The Eyewitness

by Nancy C. Weeks

  Alec reached for her trembling fingers and pressed her hand to his chest. “You’re safe.”

  “Sorry. Again, paranoid.”

  He inched over. “Sit.”

  She dropped into the small vacated space on his chair, sitting half on the chair and half on the corner of his leg. Too close, too personal. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. His arm circled her waist as if it belonged there.

  His mind screamed, Don’t make this harder than it already is! Back straight, he focused on the screen and not on the feel of her against him.

  He plugged in the cable, and it registered. A breath caught in his throat as the file loaded.

  “Dear God, who the hell is this bastard, and why is he doing this?” Em clutched his shirt, her fist so tight her nails dug into his skin. “He was there, watching me the whole time.”

  Several photos filled the screen. The first was of her sleeping in the hospital bed, IVs in her arms and oxygen cannula in her nose. The next image was Em and her mother sitting on the sofa, the television screen they were watching out of focus; clearly, this was taken with a high-powered lens from somewhere outside her home. The third image—Em’s head clearing the top of the tree branch of the sniper’s nest, her eyes wide and expression full of grief—jolted Alec’s pulse into high gear.

  “Alec, he followed me and watched me. I felt him because he was there.” Her voice came out in gasps, as if someone just kicked the air from her lungs.

  Alec slammed the monitor off and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Breathe with me, Em. Slow, easy.”

  Their breathing synchronized. As her muscles relaxed with each exhale, his blood roared through his veins. It was happening, the uncontrollable temper buried in his gut simmered to the surface, and he wouldn’t stop it if he could.

  “Alec?”

  He slipped her into the chair and rose, placing distance between them. She spun the seat, watching him pace the small space in front of the window. He turned his back to her, his fists at his hips and the muscles in his shoulders almost bunching through the fabric of his dress shirt. The calming exercises he’d practiced until they were as comfortable as his name failed now. Instead of relaxing, it was as if his blood was boiling. And all he could think about was hurling his fist into the bastard who took those fucking pictures of Em until his knuckles formed blisters.

  “Alec, I need you.”

  The battle within him ran out of steam, leaving him sputtering. What the fuck? Normally, he had to pound it into his punching bag or tear up his joints in a ten-mile run. But this time, it lost its power over him, and only a spark remained. He took in another calming breath, and his heartbeat slowed. He moved toward her, temper again in check. “I’m here.”

  She paused, studying him. “Are you okay?”

  “Better. What did you find?”

  “This photo doesn’t exist,” she said, pointing to a black-and-white image tucked between the frames that lined the mantel in her family room. “I mean it must exist, but not in our house. I’ve never seen it before.”

  He pulled her up, sat, and repositioned her on his lap. Taking over the mouse, he enlarged the image. Four young men posed in front of an apartment building with their arms around each other. A much younger version of Joe stood alone off to the side.

  “This must have been taken while Dad was in college. He can’t be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one.” Emersyn pointed to the man closest to her father. “That’s Oliver Gates. The other three men I don’t recognize.” She closed her eyes, but the shiver went through her and into him. “Is this Photoshopped, or was he in my house?”

  “I know someone who can examine it, but I think we both know the answer.”

  His chest hurt. This bastard had been in Em’s home, touched things she touched.

  “I have to get my mom somewhere safe, Alec. I can’t lose her too.”

  “My thoughts exactly. But you’re joining her.”

  “I can’t hide. I’m not sure that’s even possible. He knows me, or he’s studied me for so long that he’s figured out how I think, act.”

  “And that’s not creepy?”

  She let out a hard laugh. “It’s crazy creepy, but what the hell am I supposed to do about it?” She reached for a small pad of yellow sticky notes and a pen. “Dad would break this crap down into logical pieces. Our creeper first planted evidence for me to find. He wants me to know he’s watching.”

  Alec took the pen and jotted on a second sticky note. “It doesn’t make sense. Then he breaks into the forensic lab and tries to kill you.”

  “But he almost killed Ben instead. That had to be a major screw up.” Emersyn tore that sticky note off the stack. “At some point, he broke into my home and placed this photo on the mantel. He watched outside until we were staged in his shot.” Her hand shook as she slammed the third note down on the desk. “I haven’t talked about Shadow Guy since the hospital, so unless someone bugged my hospital room, he has to believe my memories of that night haven’t returned.” That note joined the others. “If I count the hospital incident, he tries to kill me twice but fails. He then plants evidence for the sole purpose of discrediting me. And to add to the crazy, he leaves me these photos. Do you get the feeling that he’s trying to tell me something?”

  “If he is, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to understand.” Alec shifted, pulling her closer. She was in the middle of the worst nightmare of her life. He could offer her little relief.

  “Oliver Gates . . . He can’t be part of this.” Em faced him, her eyes pleading for him to tell her he agreed.

  “Is there any way he could be your Shadow Man?”

  “I’ve known him all my life. I would have recognized him immediately. Besides, he’s a big, fluffy teddy bear.”

  “That’s not who I work with every day.”

  “He may have his bitchy moments, but working with a sniper?” She glanced at the picture with her father in it one more time. “Shadow Guy never clicked for me beyond a vague familiarity. He could be any of the three remaining men. I just don’t know.”

  The room grew silent. Em settled into his arms. The warmth of her body and the strength in her, so much like her father’s, seemed to hold Alec in place.

  She again straightened her back, moving off his shoulder. “Where to begin?”

  “First we figure out who the other three men are.”

  “You keep saying we. Does that mean . . . ”

  “I tried it my way. From now on, where you go, I go. The only time you’re out of my sight is when you need to pee, and then I’m outside the damn door.”

  Those were fighting words, and the Em who’d entered his home over an hour ago would have gone for his throat. But now, she didn’t even look toward him, keeping her eyes glued to the photos on the screen. Their world had just changed, again.

  In a soft whisper, she asked, “I guess that makes us kind of partners. Who can we trust?”

  “Besides Grace, Nathan, and Tessa, no one.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why is Alec sleeping on the pullout in the family room?” Nathan asked, shutting the kitchen door behind him.

  Emersyn flipped the slice of bacon she was cooking, dropped the fork on the counter, and rushed into her brother’s arms. She released him long enough to get a good look. Dark circles stilled appeared beneath his eyes, but nothing else seemed out of order.

  “I can’t breathe,” he grumbled.

  “That’s what you get for turning into a damn ghost.” She released him and took a step back, giving him another good look-over before she slammed the flat of her hand into his shoulder. “It’s been weeks! You morphed into a crazy-ass Rambo, dragged that man out of my hospital room, and disappeared from our lives. You jerk.” She hugged his neck again, hard.

  Nathan pulled her arms from around him and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry.”

  “How long can you stay?”

  He poured himself a mug of coffee and drop
ped into a kitchen chair as if his legs would no longer hold him. “I’m here through dinner.”

  “That sucks.” Emersyn turned back to the stove and moved the bacon from the pan to a paper towel–covered dish. “Just for the record, I kind of hate Jared McNeil.”

  Nathan grabbed a slice off the plate. “You can’t blame my handler. He didn’t create the case just to keep me away from you.”

  “Does he get to be with his family?”

  “Emersyn, stop picking on your brother,” her mother said, entering the kitchen with Simba right behind her. She drew her son into a hug that only a mom could give. “So why is Alec on the sofa?”

  “I’ve been waiting for that answer myself,” Nathan said.

  The man of the moment came through the door. “I’ve assigned myself to Em’s protection detail.”

  “What the hell?” Nathan said. “Start with protection from whom.”

  Alec eyed his friend. “Can I have my first cup of coffee and whatever Em’s planning with that mountain of bacon first?” Alec slipped into the chair next to Nathan.

  Emersyn removed the plate of pecan waffles she’d already prepared from the warm oven and placed it in the center of the table. Making Saturday breakfast used to be something she and Dad did together. This was the first time she had made anything other than microwave oatmeal or toast since he died.

  She’d spent her early-dawn hours twisting in her sheets. Sleep was impossible, so she’d headed to the kitchen. Too restless to even flip mindlessly through The Washington Post, she’d started breakfast and ended up making way too much food.

  Lifting a pan of scrambled eggs warming on the back burner, she dumped the bacon on top and set it on the table next to Alec. “Mom, is Tessa still coming home today?”

  Her sister’s name seemed to have summoned her from thin air.

  “I drove in last night, expecting a little sister chat but was stood up,” Tessa said from the kitchen door.

  Emersyn’s heart warmed as she tugged Tessa to her. “You look tired,” she said, giving her sister the same look-over she gave Nathan.

  “Just wrapped up a nasty case.”

  “Nasty how?”

  “You don’t have to add my problems to your plate. Things worked out.”

  “This doesn’t have something to do with the pain-in-your-ass guy at work, does it?”

  “We keep bumping into each other,” Tessa admitted. “I think he’s a narcissistic jerk, and he thinks I’m an idiot. Not a good match.”

  “I’ll beat the crap out of him,” Alec said and gave Tessa a hug.

  “You can’t. You know him, and I think he can take you.”

  Alec let out a low laugh. “Like hell.”

  Tessa and Alec sat, both laughing. Emersyn took in the scene and calmed her pounding heartbeat. How could she keep the people around her kitchen table safe?

  Had Alec not been sleeping like the dead on the sofa, she would have wiped down every piece of furniture and vacuumed from floor to ceiling until she convinced herself she had removed all trace of the bastard’s existence from the room. My God, what if Mom had walked in on him?

  Still, Emersyn had spent years learning that you answered questions by exploring the evidence trail. It would be a waste of time searching for any prints. He wouldn’t have left any.

  A hand settled at her waist. “Join us, Em.”

  Alec. His magnetic pull was strong, drawing her in. Did he feel it too?

  She took the empty chair between her mother and Alec. Nathan, so much like their father in looks and mannerisms, wanted answers but kept silent. She kept her head down, needing this simple Saturday morning moment. The peace lasted through all of two bites of Emersyn’s waffles before Tessa did her mind-reading thing. The undercurrent of tension must have been driving her crazy.

  “Okay, what’s going on? Nathan looks about ready to bounce out of his own skin.”

  Emersyn swallowed her bite and took a gulp of coffee. The heat took the chill from her bones but did nothing to relieve the acid in her gut. “I’ll tell you everything. Just let me get through it all before you attack.”

  She shared every detail, from climbing into the sniper’s nest to the moment the photos loaded on Alec’s laptop. When she was done, the room was dead still.

  Alec must have felt the tension radiating off her. Last night, he’d held her against him, making her feel safe for the first time since her father’s death. But today, surrounded by her family, the distance was back. It hurt, even though she didn’t reach for him either.

  Nathan palmed the back of his neck. “I thought the plan was to keep what happened on the bike trail a secret.” His voice was calm, controlled, but the vein in his temple pulsed. “This guy is responding to fear. Breaking into a cop’s house takes balls.”

  “I’ve never said a thing about our shadow guy.” Emersyn passed the photo across the table. “The only two men I recognize are Dad and Oliver Gates. I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. If you can see a pattern in this mess, lay it out for me.”

  Her mother took the photo from Nathan and studied it. “The man next to Oliver is Matthew Clark. He died about five years ago.”

  “How?” Alec asked.

  “It was a road-rage case. Someone threw a brick from an overpass in a highway construction zone. Matt was hit in the head and loss control of his vehicle, spinning into a semi-truck. He and his wife were announced dead at the scene. The suspect has never been identified.” She took a closer look at the photo. “As for the other two men, I don’t know them.”

  “Grace,” Alec said gently, “did Joe ever mention an old case he might have worked off the books?”

  “When Joe was home, he was home.” She paused. “He did occasionally jot things down in one of his notebooks.”

  Hope coursed through Emersyn. “Do you know if he has any stored here? I didn’t find even one in his office.”

  “No,” her mother said as she began to clear the table. She went to the refrigerator and scribbled something on the dry-erase board she used to keep a grocery list. Then she stepped aside to allow the group to read her note.

  If this guy has been in our home, what else did he leave behind?

  Fear spiked down Emersyn’s spine. The thought had never entered her mind.

  Nathan rose and dug through his duffle bag, pulling out a pair of earbuds and a palm-size device with a digital dial in the center. He connected the earbuds to the device and scanned the kitchen. When he was done, he moved into the small pantry and the laundry room while everyone sat dead still at the table.

  “No bugs,” he said, replacing the device in his bag. “I’ll check the rest of the house later.”

  “Are you sure?” Alec’s voice came out low and ragged.

  “If there’s a radio frequency signal from a wireless camera, audio bug, Wi-Fi signal, or a live cell phone, this toy will pick it up. Whatever this guy wants, he’s not eavesdropping on us.”

  “Wow, that was amazing, Mom,” Emersyn murmured, too uneasy to speak above a whisper.

  Tessa placed an arm around Nathan’s shoulders. “When did my big brother turn all James Bond on me?”

  Better question: What was her brother up to that he needed something like that on his person at all times? Emersyn wouldn’t dare ask. Whatever was going on, he sure as hell didn’t need her problems dumped on his overcrowded plate.

  Nathan began loading dishes into the dishwasher. “If Dad was working on a cold case, then we need to find his files.”

  Alec added another stack of dishes to the counter. “What do you have in mind?”

  “The bastard is watching Emersyn closely. We can assume we’re all under his microscope.” Nathan glanced at his watch. “If Mom says there’s nothing in the house, then there’s nothing here. But that doesn’t rule out the garage and his shop out back. We need an excuse to do a thorough search without making it obvious what we’re doing.”

  “I’ve been meaning to pack up some of your fath
er’s things . . . ”

  “Mom, that isn’t necessary,” Tessa said, taking her hand. “It’s too soon.”

  “No, it’s time. St. Luke’s spring fundraiser is only a couple weeks away. Tessa and I can pull things from the closet upstairs. Nathan, you go through the boxes on the shelves in the garage and box up a few items. If the jerk is watching us, it won’t take him long to figure out we’re packing away Joe’s things.”

  “What do I do?” Emersyn asked.

  “You and Alec go through every inch of the shop. There are some old tools I don’t believe anyone will miss, as well as Grandmother Lucy’s old dinette set. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two to get through everything.”

  No one said a word as they left the kitchen. Taking the key that hung on a hook right inside the door, Emersyn headed toward her father’s hideout. It was the place he’d gone to get away from the noise of family life. She hadn’t set foot in the small shed in over a year.

  The key fit easily in the lock. Stepping inside, the first thing that hit her was the order. Every tool had a place. Maybe her father had found the world so chaotic he sought balance where he could. But she would never get a chance to ask him. Just when she’d reached the age she could appreciate the man behind the father figure, he’d been ripped from her life. If there was one denominator that fueled her need for revenge, that was it.

  Alec took Nathan’s bug-tracking gadget and cleared the small space. “No listening devices. Not a lot of places to hide a file, either.”

  He moved close behind her, his heat seeping through her. Now the damn man decided he wouldn’t be ignored. Shit. There was no escaping him, and he had to know the effect he had on her. She placed the workbench between them.

  “One year, Dad hid all my birthday presents in one room. After an hour of searching without finding even one gift, I gave up. His only clue was to search places that weren’t as they seem.”

  “Like false fronts,” Alec said, tapping his hand against the four cabinet doors. “Which these are not. Damn, I wanted easy.” He moved to the corner and examined the dinette table. “And this is an ugly-as-sin table and chairs.”