by Winnie Reed
The only thing that was different about him this time was the fact that he wasn’t using that raspy voice anymore. He had been careful in all other ways, but he had missed that part. I set the laptop down on the counter, facing him—I didn’t know whether video would still play on Emma’s end of the call, but it was worth a shot.
If anything happened to me, I at least wanted her to know who did it.
As for me, I already knew. And it made perfect sense.
“You aren’t just Jane’s editor, are you? You’re Michael Fitzwilliams’ editor, too.”
He was about to take a step toward me, but backed away instead. “What?”
“You were his editor. And you knew about those articles he was writing. Whitewashing the land development project. The mob was paying him off. Don’t pretend you didn’t know about it.” It didn’t seem right, smiling at a time like this, but I couldn’t help it. I finally had it all figured out. “You were getting paid off, too, weren’t you? Because otherwise, you might wonder why everything Michael was saying went against years of proof that the deal was bad news.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You won that Newman award, too, didn’t you? I never thought to look into any editors who might’ve won it in the past. I would’ve had your number before now.”
“When you could’ve done something about it. But it’s too late.” He clicked his tongue in that obnoxious, insulting way of his.
“Oh? So you didn’t hear the latest? Michael Fitzwilliams was located and brought in by Paradise City police earlier tonight. He’s singing like a bird. I would expect a call from them any time now—though, seriously, isn’t that better than a call from the guys who were paying you to publish that garbage?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I, though? Are you sure, Pierce?”
He pulled the bandana down, revealing the lower half of his face, then adjusted the cap so I could see him clearly. “I think you’ve been reading too many of these.” He swept a row of mystery novels off a shelf, scattering them over the floor.
“And I think you were on your way in from casing my store when we first met in the lobby on Friday afternoon. You were here that day. You left that email address and used it to get a link to the book club meeting.” I held Lola a little closer to me. She was trembling so hard, poor thing. “You couldn’t let me go. None of this would be happening if you could’ve let me go. I was going to move on and hope for the best.”
“Stop talking already.” He jabbed the gun toward me. “And stop stalling. Who else knows about this?”
Lola growled again, and I held her tighter. It would hurt more if anything happened to her than it would if it happened to me. “Everybody. That’s my point. I’m not lying about the cops bringing Michael in for questioning. And I know Jane is hiding from you.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“Nope. What? Did you think she vanished into thin air?”
He gritted his teeth.
Then, he charged.
Sheer reflex got my feet moving. I ran to my office and slammed the door a split second before Pierce threw himself against it. Lola barked furiously as I locked it, then started dragging the desk in front of it—until I remembered the gun.
It wouldn’t matter if I barricaded the door once he fired the gun.
I chose to crawl between the desk and the filing cabinets, to the right of the door where Pierce wouldn’t hit me if he fired through it. He pounded, screamed, threw himself against the door until I was sure he’d break the lock.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in Lola’s fur, rocking back and forth. If I sat there with my eyes closed long enough, it would all be over. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re okay.” I said it so many times, the words stopped making sense.
And when I stopped, there was no more screaming. No more pounding.
Only a soft knocking. “Darcy? Darcy, please, tell me you’re okay in there.”
I crawled out of my nook, still holding Lola as tight as I could without hurting her, and opened the door to find Pete waiting for me.
“We got him.” He pulled me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around me and Lola both.
That was when I started to cry.
Chapter Twenty-One
“He drove me up to the beach in Stonecrest and left me on the sand with no ID, no money, no anything.” Jane ran a hand under one eye, then the other. “Like he expected me to die there. Maybe I would have if the rain didn’t wake me up. It was enough to get me moving. I walked barefoot to an all-night diner and they took pity on me. A truck driver drove me to a friend’s house up there.”
She laughed. “If this had to happen, I’m glad it happened in the summer when they were staying there, otherwise the house would’ve been empty.”
At least she could laugh about it. Her image on my screen revealed a girl who was healing. There were faint bruises around her throat and over one eye, where Pierce had hit her. The real damage had been done to the back of her head, though, where I couldn’t see the bandages thanks to the fact that we weren’t speaking in-person.
“I must’ve hit the edge of the desk when I went down.” She touched the back of her head, wincing. “It’s getting better, though.”
“It must’ve bled. How did he deal with that?”
“I can only imagine. I was too out of it.”
The mental image of Pierce crawling around on hands and knees, cleaning up any blood Jane had shed, brought a bitter smile to my face. “I hope they lose the key once he’s sentenced.”
“It’s going to be a complicated case, I think. I’m no court reporter, or else I would write about it for the paper.”
“You would?”
“Sure. Who better, right?” If I didn’t know better, I might suggest we get a DNA test done. She sounded way too much like a Harmon.
The light in her eyes faded a little. “I’m only sorry you got dragged into it.”
“Like I told him the night he came to the store, he was the reason I kept at it. Because he couldn’t leave me alone.” I gave her another bitter smile. “He couldn’t leave any strings hanging loose. Not with the mob breathing down his back. They paid him a lot of money to promote that project, and they’re not the sort of people you want to take money from and not deliver.”
“I can’t believe he took their money in the first place.” She shivered, then rubbed her arms. “When he asked me to take over the series for Michael, I figured it might be my big break into something a little more serious than restaurant openings. Once I started looking through Michael’s notes, though? And then, he told me I wasn’t allowed to contact Michael about it. He was too sick, and if he got upset or stressed and his health took a bad turn…”
“He basically told you it’d be your fault if Michael got sicker.”
“Exactly. I was trapped. I told him I didn’t feel right, that something felt sketchy. Here I was, thinking Michael was the one to blame, like Pierce was oblivious. I’ve got to admit, I’m disappointed in myself.”
“He was your mentor, though, right? You wouldn’t want to believe it.”
“That’s how he always made it sound. Sometimes he called himself my Dutch Uncle, too. I didn’t appreciate it, either way. It was creepy.”
“It sounds like it.”
“Anyway, I’m back home and I don’t feel like I have to hide anymore—though I’m still being careful. Pierce didn’t pull me in too far. I don’t know any names, I never talked to anybody. I never even wrote a single word about the project. I hope that’s enough to keep me safe.”
Joe had already assured me Jane’s safety was paramount, that they’d watch her house as long as was necessary in case anybody decided to shut her up. I had to wonder if it’d be worthwhile at this point. There was already enough trouble brewing with Michael and Pierce. The bad guys had their hands full and would only look guiltier if Jane disappeared again.
I needed to beli
eve that.
I needed to believe a lot of things. That the time would come when I’d be able to walk into my store without remembering Pierce’s screams and the way he had pounded on the door, trying to break it down and kill me.
We reopened on Thursday, once police had gone through what had become a crime scene. It was clean and neat and ready for business. I wasn’t so sure about myself, but I had to open the doors if I hoped to keep the store going.
My first customer wasn’t a customer, and she came in before opening through the back door, having left Mom’s kitchen to pop over. I had spent most of Wednesday night at Emma’s, catching up and generally decompressing. I must’ve repeated the way Mom told Dad off three or four times, and she had laughed her head off every time.
Now, she cheered as she walked in. “You’re back, baby! Better than ever.”
She was trying too hard. I knew how scared she’d been, knowing I was in trouble but not being able to do a thing about it. Who was she trying to fool with her lighthearted act? Me or herself?
I must’ve looked haunted or nervous, because her face fell. “Listen to me.” She took my hands, staring into my eyes. “I know what I’m talking about. How many times has somebody tried to kill me?”
“More than once. I’ve lost count.”
“And I’m still here. It takes a little time for things to feel normal again, but they will. I promise. You’ll walk in here…” She looked around with a grin. “And the first thing you’ll remember isn’t that a maniac chased you down with a gun.”
“Really? I’ll forget?”
“No.” She squeezed my hands to the point of pain. “You’ll remember you survived. You were strong. You told him off. I’m so proud of you.”
“Okay, enough of this.” I laughed through my tears and gave her a big hug. “You’re right. I know you are.”
Becca came in a few minutes later, and the ear-to-ear smile she wore told me how much it meant to get back to work. I still felt terrible about keeping the truth from her, but that was in the past. We’d had a heart-to-heart and agreed on nothing but honesty from then on out.
I was also giving her a big raise, so that might’ve helped. “I’m not paying you off or buying your loyalty. You deserve it.” She had not argued the point.
“I came in yesterday and gathered up all the orders, they’re on their way to the customers now.” She left her backpack under the counter before heading back outside to lift the grate in front of the window. “And I sent out the announcement for the next book club pick last night. We’ll have to put a new display together. We might want to order some more copies, too.”
Emma whistled under her breath when Becca was outside. “You better be careful. She’ll end up running this entire store one day.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” When my sister’s brows shot up, I shrugged. “What? Worse things have happened. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I don’t need to control everything all the time.”
“Be still my heart.” She placed a hand over the body part in question. “Don’t startle a pregnant woman like that.”
“Don’t be such a smarty pants.”
She headed next door to help Mom with the morning rush, leaving me and Becca to work on the display for our next book club read. As the day went on, I found myself feeling better. More natural. This was my store, my creation. Pierce might’ve come in and tried to destroy that, but he hadn’t succeeded.
Come closing time, I found Pete waiting for me outside the store. I was expecting him—he’d already offered to take me home after work. He’d been just as badly shaken up as me when he’d found Pierce pounding on the door, trying to get into the office. He had stayed with me that night, sleeping on the couch after I was finished at the police station.
He was pretty much perfect.
Which was why he deserved the truth.
“You seem better, but still sort of distracted. Was it a good day?” He nudged me as we walked, grinning. “I heard you were busy over there.”
“Who’d you hear that from? Let me guess. Emma told Joe, who told you. It’s like my life is one long game of Telephone.” I laughed, but it wasn’t lighthearted. I was too busy dreading what I knew needed to happen sooner rather than later.
“Something like that. We’ve been pretty busy down at the station, too, working with the PCPD. This case could blow a lot of doors open. I mean, bribing the press? That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Boy, and all I wanted to do was figure out what happened to Jane and keep myself from getting killed.” I tried to sound light, but the word brittle came to mind, instead.
And he heard it. “What’s up? You sound upset.” His deep-set blue eyes were troubled when I met them with my own.
“I’m not upset, but there’s something that’s been on my mind.” I had to get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid all at once. “I love spending time with you. I have a lot of fun when we’re together. I thought we’d get kicked out of Luigi’s for laughing so hard.”
“But…” He sounded disappointed already. It didn’t take a genius to know what was coming.
“But, I can’t move too fast. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Too fast?” He came to a stop at the corner a block down from my apartment. “Darcy, we’ve been on one actual date. I know life keeps getting in the way, but how much slower do you expect me to move? I’m starting to wonder if I should be moving at all.”
“Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t want to promise more than I can deliver, is all. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re too important for that.”
He held up a hand, stopping me. “You can spare me the endearments.”
“Pete, please.”
He was already backing away. “I’ll give you some time. Like I said, it’s been busy around the station, anyway.” A ghost of a smile floated over his lips, but it was gone before it could settle in. “I’ll call you.”
This was not what I wanted. Not at all. Yes, I wanted space and time, but hurting him? That was too much.
Something told me he wouldn’t take it well if I begged him to hear me out. That would only make it worse. I didn’t want to stack anger or resentment on top of what was already going on.
I dragged myself the rest of the way down the block, then up the stairs to my apartment. Poppy was working across the hall—the dreamy, floaty music coming from her place was what she liked to play when she was connected to her muse. Whatever that meant.
I told myself it was for the best, that until I knew how I felt about Ethan, it wasn’t fair to let Pete think I was ready to date him exclusively.
Heck, I didn’t know if I wanted us to be more than good friends. There was never any time to sit back and think this through. Always another emergency, always something to distract me.
Or was that an excuse?
Before I started fixing dinner, I picked up my phone to text Ethan. We still hadn’t spoken much since Sunday night, though he’d reached out to check on me once word of the attack at the store spread around town.
Now, I set my pride aside and reached out. Hey, stranger. In the mood for a walk tonight? I don’t have the dog anymore, so there’s no excuse other than I was hoping to see you. We need to catch up.
I then set the phone aside in favor of cooking up some pasta, figuring he wouldn’t get back to me for a while. He’d be serving up sandwiches right about now, or working on tomorrow’s dry mixes to speed up baking in the morning.
As usual, he insisted on proving me wrong. By the time the noodles were drained and dressed with sauce, there was a new text waiting for me.
Hey. I’ve got to be honest. I’m not sure what’s going on with us or whether I want there to be anything. I put myself out there, and you brushed it off like nothing happened. I figure I finally got the message. I’ll be around, but I need a little time to think things through. Glad you’re well.
It was like plunging down the first hill on a roller coaster. I had
that same feeling of my stomach dropping—but none of the thrill. No, there was no thrill involved at all.
There I was this whole time, acting like having two men interested in me at one time was a problem.
Now, I had no one.
Way to go, Darcy.
I hope you enjoyed View to a Crime!
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