Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1)

by Jannine Gallant

  “Don’t give me that look. I parked in the shade, and I won’t be gone long.” She shut the door then looked up at a muted roar. A mud-splattered, black pickup drove by, and a few moments later, Eli pulled into the lot and parked next to her.

  He got out and walked over to slip an arm around her waist. When he bent to kiss her, Watson barked.

  “The dog is jealous.” He grinned down at her. “Shall we go do this?”

  “Definitely.”

  Leaving Watson, they crossed the pavement to the bank entrance, and Eli held open one of the glass doors. A blast of cool air hit Jaimee in the face, and she shivered. Their footsteps were muffled by the dark green carpet as they approached a youthful cashier who greeted them with a bright smile.

  Her eyes widened. “I love your books, Mr. Croft. How may I help you?”

  Eli smiled back. “Next time I come in, I’ll bring you an autographed copy of my latest release. Right now, though, we need to open a safe deposit box.”

  “Oh, my goodness. A signed book would be wonderful.” She beamed at him. “Uh, I’ll ask the manager to take you back. It’ll be just a moment if you want to have a seat.” She pointed toward a grouping of furniture in the corner of the lobby.

  “Thank you.” With a hand at Jaimee’s back, he guided her toward the couch.

  She sat down beside him. “Do you get recognized everywhere you go, or is Hawthorne unique since your family has lived in the area forever?”

  “There are usually a few nudges and whispers when I’m out in public, but I don’t get mobbed like a movie star or anything. No need for security, thank God.”

  “Probably because most people don’t read. Sad.”

  He picked up her hand and squeezed it. “Isn’t that the truth. You said Luna called?”

  Jaimee nodded and spoke in a low voice. “She believes your Aunt Vanna and Dalton Monroe, the FBI agent, were dating last year.”

  His brows shot up. “Serious?”

  “Yep, so she could have gotten Legrand’s name from him.”

  “I’ll be damned. While Vanna and I aren’t exactly close, I never thought—” He broke off and shrugged. “Just goes to show you really don’t know your relatives all that well. Hopefully whatever’s in the box will reveal her motive.”

  Jaimee gave him a nudge. “That older man with the beard must be the manager. He’s headed this way.”

  “Huh, oh, right.” Eli appeared to shake off his preoccupation and rose to his feet as a suit-clad gentleman approached.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Croft. I’m Gerald Pope.” When the manager reached them, he held out his hand, and Eli shook it. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I helped your grandfather and Mrs. Croft with all their banking needs. Katy tells me you’d like to open a safe deposit box?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You and your friend can come with me.” He gave Jaimee a quick smile before turning back the way he’d come.

  She and Eli waited while the banker unlocked a door into the rear area with a ring of keys, then led them down a short passageway to a metal door that stood open. Inside were three walls of small numbered compartments.

  “What’s your box number?”

  “2280.” Eli pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to the man.

  Pope retrieved the corresponding key, unlocked the little door, and pulled out a long, flat box. “Mrs. Croft added you to the list of people who can access her box shortly before her unfortunate death. I’ll need you to sign this for me.”

  Eli scribbled his signature on a form and took the box. “Thank you.”

  “You can use the room there to your right. The door will lock automatically to give you privacy. Just press the buzzer when you’re finished, and I’ll be back to secure your property.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Jaimee followed Eli into a small room with a table and chairs and shut the door behind them. “After everything that’s happened, I’m almost afraid to look.”

  He set the box down with a thud. “I’m not. Let’s see what’s in this damn thing that cost Maureen her life.”

  They each took a chair, and he swung open the lid. The interior of the box held a packet of envelopes, several black jewel boxes, a lumpy cloth bag, and a spiral-bound notebook.

  “Can I?” Jaimee reached for one of the black cases.

  “Sure.” Eli flashed a smile. “I didn’t think you were the type of woman to get excited over diamonds.”

  “I’m not all about dogs and guns. I appreciate beautiful things.” She raised the lid, and her lips rounded into an O. “Wow. Gorgeous.” She held up a sapphire and diamond necklace. At least she assumed they were the real deal.

  Eli frowned. “There used to be a portrait of my grandmother—my blood grandmother, not Maureen—wearing that necklace somewhere in the house. Very pretty.”

  Jaimee let out a little sigh as she laid it back in its velvet-lined case. “Pretty? You can’t think of a better word than that?” She opened the lid of a small square box. “How very lovely.”

  Eli glanced up from the document he’d pulled from one of the envelopes. “I remember Maureen wearing those earrings on special occasions. Rubies were her birthstone. She would have been eighty-two in July.”

  Jaimee shut the lid with a snap as her mood shifted. She was here to uncover a killer’s identity, not admire gems. “What did you find?”

  “The deeds to their houses, along with car registrations. Grandpa and Maureen’s marriage license. Bank info, and various documents pertaining to Croft Enterprises. Not what we’re looking for, I don’t think.” He set down the envelopes and picked up the cloth bag. After untying the string holding it closed, he tilted out several coins.

  “Are those rare?”

  “Probably. I remember Grandpa collecting coins back when I was a kid.” He returned the silver dollars to the bag and tied it. “I guess what we’re after is in here.” His hands weren’t completely steady as he took out the notebook and flipped through it. “Are you kidding me? That old bastard!”

  “What?” Jaimee scooted her chair closer.

  “We each have a page with our transgressions listed. I remember Grandpa telling the whole clan more than once that he was keeping his eye on us. One remarkable Christmas when he’d had a little too much scotch, he said he was willing to cut off a branch or two to save the tree. I’m pretty sure that was right before Webb went into rehab the first time. Katherine burst into tears, and I decided to avoid family holidays after that.”

  “He had something on everyone?” Jaimee asked softly.

  “Looks like it. Shit. I don’t want to read this private stuff. It isn’t any of my business.”

  “Except someone was willing to kill to keep his or her past a secret.”

  Eli closed his eyes, planted his elbows on the table, and rubbed his temples. “I know.”

  “I can leave if you want. It’s your family.”

  “Except one of these people nearly got you killed. We’ll read the damn thing together. Not everyone can have done something horrible. In fact . . .” He straightened and turned the pages. “Let’s see what grandpa had on me.”

  Jaimee tried not to look, but when he let out a snort of laughter, she gave up and openly gaped at the page. “Your worst crime is you smoked pot when you were in college?”

  “Only a few times since it gave me a headache. It’s difficult to read, but I think the second entry says that I’m wasting my life, believing I can make a living as a novelist. He predicts I’ll end up broke. Grandpa crossed that off in a different colored ink.”

  Jaimee raised a hand to give him a high-five. “Way to prove your grandfather wrong.”

  “I know. Right?” His grin slowly faded as he flipped to the next page. “Aunt Katherine had an abortion back when she was in high school, long before she married Stephen. Why is that anyone’s business but hers?”

  “It isn’t. I imagine being young and pregnant was terrifying for her, and it sucks she we
nt through that. It seems petty of your grandfather to even include it.”

  “He had a nasty streak.” Eli’s tone held more than a hint of regret. “Let’s see if Vanna’s transgressions are any worse. She’s the one with the connection to the hitman.” He turned over a couple of pages. “Here we go.”

  “Married an idiot. Divorced.” Jaimee tried to make out the crabbed handwriting. “Married another idiot. Divorced again. String of lovers. My daughter has the morals of an ally cat.”

  “That’s quite a list of names. Grandpa must have hired a private detective to get all this info.”

  “Dalton Monroe.” Jaimee tapped the entry near the bottom. “Looks like she was definitely dating Legrand’s old pal.”

  “Big deal if she sleeps around. That’s certainly not something to kill over.” Eli frowned. “Knowing Aunt Vanna, she probably wouldn’t give a crap if Maureen told the whole world about her lovers.”

  “Maybe one of them is a criminal or married or something.”

  “With her hacking skills, I’m sure Luna could find out in short order. Let’s keep going.” He was quiet as he turned pages. “Steven has some serious gambling debts, but I already knew that. No wonder he was so pissed about getting cut out of the will.”

  “How about your cousins?”

  “What do you know. He wrote that Reba has integrity and common sense. Good for her.”

  “I need to meet your cousin. She sounds great,” Jaimee said.

  “She is. Webb, not so much. Everyone knew about his DUIs, but it looks like there was a hit and run three years ago. The victim survived but ended up in intensive care. Grandpa pasted a newspaper article in Webb’s section. The driver of the car that hit the woman was never identified.”

  “Your grandfather thought Webb was responsible?”

  “I would assume so. He was obviously holding it over his head. That seems like a motive to me if Maureen threatened to give the police this information.”

  “So, not your Aunt Vanna. Your cousin is the one who hired the contract killer?”

  Eli scowled at the page in front of him. “Who knows. There isn’t any proof he was guilty of the hit and run, but I imagine the police would look into it. If he was convicted, he’d certainly do time.”

  “What about Doyle?”

  Eli’s hand hovered over the notebook. “This is strange. There’s just a list of women’s names along with dates and places.”

  “How many names?”

  “Seven. I’m pretty sure Doyle has dated a lot more women than that. To my knowledge, he never lived in any of these cities, but he used to travel a lot when he was playing ball.”

  “Why would your grandfather care who he dated. He strikes me as a chauvinist who would have a double standard when it comes to men and women sleeping around.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Eli closed the notebook. “I’d hoped for definitive answers, but I don’t feel like we got any.”

  Jaimee pushed back her chair. “Maybe it’s time to dump all this on O’Leary’s desk. Let him sort it out.”

  “I hate to share Katherine’s youthful troubles, and he already has the financial information on Stephen. Instead of dragging everyone through the mud, maybe we could ask Luna to check out those names first.”

  “Let’s do that. Let’s have Luna look into the names on Vanna’s list and on Doyle’s. We can also find out more about the hit and run. After we’ve done our due diligence, we can go to the police.”

  Gratitude filled his eyes as he met her gaze. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Of course. No matter what they’ve done, they’re still your family.”

  “I’ll turn on whoever hired Legrand in a heartbeat. The others don’t deserve to be involved. As far as I’m concerned, their secrets can stay buried.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jaimee let Watson out of her 4Runner, and the dog danced around in circles like a lunatic before finally pausing to pee on a patch of dandelions.

  Eli dropped the notebook on the passenger seat of his car and turned to smile at her. “You’d think he’d been imprisoned for hours.”

  “Watson’s a bit of a drama king.” She leaned against the open door. “Do you need to write this afternoon?”

  “I should, but I doubt I’ll be able to focus. Why don’t you follow me home, and we’ll contact Luna with these names?”

  “Okay. I do need to stop by my cabin first to change. The dogs weren’t cooperating earlier, and I stepped in mud. Hopefully I didn’t track it into the bank.”

  “I didn’t notice you leaving a trail.” He tugged her away from the door and up against his chest. Slowly he lowered his head to kiss her. “After we call Luna, can we talk about our schedules? I’d like you to come with me on that book tour.”

  She leaned into him. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but—”

  “No buts.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Think about what we both can do to make this relationship work while you’re changing.”

  “I’ll do that. It’s what I want, too, Eli.”

  He kissed her again. “See you shortly.”

  He pulled out of the lot while she was urging Watson back into the car. Once the dog was loaded, she slid onto the seat and started the engine. During the drive to her cabin, the tender look in Eli’s eyes played through her mind. Spending time with him was a top priority, and she might have to rearrange a few facets of her life to make that happen. But she still needed to pay her bills.

  Maybe it was time to rethink staying in New Hampshire and her career—if she could call it that—as a dog walker. The mindless and enjoyable task had served its purpose when she’d needed to recover and de-stress after Coffee’s death. Now, she was ready to move on.

  Jaimee turned up her road and waved to Alex when she passed her neighbor going in the opposite direction. A minute later she parked in front of her cabin and let Watson out. The dog strolled around the yard sniffing. Leaving him to his own devices, she pulled out her keys to unlock the door and stopped when the knob turned in her hand. Had Eli neglected to lock it when he’d left earlier? It wasn’t like him to be careless.

  The fine hair on the back of her neck rose as she pushed the door open and scanned the main room. Nothing was disturbed. She strained to hear the creak of a floorboard or the exhalation of a breath and wished to hell her sidearm wasn’t still at the sheriff’s office. When no hint of movement offered any indication of an intruder, she crossed the living area, took a quick peek into the bathroom, and then gave her bedroom door a hard shove. It smacked into the wall with a thump, but the sudden sound didn’t scare anyone out of hiding.

  “I guess I’m still jumpy,” she muttered as she entered the room. After pulling off her muddy shoes, she changed into shorts and slid her feet into a pair of checkered Vans. Heading toward the bathroom, she paused when Watson barked a couple of times, but the dog quieted.

  Probably a squirrel. Or maybe a leaf blowing across the yard.

  She unbraided her hair and brushed it, then decided to leave it loose for a change. The eyes looking back at her in the mirror were bright, and her skin seemed to glow. That’s what being in love did for you, apparently. She splashed a little water on her face, and when she looked up to reach for a towel, a flash of movement caught her eye. Before she could swing around, pain exploded between her shoulder blades, and she went down hard, cracking her head on the sink. An arm came around her throat, while the person holding her pressed down on the back of her neck. Watson’s barking was the last thing that penetrated her consciousness as everything faded around her . . .

  * * * *

  Eli checked his watch and frowned. He’d been home for forty-five minutes. How long did it take Jaimee to change her clothes, for Christ’s sake? Dropping onto a stool at the island, he pulled out his phone and called her. After a few rings, her voicemail picked up. He waited impatiently through the brief message.

  “Hey, what’s the hold up? Call me if you aren’t alre
ady on your way over here.”

  He drummed his fingers on the granite countertop before finally dropping the phone and crossing the kitchen to poke in the refrigerator. Realizing he’d lost his appetite, he shut the door. There was no reason to worry about Jaimee . . . except he couldn’t stop the uneasiness rolling around in his stomach. After spending fifteen minutes staring blankly out the window over the sink, he gave up and called her again, only to get her recorded message once more.

  “I don’t know why you aren’t answering, but you’re freaking me out. I’m coming over there.” He pushed his phone into his pocket and grabbed his keys before hurrying out of the house. The drive to her cabin seemed to take forever despite going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. Turning onto her gravel road, he fishtailed but didn’t slow down until he reached her driveway. Her 4Runner was parked in its usual spot.

  After getting out of his car, he slammed the door. “Jaimee!” The surrounding forest seemed to swallow his voice. His pulse pounded loudly in his ears with each step as his fear grew. When he reached the door, it swung inward at his touch, and a chill shivered through him. “Jaimee?”

  He rushed across the living room to her bedroom and glanced inside. The dirty shoes she’d been wearing sat side-by-side on the floor, along with a pair of athletic pants. Leaving the bedroom, he checked the bath. Nothing in the room seemed out of place except . . . Frowning, he touched a reddish streak on the edge of the tile surrounding the sink and sniffed his finger. The brassy smell was unmistakable.

  “Oh, damn.”

  Had Jaimee cut herself? Surely, she would have called him if she was seriously injured, and there wasn’t much blood.

  When a soft whine sounded behind him, he spun around. Not Jaimee. Watson. Eli squatted and stroked the dog’s head.

  “Hey, boy. You’re quivering. What happened to Jaimee, huh?”

  Fear that she hadn’t left of her own volition gnawed on his already shredded nerves. Legrand was dead, and there was no reason for any of his relatives to feel she was still a threat, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she was in danger. When a muffled ring sounded, he rose to his feet and ran back to her bedroom. On the third ring, he grabbed her pants off the floor, pulled her phone from the pocket, and swiped to answer.