When he entered the room again dressed in sweatpants and no shirt, all the lights were off except for the hood light over the range. Emma lay between the clean sheets Knepper’s daughter had put on the bed. Chase hadn’t used the bed. The couch cushions had been enough. “Comfortable?”
Primal interest brightened her eyes as she studied him and her neck muscles worked as she swallowed. Then she nodded.
He ran a hand over his chest and immediately pulled it away. He didn’t want Emma to think he tried to entice her with his rock hard abs.
Her gaze darted to the ceiling.
Again he felt like a schoolboy, not knowing where he should go or what to do. “Did you want something to drink?” Bottles rattled as he swung the refrigerator door open. Its light spilled out into the semi-darkness across his bare feet. “There’s plenty here. Juice, water—”
“No. Nothing. Thank you.” She picked at the blanket.
Something bothered her.
He closed the door and treaded across to the closet where Knepper had told him there was extra bedding stored and grabbed two blankets and pillow. He laid them out on the floor between the end of the pullout and the wall and stretched out. Here, he wouldn’t be in the way if Emma needed to get out of bed during the night.
Her scent wafted in the air above him.
“I have my alarm set for six-thirty,” he said, knowing he wouldn’t sleep a wink. “That Ok?”
“Fine.” He heard the springs moan and believed she settled in. He was surprised when she spoke, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Nanette disappears for a few weeks on one of her jaunts, before her mother’s flight even touches the tarmac.”
“What? Why would she leave when her mother’s coming all this way to see she was Ok?” How odd was that? He watched the shadows on the ceiling, cast by the street lights outside. The rain had ended before they’d left the hospital and everything was still out there.
“That’s Nanette. Whenever her world is off kilter, she takes off for a few days.”
He rose on his side and propped his head so he could hear Emma more clearly. “Where does she go?”
“New York City, mostly. I guess. That’s what she told me. She hops a bus. She says she can always ‘find herself’ in the city.”
“You really think she would leave, knowing her mother is coming?”
Emma nodded. “Yes. I do, if she’s physically able. She’ll be afraid her mother will make her leave. I know her. She loves going to school here.”
“She’s over twenty-one, right?”
“Yes.” Emma yawned.
“Then how can her mother make her do anything?”
“I guess you’re right.”
A person could definitely disappear in New York, Chase thought. “Has she said where she goes while in the city?”
“No. I imagine art galleries.” The springs lurched again. “I’ll make sure she stays put.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Thanks. So are you.” Emma fell silent.
He lay back down. A few minutes later he heard the soft rhythm of her breathing. She slept.
He crossed his arms over his chest. He should get some sleep too but his mind whirled back over the day’s events. He got up and retrieved his phone and returned to the floor. He was about to text Jolene for an update when his phone signaled an emergency message had been sent, and simultaneously, outside, swirling red and blue lights hit the windows.
Chapter Twenty-two
Concealed by the curtain Mrs. Knepper probably had shopped for, purchased, and probably installed herself, before her accident, Emma watched the scene play out below. No ambulance idled below, so she doubted anything had happened to the handicapped woman she’d never met, and had only seen from a distance, which meant the police were here for another reason.
Were they here for her? Emma’s fingers wrapped around the life line of the curtain’s edge. From her vantage point, she saw the responding officers had positioned their cars nose to nose and in such a way to block off the quiet, suburban street as well as the Knepper’s driveway. Cold fear tickled her spine and she shivered.
Where was Chase?
She scanned the shadows. Three officers remained by their vehicles while the fourth had Chase backed up against the leafless maple tree in Knepper’s yard. Chase had grabbed his hoodie from the chair but hadn’t taken the time to slip on his boots. His bare toes were planted in the grass.
Down the street, shadowed forms stood on each porch or stoop. Emma could almost hear their whispers. She wanted the answers to the same questions, and a few more.
She dropped the curtain when Chase and the officer broke apart. She took a final peek before turning away from the window. Instead of heading inside to explain what was happening, Chase walked in the opposite direction—to the Knepper’s outside stairs. He pulled his cell from his pocket and hit a few buttons before anchoring it to his ear.
Under the street lights, his face was all tense lines from his clenched jaw to the steely stare that kept scanning his surroundings. He walked in circles while he spoke into the phone. Occasionally he glanced up at the window.
She flinched back against the drapes. He probably wondered if she still slept. Maybe he hoped she did. However, the door clicking closed behind him had disturbed her and then the flashing lights had yanked her totally from her slumber.
Did the officer tell Chase what had happened? If so, why would they? And who did Chase call?
Emma leaned forward and peered down to where Chase prowled in an oval pattern next to the building as if he guarded its perimeter. He reminded her of a caged tiger, strong, regal, handsome and dangerous.
Why didn’t he come inside to make the call instead of walking, barefoot, on the cold, damp pavement? He didn’t want to wake her, or another thought hit her. He couldn’t chance she might overhear the conversation? She had a feeling the latter was the reason.
Who was Chase Hunter?
What did she really know about him?
Every time she had turned around the last few days, he’d been there. Had he been following her? If so, why?
Did he feel he needed to protect her? If so, from whom? And why? Emma shook her head. Such a ludicrous notion.
She crossed the room, grabbed a juice from the refrigerator and plopped down on a captain’s chair facing the door. She crossed her legs yogi style, and waited. It wasn’t long, a minute perhaps, before she heard the stairs outside creak under someone’s weight. She swallowed a sip of juice and tightened the lid. Relief washed over her when the door opened and Chase stepped into the room, alone.
“Cold?” she asked, sounding a little shaky, even to her. She needed to know what was going on and how it involved her.
“You forgot your shoes.”
Chase spun around, his gaze hitting the bed before landing on her. “I thought you were still asleep. Did I wake you?”
“I’m a light sleeper. Why are the police outside?” She wasn’t about to pretend she didn’t know something terrible had happened and that Chase was privy to it.
“You noticed?”
“Hard not to.” She raised her gaze to the ceiling where red and blue lights still danced, then repeated her question. ”Why are the police outside?”
“They wouldn’t say,” he replied.
She frowned. She’d been gullible this week, where he was concerned. Chase was a world-class liar. He didn’t flinch, blink or host a fake, easygoing, you-can-trust-me smile. Why hadn’t she seen him for who he was before?
Because he was handsome and charming, and she wanted him to be the man of her dreams. His auditions, in her dreams, the past few nights revealed him as a top candidate.
She closed her eyes and rolled the cool plastic juice bottle between her palms. Her breathing remained rhythmic but with each passing second her heartbeat intensified under her ribs like Ravel’s Bolero. She was done being a naïve fool, and frustrated with herself and her reaction to his heated gaze. “I saw you speaking
to the officer.”
“Yeah. He said he couldn’t tell me anything.”
“That took you all of three seconds to tell me.” She tapped her fingernail against the bottle in three beats.
“He also asked me to stand back.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him her best cut-the-crap stare. “You spoke to him for more than five minutes. I’m confident he’s fairly intelligent, since he’s a cop, and that you spoke more than one syllable every fifty seconds.”
“I paraphrased.” He shrugged. “He used words like please and sir.”
She dropped her feet to the floor, her gaze boring into him. In another time or place she’d think him adorable and not the sarcastic oaf he appeared to be in that moment. He’d seemed so concerned and trusting, and those were the reasons she’d come here with him for the night. She’d had other sleeping options, even though he hadn’t known that. Someone in her building would’ve put her up, but no, she’d let herself be talked into staying here, with him. Why?
The answer hit her like a twenty-foot wave: Her world was in total chaos and she’d felt safe with him.
She still felt safe, physically, but emotionally she stood on rocky ground.
Emma placed the juice bottle on the table and scooted off the chair. She marched to the kitchen counter and moored herself to it, ready for a flare-up. Her fingers curled over the vinyl worktop and her nails bit into the soft plywood underneath. Denise was dead. Nanette lay in the hospital. The police apparently hadn’t come for her, which meant the Knepper family had apparently fallen victim to what?
She felt like the kingpin in someone’s devious plan.
What role did Chase play in all this?
He pushed the door and it latched into place.
Was she afraid of what he might tell her? Hell, yes.
Was she going to let her fear show or stop her from learning the truth? Hell, no.
She stared up at him with determination. “What is going on, Chase? And who are you really? Because I know you’re not a student. Was Bart right about you?”
She saw the line of his whiskers shift as he held back his confession.
She waited.
He remained silent, never letting go of her heated gaze.
After a full minute of silence, Emma shoved off the counter and stalked across the room, brushing past him.
“Where are you going?” he finally said as she bent over next to the cushioned chair and stuffed her feet into her shoes.
She sighed, swinging her hair out of her eyes as she stood and turned to him.
“Look, you won’t tell me what’s going on down there.” She jabbed a fist toward the window. “I know you know. You won’t be honest about anything. Apparently you don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you.” He grabbed her coat off the back of the chair and held it captive to prevent her putting it on. “I think it would best if you stay here, with me.”
She yanked her coat from his grip and stuffed her arm inside the sleeve. “You do, do you? If you really think that, then why not tell me?”
“Knepper’s been shot,” he said, so quickly she blinked. He swiped a hand back through his long hair. His jaw clenched.
Emma rocked back on her heels like she’d been hit in the chest with a right jab. “What? Where? When? Why?” she asked in rapid fire succession.
“A about an hour ago, near the loading dock at the stables.”
She felt like cotton balls crammed her mouth. She swallowed, fearing what she might learn with her next question.
“Is he dead?”
Chase shook his head. “No. Luckily one bullet went through his side and that was a clean shot. It didn’t hit any organs or arteries. The second grazed his scalp. He lost a lot of blood.”
“Thank God he’s alive.” The coat slipped free of her arm and she clutched it to her chest. “Do the police know who shot him? Did he say?”
“No. He apparently lost consciousness. He was damn lucky. A quarter-inch difference and he’d probably be dead.”
She stopped Chase from turning away by touching his arm.
“What are you not telling me?”
His flat stare made her regret asking the question. “There was someone else.”
“Shot?” Her throat burned with acid and she swallowed repeatedly. The faces of the students she knew in the college’s veterinary program leafed through her mind. “Who?”
“Tony Packard.”
“The part-time cop?”
“Yes. He was killed.”
Emma covered her gasp with icy fingers. “What?” Her voice wobbled. “What is going on, Chase?”
“The incident was drug related. A delivery driver apparently interrupted their business. There were two men. Fortunately, the shooters didn’t turn on the guy and just took off.” Chase’s gaze lifted to the ceiling and he exhaled. “There could’ve been three dead men. Tony Packard carried a small duffle bag filled with drugs and money. It’s assumed he had a disagreement with his supplier and they shot him.”
“Do the police think Knepper was part of the drug operation?”
“No.”
“He had orders to keep an eye on Packard.”
“Ordered by whom?”
His eyebrows pinched together as he studied her for a full three seconds. “Me.”
“You?” She bumped into the chair as she stepped back.
“Yes.” Chase’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I knew it.” She stabbed a trembling finger at him. “I knew it from the moment we met you weren’t a student. Who are you, Chase? What are you?”
She watched him intently as he crossed over and opened his duffle bag on the coffee table he’d pushed aside to set up the sofa bed. He pulled out a slim wallet and flipped it open before handing it to her. “My name is Chase Hunter. I’m a United States Marshal.”
She lifted her wide gaze from the gold badge to him. “U.S. Marshal? As in Raylan in Justified, or Tommy Lee?”
“Yes. Like Tommy Lee.” He rolled his eyes at her analogy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I am…was undercover.”
“Were you investigating me?”
His lowered gaze effectively answered her question.
She crossed her arms over her coat, holding the fabric tightly against her chest. “That is why, every time I turned around, you were there. And here I believed you were interested in me.” Her strained laughter sounded bizarre. “I mean personally. Not as a person of interest. That’s what you call someone you’re investigating, right?”
“Yes. No. Yes.” His head lowered for a moment. When he looked at her again, his eyes were stripped of emotion. “Yes. I had orders to follow you.”
Finally the truth. She pushed her shoulders back and anchored her feet to the floor. “Along with Detective Johnson and his sidekick?”
“They didn’t know about me until an hour ago.”
She wanted to know everything concerning her and she wasn’t going to stop asking questions until she had answers. “Why were you ordered to follow me?”
“Several factors flagged you as a possible link to the drug ring?”
“Because I’m a chemist?”
“Yes. And you have total access to the lab and its supplies.”
“That is totally ridiculous,” she cut him off. “There are a number of others who also have access.”
“Yes, and they were ruled out, like you.” He took a hesitant step toward her. Her flinch warned him not to move any closer. “You found Denise and you were one of the last people to see her alive, as far as we knew. What shot you to the top of our watch list was that your storage room keycard had been used numerous times during late hours.”
“I worked on my thesis research after hours. I’ve told you and the detectives the same thing.” She stretched her neck to the right and then left, fending off a tension headache.
He held out his hands, entreating her to calm down. “You never worked after midnight, right?”
“No. You me
an my card was used after midnight? Not possible…” Her gaze bounced all over the room. Had someone used her card? If so, how did they get it? She kept it in her purse at all times, only taking it out when she needed it. And she couldn’t remember a time it had been missing.
“That was what I thought. You alibied out—”
“What do you mean I alibied out?”
“Throughout our conversations, you told me where you were during a few times when your card had been used. When you went home for your grandmother’s birthday, for example.”
“I left my card here. Did someone use it then?”
“Yes. So we started looking at others who might have access to your card or if cards could be duplicated.”
“We?”
“My team.”
Heat warmed her cheeks and she lowered her head. Of course Chase wasn’t working this case alone. He had a whole team behind him and every one of them was probably privy to every aspect of her life, and his interaction with her—including their kiss. She’d never felt so embarrassed. “Does your team know I threw myself at you?”
“You didn’t throw yourself at me. You just kissed me before I could kiss you. And to answer your question, no they don’t.” He stepped close enough to her to reach and take her hand. His thumb’s rough pad, brushing across the sensitive skin on her hand, had a very relaxing effect on her. “What happened between us is between us,” he told her.
She searched the depths of his blue eyes for any indication he lied. She found none, but then she didn’t really expect to. He’s a world-class liar, she reminded herself. She pulled her hand free of his.
“I’m going.” She grabbed her bag off the chair and shoved past him. He had locked the door and she fumbled with the mechanism.
“Don’t.” He exhaled behind her.
She yanked the door open and with one foot on the landing, said, “From what you just told me, I’m no longer your suspect.”
The door banged against its frame.
Chapter Twenty-three
“I spoke to Detective Johnson early this morning. He said he was going to stop by and ask you a few questions. Did he and his partner speak to you?” Emma asked Nan as the front doors of the hospital swished open.
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