Safe in His Sight

by Regan Black

  She sank into her chair, relishing the warmth of his touch lingering in her hand, and the gentle tingle on her lips. Her foolish heart had fallen right at his feet and the rest of her was eager to join it. She’d grown accustomed to having him around, with his wit, thoughtfulness and determination. Her sudden wish that it could last, that they could hold hands and grow old together, sent her heart knocking against her ribs.

  They were so different, yet the more time she spent with him, the more she noticed what they had in common besides the sizzling, satisfying chemistry. People thought of firefighters as community heroes and often lumped defense attorneys into a heap labeled community scum. People weren’t entirely wrong about either generalization, she thought, frowning at how unlikely they were as a couple.

  She’d enjoyed meeting his family, enjoyed discovering that families could be warm and sincere, thoughtful and kind, instead of cold and calculating. She’d been shocked that they’d been warm to her, even after hearing where she worked. And she’d repaid them by leading a car bomber to their street.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached for the phone to call Stephen’s garage. Directly responsible or not, her problems had spilled over into his life and she wanted to apologize for the destruction of his truck. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. She hoped that meant he was working, rather than avoiding her. Assuming she was invited back, she could get used to spending Sundays around the Galway dinner table.

  She waited for the dread to rush in and chase away the idea, more than a little shocked when it didn’t. This was risky thinking, though she couldn’t seem to stop the formation of a gentle, muted picture of being with Mitch beyond the purpose of her safety. As if there’d been any doubt, her racing, erratic thoughts proved sex changed everything. What would happen if she told him she was in love with him?

  Her desktop computer chimed with an incoming email, drawing her away from the daydream of life with Mitch as a real boyfriend. As she opened the message, she thought about how quickly he’d left after lunch. She hoped his appointment had something to do with his suspension.

  Every time she thought about that incident it bothered her knowing Mitch was paying an unfair price for another man’s negligence as a parent. Mitch’s situation was one more example of why she’d chosen to practice as a defense attorney. People needed someone to help them navigate life’s raw deals. From everything she’d been able to learn about that fire, the fight at the scene and the disciplinary action against Mitch, he’d gotten a raw deal all around.

  Mitch’s problems were pushed to the back of her mind as she read and reread the email. Her boss had called an emergency meeting on the Falk case. She had less than an hour to prepare an update on her research progress.

  With an oath, she shifted into high gear to meet the new demand. Unwilling to take any chances this time, she gathered her personal belongings and took them upstairs with her.

  In the elevator her phone sounded another text alert. She swiped the screen, sure it was Mitch, only to find a picture of them in the park today, edited with an X over his face.

  Julia’s knees turned to water and she leaned against the elevator wall for support. The two other people in the car gave her an odd look. “Excuse me. Turned an ankle.” She knelt down and fiddled with the strap on her shoe while she tried to catch her breath. The stalker was taking direct aim at Mitch.

  Her heart pounded, knowing there was nothing the stalker considered out of bounds. If he’d just tell her what he wanted, she could do something. This limbo, where her imagination filled in the blanks with progressively more horrible options, was breaking her.

  In the waiting area on Haywood’s floor, she opened the text message again, this time reading the instructions under the awful picture. I know where you’re going. In the rush of panic, Julia looked around for that dreaded orange cap. Give me the names Falk is exchanging for his freedom or romance is dead. You have one hour.

  A shiver rattled her body from head to toe as she aimed for the conference room. Her confidence gone, she swallowed a useless surge of tears and suppressed the desperate urge to run. Despite the stalker monitoring her cell phone activity, she forwarded the terrible text messages to Mitch and Grant. He’d told her repeatedly he could take care of himself. Now she had no choice but to trust him.

  Just outside the conference room, she muted her phone and did something she hadn’t done in years. She prayed for a miracle.

  *

  Mitch had argued with Grant by text and phone about leaving Julia alone, even behind the limestone facade of Marburg’s ostentatious building. Grant won, evidenced by Mitch’s arrival at Escape to meet with Carson for the sketch. They needed the ID, sure, but Julia needed him to stick close.

  He entered the club at the back door, his temper on the rise. “Look at this.” He shoved his phone at Grant.

  “She sent it to me, too,” Grant said. “I’ve got a friend from the police department near the building in case something happens.”

  As if Julia would trust a cop she didn’t know. “I need to get back there,” he insisted. “She needs me.”

  “I’ve got her covered,” Grant insisted. “You are the one he threatened. Hurry up in there.” Grant gestured to the office. “Carson’s waiting on you.”

  Mitch swore under his breath. Grant was right. They needed an ID to circulate around the city so someone could nab this guy. The sooner they got this done, the sooner he could get back to Julia. Despite the protective walls of her professional persona, he knew the picture and message had filled her with dread and worry.

  Carson asked Mitch several questions about the encounter on the street and inside the coffee shop, making notes and adjustments with pencil and paper.

  Mitch did his best to cooperate, racking his memory for any detail he might have overlooked in the heat of the moment. Carson continued to work as Mitch talked, then turned his sketch around. “What’s right and what needs work?”

  Something at the jaw was off. “More rounded through here. He wasn’t fat or overweight. More filled out.”

  The adjustment made, Mitch studied it again as it hit him. “He had a scar,” he said as it dawned on him. “Close to his ear.” He pointed to the spot on the picture. “And another one right here, that interrupted the whiskers on his chin.”

  Carson made the changes. “Now?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Nicely done.” Grant clapped Mitch on the shoulder.

  Mitch stared at the picture. “Do you recognize him?”

  “No, but someone will. I’ll get it circulated.”

  Carson tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to Grant. “Anything else you need from me?”

  “That’ll do for now. Thanks again.”

  Mitch stood up and shook Carson’s hand, watching the other man depart, a limp visible in his stride. “No one saw anything suspicious yesterday.” He balled his fists in his jacket pockets. “Have the cop impersonators said anything?”

  “They’re both dead,” Grant said quietly. “Heart attacks two nights ago.”

  “Both of them?” Mitch sank into a chair. The stalker was taking no chances with witnesses. The thought made his blood run cold. “I have to get back to Julia.”

  “Make a copy of that picture and take it with you.” Grant rocked back in his desk chair, one hand working a spot at his shoulder, just under the collarbone. “I want you to show it to Julia at the first opportunity.”

  Mitch pulled out his phone and lined up a clear snapshot of the sketch.

  “Not that way,” Grant said, grabbing the piece of paper. He grumbled as he wrestled with the printing and scanning device. “I don’t want him to know we have this yet. We need him to keep operating as if he’s untouchable.”

  “Did it occur to you he might be untouchable?” Mitch took the copy Grant offered, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket. “I need to get back over there. He made the demand as soon as I was out of sight.”


  “He made the demand because he has reason to suspect she will cave in to save you.”

  “Then he doesn’t know her very well.” Mitch scrubbed at his face. “Or me. I won’t let her throw away her job or her pride for this scumbag.”

  “When you see her,” Grant continued, “if she didn’t do it already, encourage her to give him something legitimate.”

  “She’ll lose her job,” Mitch said, coming out of his chair. “It means everything to her. There has to be a way to end this without her being disbarred.”

  “Lives mean more. Hers, yours and others, too. We have to reel this guy in.”

  “Right.” Julia didn’t deserve to have to sacrifice everything she’d worked for to this sneaky bastard. It annoyed the crap out of him to have some nameless, faceless criminal running around dictating the rules of the game, changing them on a whim.

  The screen on his cell phone lit up with an incoming call—his mother, calling from home. His stomach pitched at the dreadful implications. Had the stalker done something worse? “Hi, Mom,” he said for Grant’s benefit, trying to keep his voice light and casual. Myra picked up on the tiniest inflections and then picked them apart until she knew every detail of what was going on with her children.

  “There’s a fire at the Franklin house.” His mother was too distracted to notice Mitch’s tension. He heard his rock-steady mother fighting back tears. “Your dad is out there, thinking he can help.”

  Mitch stifled a groan. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near a fire while he was suspended. This would make twice in two days. “Did you call Stephen?”

  “Of course I did, but he didn’t answer. I left a message. I need you both.”

  “Dad isn’t an idiot, Mom.” Mitch had to trust Grant to cover Julia for a little longer. He lifted his hand in farewell as he left the office.

  Myra vented her concern and dire, hypothetical threats against his father. “He misses the action and you know it,” she was saying as Mitch jogged across the street.

  “I’m on my way,” Mitch assured her. “I have to hang up. No good hands-free options with this loaner car.”

  “Okay, okay.” But she didn’t hang up. “Where are you?”

  “At the club.” He switched the phone to speaker as he started the car. If he was lucky, it would wreck the connection and he could drive in peace.

  “And your new girl?” Myra never missed a chance to nose around in his social life.

  “She’s at work.”

  “I like her.”

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Me, too, Mom. I’m heading your way right now. The speaker is lousy on my end. I’m hanging up now.”

  He ended the call as she thanked him, and focused on the shortest route. When he arrived, the street was blocked with emergency vehicles, reminding him too much of the night the Marburg building had been evacuated. He parked a block down and paused long enough to text and confirm Julia was okay. Leaving the car, he jogged to where his mom waited, in the middle of the front yard, presumably keeping an eye on his dad.

  Quickly he snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to Grant. The old adage to divide and conquer ran through his mind as he took in the scene. What would the stalker do while Mitch was so far from Julia?

  He hugged his mom as he asked about his father.

  “He’s over there. Too close.” Myra pointed to the fire trucks flanking the burning house. “If the man had his gear, he’d be in the thick of it.”

  “There’s your silver lining,” he said with an unrepentant grin. Striding forward, he hoped no one pushed him too hard about being there.

  The blaze wasn’t yet under control, burning hot and leaping through the roof. Mitch did a quick head count and assumed there were teams around back.

  “You’re giving Mom gray hair,” he said, tapping his dad’s shoulder.

  “She’s tough.” Samuel spared Mitch a quick glance. “Gray looks good on her anyway.”

  “Not the point, Dad.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, son. Go on back to the house.”

  “Mom will disown me if I go back without you,” Mitch replied.

  “Fine.” Samuel watched the blaze for another minute. “This was arson,” he said under his breath as they walked back to the house.

  “You sound awful sure about that.” Mitch turned around, wondering what had tipped off his dad.

  “I’m positive.” Samuel gave a solemn nod. “I was in the kitchen when the corner of the roof lit up like a Roman candle. Arson all the way.”

  “Hard to believe anyone would target Mr. Franklin’s place.”

  “He was visiting his daughter in Connecticut. Planned to be home Saturday night. I’m glad he was delayed.” Samuel shook his head. “No man deserves to see his house go like that. He helped build it, you know.”

  “I know.” A prickle of unease raised the hair at the back of Mitch’s neck. Mr. Franklin always checked in with the neighbors when he traveled—they all did. A delayed return on Saturday night, a car bomb on Sunday afternoon and a fire today. “When did he tell you about the delay?”

  “He didn’t.” Myra slid her arm around her husband’s waist, as if that would be enough to keep Samuel from wandering back into the action. “No one’s heard from him. I asked around.” She waved an arm up and down the street. “I tried his number as soon as the fire started, but he isn’t picking up.”

  “Probably driving,” Samuel said. “He’ll be heartbroken.”

  As Mitch listened to his parents chatter on, that prickle of unease grew into a terrible theory. The man stalking Julia knew how to pry open bank accounts, hire cop impersonators and blow up cars. A criminal with those skills or connections wouldn’t hesitate to kill an elderly man for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “The cops didn’t speak with Franklin yesterday when they canvassed the area about the bomber?”

  His mother stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Of course not. He wasn’t home.”

  “Right.” Mitch blew out a long breath. “I need to borrow Dad a minute.”

  Myra narrowed her eyes. “One minute.”

  “Maybe five,” he amended, giving his mom a peck on the cheek as a preemptive apology.

  He and his dad walked around the house, toward the awning beside the garage where Samuel kept the retirement RV ready to go at a moment’s notice. “I want you and Mom and Jenny to leave town for a few days.”

  Samuel scoffed. “We can’t do that. Jenny has classes and—”

  “This is serious, Dad. If you can’t leave town, at least get away from the house.”

  “What’s going on, son?”

  “I’m worried that arsonist is also a murderer. I’ll tell you the whole story when this is settled, but my gut tells me it’s the same person who blew up my car and now burned down the house to get rid of any evidence on Franklin’s body.”

  “Franklin would’ve called when he got home.” His dad peered beyond his shoulder toward the street, as if recalling every detail of the explosion yesterday. “With that hedge, Franklin’s house would be a great hiding place to set or detonate an explosive device.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” Mitch hated being right on this. “Can you tell the chief what you told me about Franklin’s travel plans?”

  Scruffy gray eyebrows knit into a deep scowl. “Should I tell him I think there’s a body inside?”

  “No. Just the timing.” Jumping the gun could backfire if the media caught wind of it and tipped off the stalker.

  “Fine.” Samuel raised his hands in surrender. “I know you have to keep your nose clean until the hearing. And after.” He sighed. “Your mother will tan my hide, and yours, if she sees me over there again.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “This has to do with your new girl?”

  “It might.” Sex didn’t make her definitively his, not beyond reasonable doubt anyway. “She’s a good friend.” It bothered him to keep putting her in that box when he wanted to procl
aim his feelings for her, to her. She was more than that to him and he didn’t want to hide that from anyone. “She is in a predicament. We met at the club and I’m helping her out. I think her problems followed her here.”

  “Thought you’d learned that lesson, son.” Samuel scrubbed the thick whiskers on his chin. He’d started letting his beard grow in for the cold winter months ahead.

  “Uh-huh.” Mitch ground his molars and filled his lungs with a calming breath. Losing his patience or protesting the issue wouldn’t help his credibility on this topic. His family would just have to wait and watch him win Julia’s heart.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Hands in his coat pockets, shoulders hunched up, Samuel crossed the street again. A few minutes later he returned, two spots of ruddy color on his cheeks. “Already found a body. Arson’s on the way.”

  The confirmation of his suspicions didn’t give Mitch much comfort. Only putting the stalker away would do that. “Now will you go? As a precaution? I figure the guy giving Julia trouble knows he can get her cooperation by hurting people she cares about.”

  “Humph.” Samuel folded his arms over his barrel chest, weighing Mitch’s statement. “How’d this bad guy get the idea you mean something to her?”

  Mitch waited out the intense scrutiny without a word. A tough task on several levels. If the stalker thought his family had witnessed something incriminating, they were all in jeopardy. “You need to move quickly. Please, Dad.”

  Samuel dropped the defensive posture. “Come on. I’m not telling your mother any of this nonsense on my own.”

  Mitch fell in beside him, wishing it was nonsense. Repeating his request for his mother’s benefit, he shoved his hands into his pockets, enduring another long, speculative gaze. Damn it, Julia was nothing like Leann, couldn’t they see that as well as he did?

  “I’ll call Jenny,” she said in a tone that meant business. “We’ll do as you ask.” She glanced past him through the window to the street. “And Stephen just pulled up.” Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “We’ll fill him in, too.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Dad.” He gave them each a fast hug, then danced out of reach, eager to see for himself that Julia was safe.