The pieces shifted and fell together for Jonas. A young girl having fun and missing a massacre. Many would term it as fate, but he suspected there was something deeper going on—survivor’s guilt.
“So, you lived,” he said in the softest voice he could manage.
She never broke eye contact. “Yes.”
Her answers brought more questions, but Jonas knew one thing for certain. He had to get her out of there. He didn’t know how what was happening now was related to the killings then, but the invisible ties existed. He’d bet everything he had on it.
“It’s time to move.” He glanced around the room. “Gather everything you need—”
Courtney lifted the folder to just under her chin. “This is it.”
“Wrong. Get some clothes and your glasses. Enough with the vanity. You need to see what’s going on.”
“What are you two talking about?” Ellie asked. Her gaze shifted between Courtney and Jonas.
“I’m taking her somewhere safe until I know who broke in here and why.” A memory hit him. “If you each had to use a key to open a door, how did the person get in?”
Ellie hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s a window open in the bedroom.”
“No.” Courtney shook her head. “I never leave anything open or unlocked when I leave.”
He knew that before she said it. Someone with her past would guard her safety. “You’ll pack a bag and come with me. We’ll close up and Ellie will go home.”
“How does any of that help Courtney?” Ellie asked.
“I’m going to be by her side until we figure this out.”
Courtney’s head tilted to the side as she shot him an unreadable expression. “And if you don’t?”
“I will.”
Chapter Ten
No one stood at the door. As promised, the guard had disappeared at the right moment.
With help from his inside contact, Kurt had disabled the security cameras. They had switched to a blank screen exactly one minute ago, allowing him time to slip in and out undetected.
He had the hospital pass clipped to his borrowed scrubs to help him blend. In the time it took to walk back and forth, he would wrap Cade Willis up in a tight knot that had him answering questions and fighting off murder allegations for months.
Like father, like son.
The best part: nothing would trace back to anyone other than Cade. An alibi, complete with video footage placing Kurt back in Washington, D.C., had been set up and readied. No record of him leaving the metro area existed. If anyone asked, he’d never been to Oregon.
But first, Kurt had to see if he could get any information out of Paul Eckert. Confirmation of his connection to Cade Willis would do. If the men were working together, Kurt still could close the loop. If the investigation had widened or become official, things could get messy.
Kurt eased open the door to room two-fifteen. The agent wasn’t in the bed, but the light in the bathroom burned in a thin line under the door.
Kurt loved when a plan came together. If only everything related to his dealings with Courtney had run this smoothly.
Putting on his black gloves, he moved to the bathroom. When the door opened, he shoved it back, slamming it into the agent’s head. The man lifted his hands to his nose as he groaned. Kurt didn’t wait. He pushed the agent against the sink and pressed the knife to his throat.
“Who are you working for?” Kurt asked.
The agent gasped as blood ran down his face. “Who the hell are you?”
“Wrong answer.” The tip of the knife pricked skin. “Who?”
“I’m FBI. Agent Paul Eckert.”
“I don’t care.” Kurt didn’t have this kind of time. He’d been promised a few minutes alone and nothing more. As those ticked by, the chance of detection grew. And he could not allow that. “Are you in town on Cade Willis’s orders or someone else’s?”
The agent’s confusion slipped for just a second before snapping back into place.
“I don’t know who Cade Willis is. Never heard of him at all.” Paul’s voice sounded stronger, more sure.
He broke a very easy rule—using six words when one would do. The slip didn’t get by Kurt. Sure, this guy played a role, trying not to give Cade away. Kurt admired the loyalty but didn’t let it sidetrack him. Now that the agent regained his wits, puffing up his chest, making a move couldn’t be far behind.
“You’ve been very helpful.” Kurt sliced the knife deep into the agent’s neck and stepped back.
Shock filled the man’s dark eyes the second before he stumbled. His hands went to his throat as his fingers wrapped around the wound. He choked and gagged, trying to speak, but no words came out.
His body sagged against the sink as he threw a hand out for balance. Slick with the blood, he slipped and fell. His body bucked. He grabbed for Kurt’s pants but missed.
Kurt took it all in. A dark blankness filled him as he watched the life drain out of the agent. He knew he should feel remorse, but this wasn’t his fault. Courtney put this man in his path. Courtney refused to move on.
She caused this and she would be sorry.
* * *
COURTNEY SAT DOWN in the hard wooden chair across from Jonas’s desk. She’d had her duffel bag and folder in hand, and they’d made it as far as his office again. He’d locked her precious cargo in the closet and promised to shoot anything that came in or out. Still, she stole a glance at the door every few minutes just to make sure.
She’d never been inside a police station willingly before. Her police phobia saw to that. Now she’d been in one twice in a few hours.
The one-story beige building stood in the middle of town, next to the mom-and-pop hardware store and across from the former movie theater currently being renovated to reopen as a restaurant. She knew about the new place because she’d been commissioned to design a graphic for the sign and the wall behind the bar.
She stared out the window at the construction truck in front of the building and let her mind wander. Jonas hadn’t asked a single question about her family or her name change since they left her house. He sat behind his desk, and his fingers clicked away with impressive speed across his keyboard.
The silence wore her down. “You can say it, you know.”
He didn’t look up. “What?”
“Can we not pretend?” She’d spent so many years burying it. Maybe it was time to drag it into the light. “Please.”
His fingers hovered over the keys. “You think I don’t want to know every detail of what happened?”
“If you do you’re hiding it well.”
His gaze moved to hers. His body relaxed back into the chair cushion, but awareness shimmered off of him. “I was trying to be considerate of your feelings.”
“Is that your usual style?”
He barked out a laugh. “No. I’ve become the rush-in type during recent years.”
“What were you before?”
The smile left his face. “Too careful. Too willing to follow the rules even when I knew they were wrong.”
The easy conversation calmed the spinning in her head. With each husky word he said, the tension seeped from her muscles. “That sounds like experience talking.”
“Years working in Los Angeles, so I earned it the hard way.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“But I should spill, just tell you everything about my awful past?”
“I’m guessing we can only handle one personal history at a time.”
“Any chance we can start with you?”
“Well.” He sat forward, leaning on his elbows. “We could, but no one is trying to kill me.”
“I find that hard to believe.” After a stark beat of quiet, the rich sound of his laughter washed over her. Any last worries about being safe with him fled. “Admit it. You can be difficult.”
“Bossy, demanding, controlling. Not the first time I’ve heard any of those.” He shrugged those wide
shoulders. “I’d blame the job, but it’s probably the personality type.”
“I can think of a few other words to describe you.”
His gaze roamed over her face. “Where are your glasses?”
“I put the contacts in.” And her left eye had been watering ever since.
He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. “Stubborn.”
“You’re right. I am. Feel free to gloat.”
The smile left his face. “I’d rather hear the story.”
Icy-cold fingers reached into her chest and grabbed her heart. She had no one else to blame. She’d opened a door and he’d jogged right through it. Sharing terrified her…until she stared into those eyes, the color of the cloudy sky right before a storm, and the powerful tug of unburdening hit her.
“It’s taking every ounce of control I possess not to go online and search for myself. With a few calls, I’d likely have the official version,” he said.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I want to hear it from you.” His expression remained unreadable as he laced his fingers together on top of his desk blotter. “I think maybe you need to say it.”
The gate burst open before she could figure out a way to hold the words back. “Allen Peters.”
“Your father, I’m guessing.”
She nodded. “He was the type of guy who heard about a girl getting pregnant at the high school and grounded me to teach me a lesson.”
Jonas’s eyebrow lifted. “A tough guy.”
She almost laughed at the understatement. “He could yell for hours, or so it seemed. Everything is exaggerated when you’re a teenager, but I remember the house being loud.” She hated how the laughter faded but the angry words remained.
“Where was your mother during all of this?”
“She would coax him into the bedroom and shut the door, but the thick wood didn’t blunt the sound. He’d spew and judge, curse and berate.”
Jonas’s eyes narrowed for a second before his blank stare returned. “That had to be hard to handle.”
“He judged everyone and held us to a high standard.”
“Maybe an unreasonable one?”
Being the only one sharing made her want to squirm right out of her chair. As it was, she had to sit on her hands to keep from fidgeting. “What was your dad like?”
“Tough but fair.” Jonas launched right into a description, this time not evading the personal question. “A lifetime navy man. Mom died of breast cancer when I was in junior high, so it was just me and Dad.”
She heard the pride laced through the minimum of words. Jonas didn’t talk about the mutual love and respect because he didn’t have to. She could see it. At the mention of his father, Jonas’s face lit up, and the exhaustion that had been tugging at his mouth and eyes for the past hour disappeared.
He’d known loss but it didn’t define him. Not like it did with her.
The kick of envy stole her breath. And his honest explanation kept her talking. “Mine came to my volleyball games and would shout and swear at the coaches from the stands.”
Jonas nodded. “He was that guy.”
“Totally.”
“Abusive?”
Courtney turned the label over in her mind. It didn’t fit. Nothing about her family, the situation, fell neatly into any category. “I never thought of him that way, but by most standards he’d be considered a jerk. He never hit but his words could knock you back.”
How many times had she wondered if her parents would have made it had they lived? Too many to count. Not that the answer really mattered or solved the questions surrounding their murders, but for some reason the idea of their eventual divorce plagued her.
“That day I’d been grounded for a bad grade—a B, by the way—and ordered to come straight home. Furious and dramatic, in pure teen mode, I disobeyed. I didn’t go home after school or call. I stayed with my boyfriend until past dark then went home, ready for a showdown.”
She’d replayed that last week in her mind so many times. Her father spent almost every hour at home, locked in his office while he pored over paperwork. The man normally worked twelve-hour days at the office, going in before six so he would be home for the mandatory weekday family dinner, but that week he broke with his normal schedule.
“Courtney?” Jonas slipped a hand across the desk toward her. “We don’t have to do this now.”
She closed her eyes, grateful for his ticket out. The temptation proved great, but she forced her eyes open again. “I have to do it sometime. You need the information, right?”
“So I can help you, yes.”
He was a man who wore every rough moment on his face. Handsome but not in a pretty way. Real, with scars and stubble and strength etched in every line. But when he looked at her just now the sharp angles of his face smoothed.
“The police officer met me in the driveway.” Even with her eyes open and her life safe in a secure building, the flashing police lights twirled red and blue in her head. “My dad’s business partner was there. Neighbors stood on the sidewalk, huddled together and whispering as I walked by.”
“That’s what neighbors do.”
“No one approached me except the cop. He put his arm around my shoulders and told me everything would be fine. I had no idea who he was and I tried to listen, but the radio on his shoulder kept chirping.” She tugged on the bottom of her ear. “Four dead. The refrain repeated until I couldn’t hear anything else.”
The night came back to her in a rush. The choking smell of exhaust from the fire truck by the curb. The police officers stretching yellow tape across her lawn. The front door standing open as people with blue windbreakers and small cases walked in and out.
“I remember thinking my dad would be pissed if he saw all of these people walking through the flower beds and going inside without taking off their shoes.” She shook the remainder of the night out of her head and forced her mind to join her body back in today’s world. “Weird, right?”
“Human. You remember him with a teenager’s eye. That colors everything.”
“I thought he’d called in all the police to scare me for staying out in violation of his orders.”
Four dead.
“But when I didn’t see my dad on the porch, I knew what the voice on the speaker meant.” She forced the words up her throat. “Deb, Susie, Mom and Dad. All gone while I was kissing my boyfriend and giggling about how I was drinking a beer behind my dad’s back.”
She swallowed, unable to say anything. Closed her mind so the memories couldn’t sneak back in.
Jonas flipped his hand over and let it lay palm up. “How old were you?”
With her finger she traced his from base to tip, each one turn after turn. Long and lean, strong and surprisingly soft. When she placed her hand in his, the warmth of his skin closed around her.
“Seventeen. One month from graduation.”
When her eyes met his again she expected to see pity like she had with every social worker and lawyer, every cop and every teacher at school. While some people whispered behind her back wondering why she’d survived, others drowned her in sympathy. She preferred those bold enough to question why her dad would spare her—when he obviously preferred Susie—over those who wanted her to stay helpless and needy so they could save her and wash away the guilt of not seeing the tragedy before it happened.
The extended family split, her mother’s relatives clamoring with stories about her dad’s terrible behavior and her mother’s desire to leave him. Her father’s family sainted him. She got pulled and tugged from one end to the other until she walked away.
A name change and relocation later and she woke up without a past. Or she thought it would work that way.
“The police determined my father killed my mother in a moment of uncontrollable rage. That financial problems at work had piled up to push an already volatile man to the edge.” She inhaled deep enough to flush her brain with a burst of fresh oxygen. “So he took out his family, thinking
we were all home and that he could save us from the horrible life of poverty that lay ahead.”
Jonas turned her hand over and slid it between both of his. “You lived.”
“He didn’t know I was gone.”
Jonas lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss against her skin. “You don’t believe the story.”
It was about more than a belief. She knew down to those dark places in her soul that the police took a shortcut and got this one wrong. “Dad was imperfect but not a killer.”
Jonas didn’t debate or try to talk her out of it. “What’s your theory?”
Her eyes searched his. So many people had asked the question then not listened to her answer. They wanted her to talk so they could analyze her or use her to close a case. Not Jonas. He sat there, his attention focused on her and his hand wrapped around hers, and waited for her to speak.
She didn’t have to come up with an elaborate scheme. She’d studied every angle. She had the entrances and exits mapped out and the details outlined. After begging the police to listen and offering theories no one would act on, she tucked the knowledge deep inside and vowed to step back into the light only after she had the evidence to end it all.
But sharing her findings proved easier with Jonas than she ever anticipated. He hit on the truth when he said she needed to tell. It was time and he was the right person.
“The landscape guy attacked my sister, Mom walked in and she was killed. The man then killed everyone, each as they came home, to hide his tracks.”
“Do you know anything about the forensics—”
She dropped Jonas’s hand and started to stand up. “I have it in my folder.”
“Sit.” The deputy part of him roared back to life.
“Jonas, I can prove it all to you.”
“I believe you.”
“I…” She had no idea what to say or how to handle the rumble of hope inside of her.
“We’ll go through it.” His gaze grew in intensity. “I will look at every document and test result. I’ll call in every favor until I see all the information that exists on the case.”
The rumble turned to a thundering wave. “You will?”
When She Wasn't Looking Page 7