She closed her eyes and repeated the verse over and over.
* * *
The next morning, with Julianne safely tucked inside his house and the alarm set, Bradley donned his running shorts and sneakers. He paused by his front door. “I’m going out for a run. Are you okay with that?”
Julianne looked up from the couch where she’d been doing Sudoku puzzles for the past hour. “Of course.”
“Keep the alarm on and the doors locked until I get back. No exceptions.”
“No problem.” She stood and stretched, her trim, athletic form nicely filling out the jeans and sweater she wore. She walked over to the door—toward him—and waited until he stepped out. He paused outside until he heard the locks click in place and the beep of the alarm. Good girl.
He’d be gone only a little while, and he’d be close enough to help her if she needed it.
When he got stressed, nothing seemed to help him sort out his thoughts like a good run. The wind whipped around him, downright cold as it grazed over the waters of the Atlantic. He didn’t care. The briskness would only push him to run faster and farther.
He’d had another sleepless night. There was too much on his mind, and none of those things were the project he was supposed to be working on. No, instead his thoughts were on Julianne and her scar...and their kiss. Things that he had no business thinking about.
Too many thoughts were crashing together in his head, including his sudden, overwhelming feelings for Julianne. He hadn’t been attracted to someone like this since he’d been engaged. But, even if circumstances were different, was he ready for a relationship? He didn’t know the answer to that question. His mind told him no, but his heart told him yes.
And the questions didn’t stop there. Why would a member of the Mexican drug cartel go after Julianne? Was that really what this was all about? Or did it all come back to Darrell? Could he actually be alive...or was someone else simply trying to make it look like he was? Who would do that?
He ran along the shore, close enough to the water for the sand to be packed at his feet but far enough away that he didn’t get sprayed by the ocean’s massive waves. The salt air always relaxed him. Each pace helped him to sort out life and burned away some of his anxiety.
Movement in the distance caught his eye and caused him to slow. Was that a person up on the sand dunes lining the beach? A vacationer maybe? A beach resident doing some bird watching? His gut told him that neither of those guesses was correct.
A gun rested in the holster beneath his sweatshirt. He almost hadn’t brought it, but he had at the last minute, especially as he remembered the events from the previous evening. Better safe than sorry. Looked as if that precaution may work in his favor.
His gaze scanned the shore again. Nothing. Where had the figure gone? Bradley was sure he’d seen someone hiding behind the tall grasses of the dunes. He slowed his pace.
Mexican drug cartel? Darrell? Someone imitating Darrell? He wasn’t sure which was worse. Of course, he’d prefer none of the above. He’d prefer to go back to his life as it was four days ago.
But then he would have never run into Julianne.
Out of the worst circumstances also came the most beautiful things. Wasn’t that the way life often worked? But he couldn’t fool himself. Even though he was attracted to Julianne, a relationship between them would never work. He still mourned the loss of Vanessa. Besides, he was married to his job, and Julianne seemed anything but interested in a relationship. In fact, she’d even said she desired to remain single.
He could respect that. In fact, if he kept her wishes in mind, it would make their time together more comfortable. He’d just have to forget about the attraction that flickered between them. Separating his actions from his emotions was something he prided himself in.
He ran a few more steps before turning around, ready to head back to his house. Something popped in the distance. Bradley recognized the sound.
Gunfire.
He sprinted toward the dunes, desperate for cover. Out by the breaking waves, he was an easy target with nowhere to hide.
Another pop sounded and something whizzed past his shoulder. He grabbed his gun from beneath his sweatshirt and rolled on the ground out of the line of fire. He scanned the area around him, looking for cover.
A walkover would provide just the shelter he needed. He pulled himself to his feet, ready to dart toward the structure. Twenty feet. He could make it that far. A line of bullets hit the sand at his feet as he ran. He had to get there in time. Had to.
Another bullet buzzed past, grazing his arm. This guy wasn’t playing games. Someone was out for blood.
Bradley reached the walkover and hunkered down behind it, his gun drawn. Pain trickled from his arm, but he ignored it. He waited. What would the shooter do next? Get closer? Continue shooting until he either ran out of ammunition, or hit his target?
A head full of dark hair breached the sand dune. The shooter? Could it be him? The man was too far away, and he’d ducked back down before Bradley could get a good look at him.
He grasped his gun, too familiar with how to use it. Bradley didn’t want to fire. There were too many uncertainties. At any moment, someone could stroll down the beach with their dog or with a Frisbee.
He didn’t want to fire, but he did want to catch the perpetrator so he could finally put an end to this reign of terror. Staying behind the walkover, he crouched down and made his way toward the street. An older woman with a poodle started his way. “Get back inside,” he hissed. The woman’s eyes widened and she scrambled back toward her beach house.
Another bullet dug into the sand only feet away. Whoever this guy was, he was brazen. He didn’t care who got in the way. Nothing was going to stop him from accomplishing whatever it was he wanted to accomplish. Was that to scare Julianne? To kill anyone who got close to her? Then why had Diane disappeared? Was she connected to this? He’d have to ponder that later. Right now, he had to stay alive.
What had that caller said on the hotline yesterday when Julianne answered? That Bradley was next? What kind of threat was he in connection to Julianne?
He finally made it to the street. His gaze scanned the road, but beach houses blocked any views of the shooter. He crept forward, sheltered by the houses, but still rigid and on guard as he waited for the sound of the next pop.
No bullets. But at any time now another one could rip through the air. Was the gunman watching him now? Did he have Bradley in his crosshairs?
He slunk behind a car for a moment to take in his surroundings. Where had the man gone? He didn’t see a sign of anyone suspicious, but that didn’t mean anything.
Suddenly the sound of a motorcycle revving its engine filled the air. He raised his head in time to see the same bike from two days ago squealing down the road.
He raised his gun to shoot at a tire when another movement caught his eye. A little girl running out to check the mail, oblivious to the danger around her. Bradley lowered his gun.
The gunman had gotten away. Again.
He brushed the sand from his legs. Heaviness pressed on his chest.
One day, he was going to catch this guy. Just give him time.
* * *
Julianne paced by the door. Where was Bradley? What was taking him so long? Should she go out and look for him? Or were the events of the past week simply wreaking havoc on her emotions and making her paranoid? Or maybe it was the phone call she’d just received....
Sorrow pounded in her heart as she glanced out the window again. This time, she spotted someone walking toward the house. As customary lately, her muscles tensed. Was it Bradley? Or someone else, someone she should be worried about?
Stomping sounded on the stairs. Finally, Bradley’s face came into view. She let out the breath she held.
Until she saw the blood gushing from his biceps.
Her heart quickened. What had happened? Was he okay?
She waited until he was at the door to punch in the numbers for the alarm and let him in. Her eyes quickly assessed him. Perspiration dotted his brow, his sweatshirt was ripped and dirty, and blood stained his sleeve.
“Are you all right?” She started to reach for him but stopped herself. She had no right to touch him. So why did she feel like she did?
“Someone was shooting at me.” He locked the doors and set the alarm again before turning back toward her. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”
“You’re hurt....”
He shrugged, as if this happened to him every day. “The bullet just grazed my skin. Nothing the first-aid kit can’t handle.”
“Let me get it for you.” She hurried down the hallway before he could object. She’d seen the kit in the bathroom earlier when she’d been cleaning. She had to do something to pass the time, so cleaning had seemed like a good option. She grabbed the plastic box from underneath the sink and jogged back to the living room.
Bradley already had his sweatshirt off and his sleeve rolled up. The cut slashed across his biceps, probably two inches long. He was right. It wasn’t deep, but it did need to be cleaned.
Flashbacks from last night flooded her mind. The memory of their kiss made her cheeks flush. That should have never happened.
“You should sit.” She prodded him into a kitchen chair without too much resistance. But as she put antiseptic on his wound, her throat felt dry as she noticed the tautness and definition of his muscles. He definitely worked out, and it showed in his physique. She’d known that before, but now that she was touching his arm and soaking him in without reservation, his potent masculinity hit her twofold.
She cleared her throat, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Which was easier said than done because it required her to look at that incredibly muscular biceps.... If he noticed her flustered state, he didn’t give any hints of it. Using a piece of gauze, she patted the cut dry and placed a bandage over it. “All better.”
He rolled his sleeve down and stood, obviously unaffected by her nearness. He’d put yesterday behind them, and that was a good thing, no matter how much her heart tried to tell her otherwise.
Bradley took a step away. “Thanks. I need to call the detective and tell him what happened.”
She cleared her throat again. “Actually, he called while you were out.”
Bradley turned toward her, his eyes widening with curiosity. “And?”
Julianne shifted, unsure how to break the news. There was no easy way to say it. “Bradley, they found Diane.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
Julianne shook her head, sorrow pulling down her lips into a frown. “She’s dead, Bradley. I’m so sorry.”
He closed his eyes and hung his head as regret washed over him. “I can’t believe it.” He sat down.
Julianne sat beside him and laid a hand on his arm. “It gets worse. At the crime scene, there was an energy drink container and seafood-flavored potato chips wrapper.”
NINE
Julianne watched as Bradley raised his head. His strained gaze met hers. “Tell me what Detective Spencer said.”
Julianne felt the tension flare between them. Was Bradley blaming her for his secretary’s death? She put the thought aside. She’d never even met the woman. Still, guilt trickled into her conscience. “A jogger found her body in the woods this morning at that park off of Dam Neck Rd. She’d been shot.”
Bradley’s eyes flashed with something Julianne couldn’t read. “Off of Dam Neck?”
“That’s right.”
He stood, the tension in the room growing thicker as pain flitted across his face. His muscles looked pinched and a knot formed between his eyebrows as his eyes squeezed shut.
She wanted to reach out and offer a soft touch of support. But she kept her distance instead. “What’s wrong, Bradley?”
“That park was...it was Vanessa’s favorite place. She used to go run there every morning.”
The moisture left Julianne’s throat again as facts collided in her head. Her heartbeat felt heavy in her chest. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
He opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on her. “Did the detective say anything else?”
“He said that Diane was wearing a necklace that didn’t belong to her.” Julianne’s face lost all of its color as realization started to spread through her. The park where his fiancée used to run. A necklace with a...
Her hand covered her mouth, covered the O of horror. She shook her head. The thought seemed incomprehensible. It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. She couldn’t tell Bradley the rest. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes. But she had no choice. Bradley watched her, waiting for the rest of the information. He deserved to hear the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.
“Julianne?” His hands went to his hips, the ever-present tension still there. Julienne could see where someone could be intimidated by his massive figure towering over them, but, surprisingly, Julianne felt no fear or anxiety over Bradley, only over what she had to tell him.
“I’m sorry, Bradley,” she whispered, her voice breaking with every other syllable.
“Sorry for what? What aren’t you telling me?”
She swallowed before sucking in a deep breath and daring to meet his eyes. “The necklace was a gold chain with a charm on it. A V charm.” V as in Vanessa?
Bradley ran a hand over his eyes. His face lost all tautness and his shoulders sagged. “A V charm?”
“That’s what the detective said. He asked me if I’d ever seen it before. I’m so sorry, Bradley.” She took a step toward him and placed a hand on his arm. She’d vowed to stay away, but all she wanted was to be close.
His eyes closed again, grief evident. “I gave her that necklace. The police never found it after she was murdered. I just figured it had fallen off or gotten lost somehow.”
“It looks like the same person who killed your fiancée killed Diane also. I’m so sorry, Bradley. So incredibly sorry.”
* * *
Bradley’s head felt as if it was spinning as he tried to connect all of the pieces. The sorrow on Julianne’s face as she stood next to him, her hand on his arm, was nearly enough to do him in. The unbelievable facts surrounding the murder wouldn’t quite settle in his mind, though.
He sat back down at the table and Julianne lowered herself across from him, her brows furrowed with worry. She laced her fingers together on the table and waited like a counselor might.
He shook his head, wishing the action would somehow make all of the pieces magically fall into place. “Somehow we’re connected, Julianne.”
“But Darrell’s the only commonality we have.”
Had Darrell killed his fiancée? Was that possible even? Was Julianne luring him into her delusion? He stood, not liking where his thoughts were going. He had to sort everything out, and he couldn’t do that in his dining room with Julianne’s luminescent eyes on him.
He stood. “I need to be alone for a moment. If you’ll excuse me.”
Before she could respond, he went upstairs to his office. The room overlooked the ocean and all of its glory. Right now, that didn’t matter. Thoughts of his fiancée’s murder flooded back to him with the same fury of those waves crashing on the ocean.
Someone had stolen Vanessa’s necklace after they murdered her and waited until they killed Bradley’s secretary to pull out the necklace again. There was no way that what was happening to Julianne and what was happening surrounding him weren’t connected. The coincidence would be too big, too unbelievable.
He thought about the facts for a moment. First, Darrell supposedly dies in a training exercise. Then Vanessa is killed by an intruder. Someone claimin
g to be Darrell pops up again in Julianne’s life. The Mexican drug cartel also shows up. Bradley’s secretary is killed and left with a morbid reminder of his fiancée’s death. All of that happened while he was developing equipment for the Department of Defense, equipment that enemies from other countries would love to get their hands on.
What sense did all of that make?
It didn’t. No matter how he looked it, it didn’t make sense.
He stayed in his office, making calls to the detective and to Diane’s family and to Jack Sergeant. At some point, a tantalizing scent drifted down the hallway and pulled him from his heavy thoughts. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten lunch yet. A glance at the clock told him it was way past lunchtime.
He stood, stretching. He never was very good at being around people when thoughts weighed heavy on his mind. He preferred solitude in moments like this. But something about the idea of being around Julianne right now appealed to him. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone to depend on, to share his life with.
Of course, on the other end of the spectrum was the realization that losing the people you loved seemed unbearable. When Vanessa died, his world had crashed around him, and it had been only his faith that helped him get through that time—his faith and his determination to find whoever took her life.
In addition to searching tirelessly for answers during those first six months, he’d also made a point of breathing down the detectives’ necks to make sure they didn’t drop the ball. He’d found leads, but nothing that had led him to the right suspect. Eventually, he’d tried to let it go. But in the back of his mind, that desire was always there—that desire for justice. Was he being handed another opportunity to find her killer? Would he finally be able to put her death behind him if he did?
He needed to talk to Julianne. He opened the door, and the scent of garlic and onions became stronger. When he stepped into the kitchen, his heartbeat quickened a moment. She stood at the stove, mixing something in a pot. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail. At once, he remembered the feel of her lips on his last night.
Lifeline Page 9
