by Lisa Harris
Grace peered through the lenses as the man walked down the sidewalk.
Did he know where she was?
She turned back to the car.
“Okay, I’ve got the license plate number,” she said, then read off the plate. “How long until the police are here?”
“They’re ninety seconds out.”
Ninety seconds suddenly seemed like an eternity. The men were already here. She couldn’t expect complete strangers to defend her with their lives.
She stared back out the window. That was the driver, but where was the man who’d gone into the bank with her?
“There were two men in the car,” Grace said. “Where’s the other one?”
She ran into the kitchen and pulled back the curtain, looking out at the backyard. The yard was empty.
Movement to her left caught her eye. The back gate swung open in the wind.
She hadn’t shut the gate.
A shadow crossed the yard. He was there, not more than twenty feet from where she stood in the kitchen, a gun in his hand as he headed for the back door. Grace moved back against the wall, trying to slow her breathing, and looked at the door handle, praying they’d remembered to lock it.
Marty stepped into the kitchen.
Gracie held a finger to her lips and nodded toward the backyard. A second later, the door handle rattled. Marty motioned for her to move away from the window, held up his gun, and aimed it at the door.
10
Nate pressed down on the accelerator as he sped down the busy four-lane thoroughfare, searching for the black sedan. If Kelli lost them, tracking Gracie down was going to be difficult, if not impossible.
“Nate . . .” Kelli was back on the line. “A 911 call just came through from Grace.”
His heart raced. “What happened?”
“She escaped the kidnappers and managed to take cover in a residence, but we have reason to believe that the men have found her again. We’ve got patrol cars on their way right now to intervene.”
“What’s their ETA?”
“Roughly ninety seconds. Homeowners are Marty and Jill Phelps, and from your GPS, it looks like you’re currently three blocks south of her location.” Kelli gave him the address.
He pressed on the accelerator and made a sharp U-turn.
“I’m on my way now,” he said.
“Hold on, Nate. As far as we know, both men are armed. Wait for backup.”
She was right, but he wasn’t sure there was time.
He turned the corner and saw the black sedan parked at the end of the street.
“I’ve found the vehicle,” he said, driving past, “but it looks empty.”
Where were the men?
Nate parked against the curb two houses down from the address Kelli had given him, quickly evaluating the situation. One of the men he recognized from the bank was standing at the front door of the one-story house. Backup wasn’t going to get here quickly enough, especially if the man’s intentions were to breach the house. And where was the second man? He scanned the street, but there was no sign of him.
He approached the house via the driveway, his own weapon raised. “This is the police. Put your hands in the air and stand down, or I will shoot.”
The man hesitated, clearly caught off guard. If the man managed to get into the house, the situation could change drastically. And there was still no sign of the second man.
“Put your gun down now,” Nate repeated.
Sirens wailed in the background, giving him the advantage he needed.
“You’re about to be surrounded, so if you’re smart, you’ll do what I’m telling you.”
Nate caught the conflict in the man’s eyes. Another five seconds passed before the man slowly set his gun on the ground and put his hands in the air.
Fifteen seconds later, two squad cars squealed to a stop in front of the house and four officers rushed from the vehicles.
But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Detective Quinn?” one of the officers shouted as he pulled out his firearm.
“Have your men go around back and spread out,” Nate shouted. “There’s a second armed assailant still unaccounted for.”
One of the officers followed his signal and took their suspect into custody as Nate headed for the house. He needed to see Gracie for himself and make sure she was okay.
He banged on the door, then took a step back. “Mr. Phelps? This is Detective Nathaniel Quinn. You can open the door now.”
An older man with a shotgun opened the door six inches, still hesitated.
“Nate?” Gracie stepped up behind the man. “We’re okay. But the second man was at the back door . . . He heard the sirens and ran east down the alleyway.”
“We’ve got officers out there looking for him now,” Nate said, stepping inside the house. “We’ll find him.”
Her face was pale, but other than that she looked okay.
It could have ended so differently, God.
He told one of the officers to take statements from the owners, then turned back to Gracie. She rushed toward him, and without thinking, he put his arms around her and pulled her against him.
“I don’t know who these people are,” she said, “but I thought they’d killed you.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one who managed to escape.”
She looked up at him with those big eyes of hers that somehow managed to do something crazy to his heart. “How did you get away?”
“Long story, and a big miracle, but all that really matters right now is that you’re okay. But I’m so sorry. I never should have taken you with me to the bank.”
“Stop. I’m fine, and besides, this wasn’t your fault. I insisted on coming with you.”
“Maybe, but if anything would have happened to you . . .”
He took a step back, unprepared for the surge of emotions at almost losing her. And then the subsequent feeling of finding her again. The familiar panic threatened to engulf him, but he fought it. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Even if that meant locking her up in some safe house until all of this was over.
But neither could he make this personal.
He drew in a quick breath. “You’re not hurt, are you?” He glanced at the ice pack lying on the couch and noticed she was only wearing one boot.
“It’s nothing. I twisted my ankle when I jumped out of the trunk of the car, but it barely hurts.”
“That’s how you got away?”
Another wave of anxiety sliced through him. If she hadn’t gotten away . . . If they hadn’t managed to track her down . . . He pushed away the string of dark thoughts threatening to strangle him.
“I didn’t exactly have a lot of options,” she said. “And all I could think about was what they’d done to Stephen. And that they had killed you too.”
He tried to gauge her demeanor. She seemed calm, but he knew how shock tended to mask reality. When all of this did hit her, it was going to hit hard. Knowing that she was dealing with great loss even before the harrowing events of the past few hours made him want to whisk her away from all of this. But for now, he still needed her help.
“As you can see, I’m fine,” he said. “We’ll get the paramedics to look at you as soon as they arrive, then get you to the precinct. We’re going to need to take an official statement from you.”
“Of course.”
“Detective . . .” One of the officers caught his attention. “The paramedics just arrived.”
“Any sign of the second suspect?”
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know the moment I hear something.”
Gracie grabbed his arm. “What about the contents of the safe-deposit box? We need to know what was in that box, because they’re planning something.”
“Did you see what was in it?”
“Just a glimpse. There were some maps of the US, printouts of computer code, and several flash drives . . . Wait a minute.” She dug into the side of the boot she still had on. “Th
is was in the box.”
“How’d you manage to get that?” he asked, slipping it into his pocket.
“It had to be a God thing. I don’t think he saw me take it, but he definitely got everything else. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. And we’re going to find whoever’s behind this.”
Paramedics showed up at the front door. Nate called them over to the couch before turning back to Gracie. “I want to hear everything that happened, but in the meantime, stay here with them, and I’ll be right back.”
He waited another few seconds while the paramedics took over, then headed outside, where an officer was putting the handcuffed man into a squad car.
“Did you find anything on our suspect?” Nate asked.
“A set of car keys and a wallet. Nothing else.”
“No papers or flash drives?”
“Nothing.”
Nate glanced down the street at the black sedan. “What’s his name?”
The officer handed him the man’s ID and the car keys.
Brandt Gunnison. White male. Thirty-eight years old.
“Until our second suspect is found, don’t take your eyes off her,” Nate said.
“Yes, sir.”
Nate took the keys, then ran across the street toward the black sedan.
He unlocked the car and scanned the front and back seats, careful not to touch anything. CSU would search the car later, but for now, he needed to know if they’d left the contents of the box behind.
Nothing.
He moved on to the trunk, shivering at the reminder that Gracie had been locked up in it. If she hadn’t escaped, they probably would have found a way to dispose of her body and he’d never have found her. He sucked in a quick breath. But that hadn’t happened. He forced his thoughts back to the second man as he walked toward to the house. He must still be in possession of the items they’d stolen.
But where was he?
His phone rang. It was Kelli.
“There was a hit on the license plate of the car they were driving. It was reported stolen this morning.”
“Another probable dead end, then. I’ll be coming back to the precinct as soon as we wrap up here.” Irritated, Nate hung up and stepped inside the house.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked Gracie, moving next to the couch.
“It’s fine.” She smiled up at him, fatigue in her eyes. She had to be exhausted. “I told you it was nothing.”
“You’re lucky,” he said.
“It wasn’t luck. Like you said, it was a miracle.”
He smiled. “Touché.”
“What about the contents of the box? Did you find it?”
“Not yet.”
“She’s good to go.” The paramedic stood up. “Looks like it’s just a mild sprain. Nothing seems to be broken.”
“Can you walk?” Nate asked.
“Yes. Like I said, it’s really not a big deal. Plus, they gave me a couple of painkillers just in case it starts hurting.”
“Good, but there’s been a change of plan.” He knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but he was certain his boss would back him on this one. “I want you off the radar, which means I’m putting in a request to get you placed in a safe house until we figure out what’s going on. Until we know what’s behind this, it’s too risky—”
“Too risky?” He caught the flash of anger in her eyes, but he really didn’t care if he made her angry. He wasn’t going down that road again.
Gracie frowned. “I can help. I want to help.”
“She’s right, Nate.”
Nate turned around. Paige had just stepped into the house. He frowned. He didn’t have the energy to fight them both, but neither was he going to take a gamble with Gracie’s life. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Paige.”
“You can’t expect me to stay locked up in some safe house,” Gracie said, clearly not finished arguing with him. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, those men broke into your house, shot at you, then kidnapped you and stuffed you into a trunk . . . I think that’s enough for one day.” He pulled out the flash drive she’d given him and held it up. “And on top of that, as far as we know, they are still searching for you. And we don’t even know who these guys are or what their connection is to Stephen’s murder.”
“Nate . . . look at me.” She stood in front of him, then reached up and let her fingertips graze his arm.
He tried to ignore her touch as he caught her gaze and felt himself begin to slip under her spell. He shook his head. He couldn’t feel anything toward her. Especially not now.
“Nate?”
“What?”
“In order to figure out what’s going on, you need me. There might be something I know that can help you.”
Nate worked to settle his irritation. She was being irrational. Both of the women were being irrational, actually, and he was letting this get personal. There was something about Gracie that made him want to protect her. She seemed vulnerable and yet strong. But the worst part was that it had him digging up lots of old memories he didn’t know how to shake.
Paige stepped in beside him. “Will you give us a minute?” she said to Gracie.
Gracie nodded.
“She’s right, you know,” Paige said, pulling him aside and keeping her voice low. “I realize she’s an old friend and that you want to keep her safe, but we need whatever information she might have about Stephen.”
“I know that, but whoever’s behind all of this murdered a man last night, then kidnapped her,” he said.
“She’s not Ashley, Nate.”
His frown deepened as the past fought to raise its ugly head. “I know that.”
“She knew the victim and has information that could help. I know you’re worried about her, but this is bigger than your fears. You can’t let your personal feelings get in the way.”
His jaw tensed. “I understand that.”
“You don’t look convinced. Why is this different than what we’ve done before? We use confidential informants all the time.”
“Because—” He fought to come up with a reason she wasn’t going to refute and throw back at him.
“Because it’s personal and you care about her,” Paige said, answering her own question before he could respond.
“She’s an old friend, Paige. Nothing more.”
“We can debate the truth behind that another day, but for now, you’re going to go with the decision. Or as much as I don’t want to, I’m going to report that you’re not ready to be back on active duty.”
He caught her gaze and realized she wasn’t playing games.
“If you let what happened affect how you do your job—”
“It isn’t and it won’t,” he said.
His anger simmered beneath the surface. He wanted to tell her that she was totally out of line in calling him on this. That she had no right to bring up his past. Except he knew she was right. Which made him even angrier. He didn’t want Gracie involved, because no matter how hard he tried to fight it, he had made it personal.
He glanced across the room where one of the paramedics was talking to Grace. They might have been close a decade ago, but neither of them was the same person now. Knowing what she’d gone through the past few years made him sympathize with all she’d lost, but he didn’t know her anymore and didn’t owe her anything. She was a person of interest in a murder investigation. Nothing more.
“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll take her down to the precinct. She can talk with victim services, then we’ll have Sarge interview her.”
“You don’t want to do it yourself?” Paige asked.
“There’s no reason I need to be the one doing the interview.” He glanced out across the front of the house. “We’ve got two suspects to interrogate.”
11
Nate headed into the precinct toward their unit’s bullpen with Paige, his frustration growing. M
aybe he was just out of practice after so much time off, but playing hardball with their first suspect had yielded them nothing. And now they had only one more chance with the second suspect, which meant they’d better get it right this time.
“Detectives?” Kelli signaled them with a wave of her hand. “You’re going to want to see what I found out.”
“What have you got?” Nate grabbed a mini Snickers from Kelli’s ever-present candy bowl, ripped off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth.
“I found it odd that I couldn’t come up with much of anything on Winters and Gunnison. So after a bit of digging, I discovered that their licenses are fake. Both of them.”
Nate tossed his wrapper into the metal wastebasket next to her desk and frowned. “That would explain a lot.”
Kelli held up the bagged licenses. “And it explains why I can’t find anything on your suspects.”
Nate took the bag from Kelli and held the licenses up to the light. Instead of the official microprint, continuous lines circled the Texas state seal and the flag. He groaned in frustration.
“Can you find out their real names?” Paige asked.
“I’m running their fingerprints, but it’s going to take time. I do have something, though. CSU found Winters’s fingerprints on Shaw’s phone. So we know he had contact with our victim.”
Paige took the offered file. “Any way to tie him directly to the murder?”
“Simply finding prints at the scene—”
“—is meaningless.” Paige finished Kelli’s sentence.
“Exactly.” Kelli sat back in her chair and shifted her gaze to Nate. “Now, on a more positive note, I haven’t had a chance to officially welcome you back.”
He shot her a smile. “I’m glad to be back. You did good today.”
“Thank you.” She reached behind her chair, then handed him a square white box. “This is a welcome-back caramel chocolate-chip cupcake. There are more in the break room, but I was afraid if I put them all there, you’d never get one.”
He peeked under the lid and grinned. The woman never missed a birthday, anniversary, or any other reason to celebrate. “There’s no way to convince you not to retire next month, is there?”
