When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions)

by Lynette Eason

  Alexia studied the notes and wondered how much time Serena had taken to do that. Time she should have spent getting ready to leave the country. First Hunter, now Serena. Both had said, “You’re worth the time and trouble.”

  Her heart warmed and she read the verse aloud. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

  Shutting the Bible, she placed it back on the nightstand. And started to believe that maybe Hunter and Serena knew something she didn’t.

  Senator Hoffman yanked on his tie and let it fall to the bedroom floor. Another late night of campaigning, smiling, pretending all was right with his world.

  November would be here before he blinked and the people would make their way to the polls. He intended to be the majority’s choice. Right now, polls showed he had the lead.

  His phone rang and he snatched it before Elizabeth woke up. “Hello?”

  “We still have a problem.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. How hard is it to grab a woman?”

  “Harder than you may think. She’s become real buddy-buddy with Hunter Graham. All of the attempts to grab her have made her extra cautious. She’s almost never alone. And when she is, she’s barricaded in a house with an alarm system better than yours.” A pause. “Any more notes?”

  “No. And it’s making my blood pressure go crazy wondering when the next one’s going to arrive. I’ve instructed Ian that if I’m not home to get the mail, he’s to make sure he gets it. I told some story about expecting a surprise for Elizabeth and not wanting her to see it.”

  “And he won’t question that?”

  “Ian?” The senator barked a laugh. “No. He’s as faithful as a lapdog. I gave him a job when no one else would after his stint in prison. Trust me, he’ll do whatever I need him to do.” He sighed. “All right, maybe we need to turn our focus elsewhere. Lay off Alexia for a while and let her get comfortable. But keep an eye on her.”

  There was a slight pause from the voice. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea . . . but we’ll play it your way for now. I’ll inform my contact.”

  “You do that.”

  25

  Thursday, 8:17 a.m.

  Alexia awoke to Yoda’s nose in her ear. The dog was snoring. After pushing the dog off the bed three times last night, Alexia finally gave in and let her stay.

  Rolling over, she groaned and punched the pillow. Yoda protested the sudden movement and hopped to the floor.

  Her thoughts turned to what she needed to do today. Her mother was the first thing on her mind. Hunter, the second, and Devin and the Wickhams, the third.

  She grabbed her cell phone and checked it. Two messages. One from her mother, who wanted to let her know she’d be speaking with the doctor in a short while but would call again later. A surge of guilt came over her. She really needed to make more time to be with her mother at the hospital. But her mother had Michael and didn’t really need Alexia. Right?

  Still . . .

  The second was from Hunter.

  “I can’t get ahold of the Wickhams. I’ll keep trying and let you know what’s up. In the meantime, I’m going to be talking to Marcie Freeman. Talk to you soon.”

  She frowned. Why couldn’t Hunter get in touch with the Wickhams? That didn’t make sense. Their son was dead. An idea formed. It was probably a really bad idea, but once it was there, Alexia couldn’t shove it away. The little voice in her head screamed she was crazy. The stubborn part of her said she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to live her life in fear. Alexia punched Hunter’s number in and let it ring.

  Straight to voice mail. She left a message. “Hi, Hunter, I got your message. I’m going to go over to the Wickhams’ and see if they’re home. Maybe they took the phone off the hook or something. It’s better than sitting around here all day staring at the walls.”

  Within fifteen minutes, she was ready.

  Ten minutes after that, she pulled into the Wickhams’ driveway. The house looked exactly like she remembered, just a little more worn, like upkeep wasn’t a priority. The garage door was open and an older model Buick made itself at home inside.

  Frowning, Alexia put the car in park and stepped out of the vehicle. Nothing odd about the Wickhams’ car being parked in the garage, but if they were home, why weren’t they answering the phone?

  She walked up to the front door and rang the bell. No sign of life inside. Alexia pressed it again, then tried to see in the side window, but the small white curtain blocked her view. She stepped off the porch and walked around to the garage.

  Maybe they’d taken a second car. But where would they go? And why would they leave the garage door open?

  She made her way inside the garage to the kitchen door.

  Their son was dead, but no funeral arrangements had been made yet. The investigating detective wanted to speak with them, and they’d rushed home to do that. Something just didn’t feel right.

  Alexia rapped her knuckles on the door.

  It swung inward.

  That little voice inside her cranked up the volume. Get out. Leave. Wait for Hunter.

  But she couldn’t.

  Her heartbeat doubled and the adrenaline kicked in. Just like it did when she was about to enter a burning building and walk right into danger.

  Her gut said she was being stupid as she stepped inside. Just like it did when she found Devin.

  “A smart girl would run, Alexia,” she whispered to herself.

  You’ve been running all your life. When are you going to stop?

  Not today.

  She spun to leave and slammed right into a hard chest. Hands gripped her upper arms and her scream turned into a smothered gasp.

  Hunter tried the Wickhams’ one more time. He looked at Katie. “Busy.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah. After we talk to Marcie, let’s head over there and see what we can find. The Wickhams probably took the phone off the hook once the press got wind that they were home.” Changing the subject, he asked, “What did you get on the phone call to Alexia? The one who threatened her?”

  Katie looked at her notes. “I pulled her records. And there was a call to her cell phone just like she said.”

  “Let me guess. It’s from a prepaid cell?”

  “Yep.”

  “So, another dead end.” With a sigh, he pulled into the parking lot of First Bank of Columbia, Marcie Freeman’s place of work, and climbed out of the car. Katie followed him up the walk.

  Before they went in, she laid a hand on his arm. “You know she could have made that call herself. Bought the prepaid cell and simply called her number. Ran through the conversation to make it look like she was on the phone with someone for a while and then called you.”

  Hunter stared down at his partner.

  “You are really determined to lay all this at her feet, aren’t you?”

  She snorted and removed her hand. “No, Hunter. I’m trying to wrap my mind around every possible scenario so I don’t get sucked in by a pretty face and wide, innocent eyes.”

  Biting his tongue against what he really wanted to say, he growled, “And that’s what you think I’m doing?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “And in the four years that we’ve been partners, has that ever been an issue.”

  She blinked and her shoulders drooped a bit. “No. You’re right. It never has.”

  Slightly mollified, he shot her an irritated look and pulled the door to the bank open.

  The blast of cool air-conditioning felt good after being out in the blazing heat. Summer in the south. You’d think he’d be used to it by now.

  As he and Katie walked into the bank, several tellers worked their stations. He zeroed in on the one who matched the picture on the driver’s license he’d pulled that morning. Five feet six, one hundred forty pounds, green eyes, blond hair. And a pretty smile with white teeth that made her stand out.

  Ap
proaching the woman, he waited until she finished with her customer, then flashed his badge. Her eyes widened. “Can I help you?”

  “Is there someplace we can talk?”

  “Um. The break room?”

  “Sure.”

  Marcie moved her “next window” sign in front of him and said, “It’s behind you to the right. Down the hall. Second door on the left. I just need to tell my manager that I’m stepping away from my window.”

  Hunter nodded and motioned for Katie to precede him.

  A minute later, they all took a seat around the conference table. “What’s this all about?”

  “Devin Wickham,” Katie said.

  The color left Marcie’s face. “Oh. What about him?”

  Hunter frowned. “You did hear what happened to him, didn’t you?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.” Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. “I did.”

  “I’m really sorry we have to ask, but do you know who would want to kill him?”

  Her eyes rose to meet his. “No.”

  “Were you dating him?”

  “Yes.” She flushed. “I think he was going to ask me to marry him. I think.” Marcie crossed her arms in front of her and shifted her eyes to the door. Then to the table.

  Hunter exchanged a look with Katie.

  Katie leaned forward, her gaze intense. “What is it you want to tell us, Ms. Freeman, but are unsure about saying?”

  The woman fidgeted, froze, and looked up. “Nothing. Why would you ask that?”

  “Your body language.”

  Hunter tapped his chin and studied the woman. “Were you afraid of him? Of Devin?”

  Now she met his gaze. “No, not him.”

  “Then who?”

  “Whoever else he was seeing. I don’t want to believe it, but . . . I’m not sure what to think, to be honest.”

  Katie threw up her hands. “Okay, now I’m thoroughly confused. Do you mind explaining?”

  Marcie drew in a deep breath. “Hold on a minute. I’ll be right back.” Hunter rose and she looked at him. “I promise. I need to get something from my purse to show you. I’ll only be a minute.”

  He nodded and Marcie slipped from the room and returned with a piece of paper. She handed it to Hunter, who read it out loud. “‘Stay away from him. He’s mine.’”

  “Any idea who wrote this?”

  She shook her head, her face finally crumbling as her stoic posture gave way to grief. “No. I really wish I did, but I can’t for the life of me figure out who could have written it. Devin never ever gave me the impression there was someone else.”

  Katie sighed and took the note by the corner. “We’re probably not going to be able to get anything off of this, but we’ll send it to the lab to try. When did you get this?”

  “It was in my mailbox about three weeks ago. Someone came by my house and put it there.” She shrugged. “I almost threw it away, but I kept it thinking I would ask Devin about it.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  She shook her head. “No. I just . . . I don’t know why I didn’t.” Marcie sniffed. “Maybe I was afraid of what he’d tell me.”

  Hunter leaned forward. “Could you make a list of Devin’s friends for us? Anyone you know for sure he had contact with?”

  “Sure, but I know I won’t cover them all. I didn’t know a lot of his co-workers before he was laid off, and then he was doing odd jobs for people around their houses and stuff. He was very handy that way. But I’ll give you what I can.”

  “That’d be great.” Hunter handed her a card. “Just email it to me as soon as you can.”

  “Chad!” Alexia gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Clear blue eyes, very much like Hunter’s, stared down at her. “I thought I’d come check out the Wickhams. Christine said Hunter was going to question them. I thought I’d see what they had to say too.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Probably.”

  She stared at him. He looked like a different person. Sober and well put together. Professional. It was a new look for him, and she was glad he seemed to be making the effort to help himself.

  A suspicion nipped at her. “What do you do, Chad?”

  He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “What’s your occupation?” That suspicion grew . . .

  “I’m a cop. A detective, to be precise.” He flashed her a grin.

  She wasn’t even surprised. She’d already taken note of his professionalism when he’d rescued her from the speeding van. For some reason, she’d had a feeling he was a cop. “Of course.”

  He lifted a brow at her. “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing. But I don’t think you should be here. This is Hunter’s case.”

  The grin morphed into a sneer. “Yeah, well, I have some questions of my own that I want answered, and I don’t want to wait on Hunter to ask them.”

  She’d let the brothers hash this out. “The kitchen door was open.”

  He blinked. “What do you mean, ‘open’?”

  “When I got here. I spotted the car in the garage and figured someone was home. Nobody answered the front door, so I decided to try this one. When I knocked, the door cracked open.”

  His hand went to his gun, his eyes to the stairs behind her.

  Alexia swallowed. “I got this really creepy feeling I shouldn’t go in.”

  “Well, let’s find out. You stay out here and let me check it out.”

  Alexia nodded.

  Chad eased the door open a fraction more and stepped inside. “Mr. Wickham?” he called. “Mrs. Wickham? This is Detective Chad Graham with the Columbia Police Department. Your back door is open. Is everything all right?”

  No answer.

  Alexia bit her lip. Were they being paranoid?

  Maybe.

  A flashback to the masked intruder at her mother’s house made her shiver.

  Better paranoid than dead.

  She stepped over the threshold, keeping her eyes on Chad’s back.

  As he crossed the kitchen and entered the den to the left, he came to an abrupt halt. Then bolted forward. “Call 9-1-1, Alexia! We need an ambulance.”

  Alexia grabbed her phone and punched in the numbers even as she ran into the den to see what was wrong.

  As the operator came on the line, she saw Chad drop to his knees next to a body.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  She caught sight of gray hair. “Oh no,” she whispered.

  Chad moved to the next person laid out on the floor in front of the couch. “She’s still alive.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Alexia rattled off the address. “Someone tried to kill them,” she whispered.

  The operator’s voice sharpened. “Kill who, ma’am?”

  “They need help. Please send help.”

  “Help’s on the way. Just stay on the phone with me.”

  Alexia set the phone down and rushed forward to help.

  Devin’s parents.

  Sorrow welled up and she swallowed hard. Then went into first responder mode. Just like she’d done when she’d found Devin bleeding to death on her mother’s basement floor.

  Moving quickly, she noticed the blood from a wound in Mrs. Wickham’s chest.

  Alexia rushed into the half bath she’d seen off the hall from the foyer. She grabbed a towel, ran back to Mrs. Wickham’s side, and pressed it against the wound.

  The woman’s grayish color didn’t bode well. “Come on, hang in there.” Alexia hadn’t been able to save Devin, but maybe she could save his mother. She looked for other wounds, but didn’t see anything.

  Chad said, “I need to look around. Whoever did this may still be here.”

  Her head snapped up. “You need to wait for backup.”

  “I need to get the guy that did this and I can’t have you sitting here as a target. Now get up and come with me. I need to make sure you’re not a sitting duck if the killer is still here.”

  Si
rens reached her ears. “Some of this blood has dried—it looks like she’s been bleeding awhile.” She kept pressure on the wound. “I’m not going anywhere. If she loses any more blood, she’ll die for sure.”

  He looked torn.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and he pivoted, gun pointed straight at Hunter’s chest.

  Hunter froze. “Chad?” He looked beyond his brother. “Alexia?”

  Katie strode up behind Hunter. “What’s going on here?”

  “The guy may still be here,” Chad snapped as he pointed his weapon at the floor. “Ambulance is on the way for Mrs. Wickham. The husband didn’t make it. I’m going to check out the back.”

  Hunter and Katie immediately drew their weapons.

  “I’ll go with you,” Katie said to Chad.

  With that, they disappeared, weapons ready. Hunter strode toward Alexia. “How’s she doing?”

  “Not good.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She glanced up at him. “I woke up and got your message this morning. Thought I’d come pay my respects. Tell them how sorry I was that I couldn’t—” She stopped and looked away.

  He thought he caught a sheen of tears in her eyes, but when she glanced back up, they were gone.

  Katie reentered the room. “All clear in the house, I told the paramedics to come on in.”

  Paramedics made their way inside. Hunter slid his weapon back into his holster and watched as they took over the work on Mrs. Wickham.

  Alexia held her hands out in front of her and stared at them. Once again, she had someone else’s blood on her hands. Hunter placed a hand under her arm and gently propelled her out of the house where he helped her wash them off in the back of the ambulance.

  As he dried her hands, she looked at him, eyes red, yet dry. But the emotion in them nearly tore him in two. “What’s happening, Hunter?” she whispered.

  After a moment of hesitation, he pulled her to him and she rested her head on his chest. “I don’t know, Alexia, but you sure seem to be caught in the middle of it.”

  She let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t ask for this.”