you.” Marina gave him a look he’d seen on many occasions, the look that said he was strange. “Pretzels?”

  “Gave up beef jerky about a month ago.”

  “Jerky?”

  “Yeah, I chewed it when I was nervous or stressed. My blood pressure was staying too high because of the job, and the nitrates and sodium in the jerky wasn’t helping. Mark always told me to take better care of myself. I needed something to keep my mind busy, and crunching on pretzels helps.”