The Eyewitness

by Nancy C. Weeks

He brushed the back of his finger over the moisture on her cheeks. “You’re not.”

  Words, even logical thought, escaped him. Tears burned the back of his throat. He hadn’t cried in years. There was so much to say, but where the hell did he begin? Start simple, Joe used to say.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” she said. “Don’t gripe at me. I need sleep first.”

  He intertwined his fingers with hers. “I don’t gripe.”

  “And no dark, moody glares.”

  “You love my glares. I think you dream up ways to make me crazy just to see my response. Then you laugh yourself silly.”

  A hint of a smile touched her lips. He longed to taste that smile.

  “Last night wasn’t . . . You didn’t want me there.” Her voice choked up, and she shut her eyes, as if the memory was too terrifying to relive.

  “Thank God you didn’t listen.” She’d come through for him, but that had to be the last time. He couldn’t ever put her in that position again.

  “That sick bastard hurt you because I wouldn’t stay out of it. I drew him to you.” She gripped his fingers. “I promise, Alec, I’m done. I’ll stay clear of Dad’s case.”

  “You saved our lives.”

  “No, that would be you and your chain-swinging skills.”

  “Maybe, but you kept me sane and focused. The way you ducked at just the right instant was amazing.”

  “You told me to . . . ”

  “No, I didn’t say a word. And you flew right into the line of fire and caught that damn remote out of thin air. It scared the shit out of me.”

  “Not one of my calmest moments, either.” She lowered her gaze. “Alec, I feel nothing, no peace, no justice. I should, right? The man who killed Dad is dead. I’m not sure what I expected. It’s not like I thought this bastard’s death would somehow miraculously fill the hole left by Dad’s death. But I’d hoped there would be some sense of relief.”

  “I don’t think it works like that. What happened in that warehouse was violent, unthinkable even. How I wish you weren’t part of it.” He cupped her chin with his palm. “It’s going to take time to get over that. Peace will return. As for justice, I’ll never stop looking for Shadow Man.”

  “You warned me about the black hole of revenge. It isn’t enough, is it? It didn’t fix a thing.”

  Alec eased her closer against him and held her just a little tighter. It was the one thing he could do for her. “It will get better. I promise.”

  And he prayed, for the first time in years, that she would heal and find that carefree spirit that was his Em.

  The door opened, and a nurse entered, pushing a large cart in front of her. “Mr. Pearce, I need to take your vitals before the escort service takes you for testing.”

  “Get out.”

  “Alec!” Emersyn wiggled out of his hold, but he eased her back against him.

  “Please stay, Em.” Alec shut down the panic rising in his stomach and told the nurse, “I need a minute.”

  The woman left and closed the door behind her.

  “You can’t talk to your nurse like that,” Em said. “She has a job to do.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until this is settled.” Alec forced calmness into his voice. “From the moment I first set eyes on you, that lighthearted, love-of-life that shines from your every pore has been my beacon to what’s good in this world. Don’t lose faith now.” He brushed her lips with his. “Things changed tonight.”

  She shook her head. “How can you say that? We’re back at square one.”

  “I’m not talking about the damn case. I’m . . . We are different.”

  He couldn’t stop touching her—her cheek, her chin, the soft waves of hair resting on her neck. He searched his vocabulary for words to express what was going on inside of him.

  It shouldn’t be this hard, dimwit. Just say, I love you, Em.

  Words just weren’t enough. Sometimes actions spoke volumes. Alec captured her mouth in a slow, gentle kiss. Her body trembled. His weariness dissipated, and raw need pulsed through him. But Em took charge of the kiss, cupping his face with her hands as she pressed herself into him. Would he ever be able to predict this woman’s response?

  She rolled over on top of him, the fire in her eyes drowning out the pain in his chest. Her fingers caressed his cheek and moved to his throat, the touch so gentle it shook him to his core. It wasn’t the first time Em’s simple touch had moved him, but this time, he grasped the meaning behind the stroke. Other women had stroked him in the exact same way, but to them, it was all about the act of sex, passing pleasure between partners. This wasn’t like that at all. Now all he had to do was convince her he was worthy of her love.

  Two loud knocks sounded at the door. Em broke away. Their eyes held as they filled their lungs with air. Two male escorts and a nurse crowded the room. Alec opened his mouth, but Em shook her head and eased off him.

  “Be nice.” She planted a smile on her lips that never made it to her eyes.

  One of the escorts went around the bed, pulled the electrical cord from the wall, and released the bed’s brakes. “Mr. Pearce, say good-bye to your lady. Time to go.”

  “Look”—Alec glanced at the man’s name tag—“Sean, I’m not going anywhere without ‘my lady.’”

  “I’m fine, Alec,” she insisted.

  “You’re welcome to come with us,” Sean said, nodding toward the door. “There is a waiting room, but you can’t go in with him.”

  Em dropped the blanket she’d been clutching to her chest in the leather chair. She leaned down and kissed Alec’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “Wait,” he said, jerking into a sitting position. The burn in his chest came back with a vengeance, and he couldn’t swallow the groan. Sean eased him back against his pillows.

  “My uncles are waiting for me in the lobby,” Emersyn told him. “I’m safe with them. All you need to do is rest. And stop fighting everyone who tries to help you.”

  “You’re coming back, right?” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. Nothing had been settled. He reached for her hand. “There are things I need to say,” he whispered, as he eyed the strangers in the room.

  “I think that kiss said everything.” Em pressed his hand and walked out the door.

  “Fuck! What the hell does that mean?”

  The other orderly let out a laugh. “Man, you got to know when a lady needs the words.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Simple plan. Drive to Alec’s place, drop his truck keys in the bowl on the entry table, and leave. Only problem was Emersyn couldn’t move.

  It had been over twenty-four hours since she’d left Alec. Long hours of sleep had improved her walking-dead mood. By 9:00 a.m., she’d stood in the doorway of his hospital room.

  It was empty, with no trace he had ever been there.

  Now she was staring at the door of his townhouse, not quite sure of her next move. The man needed his truck. And he’d been trying to tell her something important before the nurse came in. Did she walk up to the door, ring the bell, and say, “Hi. You were about to tell me something. I’m here. Let’s talk.”

  It was a horrible plan. But she couldn’t say she was there to check on him either. He had probably been taking care of himself since he was ten. Besides, she’d hated people constantly checking on her after her surgery. That left her with nothing.

  The roar of a garbage truck’s air brakes sounded behind her. She shook off the gloomy thoughts and grabbed her purse. “Get your ass out of the truck,” she murmured. “Stick to the plan.”

  A blast of cold winter air sent a chill through her the moment she opened the door. Cold is good. It made her sharp, focused.

  She wasn’t sure what caught her attention as she stared at the man dumping a bin into the loading hopper of the truck. He tossed the bin back onto the sidewalk and lifted a black bag. It ripped, and a wooden frame d
ropped to the concrete. Emersyn raced across the grass.

  “Stop, that’s not trash!” she roared as the retainer plate crushed a stack of Alec’s paintings into the rest of the trash.

  Emersyn dashed in front of the hopper. Her right boot hit a patch of black ice, and she slipped. The man grabbed her arm an instant before she was hurled into the middle of the hopper.

  “Lady, do you live here?”

  “No, but—”

  “Is this your trash?”

  “There’s been some kind of mistake!”

  “No mistake. You need to get back on the curb so my driver can leave, Miss.”

  Emersyn stepped away from the truck. He hopped onto the back bumper, giving the driver a signal. It pulled away.

  Once the truck was out of sight, she unlocked Alec’s door. “Alec?”

  Nothing. Drop the keys and leave. None of your business.

  When had she ever listened to her own common sense? She charged across the kitchen and took the stairs to the basement two at a time. In the doorway, she sucked in a heavy breath as hurt skirted across her chest. “What did you do?” she whispered to the empty basement.

  It wasn’t just the paintings but the whole art studio. Gone. All those breathtaking canvases, so alive and vibrant, stuffed in trash bags. They were never hers, but the thought of them gone forever hit her hard. “Alec, why?”

  A loud crash of glass shattering came from the second floor followed by several cuss words. She left the basement and headed toward the cursing. At Alec’s bedroom, she came to another abrupt stop.

  “Don’t move.” She knelt in front of him “There’s glass everywhere, and you’re barefoot.”

  Alec gathered the larger pieces of the lamp and dumped them into the trash. “Leave it, Em.”

  Emersyn glanced up, and her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze roamed up his bare calves to the well-formed muscles of his thighs. The tight gray briefs made her lungs forget how to work. Dear God. The man hid all of this underneath those damn jeans.

  A hand came into view. “If you’re done checking me out . . . ”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she took his hand. “If you don’t like it, put on some clothes.”

  “My home, my dress code. Why are you here?”

  “You left the hospital—”

  “So, I could shower and come to you.” His voice came out low, rough as he moved into the bathroom.

  Emersyn filled the trash with small pieces of the lamp, kicked what remained in a corner, and stalked toward the bathroom door. Alec yanked a worn pair of pajama bottoms off the towel rack and slipped into them.

  “I’ve seen men—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.”

  When he straightened, a groan escaped from deep inside his throat.

  “Alec, damn, you’re in pain.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Emersyn was too familiar with the meaning behind those two words. “Liar.”

  He broke eye contact. “I have a prescription—”

  “Which you have no intention of filling.”

  He leaned against the bathroom sink and planted his fists at his waist. “You’re pissed.”

  No, hurt. And the level was growing. She had to get out of there before her nerves broke wide open and she turned into a blubbering idiot.

  “No reply, Em? What did I do?”

  “Nothing.” She removed his keys from her pocket. “I thought you might need your truck.” She held out her hand. He moved past her into the bedroom. “Are you going into the barracks today?”

  “I took the day off.”

  She set the keys on the dresser and removed the cylinder holding The Dance from her bag. She placed it next to the keys. “That’s a good plan.” She slipped between him and the king-size bed, her focus on the door.

  “You’re leaving?” His voice held little emotion. He lifted a folder off the dresser. “Angela emailed me her report on Gates.”

  “You don’t have to fill me in. I meant it when I said I was staying clear of your cases.”

  “The news media knows nothing about what happened in the warehouse, and we’re hoping to keep things quiet for as long as possible.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “The PC, Gates’s replacement, Angela, and me.” Alec reached for Emersyn’s hand. “Sit,” he said, drawing her over to the corner of the bed. Then he knelt in front of her. “Angela personally took possession of the bullet fragment from Gates and processed it. Joe wasn’t killed by the sniper, but Gates was. The fragment that killed him was fired from the same weapon as the first three murders. That information will be released today. Everything else that happened in the warehouse is sealed tight, including the fact that Joe’s killer was identified and Gates killed him.”

  Dread seeped into Emersyn. “What’s the cover story?”

  “Gates and I were following up on a tip that came in over the sniper hotline. We searched the warehouse before backup arrived. We cleared the exit, and Gates was shot.”

  “So where was I?”

  “You and I were sharing a pizza when Gates called. I didn’t have time to run you home but ordered you to say in the truck. You didn’t listen.”

  Emersyn shoved Alec out of the way and crossed the room. “Shit. More lies? Do you understand you’re blaming the sniper for killing two police officers? Whose brilliant idea was this?”

  “Mine. There’s a connection between Gates, Joe, your shadow guy, and the sniper. We still have no information about the sniper except the type of weapon and caliber of bullet he uses. Hopefully, the added exposure will run him to ground and give us more time to figure out who he is and his agenda.”

  “The connection is revenge. Oliver Gates tried to pin a murder on him. What’s your plan for the sick bastard who killed Dad?”

  “The guy in the warehouse was a hired killer named Jack Larson.”

  “I didn’t need that information. The name humanizes him.”

  Alec took a couple steps toward her and stopped. “Larson can’t hurt us, Em, and the more we learn about him, the closer he will bring us to our shadow man who hired him. Steven Handel’s team located his hotel from his rental’s GPS and is processing the scene.”

  She couldn’t wrap her mind around everything that had happened in the last week. “I assume Lawson was kept around to see if I got my memory back, but I don’t think he planted the flash drive in Dad’s desk. He would have bragged about it just like he boasted about planting the bandage into the bark of the tree.” The familiar chill spiked through her. “That gift was from someone who may have already killed five people and will know we lied.”

  “I agree with you. The copycat sniper took the photos on the flash drive.”

  “As for Shadow Man, wouldn’t it be better to let this bastard know we’re coming for him, that there is no place he can hide?”

  “Only if we want him to disappear for good. As for the sniper, I think you’re wrong about him about one point. If he wanted us dead, he’s had numerous opportunities. McNeil’s brother’s security team is good, but they can’t block a sniper bullet. It would have taken him only seconds to bring us down with Gates.”

  “We weren’t the threat before. That will change when we allow the world to continue to believe he killed Dad.”

  “Em, I think the sniper is protecting you.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “The sniper went out of his way to let us know he was watching you by taking that photo of you in Larson’s nest. Somehow, he walked that flash drive into your dad’s office without anyone noticing. The old photo showing up on your mantle is scary as hell, but like Nathan said, the guy has balls.” Alec eased closer. “I think he’s smart enough to get the game plan here. He didn’t do us any favors putting a slug through Gates. He gave our shadow guy a free pass. But with two cop murders breathing down his neck, he has to disappear. As for the man who hired Jack Larson, we need him in the dark while we tear Gates’s life apart.”

  �
��And to think I actually thought you planted the bandage . . . Again, I’m so damn sorry.”

  The room grew silent, the air heavy.

  “Don’t go back there. Like I said before, you owe me nothing.”

  Emersyn had never avoided conflict with Alec before, but things had changed. She let out a sigh and grabbed on to the subject at hand. “Why would the sniper want to protect me?”

  “I don’t think it’s you exactly. It has to do with Joe. He’s either helping because he’s pissed that Joe’s killing was pinned on him, or they are both connected somehow.” He placed a hand on Emersyn’s arm. “I need to bring up the idea of protective custody again.”

  She’d given the idea some thought in the middle of the night. Maybe it would be a step toward that peace they’d talked about. But the idea of hiding away went against her grain. Evil would win again. “Is that what you really want?”

  “I want you safe.”

  “My trust is wearing thin when it comes to the people who worked with Dad. How do we know the men keeping me safe aren’t working for our shadow man or the sniper? They seem so damn close.”

  “I’m protecting you and will choose only those I trust with your life.”

  Emersyn’s knees shook. She eased down onto Alec’s bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. “How did they replace Gates so soon?”

  “This is a high-profile case that needs someone at the helm. It wasn’t going to be me. Not my style.” His voice lowered. “I briefed my new captain on our shadow man.” Alec held his hand out, stopping her protest. “You know the name. Eric Logan. He’s an old friend. And, yes, I trust him, as will you.”

  “Eric Logan—the pain in Tessa’s ass? Why would I trust someone my sister hates?”

  “He’s Angela McCain’s brother. We shared a room in the group home and then again in college. He joined the Marines after graduation and served a couple of tours until he was injured. He’s been part of a special task force, and now he’s here.” He met her stare. “You told Angela. I couldn’t keep him in the dark.”

  Emersyn tucked her chin to her chest and massaged her tense neck muscles. “This is so fucked up. I want this to be over, but we’re back to where we started.”