Point of Danger

by Irene Hannon

  Classic Grace.

  At five-four, she was the shortest of the sisters—but her poise and authoritative bearing more than compensated for her lack of height.

  “I listened to your program this morning.”

  Oh.

  She hadn’t considered that or she’d have called Grace hours ago.

  Eve folded her arms. Putting her sister on the defensive could buy her a few seconds to regroup. “That’s out of pattern for you, isn’t it?”

  “I make no apologies for not being a morning person. I gladly concede that title to you and Cate. But as it happens, I had an early call about a suspicious death, which meant I was on the road at seven. I tuned in, assuming your program would wake me up. Boy, did it.” She scowled. “So when were you going to tell me about this latest attack?”

  “After I finished processing it—and attack may be too harsh a word.”

  “No, it’s not. Somebody is gunning for you.”

  Eve flinched. “Also a harsh word.”

  “But true. First a bomb, now a personal strike. Have you told Dad?”

  “Heavens, no. Why would I bother him about this? He’s thousands of miles away. It’s not as if he could do anything except worry.”

  “I suppose that’s true—but you have alerted the police, right?”

  “As a matter of fact, the detective handling the case happened to be on hand when the call came in.”

  Grace’s eyebrows peaked. “He came to the station before eight in the morning?”

  “Yeah. He dropped by to bring me up to speed on the case.”

  “At that hour?” Her sister squinted as she repeated her comment.

  “I get off work at eight. He didn’t want to miss me.”

  “He must have had big news if he made the effort to talk with you in person.”

  “Not really. He was in the area for a meeting and decided to swing by.”

  “Yeah?” Grace scrutinized her. “Most cops I know don’t revisit crime victims unless there’s a substantive motivation.” She tipped her head. “How old is this guy?”

  Eve frowned at the non sequitur. “I don’t know. Thirtysomething?”

  “Good looking?”

  Ah. So that’s where her sister’s line of questioning was going.

  Play this cool, Eve, or Grace will pounce like a cat toying with a trapped mouse.

  She tried for a casual inflection. “I suppose—but his appearance hasn’t been my main concern these past few days.”

  A speculative gleam sprang to life in Grace’s hazel irises. “Is he married?”

  Warmth rose on Eve’s cheeks.

  Shoot.

  The bane of redheads strikes again.

  She moved to the cabinet and retrieved two glasses, angling away from her sister’s discerning eyes. “We didn’t discuss that.”

  “But you did a ring check.”

  Yeah, she had—and denying it would only send Grace further down the path she was already traveling.

  “Isn’t that standard procedure?”

  “And . . . ?”

  “He wasn’t wearing a ring—but that doesn’t mean he’s single.”

  Except he was.

  Eve knew that as surely as she knew the sparks arcing between her and the handsome detective hadn’t been one-sided.

  “The situation has possibilities, though.” The corners of Grace’s lips rose a hair, and she went back to unpacking the food. “I brought chicken broccoli, sweet and sour pork, and spring rolls. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am—and that menu is a vast improvement over the omelet I was going to make.” Thank goodness her sister had moved on to a safer topic.

  “You don’t eat right.”

  “Yes I do. I’m very health conscious.”

  “Only in terms of spinning and biking. But you are very adept at sidestepping topics you don’t want to discuss—especially in the personal realm. By the way, I thought the rebuttal you posted on your blog was perfect.”

  “You’ve read it?”

  “Of course I’ve read it.” Grace pulled two plates from the cabinet and turned to her. No trace of levity remained in her demeanor—or her tone. “This whole thing stinks, Eve. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. And I’m worried about you. To answer your earlier question, that’s why I’m here.”

  Pressure built in Eve’s throat, and her vision misted. She and her sisters might lead very different, busy lives, but when push came to shove, they were the Three Musketeers.

  Without a word, she crossed to Grace and gave her a hug.

  Her younger sibling held on tight.

  “Thank you for tackling the long drive here—on the tail end of rush-hour traffic, no less—after your early start today.”

  “What are sisters for if they can’t give each other moral support?” Grace pulled back, swiping a finger under her lashes. “You know, if we don’t eat this food soon, we’re going to have to nuke it.”

  “Then let’s dive in.”

  Eve finished getting their drinks, helped herself to generous portions from the containers Grace had set on the island, and carried her plate to the table. Grace joined her a moment later, also with a heaping plate.

  How someone so tiny could chow down like a sumo wrestler without gaining an ounce was beyond her.

  “I wish I could eat like that.” She sent Grace’s plate an envious glance.

  “Your sedentary job doesn’t help . . . but you could always exercise more.”

  “I hate exercise—spinning and biking being the exceptions. And I do as much of those as I can fit into my schedule. You just have Mom’s fast metabolism.” Eve folded her hands. “You want to say the blessing?”

  “It’s your house. I’ll let you do the honors.”

  Eve dipped her chin, offered a quick prayer, and began eating.

  “Mmm. I haven’t had Chinese for a while. This is delicious.” Grace spoke around a mouthful of food.

  “I agree. The one thing that could improve this meal would be your baklava for dessert.”

  “Sorry. That’s always a weekend project. It requires a large block of uninterrupted time. I promise I’ll make a batch for Christmas, as usual.”

  “That would be—” Eve cocked her head at a faint scratching noise in the vicinity of her back door.

  “What’s wrong?” Grace stopped eating.

  Pulse leaping, she dropped her volume. “Someone’s fooling around with the lock on my back door.”

  Grace slid off her chair, grabbed her oversized purse, and pulled out the compact Beretta she always carried. “Don’t you have a motion sensor on the light by that door?” The question was so soft Eve had to strain to hear it.

  “Yes.”

  But it wasn’t working. Outside the drawn shades, her deck and yard were dark.

  “Get behind me and call 911.” Grace aimed her pistol at the door, arms stretched in front of her.

  The knob rattled slightly, and Eve snatched her cell off the table.

  She punched in the first number with a shaky finger as the door swung open. Froze as a black-clad figure stepped into view.

  “Cate?” Her sister’s name came out in a squeak.

  “What are you doing here?” Grace’s stance relaxed a hair. “I thought you were undercover.”

  “I am.” Cate closed the door behind her and motioned toward the Beretta. “You can put your weapon away now.”

  Grace lowered the gun. “Why didn’t you call to let us know you were coming? I could have shot you.”

  “I wasn’t certain I’d be able to pull this off until the last minute.”

  “You could have knocked, you know.” Grace stashed her pistol.

  “I didn’t want to call any attention to my arrival. And I didn’t know you were here with your trusty Beretta. I didn’t see your car out front.”

  “I had to park three houses down. The people across the street have birthday balloons on their mailbox. I assume there’s a party in progress.”

>   Eve pressed a hand to her chest. “I think you took a year off my life.”

  Cate crossed the room, detouring around Grace to stop in front of her. “I’m not the one who seems intent on doing that. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. Or I was, until you almost gave me apoplexy.”

  After a swift, skeptical once-over, Cate pulled her into a tight hug. “Look who’s talking about apoplexy. You’re keeping me awake nights, you know.”

  Eve hugged her back. “You need to stop worrying. I can take care of myself. You’re the one putting your life on the line every day. And aren’t you taking a chance by coming here?” She eased away to study her sister. “Couldn’t this blow your cover?”

  “I worked it out with my handler. I’m good for thirty minutes. Fill me in on everything that’s happened.” She flipped the tail of her long, dark auburn ponytail over her shoulder.

  “You want to eat while we talk?” Grace motioned toward the island. “I brought more than the two of us can finish.”

  Cate sniffed and surveyed the food. “Do I detect sweet and sour pork?”

  “Yes.” Grace retook her seat.

  “I’m in.”

  While Cate helped herself, Eve got her a Diet Sprite and set it on the table.

  “Thanks for keeping my favorite on hand.” Cate slid onto a chair and lifted the can in salute.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Be thankful I don’t have exotic, expensive tastes like our sister does.” She tapped the bottle of Tazo mango iced tea sitting in front of Grace.

  “Can I help it if my palate is more discerning than yours?” Grace sniffed.

  Cate scooped up a forkful of rice and shook her head. “What can you do? The baby of the family is always spoiled.”

  Grace stuck her tongue out at Cate.

  “I rest my case.” Cate grinned at her.

  “Hmph.” Grace sent a pointed look toward their eldest sibling. “At least I’m not a control freak, like certain people I could name.”

  “Truce, you two.” Eve stifled a smile. The good-natured bickering between her older and younger sister was always a hoot.

  “I’ll second that.” Cate continued to eat. “Now tell me everything.”

  Her sister listened while Eve recounted the events of the past five days, ending with the response to her blog post earlier in the day.

  “And here’s another news flash. The detective handling the case has gone above and beyond to keep Eve up to speed.” Grace smirked at her. “He even dropped by the station early this morning.” She gave Cate an elbow nudge and waggled her eyebrows.

  “It was a professional visit, and he didn’t stay long.” Eve sent Grace a silent back-off glare.

  Her sister ignored it and took a swig of iced tea.

  If Grace kept this up, she might have to supply her own high-end beverage on future visits.

  “The fact that he came by is . . . interesting.” Cate appraised her.

  Eve tried not to squirm. “I’m glad he did, given the call I got at the end of the program.”

  “But that wasn’t the motive for his visit.” Cate swirled the soda in her can. “I wonder what prompted it?”

  Instead of replying, Eve slid a forkful of food into her mouth.

  “I can guess.” Grace finished her dinner and broke open her fortune cookie.

  “I can too.” Cate tapped the edge of her plate with her fork.

  Drat.

  Her sisters were way too intuitive.

  When she remained silent, the corners of Cate’s mouth twitched. “Your reticence is telling. But I’d be happy to give you a bit of intel on Brent Lange. Assuming you’re curious about him, that is.”

  Her control-freak sister was going to make her admit she wanted to know more about the man.

  Fine.

  She was hosed anyway. Grace and Cate had already figured out she was attracted to him.

  Not that she intended to admit that.

  “I wouldn’t mind some background.” She tried for a conversational tone. “He ran plenty on me, and turnabout seems fair play.”

  “Nice try.” Cate set her fork down, her expression smug. “To cut to the chase, I haven’t run into him much. He’s been in patrol most of his career. But I asked my handler to do a little digging after he told me Brent was on your case. The report is all positive. He’s well-respected in the ranks, a total pro, honest, brave, and has absolute integrity. And since I know you’re dying to ask but won’t—he’s never been married and, as far as I can tell, doesn’t have a steady girlfriend.”

  Hallelujah!

  But Eve did her best to mask that reaction. Just because the man was available and his behavior suggested he could have more than a professional interest in her didn’t mean she—or her sisters—were reading him correctly.

  She was not going to get carried away with adolescent romantic fantasies about a man she hadn’t known a week ago.

  “He sounds like a keeper.” Grace bit into her fortune cookie.

  “That’s the word on the street.” Cate checked her watch, polished off the remains of her dinner, and broke open her own cookie. “I have to run.”

  “Are you certain it’s safe for you to be here?” Eve moved her plate aside. “I mean, I’m touched you went to all this effort to come by, but I thought you said you were incommunicado until this assignment was over?”

  “I am—but I wanted to see you. You know me . . . the control freak.” She aimed a wink at both of her sisters.

  “Let me go on record as being fine with your control-freak tendencies . . . even if you were a tiny bit bossy—and overprotective—after Mom died.” Eve gave her a thumbs-up.

  “A tiny bit? Ha!” Grace snorted. “I’ll never forget how you intimidated my dates with your gestapo-like third degree—and you’re a mere four years older than I am!”

  “Someone had to vet those guys, and Dad thinks the best of everyone. Didn’t I steer you away from that smooth-talking senior whose sole intention was to add a notch to his belt?”

  “There was that.” Grace lifted her iced tea in acknowledgment. “You do have excellent instincts about men.”

  A brief shadow passed over Cate’s face, gone so quickly Eve would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching her sister.

  What was that all about?

  As far as she knew, Cate was focused on her career and hadn’t had a serious dating relationship in years.

  Her sister stood and changed the subject. “My time’s up.”

  “How long is this assignment going to last?” Eve slid off her chair too.

  “Until it’s done.”

  “Gee. That’s helpful.”

  “The job is open-ended. I knew that when I signed on.”

  “Are you liking it?” Grace joined the conversation.

  Cate shrugged. “I’m not certain it’s my thing—but I’m glad I’m giving it a shot. I’ve always wondered about the allure of undercover work. What does your cookie say?” She motioned to the crispy piece of twisted dough beside Eve’s plate.

  She picked it up and broke it open. Once again, her cheeks warmed.

  “Well?” Grace leaned forward.

  “These are silly.” Eve wadded up the slip of paper.

  Cate gave each of them a hug and continued to the back door. “Retighten your porch bulb after I leave. We had someone loosen it earlier so I could come and go in the dark. Now spill your fortune.” She paused by the door.

  Double drat.

  Her sisters would have a field day with this—but she was stuck.

  “It said, ‘The one you love is closer than you think.’”

  “That’s a big improvement over the ‘stay the course’ I got.” Grace waved her slip of paper in the air. “And timely too—don’t you think, Cate?”

  “Yep. See you two soon, I hope.”

  “Be careful.” Eve joined her at the door.

  “My number one rule. Give me three minutes, then tighten the bulb. Love you
guys.”

  Without waiting for a response, she slipped into the darkness.

  Eve stayed by the door while Grace cleared the table. At the three-minute mark, she twisted the bulb until it was tight and locked the door.

  “Cate looks tired.” Grace carried their plates to the sink.

  “I imagine undercover work brings a whole new level of stress to the job.” Eve gathered up the empty food containers. “I hope coming here didn’t put her in any danger.”

  “I got the impression she had it covered. So . . . what were your plans for the evening before Cate and I descended?”

  “Stripping floors.”

  “Oh.”

  At Grace’s obvious dismay, Eve grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to help me. How long were you planning to stay?”

  “About another hour.”

  “Why don’t we make a Ted Drewes run?”

  Her sister brightened. “Now you’re talking. I can already taste that marshmallow concrete.”

  “Give me five minutes to change out of my spinning clothes.”

  “No worries. I can respond to messages while I wait.”

  Eve headed for the hall, heart lighter, as Grace slid onto a stool, fingers already working the keyboard on her cell. She wouldn’t get much done on her floors tonight, but an outing for frozen custard with her sister was exactly what she needed to lift her spirits.

  Yet the fact that both Grace and Cate had felt compelled to stop by was unsettling. Despite Cate’s tendency to shift into protective mode, both she and Grace were levelheaded and not inclined to overreact.

  Conclusion? Their impromptu visit suggested that worry—and caution—were warranted.

  However . . . it was possible that once she weathered this latest attack, her tormentor would give up.

  Either that, or resort to more extreme measures. Ones that could actually produce physical harm.

  She shuddered as she pulled a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from her dresser.

  Maybe she ought to think about forking out the money for personal security after all. The cost might not be as outrageous as she expected.

  But letting this guy put a dent in her budget, allowing him to impact her life in a material way, would give him a victory of sorts.

  That didn’t sit well.

  On the other hand—it wouldn’t hurt to call and get prices tomorrow in case she caved.