What would they do when they located her underneath the guest room bed? Would they drag her out and do unspeakable things to her before killing her? Or would they shoot her where she hid in her temporary haven without giving her the chance to identify them? Would they then roll her up in the charcoal gray shag rug she clung to now and dispose of it like they’d intended to do with Jason?
If only she’d had somewhere better to hide than under the bed. Had she not crawled under it like a scared child and had instead run to the basement, she could be well-hidden in her storage closet or next door at Allison’s by now. But she’d taken the cowardly approach and hid, and now she’d pay for that decision with her life.
Black shoes appeared in the doorway, and Marina sucked in her breath and held it. She couldn’t see much through the gap between the rug and the bottom of the dust ruffle except the shoes and the dark pant legs of the intruder, but it shook her to her core. She exhaled and scooted to the edge of the bed as the violator of her shelter inched his way across the room. If she timed it right, she could slide out from under the bed and escape the bedroom, which once felt tiny but now seemed like an atrium in a mall.
“In here! Her phone’s on the floor beneath the window.”
Steven? Could it be him? Heat pulsed through her. She almost scrambled out from underneath the bed but waited. Until she confirmed his identity, she wouldn’t budge.
Footsteps pounded in the hallway on the wood floors, and a second pair of shoes shuffled into the room. “Someone took her?”
“I think so. Get Knox up here to process this room. If they harm so much as one hair on her head, I’m going to—”
“Steven, you’ll what? You have to follow protocol and let justice take its course.”
It was Steven!
Marina yanked on the bed frame, tugged out from underneath the bed, and jumped to her feet.
Steven jumped around to the end of the bed, and John twisted around to face her, both men with guns drawn.
With hands held up, she screamed, “It’s me!”
“Marina!” Steven rushed to her almost knocking John aside. “Are you hurt?” He studied her with worry beading up in his eyes.
She shook her head. She’d never been better now that he’d rescued her. “I’m fine. Just shaken.” Of course, she probably looked like she’d been attacked. Her hair and clothes must be disheveled and didn’t resemble her normal put-togetherness. Who was she kidding? Steven hadn’t seen her put together once since the accident.
“I’ll let the others know she’s safe.” John holstered his gun. “I’m glad you’re okay, Ms. Acres.” He shot Steven a strange glance of alert or warning and then stepped out of the room.
Steven returned his gun to its holster and placed his hands on her upper arms. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re a mess.”
She relaxed against the strength of his grip and cracked a smile. “I’m fine … now that you’re here.” Her heart did a weird, flip-flop thing. Not an anxiety attack. Something warm tingled through her heart. Such a nice feeling.
But the look John sent Steven, what had it meant? Was there more trouble?
“Sit here and tell me what happened.” Steven escorted her to the end of the bed and sat beside her.
“I looked out the window to see who was on the front porch, like you told me to do. A guy dressed in black with a hoodie over his head stood in the parking lot near the pool. He saw me looking out the window at him.”
“What did he do?”
She closed her eyes to block out the memory of what that vile man had done to Simba but then opened her eyes and sought refuge in Steven. “He picked up my neighbor’s cat who I feed sometimes—I guess he thought he belonged to me, which means he’s been watching me—and he sliced his neck and tossed him into the bushes.” She shuddered. “What kind of creep would do that to an innocent animal?”
“A highly-disturbed kind.”
“I can’t believe that guy killed poor little Simba. He didn’t do anything to deserve that.” Marina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Why was she crying over a cat when she could have been that man’s victim of choice?
Steven put his strong arm around her shoulders. “Do you know for sure he killed the cat?”
Marina couldn’t stop crying. This person was the epitome of evil. “It looked like he did. When I saw that, I knew he was coming after me. I collapsed on the floor and dropped my phone.” She removed her hands from her face and wiped her eyes and nose.
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“No. Not this time.” She laughed through a tear-clogged throat. “Maybe I’m getting tougher.”
“Maybe.” He smiled. “What happened next?” He moved his arm, and in the void, a cold loneliness replaced it.
“I heard him at the front door, and I hid under the bed. I should’ve gone down into the basement and out the garage door or done something other than hide like a coward.”
“No, you did the right thing. And you’re safe now.” He rubbed his whisker-laden jaw. She guessed he hadn’t slept much since Friday night much less had time to shave. “Why didn’t you answer when I called you?” He pivoted and faced her.
“I scrambled under the bed so fast, I didn’t think about getting my phone. I have it set on vibrate, but I didn’t feel it through the floor when it buzzed.” She rubbed her feet on the soft shag rug, the rug she’d purchased a few days ago that could have been her blanket of death.
Steven tapped his fingers on his knees and sighed. “I was worried about you.”
“I was worried about me too. I’m sorry I caused you to panic.”
“You’re safe. That’s what matters.” Steven’s velvety-smooth voice soothed her worries. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we’ve caught whoever’s doing this.” He stared into her eyes, and the connection between them grew stronger.
Her heart did a double flip when he leaned closer to her. Was he going to kiss her? She wouldn’t mind if he did, to feel his warmth radiate through her, but the circumstances weren’t right.
“Steven, you gotta come down here!” John shouted from downstairs.
Steven ran his hands through his hair and sprung from the foot of the bed. “I’ll be back. You stay here.”
“Gladly.” She couldn’t move if she tried.
Chapter Thirteen
Marina waited on the bed for Steven to give her the okay to come downstairs. Her stomach churned, and relief washed over her that she hadn’t eaten dinner yet. The last thing she needed was to get sick in front of him.
If John hadn’t called, would Steven have kissed her? He’d given her that impression. His strong lips would have felt warm on hers, his kiss delivering comfort to her soul. But now was not the time to entertain thoughts of romance with a killer on the loose and Marina his next target. While Steven was her protector, he couldn’t protect her heart against falling for him, a man who’d forget about her once the case was over. No one but her could do that.
Besides, he was a cop, and cops lived dangerous, unpredictable lives. Cops couldn’t guarantee they’d come home in one piece. Mark was proof of that. Cops sometimes abused their positions. Mark was proof of that too.
She wouldn’t let the hurt and betrayal happen again.
“Marina, come here.” Steven’s warm voice floated up to her from the living room and wrapped her in the security that everything was okay and she’d be safe if she joined him.
Now she had to lift her lead-filled legs and make the journey across the floor and down one step at a time until she reached him. Why did it seem so hard? Her place—this bedroom even—had felt the least protected an hour ago, but now seemed like her best option for shelter. Yes, to stay here for the rest of her life and never go out or let anyone in seemed to be her only solution.
“Marina, you coming?”
She swayed for a few seconds and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Ridiculous. Why would I stay here alone when I’ve got my own persona
l detective?” She rose, ignoring her previous caution about Steven, and limped her way across the room to the doorway. “I’m coming.”
She joined them downstairs and grabbed the wall to steady herself when the paint-smeared Simba resting in Steven’s arms came into view. “Simba! You’re okay.” She rushed to Steven and whisked Simba from him. “What in the … how did he … I don’t understand.” She rubbed Simba’s chin and giggled when he purred. That was the sweetest sound she’d heard all day.
Steven rubbed the top of Simba’s head. “Apparently, the man who had your little friend here only wanted you to think he killed him. He must’ve had red paint on the dull edge of the knife and simulated slicing his neck. He attached a note to his collar, which we’ve sent to the lab for analysis.”
“That man should be put away for that! What did the note say?”
“We’ll talk about it in the car. Go grab your things for overnight.”
She nuzzled the cat with her chin. “Overnight?”
“Yeah, you’re not staying here.”
“But—”
Steven arched his right eyebrow, and his green eyes pressed his meaning into her. “We’ll talk in the car.”
John slapped Steven on the back. “Better do what the guy says, Ms. Acres. He’s tough to resist.”
The two had a man moment filled with fist bumps, smirks, and laughter, but Steven had convinced her his job was important to him. He wasn’t joking about protecting her.
“I’ll leave you two to your male bonding, and I’ll be down in a few.” Placing Simba on the floor, she climbed the stairs as fast as she could, grabbed her overnight bag out of her closet, and tossed in everything she might need. Her makeup then hair and body products came next. Right before leaving the bathroom, she grabbed the wound care kit they’d given her for the stitches in her head. While she’d already neglected her ankle and ribs, she couldn’t risk an infection in the gash on her forehead.
One quick glance in the mirror provoked a gasp. Steven had been right. She was in shambles.
Wasting no time, she pulled her hairbrush out of her bag and smoothed out the tangles which had come from crawling underneath the bed. Then she worked her hair into a sleek ponytail. A light pink lip balm helped her dry lips, a consequence of dehydration from her lack of drink since Friday.
“Okay, I can’t do any better than this right now.” She flipped off the bathroom light and tugged her overnight bag off the end of her bed. Dragging it into the hallway, her ribs protested, so she left it at the top of the stairs.
Downstairs, she collected her laptop from the kitchen, put a few dishes in the dishwasher, and grabbed a treat for Simba from underneath the sink. Steven took the stairs in two steps and reached for her bag, and she allowed him to take them without argument. Carrying them down the stairs herself would mean punishment from her ribs later.
After slipping on her sneakers, she grabbed her teal light-weight hoodie out of the hall closet. “Come on, Simba, it’s time to go home.” The treat she dangled at him provoked a meow and a back-legged dance. “Come on, boy. I’ll text your mama and tell her what happened to you.”
When Marina got to the entrance, her mouth fell open, then she grunted. “What happened to my door?”
Steven gulped and, like a little boy caught with a baseball bat in his hands standing by a broken window, ducked his head. “I had to break in.”
She put her hands on her hips. “And who’s going to guard my place until someone repairs my door? In fact, when are they going to repair it?”
He raised his chin. “Officer Knox here will oversee that. Let him have your house key, and he’ll lock everything up and return the key once it’s repaired. They’ll do it today.”
Marina studied Officer Knox’s face. Kindness seemed to live behind his blue eyes. If Steven trusted him, she’d have to as well. She removed the house key off her keychain and gave it to the officer. “You’ll return it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Or I’ll bring you a new key if they have to replace the lock.”
“Okay...” Marina followed Steven to his SUV. He opened the door for her, and she climbed in and buckled her seatbelt. “Detective Roper isn’t coming with us?”
“No, he’ll oversee things here and get a ride with someone.”
Once he joined her in the car, Marina let the questions fly. “Okay, what did the note say?”
He buckled his seatbelt and grinned. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Nope.”
“You received another threat.”
She chewed on the tip of her tongue for a moment and tasted her impatience mixed with fury. “So I don’t have the right to know who Jason was running from and why? Why my business partner is transferring an exorbitant amount of money to her own account? To know whatever else is going on at Acres and Fields?”
He cranked the car and headed toward the stop sign. “I didn’t say that. Your friend in the hoodie did.”
“My friend, huh? You’re delusional.”
Steven shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” He turned right out of the neighborhood and glanced at her. “I have good news and bad news for you. Which do you want first?”
Good news? Those two words cheered her soul as much as Simba’s meow had. “I need good news.”
“You didn’t kill Jason.”
Joy rose within Marina, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I didn’t?”
“No. He had a gunshot wound in the leg and bled out through his femoral artery.”
She swiped the tears from her face, but they kept coming. “Was he already shot when I hit him, or did he get shot afterward?”
“I didn’t have time to read all the details of the coroner’s report yet, but I’m guessing he was already shot and was running from the gunman. You were there at the wrong time. I’ll dig deeper into the report when I get back to the station.” He tapped her on the forearm. “But the cause of death was the gunshot wound.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!”
Steven crinkled his brow. “Wonderful that someone shot him, causing him to bleed out?”
She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oops, no, wonderful I’m not the one who killed him.” Marina didn’t mean to sound shallow. Her heart did ache for Jason and the loss his family had experienced, but to know she wasn’t responsible for his death set her free. “I am sorry he died and sorry for his family, though.”
“I knew what you meant.”
Marina relaxed against the seat and let her head bask in the comfort of the headrest. With closed eyes, she allowed Steven to drive her in silence. Right now, she could believe everything would work out for the good. The Bible said that somewhere, didn’t it? All things work for good, even the bad things.
She opened her eyes and faced Steven. “What’s the bad news?”
“Your car’s totaled.”
She shrugged. “I figured it would be.”
“No tears?”
“After what you said about Jason? No.” How could she let the news of her car spoil her thankfulness that she wasn’t a murderer? “I mean, I loved that old car. My dad was the original owner. He’ll be sad to see it go. But, no, I’m not going to cry over it. Especially in light of the other info.”
“Good.”
“Where are we going? I’m not staying in a strange safe house. And I won’t go into witness protection. I’m not going into witness protection, am I?”
Steven laughed. “No WITSEC for you. I’m taking you to Hopewell Park for a cookout.”
“A cookout? In November?”
“Yeah, it’s in the mid-sixties today. We were headed there when we got your call.”
“You were off duty today?”
“Technically.”
“Sorry.”
“No worries.”
“Well, I hate to crash your festivities.”
“Marina, you aren’t crashing. Besides, John’s wife is going to keep you company at their house after we go back to the station to fil
e our report of today’s incident.”
“He’s married?”
“Yep. Sharon’s great.”
“Wow, I had no idea.” As they continued down the road, Marina relaxed in her seat, and her grip on the armrest loosened in response. “A cookout, huh? Like with your friends?”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t bringing a victim to a personal function against policeman regulations or rules?”
“Not really. Most of my friends don’t know of Friday’s incident, so they don’t know who you are. They know I’m bringing a friend.”
“I see.”
“Well, a date.”
“Your date?” She couldn’t have predicted the giddiness that bubbled inside her, and she had to get rid of it fast. She couldn’t let her emotions seep into this day because they weren’t dating, couldn’t date, never would date. Their closeness had nothing to do with forming a relationship. She glanced at him. His ears flamed, and sweat trickled down the side of his cheek.
“Yeah, I—I figured the cookout would be a safe place to take you since there’ll be a handful of officers there, but you’ll have to go as my fake date, or everyone will wonder why you’re there. It’s best no one knows what’s going on.”
She could do it. She’d keep reminding herself all day she was his fake date and nothing else. “And you’re willing to get a million questions from your co-workers and their wives about who I am?” This would be like having a behind-the-scenes view on a hidden camera television show. If Steven was turning red and sweating now, what would he be like when his friends and co-workers teased him about her—if they did?
Steven cocked his chin. “I can handle them. They’ve asked the questions before.” He pointed at her. “You play along like we just met, which technically we did if you don’t count years ago at church, and everything should be fine.”
“Hmmm, they’ve asked the questions before? How many times?” She laughed and held back a full chuckle when his neck turned crimson.
“A few.”
“Okay, I’ll play along. Thanks for not dumping me off somewhere strange.”
“Sure. This way, I can keep my eye on you and have Sharon’s grilled chicken and pumpkin-butterscotch gingerbread trifle at the same time.”
Grafted into Deceit Page 15