“Strawberry jelly preserves. We dusted the broken glass on the bottle and the letters for prints but there were none. The only DNA we retrieved was from where you had cut your hand,” she said.
Well, that freaking sucks. He swallowed and rubbed his uninjured palm on his pant leg.
The woman, Williamson, tapped on the written statement he’d given earlier. “On this incident report, you wrote that cards and flowers came anonymously and regularly since February and continued for the past four months. Then you state the card and flowers changed a few weeks ago. Can you clarify?”
Harrison cleared his throat. “I started receiving the anonymous flowers and ‘you’ll be mine’ cards about four months ago around February. I didn’t think anything of it. They were nice and it is a common Valentine’s phrase.”
Can I sound anymore incredibly stupid? He pressed his fingers to his mouth and stared at them.
“Understandable,” Carson said with a nod. “How often did they come?”
“Maybe once a month, so three total of the nice ones?”
Carson wrote in his tablet again.
“You also stated here that you suspect Edward Crane of sending the cards and flowers. I contacted Mr. Crane and he’s agreed to meet with us later this morning, but we wanted to speak with you first. Can you explain why you believe he has anything to do with this?” Williamson asked.
It was all there in writing; did she want him to say it out loud? Clenching his teeth when she remained waiting, he sucked in a breath and recited what he’d wrote.
“Edward Crane and I travel in the same social circles. He’s been asking me out for years. About five weeks ago, I agreed to go out with him. We hit it off at first, and dated exclusively for about three weeks. Then about two weeks ago, I broke it off. That’s when the nice cards changed from ‘you’ll be mine’, to ‘you’ll pay’. I received two of the ‘you’ll pay’ cards one week and then the next.”
Nobody spoke for a full minute.
“Did you keep any of the cards other than this one?” Williamson asked, holding up the note he’d received with the dead flowers.
Was she serious? “No, I didn’t keep them. I threw them away. I only kept that one.” And only because Marty had taken it from him. He pointed to the one she held.
“Did anything about the man in the parking garage remind you of Edward or someone you know?” Williamson asked.
He darted another look at Ryder before glancing back to Williamson. “No. I keep going back over everything, trying to recall a smell or anything. All I remember is he was big, but then so are most of the men I know and date.” He sighed; he had a type.
“What about anyone else? Has someone been persistent? Someone who is always around?”
“Um, Shelby at my work is always asking me out.”
“Shelby who?”
“Clark.”
“Did you go out with Shelby Clark?”
“About a year ago, I went to coffee with him.” He tugged at his bottom lip. “He’s been asking me out ever since.”
“For a year, he’s been asking you out?” Carson asked.
“Yeah, but he’s harmless. I always turn him down, he’s nice about it,” he finished lamely.
Carson nodded and wrote in his book.
“On your statement, you wrote that you suspect Edward Crane of writing the cards and sending the flowers. You broke it off with him. Can you explain why you believe he’s responsible?” Williamson asked.
Because he’s a psycho bastard who gets off on hurting people who aren’t as big as him?
He cleared his throat and glanced at Ryder’s expressionless face. Harrison glanced back over at Williamson. It was clear she was waiting with her eyebrows raised and a pointed look.
He twisted his lips. “He didn’t take the break up well and gave me this.”
Might as well show them, get it all out there and let them see I’m a fool.
Standing, he self-consciously pulled his dress shirt from his pants and slowly turned, showing the room the slight scrape and bruises across his back. There was no way possible to stop his shaking.
“I don’t know if you can still see them very well,” he said quickly.
“I can see them,” Williamson said quietly and moved closer.
“I got them the day I broke it off with him.” His heart thundered, did they want to know the rest? Of how he’d almost said yes? If for no other reason than to get it over with. Marry someone to satisfy the requirement of the will. It wasn’t like anyone was going to love him anyway. Hell, even his own mother hadn’t stuck around. In the end, though, he couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t marry for money. Edward had grown angry and violent, shoving him against the railing of the man’s high rise apartment balcony.
Harrison squeezed his eyes shut. He’d thought he was going to topple over the side, but he hadn’t because Edward had been there pulling him back.
“Watch out, you’ll go over!” Edward gripped his arms hard.
“You pushed me.” He stared, gasping for breath, one hand placed on his throbbing back where something hard on the railing had ripped his shirt and gouged him, cutting into his skin.
“I saved your life.” Edward’s face resembled a thunder cloud. “You should be thanking me!” the guy insisted.
Edward’s hands had come up to make a grab for his face as the guy tried to kiss him. Harrison brought his knee up and hit Edward in the balls as hard as he could and ran. The sound following him out the door was of Edward gagging.
The silence in the room drew his gaze over his shoulder. Williamson stood with a camera in her hands.
“I got them when he shoved me against the railing on his apartment balcony,” he mumbled.
Carson made notes on a note pad.
Ryder? Well, the guy hadn’t said a word. Ryder didn’t ask any questions. He liked that about the guy. Even grouchy bodyguards knew when to be quiet. His stupidity felt embarrassing enough without having sympathetic words or gestures.
“Did you press charges against Crane?” Carson asked with a frown.
“No.”
Thank god, Carson didn’t say anything about how stupid he sounded.
“Turn so I can take a picture of your front, please,” Williamson said.
Harrison turned and stood still while she took pictures of where the pavement had scraped his stomach. The room blurred and he blinked rapidly. Stupid tears, damn it.
She had him pull up his pant leg to expose his scraped knee, and then palms out to photograph the cut on his hand.
“You really should have had the police take these pictures the day they took the incident report.”
What could he say? He’d been feeling bruised and battered at the time and hadn’t wanted any further intrusions? That the whole thing was overwhelming?
“Sorry,” he whispered and lowered his shirt when the camera stopped whirling. Tucking it in, he slipped back on his suit jacket and readjusted his pant leg, then retook his seat. Several moments passed while he collected himself.
“If Edward Crane is your stalker, he may feel scorned. He perceives you were intimate-”
“We were intimate,” he interrupted Carson, heat filling his cheeks. The one and only time had been a disaster. He’d wanted to feel connected to someone. Was that so bad? Of course it was, he chastised himself, look at what happened. He’d regretted more than anything not calling it off, the whole thing had felt cold. The night of fumbling clothes, little preparation, and very big misgivings made him feel sick. Reaching inside of his suit jacket, he pulled the over-the-counter bottle of nausea pills and popped the lid. Pills toppled onto the table and he made a grab for them.
Ryder reached over and scooped up some of the little pink discs and quietly handed them to him. Williamson lifted a bottle of water from a nearby cart against the wall and held it out to him. He chewed the pills and swallowed down the water in the silence.
“Okay,” Carson said quietly after a moment and nodded slowly. “Cr
ane, who you’ve been intimate with, may feel that you’ve scorned him, rejected him.”
“I tried to end it nicely,” he whispered through the knot in his throat.
Ryder suddenly shifted and Harrison’s eyes darted to the big man, but the bodyguard’s hard and unyielding face was angled away.
“Do you want to press charges against Mr. Crane now?”
“Can’t you have the police warn him or question him first? And then if you find he’s responsible for any of this, I’ll press charges?” he asked Carson.
Carson’s gaze was kind. “If that’s what you want.”
“One more thing,” Williamson said. “Can you explain why you ended your relationship with Edward Crane? That might help us rule him in or out as a suspect,” Williamson said.
“My father’s will.”
“What about your father’s will?” Carson frowned, obviously not following.
Crap. Here goes nothing.
“It stipulates that I need to marry by the time I turn twenty-six, in eight months, or I forfeit everything.” He tossed a quick look at Ryder.
“Does Edward Crane know about it?” Williamson asked, drawing his attention back.
“Yes. He’s having a financial crisis.”
“Isn’t Crane a self-made millionaire?” Carson’s brow furrowed and bushy mustache twitched.
“He’s on the verge of bankruptcy. He thought an advantageous marriage with me would work in his favor. I saw it differently.”
He regretted more than anything telling Edward about his father’s will. And now it was common knowledge to anyone who listened to Edward talk about him. His phone had blown up the day after the breakup with Edward. Acquaintances Harrison had known for years began calling, offering sympathy mixed in with some very uncomfortable offers.
The first man he’d slept with since college and he’d picked a gold digger. Was he unconsciously following in his father’s footsteps?
The hum of Ryder’s jeep filled the silence, making the drive almost as quiet as the conference room had been when he’d shown his injuries to the group.
The man barely spoke, but suddenly Harrison couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“Have you seen something like this before?”
After a moment, Ryder responded. “Yes.”
“How often?”
“More than you can imagine,” Ryder said gruffly.
“Did you catch them?” He gazed at Ryder’s profile.
“Not all of them, no.”
Closing his eyes for a second, he turned his face away and stared blindly out the window.
“They said stalkers could be someone I know. It could be Edward.”
“It could be.”
“Do you think it is?” Struggling to make sense of it all, he turned back to Ryder.
“I don’t know, but the cops are good at this stuff. They’ll figure it out.”
He pulled on his lip for a moment. “Maybe Edward will confess. That’s possible, right?”
“You rejected him. If he’s your stalker, it’ll only get worse.”
“If he’s the stalker? You don’t think he is?”
“It is possible. Let’s just see what happens after the police question him,” Ryder returned.
Damn it. There went his hopes that Edward would be arrested and he could end this nightmare.
Ryder
The next day around late afternoon found him roaming the small office break room in search of coffee. Marty set him up with a cup when she heard the noise.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a grateful swallow.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled and headed back to her desk.
He reentered Harrison’s office and found the man just as he’d left him, at his desk, his fingers tapping on the laptop.
Making his way to one of the two comfortable chairs, he sat sipping his coffee.
He fought with his urge to demand Harrison press charges against Edward Crane. Give Crane a warning? What the fuck good would a warning do?
It wasn’t his place, he kept reminding himself. It didn’t take away the facts, though. There was a ninety-nine percent chance that anyone who put their hands on another person in anger would do it again.
Crane deserved to be locked up or at the very least, get a fucking beat down. But that wasn’t his place either, and he needed to damn well remember that. If he didn’t get his sudden overprotective urges under fucking control, Logan was going to fire his ass.
The guy’s not some damsel in distress that needs saving.
Five o’clock came quickly and Harrison wrapped up work on the dot.
“Not working late?” He breathed a sigh of relief they wouldn’t be leaving in the dark.
“No, not tonight,” Harrison said almost absently as if his mind was someplace else entirely.
The ride to the apartment building was quiet and Ryder parked in the same spot as before.
“Wait for…” his words trailed off and he clenched his teeth when Harrison popped out of the jeep and shut the door.
They were seriously going to have another talk about procedures. Rounding the end of the jeep, he found Harrison waiting. Thankful for that at least, they took the elevator down, walked down the short hallway and into the front lobby.
“Hey, Harrison!” a voice called, and Ryder turned swiftly to find Shelby Clark approaching from behind. “I saw you guys drive in.”
“Hey, Shelby,” Harrison stepped into the elevator and smiled at the guy like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t told the cops that Shelby asked him out obsessively. It was no wonder Harrison needed a bodyguard.
The guy actually needs a fucking keeper.
Ryder waited until Shelby followed Harrison into the elevator and then stepped inside. He placed his back to the wall, keeping an eye on Shelby.
“I emailed the Mathewson’s report. Did you get a chance to look it over?” Shelby asked.
“I did. I’ll send the updates tomorrow,” Harrison said with a nod.
“And about that other thing? You haven’t responded all week.”
“I can’t make a decision based on your email. I need evidence of misconduct. His reviews have been good.”
“I know. It’s more of a feeling,” Shelby said.
“I can’t fire someone over a feeling.”
“I get it. I’ll see you later,” Shelby said, sounding impatient, and got off on the fifth floor.
“He lives here?” Ryder asked.
“Yes.” Harrison gazed up at him.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. A year?” Harrison’s brow creased.
The doors closed and the elevator started moving again.
“Don’t you realize that he could be your stalker?”
“Based on what? That he asks me out?”
“Obsessively,” he reminded the guy.
“So? What am I supposed to do? Walk around not talking or interacting with people or my staff because I think they might be my stalker?” Harrison threw up his hand. “Besides, isn’t it supposed to be innocent until proven guilty?” Harrison’s sigh sounded frustrated.
Ryder drew on his patience and swallowed back words about stupidity. No sense in getting the man anymore roiled up than he already was.
The elevator doors dinged and opened and he stepped out first. A few yards from the front door, Ryder stopped when he noticed the piece of white paper stuck to the whitewashed wood.
“Stop.” He reached out and gently drew Harrison back.
“What is it?” Harrison said impatiently, still gearing for a fight.
“Stay still.” Ryder’s grip tightened.
“Oh my god, not another one,” Harrison’s tone changed from argumentative to shocked.
“Stay here.” Ryder stepped to the door and studied the letter dripping with something wet and sticky smearing the big red letters.
You’ll pay.
Tugging his phone out, he called Detective Carson.
“Carson,” the detective answered.
“Carson, it’s Ryder Freeman. The suspect has left a letter taped to Harrison’s apartment front door.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t touch it.”
“We won’t.”
Hanging up the phone, he dialed Logan and held up a hand when Harrison stepped closer.
“Logan, I need outside surveillance put on Harrison’s building.”
“What happened?”
“A threatening letter taped to his front door. In a place that shouldn’t be accessible to strangers. Looks like the perp did his business on it,” he growled.
“Shit, okay. Felix came up from Colorado Springs last night. He’s between jobs. I’ll put him on it. Meet him out front and let him know what’s going on.”
“Thanks.” He hung up and returned to a wide-eyed Harrison. He cupped the man’s elbow and drew him closer.
“Unlock the door, but stay out here.” He kept his voice even and calm.
“You think he got inside?” Harrison’s blue eyes filled his suddenly pale face.
“Probably not. But let me check it out.”
Harrison swallowed and rubbed a hand over his mouth.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
Harrison suddenly clutched at him. Ryder paused and looked down. “I promise I’ll be right back,” he said gruffly and drew his gun.
After a moment, Harrison nodded and released him.
Ryder took one last look at Harrison and gave him a slight twitch of his lips in what he hoped looked like a smile. It must have worked, because the answering smile Harrison gave him stayed with him long after he moved inside.
Stealthily, he combed through the large apartment. Nothing looked disturbed. He did it in less than a minute and was back for Harrison.
“Come on.” He drew the younger man into the apartment and partially closed the door, leaving the note outside attached.
“Is it safe?” Harrison’s voice sounded strained.
“Yes. Do you see anything out of place?”
Harrison stood stock still in the middle of the room and glanced wildly around.
“No.”
“Come check everywhere.” He led the way to the master bedroom. Harrison looked around, checked the bathroom, and then moved back through the living room to the other side of the apartment that held three guest rooms and two additional baths.
Without Warning Page 6
