She pulled out her phone again. “I think I’ll text my dad about this.”
“Good idea.”
“And I’ll ask for his computer password,” she said as she texted. “So I can do some more research—collect more information for the police before I talk to them again on Monday.”
“Makes sense.”
“And you probably don’t need to stick around and be my protector now,” she said in a light tone.
“Well, how about if I stick around and just be your friend,” he suggested as her parents’ house came into sight through the trees.
“Great. I was hoping that you would at least want to stay for dinner. Especially since you picked out most of the groceries. Those steaks looked pretty good.”
“Wild horses couldn’t pull me away,” he said as he parked next to her car in the driveway.
“The place looks just like we left it,” she said as they got out.
“Yep.” He looked all around, trying to quell the feeling of anxiety that was still with him. As much as he wanted to believe they were out of harm’s way, he just wasn’t sure.
Together they carried the groceries into the house and then he helped her to unload the bags. This ordinary task brought a sense of normality with it, as if Mallory was just an ordinary girl...not someone in danger, someone suspected of murder.
“I wonder if I should tell Dad not to come,” Mallory said as she put the lettuce in the vegetable cooler. “If the guy in the SUV is the killer, and he’s locked up, there’s no reason for my dad to leave his family reunion.”
“Except that he’s your dad, he’s worried about you and he probably wants to be here to help you. And even if they picked up the killer, what about your theory about Brock Dennison? He’s still out there, still able to create havoc...or worse.”
She held up her hands. “But what if I’m wrong about him? I’m actually starting to question myself. What if I’ve made a mountain out of a molehill?” She turned away to gaze out the kitchen window. “Maybe I should tell Dad to wait before booking a flight.”
“Based on what you’ve told me...and after reading the newspaper article, I think you have good reason to be extremely cautious when it comes to Brock Dennison. And I plan to keep my word to your dad. I’m not leaving you alone, Mallory.” He pulled an apple out of the bag and bit into it. As he chewed, he heard a phone jingling. “Sounds like that’s yours,” he said. “Maybe your dad got a flight.”
She went for her purse, eagerly extracting her phone and then staring down at it with a troubled expression. “Oh, no!”
“What is it?” He hurried over to see a text. Like the others it was from “unknown.”
Think you’re safe now? Think again. I’ve got my eye on you. And your boyfriend too.
“How is that possible?” Mallory demanded. “The guy is in custody, right?”
“That’s right...according to the dispatcher.”
“Can you trust her?”
“Sure.” Logan nodded. “She’s a friend of my mom’s.”
“Then who sent this?” She held up her phone.
“Is it from Brock?”
“But how can he be watching me if he’s in Portland?”
“Are you certain he’s in Portland?”
She frowned. “Well, he should be on the news tonight. That’s live.”
“So maybe this isn’t from him.” Logan studied the words. “Should I assume that I’m the boyfriend they’re referring to?”
She made a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”
He pulled her close, looking down into her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind, either.”
“Except that you’re in danger when you’re with me,” she said quietly.
“It’s worth it.” He kissed her again. She returned his kiss, but suddenly she pulled away.
“If someone is really watching us...” She glanced nervously out a window. “Shouldn’t we be more careful?”
“Careful?”
“I mean prepared.” She nodded her head toward the other end of the house. “Time for me to show you my dad’s arsenal.”
Mallory reached for a bear-shaped cookie jar that was never used for cookies and retrieved the brass key taped inside the lid. “I’ll show you the bear cave.”
“Bear cave.” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”
“So does my dad. It’s his special place.” She led him down the hallway. “Come to think of it, it’s probably the safest room in the house.” She unlocked the door and turned on the overhead light, pointing up to the high, narrow windows covered with wooden blinds. They didn’t even open. “Welcome to Dad’s bear cave.”
Logan clicked the dead bolt locked. “Very secure.”
“The dead bolt is because of this.” She patted Dad’s big, dark green gun safe. “And he stores his ammo in here, too.” To prove this she opened a wall cabinet that was well stocked with various boxes of shells and bullets and reloading equipment. “Dad always keeps this room locked tight when he’s not home.”
“He’s a very responsible guy.”
Mallory studied the combination on her hand then proceeded to turn the dial. After a couple of tries, the gun safe opened.
“Wow.” Logan looked at the firearms with appreciation. “Impressive collection.”
She reached in to get the two guns that belonged to her. Both were gifts from her dad and what she used when they went target shooting. Dad had given her the .22 rifle for her fourteenth birthday because it wasn’t too big for her to handle. And the walnut-handled pistol and leather holster came later on. Although it had been a few years since she’d shot, these guns felt familiar in her hands. She laid them on the coffee table and frowned. “I wonder if we really need these now.”
“I hope not.”
While Logan perused the gun safe, she went to the ammo cabinet, retrieving several boxes of the appropriate bullets and setting them by her guns.
“These should work for me.” Logan laid her dad’s black AR-15 rifle and a sturdy-looking Ruger handgun next to hers.
“Help yourself.” She waved her hand across the ammo cabinet as if she was the hostess of a game show.
Logan chuckled as he looked through the assorted boxes until he located the right sized bullets. “These will do.” He set them on the table then stood back to look. “Nice little arsenal we’ve assembled.”
“My dad always says that if you have to shoot, you should shoot to kill.” She shuddered to think of this. “But I’m not sure I really have that in me.”
“Maybe it’s best not to think about it.” He took one last bite of his apple then tossed the core into the trash can next to the desk. “Let’s just be prepared and hope that it’s unnecessary.” He yawned.
“Yeah.” Mallory studied him as he opened a box of ammo. She wasn’t sure when he’d last shaved, but he had those rugged good looks that made a stubble beard attractive. Still, it was a reminder that he’d put in a long night—probably a long week, too. “You must be exhausted,” she said. “How about getting a little afternoon nap while I do some research on Dad’s computer?”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’d like to be wide awake this evening. I have a feeling that if anyone is going to attempt anything, it’ll be after dark.” He frowned. “But I really don’t want to leave you alone—even while I’m sleeping.”
“This is the safest room in the house,” she reminded him as she unlocked the door. “And I’ll even lock the dead bolt if that makes you feel better.”
“It does.”
“And the guest room is right next to it.” She pointed to the door. “Why not just make yourself comfortable there? If by any chance I need you, I can call your phone or bang on the wall or scream or whatever.”
“You promise?” He put his face cl
ose to hers.
“I promise.” She smiled.
“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Same back at you. But I think we’ll both be better off if you have a nap.” She pointed to a well-worn suede couch in the bear cave. “And if I get sleepy, I’ll just use that. It’s where the Papa Bear usually hibernates.”
He nodded, still standing in the doorway. “Okay. Just don’t forget to dead bolt the door.”
“I won’t.” She went over to the desk, sitting down in her dad’s chair and turning on the computer.
“I overheard your dad’s advice,” Logan said sleepily. “For you to research Brock’s past...that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.” She plugged in the password her dad had texted back to her and went online.
“I’ll admit I was curious about the same thing. Why would Brock go to such an extreme? Murder someone just for being dumped? I mean, sure, I’d be upset to be dumped by a girl like you...but murder? Not so much.”
She turned to look at him standing in the doorway...looking relaxed and almost at home. He let out a sleepy yawn and pointed to the dead bolt again. “Don’t forget.”
“Have a good nap,” she told him as she got up, closed the door and secured the lock. She leaned against the door and sighed. Logan was such a great guy. Why hadn’t their paths crossed before this? She leaned against the door for a full minute, just replaying the events of the day, the kisses they’d exchanged this afternoon. It was all so unexpected...so wonderful. And yet it was in the midst of this horrifying situation. So surreal. And, she wondered, would it even have happened if she hadn’t been in such danger? And what would happen if the danger melted away and she returned to Portland and her previous life? Would this romance survive?
But what if the danger worsened? What if another attack was made against her...and Logan? What if neither of them survived?
Get to work, she sternly told herself. She returned to her dad’s chair, reminding herself she had serious research to do if she wanted this to turn out right. Important work that could be the difference between life and death—or, at the very least, jail or freedom. She typed Brock’s full name and birth date into the search engine and prepared to dig.
TEN
Logan woke to the sound of someone pacing back and forth nearby. He got up and listened intently. It seemed to be coming from the bear cave. So he went out, knocked on the door and Mallory opened it looking relieved.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I really need to talk. Did you have a good nap?”
“Yes. I feel like a new man.” He sat down on the couch, patting a spot next to him. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”
“Everything!” She eagerly sat down beside him.
“Okay, then.” He suppressed the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her again. He reminded himself that he might’ve jumped the gun earlier. After all, they lived in two different worlds...not to mention Mallory was a murder suspect. “Sounds like your research was successful,” he said. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
“First of all, I spoke to Alex Brewster from Channel Six News a few minutes ago. He’s one of the few people I can still trust over there. And he had some big news. I was so excited that I thought I’d wake you up when I was talking to him.”
“When I’m not at the station I tend to sleep like a log. So what did Alex say?”
“He’s been doing research on Kestra’s murder, and he unearthed something interesting from a friend at the coroner’s office. It sounds like whoever murdered Kestra was trying to make it look like a suicide.”
“A suicide?” Logan frowned. “According to the newspaper the murderer slit her throat.”
“Apparently her wrists were cut, too.” Mallory grimaced. “To be honest, there was so much blood that night, I didn’t see the cuts on her wrists. Not even when I took her pulse.”
“I’m sure it was a mess...and you were in shock.”
She nodded. “But Alex said that her wrists appeared to have been cut after she was dead. Naturally, the coroner thought that was odd.”
“Yeah. Why would the murderer bother to do that?”
“I think I know,” Mallory exclaimed. “It’s because Brock wanted me dead—not Kestra. And Brock wanted my death to appear to be suicide. I racked my brain over this, but I think it’s to appear I was broken up over him.”
“But a slit throat does not look like a suicide.”
“I know. All I can figure is that the killer botched it somehow. Think about it, Logan, how could a killer sneak up on someone and slit their wrists without a struggle?” She grimaced to imagine this.
Logan slowly nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. And based on the SUV trying to knock us off the road, this killer doesn’t seem like the sharpest crayon in the box.”
“Thankfully.” She stood up and started pacing again. “I know it sounds farfetched. Even to me.”
“Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.” He watched her walking back and forth, frustration following her like a shadow. He wished there was something he could do, a way to bring this to an end.
“And so, as I was researching and finding some interesting things, I decided to email some of my findings to Janice Doyle. It seemed only right that the Portland police have access to the same things I was uncovering. But the response I got from Janice sounded pretty cold and skeptical.” She stopped pacing and bit her lip with a troubled expression. “I sure hope Brock’s not sweet-talking her. He’s really good at that. Particularly with women.”
“Hopefully she’s smarter than that.”
Mallory gathered a small stack of printed pages from the desk. “Anyway, I’ve managed to collect some interesting information on Brock. Stuff the police should be interested in.” She was studying something on the computer screen now.
“So what’d you find?” He went over to peek over her shoulder, but instead of reading the papers or screen, he found himself sniffing her hair. It smelled delicious.
“For starters, I found out that Brock grew up in Idaho. He always tells everyone he’s from Southern California. Goes on about UCLA. But most of his schooling was in Idaho. He only did one year at UCLA.”
“Uh-huh.” Logan took one last whiff then stepped away. “Interesting, but doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“No. Just a liar.” She held up another piece of paper. “This is the last thing I found. When Brock was a student at Boise State, during his last year there, a girl named Amanda Samuels went missing.”
“And...?” Logan wasn’t quite getting the connection.
“Amanda was Brock’s girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Logan looked down at the page in her hand.
“There are a lot of articles and photos and stuff. At first they thought she’d left of her own volition. But more investigation revealed it was an abduction. And from what I found, Brock was never a suspect. Instead he comes across as the brokenhearted boyfriend, leading searches, putting up posters... It was like it launched him into a campus celebrity.”
“Did they ever find the missing girl?”
Mallory shook her head. “No...unfortunately, she’s never been heard of since. The assumption is she’s dead.”
“No body...no suspect...no murder investigation.”
“Brock left Boise State the next year. Transferred to UCLA. Probably so he could claim alumni status with what he figured was a more impressive school. He interned with a news show in LA. Looked like he was making a name for himself, a rising star. But from what little I could find, there was some kind of trouble in the workplace and he was let go.”
“Let me guess, did the trouble involve a woman?”
“I don’t know for sure
yet. But I left a message with a receptionist, told her I was an investigative reporter doing a story on Brock, which is actually true, because when I find out the truth I do plan to go public. Anyway, I asked for someone to call—” She stopped talking because her phone jingled. “It’s a text,” she told him as she looked at her phone. “From ‘unknown.’”
“What’s it say?”
Mallory looked up at him with frightened eyes. “‘When the sun goes down, you’re going down, too.’”
He stared down at the words. “Guess that’s a warning, huh?”
“It has to mean that the thug in custody wasn’t working alone.” Mallory pointed at the guns still arrayed on the coffee table. “Ready to do some target practice?”
He considered this. On one hand, he wouldn’t mind being outside with an AR-15, ready to take out the creep that wanted to hurt Mallory. On the other hand, he knew better. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you being outside, Mallory. I won’t do anything to put you in harm’s way.”
“But there’d be two of us and we’d be armed,” she pointed out with what seemed false bravado.
“Mr. Unknown might be out there and armed, too.” Just then the doorbell rang and they both jumped.
“I doubt the killer would ring the doorbell,” Mallory said lightly, but her forehead was creased with worry.
“Even so, we’ll proceed with caution.” Logan picked up the handgun and quickly loaded it. Following his lead, Mallory got her pistol and a handful of bullets. Inserting a couple into the cylinder, she dropped the rest into her pocket, hurrying to catch up with Logan.
He was peeking past the edge of the closed drapes, out the living room window. “It’s just Trent Fallows,” Logan told her as the doorbell continued to ring. “Probably here to poke around the arson site some more.”
“Hey, isn’t that Winnie out in the driveway?”
“Looks like it. Maybe she volunteered to assist.” Logan unlocked and opened the door.
“About time someone answered. What’re you kids up to in there?” Trent peered over Logan’s shoulder with way too much interest. “Got something to hide?”
Perfect Alibi Page 9
