by Kara Lennox
“A good con man can look and sound so innocent they can get past just about anyone’s defenses.”
“Thanks. Now I’m really creeped out.”
“You haven’t seen that car again, have you?”
“No. But I didn’t imagine it.”
“I never said you did.” But he’d thought it. With a murderer running around loose out there, it was easy to let your imagination get the best of you. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances, in case Bree was right.
They entered her apartment, greeted by the light floral scent of room freshener with a slight trace of...cigarette smoke? “Bree, you don’t smoke, do you? On the sly?”
“What?” She laughed. “No.”
Eric looked around, unable to mask his curiosity about the sort of place Bree had chosen to live in. It was classic, with dark wood floors, crown molding and many-paned windows. Old gas fixtures, now defunct, he imagined, still graced the walls.
The colors were soothing—soft blues and greens with a touch of gold here and there. With all the frenzied activity at her job, she probably needed a calming haven to retreat to when her shift was over.
Bree suddenly went still. “Something’s not right.”
“What?”
“Someone’s been in here.”
Eric looked around. Nothing appeared out of place to him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Someone’s been touching my things.” She paused in front of an antique desk that displayed a collection of glass animals and trinkets—an angelfish, a deer and an elaborate carousel. She picked up a blue glass swan. The head fell off.
She gasped. “This wasn’t broken. I just dusted this shelf a couple of days ago and no one else has been in here.”
“What about the manager?”
“She would never come in here without telling me. If they were going to do any kind of maintenance, I’d have been notified. No, someone’s been here.”
“That might explain why I smelled cigarette smoke.”
Bree took a big sniff. “Really? I didn’t smell it. Then again, I think I’ve trained myself not to register smells. You wouldn’t believe how bad people can smell in the—”
“Um, Bree?” Eric’s heart felt like the pounding of a sledgehammer. He’d lifted the skirt of a tablecloth, looking for...he wasn’t sure what. But he’d found it.
“Oh, my God, is that a bomb?”
“Looks like one.”
“But why—”
“We can wonder about that later. We might have triggered it by coming through your front door. We have to get out of here.” He grabbed her arm and all but dragged her out the door.
She skidded to a stop in the middle of the staircase. “Wait. We have to warn the others.”
“Bree, we don’t have— Damn it!” She was heading back up. She went straight to her neighbor’s door and pounded on it. “Mrs. Hampton? Are you home? We have to evacuate the building.”
“Here, this will work a lot faster.” Eric had spotted a fire alarm in the hallway. He broke the glass with his elbow and pulled the red handle, and immediately an ear-piercing siren reverberated through the whole building. “Now will you come on?”
“But Mrs. Hampton and the others—”
The blast cut her off and her front door blew off its hinges and flew through the air all the way across the landing, missing Bree by inches. Without another word of objection she headed down the stairs.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“THE BLAST PROBABLY wasn’t strong enough to hurt anyone who wasn’t in your apartment,” Eric reasoned as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed 911.
“Or below me. The bomb was sitting right on the floor.”
“Police and fire,” Eric said to the dispatcher, “and maybe ambulance. A bomb just went off in my friend’s apartment.”
As they pushed their way out the front door, Eric caught a glimpse of a beige Acura speeding down the street.
“There, there!” Bree said excitedly, pointing as the car retreated. “That’s him!”
They both ran toward the street, but by the time they got there, the car was too far away to read the license plate.
One by one, Bree’s neighbors came out of the building looking shocked and worried but uninjured. The elderly Mrs. Hampton was first to appear, followed by a couple who were only slightly younger, a young woman with two children and a middle-aged man in a cardigan who reminded Eric of Mr. Rogers. They were all shouting excitedly.
“It was a gas explosion,” Mrs. Hampton said, “I’m sure of it. Bree tried to warn me. Did you smell gas, dear? Was that it?”
“I, um, I’m not sure,” she mumbled, probably not wanting to alarm them. Then she looked around frantically. “Where are Jules and Patrick?”
“I think they’re both at work,” the Mr. Rogers man said.
“Oh, thank God.” Then Bree’s knees started to wobble.
Eric grabbed on to her just as she sank to the ground.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered to Eric. “Someone really did try to kill me. My stalker is a hit man.”
* * *
BREE STILL FELT WOOZY. Maybe it was the fact all she’d had to eat today was a granola bar and a bowl of soup.
She and Eric were in an interview room with Sheriff DeVille as well as two ATF agents, and they’d been questioning her for two hours. If this was how they treated victims, she sure would hate to be a suspect.
Or maybe she was a suspect. Maybe they thought she set the bomb herself, to shore up her theory that Philomene’s killer was after her, too, and it was all tied to the crimes Kelly Ralston was believed to have committed. Everyone seemed to be mystified as to what had triggered the bomb to blow when it did. The ATF guy said it would have been more normal for the door to have triggered the firing mechanism.
In Bree’s opinion, the only possible explanation for someone wanting to kill her was her recent association with Philomene, and she had said so—repeatedly.
“If Philomene was killed because she was going to change her story, maybe the perpetrator thought Philomene had already told me something.”
“And did she?” the sheriff asked eagerly. A little too eagerly, Bree thought.
“No. All she said was that when she identified Kelly Ralston in the lineup, it was a mistake. She hadn’t seen her attacker well, because it was dark and he had a stocking over his head. She just picked Kelly because she felt pressured.”
Bree didn’t add that it was the sheriff himself who had pressured Philomene to make an identification, and that he had given her subtle clues as to which suspect in the lineup she should pick.
“But she continued to point the finger at Ralston,” the sheriff objected. “She pointed him out in court.”
“She said once she started lying, she was afraid to stop. But she’d been feeling guilty about it ever since and she wanted to set the record straight.”
“And you can’t think of anyone else who might want you gone? Jealous boyfriend? Have you lost a patient in the E.R. recently? Someone whose relative thought you did a bad job?”
“No, really, nothing like that. I can’t think of anyone who’s mad at me.”
“Sheriff DeVille,” Eric interjected, “this has gone on long enough. Bree’s tired. She’s upset. She needs to rest.”
The sheriff shot Eric a dirty look. “She’s got a mouth. Why don’t you let her decide when she’s tired?”
“Because I’m her lawyer,” Eric said.
“And you think she has something to hide? That why you’re protecting her?”
“Oh, good grief,” Bree grumbled. “Eric is right. I’m tired and I can’t even think straight. I’m happy to make myself available to you or any other law enforcement who mistakenly believe I have something to
add. But tomorrow, huh?”
The sheriff exchanged glances with the ATF agents, then nodded. “Okay. Where will you stay? With your folks?”
“Oh, God, no way.” Crap, had she said that out loud? “I don’t know yet where I’ll stay, but you can always reach me on my cell.” She sent a nervous glance to Eric, who, thankfully, said nothing. It might look a bit odd if people knew she was living with the Project Justice attorney working on her case.
She wasn’t planning to stay with him anyway. No way was she leading a hit man who liked to plant bombs anywhere near Eric’s family. She would stay at a hotel.
“What about my apartment?” she asked. “The door was blown off.”
“We’ll be processing the scene for a couple of days,” one of the ATF agents said, “and we’ll make sure the doors and windows are boarded up before we leave. But frankly, there’s not much left in there worth stealing.”
That was a glum thought. But possessions could be replaced. If Eric hadn’t spotted that bomb—if she hadn’t realized someone had been in her apartment—they would both be dead or maimed.
Once they were back in Eric’s car, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to call your parents? I know you said you weren’t close, but you might at least let them know you’re safe.”
“Eric, they didn’t even visit me in the hospital when I had the baby. They didn’t come to Casey’s funeral. Eventually, when they realized I wasn’t going to come crawling back to them, repentant and groveling, they apologized and I pretended to forgive them.”
“Did you move in with Kelly?” Eric asked, though expressing his curiosity about Bree and Kelly’s relationship was like probing a sore tooth.
“Yup.” She shook her head. “God, what a disaster. We lived in a mobile home in Kelly’s cousin’s backyard. We lived on rice and beans and peanut butter and food from the food bank. I was trying to graduate. Kelly was working at a garage. We were poster children for the campaign against teen pregnancy.”
“I can’t imagine.... I mean, I would hope MacKenzie wouldn’t grow up to fall in love with the wrong guy and get pregnant in high school. But if she did, I would never kick her to the curb.”
“My parents were just so humiliated by their pregnant daughter. My dad didn’t run for reelection because he thought I had shamed him so thoroughly no one would ever vote for him.”
“So how did you swing college? Medical school?”
“Ah, a little thing called a college fund, in my name, courtesy of my grandmother. She was the peacemaker, actually. She got us all talking again. My parents tried to sweep what they did under the rug once the baby was out of the picture and Kelly and I broke up. But I knew in my heart that if our baby had lived, if I’d stayed with Kelly, they never would have accepted either of them.
“Now, with me championing Kelly’s cause—well, you can just imagine how that sits with them. I can’t be with them ten minutes before one of them brings it up and tells me how stupid I am.”
“Why are you so passionate about Kelly’s situation?” Eric asked. “Are you still in love with him?”
She looked at him sharply.
Yeah, there it was. The question he never should have asked. He blundered on, trying to justify the question. “You conceived a child with him. You went through an awful lot together. That can create some pretty strong bonds.”
“No, I’m not in love with him! Jeez, isn’t it enough that I see injustice and I want to make it right? Honestly, you men always want to assign some sexual meaning to every move a woman makes. Don’t think you’re the only one who has this notion that I’m helping Kelly get out of prison because I’m in love with him. Jeez!”
“Okay, I’m sorry I asked.”
“Are you still in love with your wife?”
Eric looked stunned that she would ask, and she was immediately contrite. “God, I’m sorry, Eric. That was uncalled for. But you and I, we both have these tragic romances in our past, and we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t wonder whether we can get past that. I mean, would you even care if I had feelings for Kelly if you didn’t have feelings for me?”
“This conversation has gotten completely out of hand.”
“Agreed. Hey, there’s an Embassy Suites up ahead. Why don’t you take me there? I can’t keep staying with you. It’s out of the question.”
“I’ll take you to Daniel’s. It’s secure as Fort Knox.”
“Are you sure that’s okay? I barely know him.”
“He has houseguests all the time. Think about it. Our investigators are always stirring up hornets’ nests. They deal with some unsavory characters. Our clients, their friends and relatives, often get caught in the cross fire and need a safe haven. Daniel’s estate is perfect for that.”
“I guess when you put it that way, it’s really the safest choice. At least maybe I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” Though she wondered if she’d ever get a good night’s sleep again until they caught whoever was trying to kill her.
* * *
ERIC HADN’T FELT quite right about just dropping off Bree at Daniel’s house. At least he knew she would be safe there. But she was in despair, and he wanted to be the one to comfort her.
He needed to get home. He wouldn’t neglect his little girl, no matter what the cost.
As he drove home, he kicked himself for his own stupidity. Why had he asked Bree if she was still in love with Kelly? If she was, she wasn’t going to answer honestly. She might not even realize the depth of her feelings for the man with whom she had shared the bond of parenthood.
He certainly hadn’t liked it when she turned the tables on him, asking him if he was still in love with Tammy.
Was he?
She had been dead for years, yet it seemed like his feelings for her had been in some kind of suspended animation, and he was fully processing her loss only now that he was out of prison and back with MacKenzie. He had only recently learned of her infidelity. Before she died, if he had known of her affair, his love for her would have withered and died a natural death. He felt certain he would have divorced her.
But it was a lot harder to hate a woman who had been so cruelly murdered, a victim of her own excesses.
If he felt pangs of jealousy over Bree’s former relationship with Kelly Ralston, she might have the same sort of feelings about him and Tammy.
Maybe she was right. Even if they cared for each other, maybe neither of them was ready for a new relationship.
The thought of giving Bree up forever made his chest ache, as though a two-ton weight sat on his heart. He tried to imagine saying goodbye, walking away from her for good once this case was concluded. If Project Justice succeeded in freeing Kelly Ralston, Bree would have her hands full helping him reintegrate into society. Lord knew he would need help, just as any ex-con did. Eric didn’t know how he would’ve survived without Travis, Elena and MacKenzie showering their love on him.
This was true even if Bree and Kelly were just friends. Eric would only be in their way.
The whole crew met Eric at the door as he entered the house; MacKenzie jumped into his arms while Elena and Trav both tried to hug him at the same time.
“Thank God you’re okay,” Elena said.
“We’ve been watching the news,” Trav added. “It looked like the whole apartment was destroyed. Were you really right there when it happened?”
Eric wasn’t too crazy about discussing this in front of MacKenzie. He didn’t want her worrying about him being at risk at work—she was already anxious whenever they were apart. So he soft-pedaled the danger.
“We had just left,” he said in as cheerful a tone as he dared. Even a child as young as MacKenzie could spot it when an adult faked an emotion. “Neither of us was injured at all.”
“Thank God,” Elena said again. “Bree must be terrified. Why would any
one want to hurt her?”
Elena knew exactly what she was talking about. Not so long ago, someone had tried to kill her.
“She’s scared, of course. But Daniel is personally looking after her safety.”
“Then she’ll be okay until they catch the bas—” Travis stopped himself and changed course “—the jerk who wants to hurt her. Eric, is there anything we can do?”
“I appreciate the offer, but Daniel’s on the warpath. You know how personally he takes it when any of his employees find themselves in the line of fire. I haven’t been working there long, but he considers me one of the gang and he’s not going to take this lying down. Every resource the foundation can muster will be put to use finding whoever did this, whether it’s directly related to the case I’m working on or not.
“And now I think we should stop talking about this in front of the little pitcher and change the subject, okay?”
“Good idea,” Elena said. “Travis has been smoking a brisket all day, so we’re all in for a treat at dinner. And I bought some pineapple ice cream for dessert.”
MacKenzie clapped her hands together. “Yay, my favorite kind!”
Eric was happy to see that all the talk of killers and bombs and danger had for the most part gone right over MacKenzie’s head. She was more interested in showing her daddy her new coloring book than talking about his day.
As he spent a couple of quality hours with MacKenzie before dinner, his thoughts strayed to Bree and the baby she lost. Suddenly Eric felt like one hell of a lucky guy. He might not have parents, but he had a brother and sister-in-law and a child who all loved him to distraction. He got to see them every day.
Bree didn’t seem to have anyone. Maybe that was why getting Kelly out of jail was so important to her. At least she had a connection there.
Damn it, he’d never wanted to see justice done so badly. He wanted to do this one thing for her, to prove that bastard Ralston was innocent and get him out of jail. At least then he could part ways with Bree knowing she had someone in her life.
