High-Caliber Holiday

by Susan Sleeman

  “Okay.” She might have agreed, but she honestly didn’t want Brady to leave. She was starting to depend on him and it bothered her. Bothered her even more that she was wondering what it was going to be like after this was over and Brady went back to his life and she resumed her daily routine.

  He smiled tightly. “Why don’t you try to rest until I come back?”

  Rest, right. Like she’d ever rest well in this apartment, this place where she’d established her independence, ever again.

  * * *

  Brady had been studying the photos propped on Morgan’s dining table with no success. He rearranged them, hoping to spark a new insight. Stepping back, he stared at them while trying to ignore the lingering scent of roses. After the forensic tech had finished processing the place, Morgan cleaned up the petals and Brady took out the trash, but the whole place still had a sickly sweet smell. He never wanted to see or smell a rose again, and he suspected Morgan felt the same way.

  She sat at the table rubbing her forehead. At least her nausea seemed to have passed—or she was doing a better job of hiding it. She should rest, but they needed to work on the photos more. Her safety depended on it.

  And it also depended on him not leaving her here alone. “I’m going to bunk on your couch at night until we find this guy.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said, but she actually looked relieved.

  “I think it is and it’s not negotiable,” he said firmly, and pointed at the photos to move on. “Are you up for going through the pictures one more time before we call it a night?”

  She stopped massaging her head and nodded.

  He started with a picture taken of her at work in the resource room. “The stalker had to have been close for this one. The angle would have precluded the use of a telephoto lens. Is there anything in the picture that could help give us a date?”

  She stared at it. Turned it. Tapped it against the table, then suddenly looked up. “My suit. My dad ruined it when he spilled a glass of wine on it. I never wore it after that.” She looked through her calendar program on her phone, then pointed at the screen. “Here. The dinner was on November twentieth. I was heading there right after work. That was the only time I wore that suit to the office.”

  “Okay, write that one down.” He waited for her to finish noting the date on the list. “Anything odd or unusual about that night?”

  She seemed to shrink as he asked the question. “It’s the last time I had dinner alone with my father. It was his last-ditch effort to get me to come back to the mill and get back together with Preston. I refused both, and he was livid. He’s kind of disowned me.”

  “Seems extreme.”

  “Self-preservation, I guess.” She twined her fingers together and stared at them. “I never had any interest in running the company, and he hated to think it wouldn’t be in the family after he retired. He wanted to merge the mill with Orion Transport and have Preston run the new company. The mill would stay in the family, and Dad could boss Preston around.”

  She slumped in her chair as sadness and a hint of hopelessness seemed to take over. Seeing this contradiction to her usual determination broke Brady’s heart. He took the chair next to her and resisted reaching for her hands. “That must have been a difficult night.”

  “Actually,” she said, her voice low and tortured. “It got even worse. He told me I wasn’t strong enough to make it on my own, that I’d come crawling back to him, back to Preston, and beg them to take me back.”

  “I’m sorry, Morgan.” He took her hands in his, and the icy coldness confirmed her angst. “That must be hard for you.”

  She watched him for a moment, then suddenly freed her hands, pulled her shoulders back and let her iron curtain of resolve mask her feelings. “With my focus on achieving my professional goals, he’ll see that he was wrong in due time.”

  Wondering if this night was significant in the stalking incidents, Brady forced his eyes over the line of photos one more time. Only one thing jumped out at him. “I guess this explains why most of these pictures are related to your job.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty much my whole life right now.” A nervous laugh slipped out. “What am I saying? It is my whole life.”

  “And what about friends and fun?”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “I love what I do, so I honestly haven’t thought about it. But now that you mention it?” She shrugged. “Once I get my life on track, I’ll make time for other things and people.”

  “So, no time for a relationship or family?” he asked, and wondered as soon as the words left his mouth why he would ask such a question.

  She shrugged again. “I’m young. That will change. I’ll find someone who shares my interests and then start a family.”

  Right, shared interests. That ruled Brady out now and in the future.

  He tapped the next photo. “Anything in this one that grabs you?”

  She shook her head, and they continued through the stack, putting additional dates and details on paper.

  He ran his finger down the completed list. “No pattern, really. Some are daytime, some night. Even the daytime events are spread out. What about weekday versus weekend?”

  “A mix there, too.”

  Brady stood back. “Then either this guy works at your office, works a flexible job or is unemployed. The number of pictures taken at the office would seem to point to Nantz, but Eckert owns his business and sets his own schedule, so this doesn’t rule either of them out.” Brady dug out his phone. “I’ll text the additional information to Rossi. Maybe he’ll see something in the pattern.”

  While Brady sent the text, Morgan gathered the pictures and put them away. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to leave them displayed. He wasn’t the intended target and they still creeped him out. He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.

  He stowed his phone and looked at the clock, the hands nearing midnight. “We should try to get some sleep.” He glanced at the tiny sofa, his body already aching from the thought of trying to sleep on it.

  “You’re not going to fit on it, are you?” she asked, the weakest of smiles breaking free.

  “You know I won’t. That’s why you’re smiling. Imagining my big feet flopping over the end,” he continued, hoping to see her smile grow.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to find humor in your discomfort, but...” She grinned up at him in earnest now.

  Her smile caught him unaware, tugging at his heart. He looked away before he did something stupid like try to kiss her. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ll just bunk on the floor. I’ve done it enough times in the marines. No biggie.”

  “I’ll get blankets and a pillow.” She stood and looked like she was going to keel over. She grabbed the table.

  He reached for her elbow and settled her onto the chair again. She blinked a few times, her long lashes batting quickly, a vacant stare on her face.

  He squatted in front of her. “Morgan. Are you okay?”

  “Just a little dizzy. It’s been a stressful night.”

  The fade of adrenaline could cause her symptoms, but he didn’t want to take a chance with her health. “A headache. Nausea. Dizziness. Sounds like more than stress to me.”

  “I’m fine now. I just got up too fast.”

  He dug his phone from his pocket but kept an eye on Morgan. “I’m calling Darcie to have her check you out.”

  “I hate to make her come out this late at night when it’s not necessary.”

  “Isn’t it?” He eyed her. “You’ve had plenty of chances to have this looked at. If you’re not going to do it, I am.”

  ELEVEN

  Morgan turned off the morning news and grabbed her suit jacket. She’d chosen to wear pants today, as overnight temperatures had fallen below freezing, the only sign in her life righ
t now that Christmas Day was just around the corner. She usually embraced the holiday season with enthusiasm and joy, but it was hard to enjoy much of anything with a man stalking her.

  She shrugged into the jacket, thankful the dizziness and outright nausea had passed. She wasn’t back to one hundred percent yet, but she felt only a nagging headache and was mildly queasy. A good thing, otherwise Darcie would insist Morgan see a doctor today. Not that Darcie had found anything in her exam other than a bit of high blood pressure easily explained by the stress.

  Still, instead of Darcie supporting Morgan’s self-diagnosis, as she’d hoped last night, Darcie had taken Brady’s side and was suspicious of the ongoing symptoms. Morgan wasn’t alarmed, though. She knew her body best. Once the stress was gone, the symptoms would disappear.

  Fresh from a shower and cleanly shaven, Brady stepped into the room. He was wearing jeans and a purple Minnesota Vikings jersey that Darcie had delivered last night along with other necessities Brady requested. Morgan didn’t miss the fact that Brady’s list included a second gun, a backup that he’d said he only carried on duty. Though he’d asked Jake for time off to remain at her side until the stalker issue was resolved, Brady said he’d treat this like he was on the clock and a second gun was necessary. Not a comforting thought.

  “Ready to go?” His cute sideways grin nearly disarmed her.

  What would it be like to be married to him? The question came out of left field, but she couldn’t stop herself from considering it. To see this smile as they left together to start their day. Her heart flip-flopped and she quickly grabbed her briefcase and workout bag to get going and forget all this nonsense.

  Brady stepped in front of her. “Let me clear the hallway first.”

  More than willing to let him check things out, she moved back. He opened the door and said something under his breath before he jerked back and slammed it, his hand immediately going for his gun.

  “What?” she asked, her heart already racing.

  “The stalker left another message for you,” he said, sounding as if he was spitting each word out.

  “Let me see it.” She tried to brush past him.

  He stood resolutely in her path. “I’m not letting you go out there until after I make sure the creep isn’t still in the building.”

  She wanted to see the message, but she didn’t want to risk her life. She stepped back.

  “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me.” He searched her eyes for a long time, then gently cupped the side of her face. “I know you want to prove you can do everything on your own, but your life could be on the line here. So promise me you’ll do as I say.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, her skin tingling from his touch.

  “After you lock the door, call Rossi and have him dispatch a patrol car.” A final tight smile and he stepped out the door, closing it so quickly Morgan could only catch sight of what she thought was a black rose.

  “I didn’t hear the lock, Morgan,” he said from the other side of the door.

  She twisted it.

  “Now step away from the door and call Rossi,” he added.

  She backed away and dialed Rossi. As she waited for him to answer, she took a seat on the sofa and stared at the envelope of photos on her table. Her mind raced over the possibilities of what awaited her in the hallway.

  She knew very little about stalkers, but she had to assume a black rose wasn’t a good sign. In movies and books, red usually meant infatuation, but black...

  A chill settled over her.

  “Stop,” she warned herself. “Don’t go there until you confirm the rose.”

  Detective Rossi answered his phone and her words tumbled out of her mouth.

  Rossi muttered something she couldn’t make out. “I’ll get a uniform dispatched, and I’ll be right behind him. Did Owens tell you to stay put behind locked doors?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do so. If this guy showed up with a deputy on scene all night, he’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

  Rossi’s comment sent Morgan’s stomach churning. Not for herself. She felt safe with the door locked and police officers on the way. It was Brady she was worried about. He was out there alone. Sure, he had a gun—correction, two guns—and sure, he was trained in this sort of thing, but that didn’t stop her from worrying.

  She shot to her feet and paced. Every noise made her jump. The building’s groans. Pipes clattering. Anything and everything caught her attention. The furnace kicked on, and she nearly knocked over a table.

  Sirens finally sounded nearby, and she ran to the window to see a police cruiser racing down her street. Brady stepped from the building. He’d holstered his weapon and held out his badge. He talked to the officer, then left him by his car and hurried back inside. She hadn’t a clue why the officer didn’t join him, but she didn’t care. As long as Brady came to no harm.

  She ran to the door. Considered opening it. His instructions came to mind, and she didn’t think twice about doing as directed and stepping back to wait. Time ticked by slowly. She was aware of holding her breath so she let it out. She couldn’t believe how thoughts of Brady in the line of fire unsettled her.

  Would she be so troubled if another person was out there? She thought of the other FRS members. She’d be concerned for their welfare, but this worried? She just didn’t know.

  Brady pounded on the door. “It’s me, Morgan. You can open the door now.”

  She jerked it open. He stepped over the objects on the carpet and pushed past her. He tried to close the door again, but she held fast until she could make out what was sitting on the cheerful welcome mat she’d been so excited to set in front of her very first apartment door.

  She forced herself to study the items. A single black rose lay next to a picture of her and Brady taken outside her building yesterday. The photo was torn down the middle, splitting them apart. A note card with a typed message too small to read from a distance sat next to it. Was this photo a sign that she’d put Brady in danger, too?

  Her stomach heaved and she glanced up at him. “The note. Did you read it?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t want to touch anything until Rossi gets here.”

  She stood staring at him, wanting to ignore his direction. Wanting to push the other items out of the way to read the note, and at the same time, not wanting to see it at all.

  He gently moved her aside and closed the door. “I get that you want to read the message. So do I, but we can’t tamper with evidence. It could delay finding your stalker. The important thing right now is that you stay inside. Once backup arrives for the officer downstairs, they’ll go through the building more thoroughly than I was able to do alone. Then when Rossi gets here, we’ll look at the stalker’s note.”

  Her imagination went wild, coming up with terrifying ideas of what the note might contain. They only had three days to figure out the stalker’s plan before the supposed wedding on Saturday. Maybe this note would give them a lead. Filled with worry, she peered at Brady.

  He rested his hands on her shoulders, the warmth doing little to ease her fear. “Don’t think about it, honey. I’m sure whatever you’re conjuring up in that pretty little head of yours is far worse than what the note actually says.”

  Was he right, or did her stalker’s message say he was coming for her and no matter Brady’s protection, the stalker would succeed?

  * * *

  Brady held the note card, encased in a plastic evidence bag by Rossi. Brady felt like the thing was burning through the plastic, scalding his hand, and he wished he didn’t have to display the card for Morgan, who stood with her hand out.

  “Show me,” she demanded looking strong and vulnerable at the same time.

  How she did that, he couldn’t figure out, but he knew her strength in the face
of adversity made her a special woman. He handed her the note, her gaze instantly riveting to the page. Brady glanced over her shoulder and read the message again.

  Morgan, Morgan, Morgan. You’ve finally left your fiancé, and now you’re taking up with this guy? You’re mine. He shouldn’t be here. Get rid of him or I’ll take care of you both. If I can’t have you, no one can.

  Brady couldn’t pull his focus from the cardstock’s vivid red color. He suspected the stalker meant it to symbolize blood.

  The note fluttered from Morgan’s fingers to the floor, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. “If you don’t back off, he’s going to kill you. Me. Both of us.”

  Brady took her hand, threading his fingers with hers as he turned her to face him. “He’s not getting anywhere near you on my watch.”

  “But what about you? He’s threatening you, too. You have to stop helping me. I can’t—”

  “No,” Brady said forcefully, making her jump and pull her hand free. “I won’t leave you unprotected. Besides, the stalker would want to kill any guy who took over your protection detail from me, too. I won’t put anyone else in that position.”

  “But you—”

  “Shh.” He made sure his tone was softer. “I’m a deputy. This is what I do. I can handle myself. Unless you don’t trust me to protect you and want someone else on your detail.” Even if she asked for someone else, he didn’t know if he could step away from the woman who was coming to mean a lot to him.

  “I trust you completely,” she said. “I’m just worried for you.”

  Their eyes met, and hers reflected the same emotions churning his gut. She wanted him here as much as he wanted to be here. Something he had to make light of if he didn’t want her to think that he was free to pursue the feelings growing between them.

  “Why, Ms. Thorsby,” he joked. “I think I might have gotten under your skin.”

  She scowled as if that was the worst thing that could happen to her. Maybe he’d read her reaction wrong, and she couldn’t stomach the idea of him in her life in any capacity other than a bodyguard.