Courting Death

by Carol Stephenson

  As I scanned the surroundings, the name on a sleek one-story building directly caught my eye: OraGen. I pushed open the door and walked around the square. On closer inspection the building had no glass front and the door was metal with a sign stating Visitors By Appointment Only. Another sign indicated delivery access was at the rear of the building.

  I didn’t catch the cameras hidden under the overhang until I was at the entrance. I kept strolling and ducked my head to look at my portfolio. Hopefully, I looked like someone who was lost.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed what few windows the building had were blackout tinted. While whoever was working inside could see out, no one could see in. When I reached the next office building, I cut around to the backside and found a parking lot bordered by a utility road that circled the complex.

  At OraGen only a few cars occupied the lot. Either it maintained only a small staff or it had killer work hours. I completed the circuit of the commons and hurried to my rental. Instead of turning toward the main entrance, I drove the utility road, slowing slightly as I passed my target. Two doors, one atop a delivery ramp, stood closed. A truck with a familiar overnight delivery service logo sped by me and pulled into the lot of the medical research building. I kept going.

  I headed back toward the city. From the size of the grant OraGen had given to Oceanview Medical Center, one would have expected a much larger operation. I tapped my fingers on the folder Dr. Chang had given me. Although I didn’t possess a photographic memory, I was certain OraGen wasn’t on his disclosure list of corporate involvements.

  However, I knew who had been connected to the company. Time to check out a file at the courthouse. Nothing more interesting than a divorce case for illuminating reading.

  Although it was only five-thirty when I arrived home, dusk was giving way to winter darkness. As I pulled up the drive, the car lights caught a square silhouette on the stoop. I collected my purse, exited the car and walked up the path. The dim porch light revealed a garden-variety white mailing box. Since I hadn’t ordered anything, I prayed Mom hadn’t gotten hold of the phone. The last time she’d watched one of the shopping networks, she almost maxed out her credit card. One more loss of independence for her. I’d had to take her cards away and hide them.

  Sophie opened the door and smiled. “You’re home early.”

  Light flooded the porch. Underneath the box was a dark stain. The young woman glanced down. “Oh, I didn’t hear anyone ring the bell.” She knelt to pick up the box.

  “Sophie, don’t touch that.” I raced up and grabbed her arm. “Please get my mother and take her out through the back over to your place for now.”

  “Why?” Confusion flashed across her face, but she obeyed and stepped back into the house. “Is it a bomb?”

  “I don’t think so, but we’re not taking any chances.”

  I pulled out my phone and punched my by now favorite speed dial number. He answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Sam, I need you to get to my house like yesterday.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a box on my porch and it’s bleeding.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It’s an animal not a human heart,” Sam said as he sat next to me on the living room sofa. He braced his elbows on his legs and loosely clasped his hands.

  A wave of relief swept over me, taking off the sharp edge of tension. The house was quiet now. Only the occasional click of Mom’s old clock on the wall had been my companion as I’d been forced to observe the investigation as a victim, not as someone who served the law. When Melissa had arrived home from the office, I had sent her protesting over to Sophie’s house.

  Outside, the law enforcement activity was dissipating. Through the window I’d been watching people pack up their equipment. The throng of onlookers was thinner now. For the hundredth time I studied the face of any stranger. Tucked away in my pocket was a slim digital camera. While the crime scene photographer had taken pictures, I’d stood to the side snapping my own. Not of the package but of the crowd.

  “Run me through your day. Who did you see and what did you do?”

  I shrugged. “Spent the morning meeting with clients. Then I visited a possible expert and killed off the rest of the day at the courthouse.”

  Sam’s mouth tightened. “Names and places, Nicole.”

  “Are you going to contact them about this?”

  He rolled his eyes up. “No, I’m going to sell them cookies. Of course I’m going to contact them.” He pulled out a notepad and pen.

  “I’ll need to call them first but I will furnish you a list of names.” Idly, I wondered how many would drop me as their attorney. Police scrutiny was something most of my clientele wanted to avoid like the plague.

  “What time did you leave the office?”

  “Around noon. I drove out to the new medical complex off State Road 7.”

  “Who did you see?”

  I bit my lip. Chang’s name would be a clear arrow pointing to the Whitman case, but someone sinister had come on to my property. I shrugged. “Dr. Lee Chang, a neonatal expert.”

  “For the Whitman case?”

  I nodded and then thought about the only unusual thing I’d done that day. “When I was leaving I noticed the complex housed a company by the name of OraGen. The name’s come up with Dr. Hassenfeld’s…”

  Disbelief flickered in Sam’s eyes before his cop’s immutable mask slammed down over his face.

  “You know the company’s name,” I said slowly. “Is it part of the organ transplantation investigation?”

  He reached over and snagged my wrist. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. The buildings bordered a square and are connected by walkways. I simply walked over to the one housing OraGen. When I spotted all the security cameras, I kept on moving. No one was around, except for a few cars in the back.”

  The tension flowing from Sam’s fingers eased, but he thrust his face close to mine. “Listen to me. Your job is to defend the Whitmans, not to find out who’s behind an organ black market. You walked away from being a prosecutor, remember?”

  “What about the fact someone’s trying to frighten me, to keep me from doing my job?”

  He sighed and pressed his forehead against mine. “Honey, I think about it every damn minute of every damn day.” Frustration shimmered in his tone.

  I tugged and he released my wrist. I touched the side of his face. “I need to learn the truth, Sam. You can’t stop me. Tonight a monster walked up to my house with two defenseless women inside. I’m going to find out who’s behind this. It’s my fault that this creep has brought Mom into this mess, and I’m going to get her out.”

  He stared at me with incredulity. “You can’t believe you’re responsible for what happened tonight.”

  “Who else could be?”

  “Oh, let me think here. The slime ball who did it? People are responsible for their own actions, honey. In my world they get up in the morning, pull on their pants and decide to carry a gun. Or buy a knife. Or make any other number of decisions that lead them to commit a crime.”

  My lips twitched. “If only it were so simple.”

  “It’s your job to create all the excuses absolving people. Mine? Get the criminals off the streets and when the justice system dumps them back on, get them off again.”

  Legal absolution of sins? Is that what I was doing? Wrapped in the concept of absolution was forgiveness. I rarely forgave myself, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive whoever was behind the package. I lowered my hand and glanced out the window. Nearly everyone was gone.

  “Are you done with the porch now? Is the scene of the crime officially released?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I need to get a bucket of water and bleach to clean off the spot before I allow Mom to come home.”

  “I’ll help.” Sam stood and offered me a hand, which I declined. Somehow, even the act of standing on my own two feet
without assistance was a small step in regaining control of my life.

  He dropped his hand. “Do you want me to stay here tonight?”

  Panic skittered through me. The vulnerability that had been threatening to overwhelm me since I found the package screamed for me to say yes. However, to concede to that weakness and ask Sam to stay would signify a new step for me in our relationship. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for unexplored territory, to accept that I needed him to make me feel safe again. So I opted for what I did best: push him away.

  “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood tonight.”

  Anger flashed in his dark eyes. “Damn it, Nicole. You mean more to me than sex, and you know it. This is what happened last year. When we start getting close, you threw the Archer screw-up in my face. I’m not going to walk out on you like your father did on you and your mother.”

  Was I doing that? Holding up other men to Nick Sterling? “Sam…”

  He spun and stalked toward the door. “If you ever decide you need me, give me a call. In the meantime, I’ve got a few crimes to solve.”

  The door swung open followed by a burst of excited voices. Carling and Jared, Kate and Gabe, and finally Melissa poured into the foyer.

  “Why didn’t you call us?” Carling was first up to bat. “Melissa had to let us know what happened.”

  Sam gave the group a brusque nod. “Don’t you know? Nicole can shoulder the whole world’s responsibilities with no problem.” He brushed by them and left.

  The other two men glanced at each other and followed him, leaving the three women to descend on me as a unit. Strange how Melissa was fast becoming part of our lives, I realized.

  I gestured. “I was going to clean the front stoop.”

  “Sit.” Kate wrapped her arm around my shoulder and with slight pressure drew me down next to her on the sofa.

  “What happened with Sam?”

  I shrugged. “He offered to stay the night.”

  Carling flopped in the wing chair. “Sounds like a good idea to me, but I take it you didn’t?”

  “I hope you didn’t hurt his feelings because of me.” Melissa perched on the edge of the other chair. “I’m twenty-one.”

  My mouth curved briefly. “No, hon, I didn’t turn him down because of your being here.”

  “Then why the heck not let him stay? Someone left a pig’s heart—”

  “Carling.” Kate interrupted her with a warning note in her voice. “I’m sure Nicole is very aware of what happened tonight.”

  “Oh, right.” Carling subsided.

  Kate turned her bright blue gaze on me. “The pending question is why did you turn him down? Until whoever is doing this to you is caught, it wouldn’t hurt to have extra protection.”

  “Especially when that protection is a hunk and a half.” Carling grinned.

  I glanced at Melissa and then stared at my hands clasped in my lap. “Sam accused me of having trust issues because of my father.”

  “Abandonment issues.” Kate nodded. “Know that one well. It’s a real bitch.” Kate would, having grown up parentless, raised by her great aunt and uncle after her drunk mother managed to kill herself while skiing naked down a mountain slope.

  “Mom told Dad he was a real dick for how he handled his break-up with Annette.”

  We all looked at Melissa, who flushed. “I overheard her yelling at him on my fifth birthday.”

  “What happened?” Carling asked.

  “I was crying that day so Mom asked what was wrong when I should be happy. I told her that I didn’t want my daddy to leave like he did Nicole when she was five. Mom went ballistic and told him from here on out, he was going to make it right. No more separation of family.”

  That’s why I started getting invitations to all the Sterling parties and other get-togethers. Melissa nibbled her lower lip. “I know your mother and my father didn’t work, but maybe it was because they grew too far apart. Mom and Dad have been together twenty-one years and although they fight here and there, I can tell they still love each other.”

  She leaned forward, earnestness glowing on her face. “What I’m trying to say is please don’t let Dad’s screw-up keep you from finding happiness. He would hate that, I know it.”

  I glanced out the window at the three men huddled together on the front yard. “What diabolical plan do you think those three are hatching?”

  “Gabe’s going to take a second look at the list of people with possible grudges against you,” said Kate. “We all agree that this feels personal, beyond someone trying to warn you off from a case.”

  “Even though you’re no longer with the state attorney’s office, Jared says you’re still one of them and he’s going to comb through your old prosecutions,” Carling added.

  “How’s Mom holding up?” I faced Melissa.

  “She fell asleep so Sophie told me not to worry about waking her. She’s going to spend the night there.”

  I nodded and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked outside to where the men were gathered. “Gabe, Jared, could I have a moment with Sam?”

  They both flashed grins and peeled away. Sam stood with his hands propped on his hips. I took two more steps, wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek against his chest until I could hear the solid beat of his heart.

  All the words I’d thought of saying fled and I simply said, “Stay.”

  His arms circled around me and crushed me tighter. He rubbed his face against the top of my head. Then he pointed. “Look.”

  Kate, Carling and Melissa had emerged from the front of the house carrying buckets, bottles and sponges. Melissa knelt with sponge in hand, hesitated a moment and then attacked the bloodstain with a vengeance.

  I smiled. “This weekend would you take a look at the windows and doors and then go with me to buy whatever I need to beef up the security?” After all, commitment to do something together a few days away was no big deal.

  He raised a hand and stroked my hair. “Sure thing, Red.” Then he kissed me. Not a hot kiss of passion but rather one filled with comfort and tenderness. I was aware of the others hooting but deep inside me the hard icy ball of insecurity melted.

  The next morning I showered and dressed for work in record time. It had been a long time since we’d had a man in the house overnight and Sophie would be bringing Mom home soon. I entered the living room in a rush but the folded sheet and pillow were the only evidence Sam had been here.

  Then I heard the low rumble of his voice and the modulated one of my mother’s from the kitchen. I leaned against the jamb. I would store the memory of this moment in my heart, and in the future I would take it out from time to time to cherish it. Cradling a mug of coffee in his large hands, Sam sat sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table while Mom stood at the stove frying eggs and bacon.

  In the days before the grayness had descended over her, it had been Mom’s tradition to cook breakfast on Sundays. Eggs, bacon, French toast, pancakes, crepes. Whatever mood she was in, that’s what she would cook. However, the first time I had found a burnt pan smoking on the stove and Mom in the living room staring blankly out the window, I’d put a kibosh on her cooking.

  Now looking at the sheer joy on her face, I wondered if I kept her wrapped needlessly in a batting of protection. Sam switched his watchful gaze to the door and gave me a broad wink before resuming his vigilance. Was I being too quick to ban activities because I was too busy, too impatient to give my mother room to be normal during her lucid periods?

  I walked over, bent my head and kissed her cheek. Mom started and gave me a guilty look. She was cognizant today. Good. I gave a big smile to let her know everything was all right. “Smells great.”

  “When I found your big, strapping man sleeping on the sofa, I figured he could use a good breakfast.”

  “You would be right, ma’am,” Sam drawled.

  I rolled my eyes, grabbed a mug and poured coffee. I took a cautious sip—Mom often equated a tablespoon to a cup. I gave
an audible sigh. The brew was strong but drinkable. Sam grinned. “I made the coffee, Red.”

  I mouthed the words thank you.

  “By the way, your sister wins the early bird contest. She grabbed a quick cup to go and said she had to get to the office. Something about a ton of research.” Speculation gleamed in his eyes.

  “One of the rude awakenings, I’m afraid.” I leaned against the counter. “It’s not all lively court scenes like on television.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mom hesitate with a tong full of bacon, as if she didn’t know what to do next. I took a plate from the three stacked on the counter and slid it toward her.

  “Thanks, honey.” With renewed confidence she transferred the food, and I carried the plates to the table. Once she sat down, I gave the stove a quick survey to make sure all the burners were turned off.

  We sat in companionable silence until Sam polished off the last bit of food from his plate. “Annette, that was delicious. You sure scramble a mean egg.”

  My mother gave him the smile that used to light up the stage. “Thank you. I always did love cooking for men.” She gave me a sly look. “I keep telling my daughter that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  He reached out, gently took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Mine already belongs to you.” Mom blushed and giggled like a young girl.

  I about had to scrape my jaw off the table. As it was, I had to clear my throat. “Did you sleep all right, Sam?”

  “Not at first. I kept feeling something hard stabbing me in the back until I turned on the light and found this.” He fished in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out my camera.

  I stared at it. I had totally forgotten about the photos I’d taken.

  Mom clapped her hands together. “Let me take a picture of you two together.”

  “I’ve a better idea. Let me take one of the two prettiest women I know.”