by Vella Day
With his cell phone on speaker, he called Cade, and his partner answered quickly. “What’s up?”
As factually as he could, Trent relayed what happened, including him failing to chase after the shooter. “The moment I saw Charlotte, I had to stop.”
“You did the right thing.”
“But the shooter escaped. I’m on my way to the hospital now to be with her.”
“Good. I’ll put out an APB for the man. Can you give me a description?”
“That’s the problem. The man wore a mask and it was dark. All I can say is that he was about six-feet tall and moved easily.”
“Not much to go on. Looks like we can rule out Elaine Goddard, assuming the perpetrator was someone involved with Bill Goddard’s death. She hasn’t left her house all evening.”
“She could have hired the person.”
“You worry about Charlotte, and I’ll work on locating the whereabouts of each of our murder suspects.”
“Vic is keeping tabs on John Samuels. I’ll ask him where he was tonight.” Trent had to call Charlotte’s parents anyway to let them know what happened.
“I’ll stay in touch.”
The hospital came into view and Trent pulled his Jeep as close to the front entrance as possible. After scanning the lot for someone in a ski mask, and not spotting anyone, he jumped out and ran toward the front entrance. Despite flashing his badge, he was asked to wait until the doctor finished examining Charlotte.
Pacing one corner of the waiting room, he called her dad. Vic had already blamed Trent for sending her into John Samuels’s home, so he could only imagine his reaction to this fiasco.
“Hey, Trent.”
Vic sounded in a good mood but that would end shortly. “I’m afraid Charlotte had a little incident.” He filled him in as best he could, leaving out the part about how disoriented Charlotte had been. “I’m at the hospital now waiting to hear what the doctor has to say.”
“El and I are on our way now.” He disconnected.
While Vic hadn’t asked him more than one or two questions, Trent was certain there would be plenty to come.
Within a few minutes, Stone appeared from down the hall. “Charlotte’s in room number three if you want to go in.”
“How is she?”
“She’ll soon be headed in for an X-ray to check on her face. Hopefully her cheek isn’t cracked.”
Guilt assaulted him again. “Will she have to spend the night?” Knowing Charlotte, she’d be really upset, especially with needing to open her store tomorrow.
“That’s up to the doctor.”
Trent ached for her. He rushed to her room, pulled back the curtain, and stepped inside. Seeing Charlotte in bed, with pain lacing her face, broke his heart. She looked so small under the sheets. Her hair was tangled and her face pale—and it was all his fault.
“Hey,” he said as he stepped over to the bed.
She tried to smile then stopped. “Face hurts.”
“You don’t have to talk. I’m really sorry you got messed up in this stuff.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said not moving her mouth much. “You told me to stay by the front and I didn’t listen. When I heard the gunshots, I panicked, imagining you were lying on the ground bleeding. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do when I found you.” She glanced off to the side then turned back to him. “Truthfully, I wasn’t thinking at all.”
He agreed but no good would come from confirming her statement. He picked up her hand and gently squeezed it. “I appreciate your concern.” Telling her that she should always do as he instructed would only make matters worse between them.
She asked what had happened, and he told her what he knew. He was in the middle of questioning her about her condition when voices sounded down the hall, one of which belonged to an irate Vic Hart. Seconds later her parents barreled in. Her mom appeared both angry and frightened and her dad looked as if he was ready to kill someone. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be him.
Her mom rushed over to her side. “Oh, Charlotte, how are you, honey?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit sore.”
Charlotte would downplay the near tragedy. Feeling like an outsider, Trent stepped toward the exit. Now probably wasn’t the time to ask Vic about John Samuels, but he needed to know if Charlotte was in further danger. Whoever had shot at him and injured Charlotte might believe she recognized him, even with him wearing a mask.
“May I speak with you outside” Trent asked.
“Make it fast. I want to be with my daughter.”
Trent could totally understand. They edged down the hallway, out of Charlotte’s earshot. “By any chance were you watching John Samuels this evening?” He would like to be able to cross one name off the list.
“I was until about two hours ago. El called and asked if I would help with something at home. I was tempted to say that I needed to remain on the job, but then I realized that was what I kept telling Ellie all those years ago. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally realized that my wife has to come first from now on.”
Trent was a bit disappointed at the lack of surveillance, but he totally understood. “I can’t expect you to follow him twenty-four hours a day. I appreciate you tailing him for as much as you do. Where was he?”
“At home. And no, Elaine Goddard wasn’t with him.” His expression turned even harder, if that was possible. “Excuse me. I need to take care of Charlotte.”
Vic headed inside, anger rolling off him in waves, implying Trent was no longer capable of taking care of his daughter and that stung because he might be right.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trent charged out of the hospital, anger and frustration colliding. Charlotte didn’t deserve to be mixed up in this mess, yet she had been. While he wasn’t positive the attack was related to Bill Goddard’s death, it was his only murder case. Add in the fact that no one else was in the parking lot, and he had to conclude the shots were aimed at him.
As much as he wanted to be with her, Trent had no doubt that she’d be more comfortable surrounded by her mother and father. With her dad there to protect her, Charlotte would be safe.
Once in the car, he headed toward the station. He’d fired his weapon, and not only did he need to turn in his firearm, he wanted to start on the extensive paperwork. Going home and being alone was the last thing he wanted or needed.
Trent found a spot in front of the precinct and rushed inside. For a change, the station was rather quiet, even for a Sunday night. Cade’s office was dark, implying his partner was running down the location of the assailant as promised.
Trent gathered the necessary papers and began filling out his report. A wicked ache churned in his gut when he wrote how he’d found Charlotte. A few minutes later, Dan Hartwick appeared in front of his desk. The man must never sleep or relax.
“How about coming into my office where we can talk?”
The command speared his heart. No one was around, so they could have spoken at Trent’s desk, but asking for a delay was not an option. “Sure.”
He had no doubt that Dan wouldn’t be pleased that Trent had let the shooter escape. He pushed back his chair and followed his boss down the hallway. When he stepped inside, Dan pulled up a chair and motioned Trent to sit while he sat behind his desk. “Heard you had a little incident at the Steerhouse.”
Fuck. Dan seemed to know everything that went on in town. What Trent wouldn’t give to have that talent. “I was with Charlotte Hart when it happened.”
“I know. Tell me everything.”
Trent detailed the series of events, but even in the retelling, nothing became any clearer.
“Any idea who it might have been?”
“My best guess was that it was either Bill Goddard’s brother-in-law, Bill’s business partner, or someone who worked at the firm. It’s possible his wife hired someone to take me out, but if she’d hired a professional, I probably would be dead.”
“Don’t forget any irate clie
nts.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“If someone is trying to take you out, I’m guessing you’re getting close to finding the killer, which is why I’m taking you off the case.”
Surprise and indignation swamped him. Trent always prided himself on keeping his cool, but this time he lost it. “With all due respect, sir, you can’t do that.”
Dan stared at him for a few seconds. “Listen to yourself. You’re already too emotional. The fact Charlotte was injured seems to be clouding your vision. I always suspected this case might be related to your brother somehow, but since I had no concrete evidence, I let you remain on the case. After tonight, I can’t do that in good conscience. I won’t have your death on my hands.”
A bit of Trent’s anger deflated. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Dan might be right. While he could take care of himself, he didn’t want whoever was after him to take it out on his family. As for Charlotte, Trent truly believed she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Who are you putting in charge?”
“Cade will take the lead. I’ve asked Devon to follow Frank Hamilton and Connor to watch Richard Delaney. If he’s still willing, Vic Hart can continue with John Samuels.”
“What about Elaine Goddard?” Trent was pleased Dan was willing to schedule overtime to find the killer.
“Cade will continue to watch her.”
“What would you like me to work on?”
“Fill out the paperwork, hand it in, and then take a few days off.” Dan pulled out his top drawer and extracted a pen, acting as if this conversation was over.
Trent wasn’t finished. He needed to find some relief from the elephant sitting on his chest. “I screwed up bad.”
Dan set down the pen. “Because you took care of a woman you’re very fond of and didn’t chase after the perpetrator?”
His observation convinced Trent that Dan could read minds or else his boss had been in the same spot before. “Yes.”
“I can’t tell you how to live your life, because God only knows I’ve messed up mine many times, but if a cop doesn’t show compassion at the right time, he won’t be any good at his job. You did the right thing stopping to help Charlotte.”
“I know, but I should have suspected something like this might have happened. Look how that crazy man came after Vic and put his family in jeopardy.”
Dan shrugged, but it didn’t come across as callous. “It’s the hazard of the job. Why don’t you head up to your dad’s cabin and take some time to think about your priorities. If you’re going to remain in this business, you have to know what’s important to you.”
He had his priorities straight. Hadn’t his boss just told him that? “Is that an order, sir?”
“It is. You haven’t taken vacation days in forever. Besides, I want you safe. Now go fill out that report.”
There was no use arguing with the man. While he didn’t like being on forced vacation, Charlotte would be safer without him around. He just hoped she’d understand.
* * *
Dad had insisted she stay in the hospital for a few more hours in case there were complications from the mild concussion. Sure, her head ached, but her vision was fine and she didn’t feel nauseated. The results of the X-ray confirmed Charlotte’s cheek wasn’t cracked, despite the amount of pain she was still experiencing. After a very long wait, the doctor arrived and provided her with some pain medication. He said she was fine to be home alone, but if she experienced any nausea, she was to return.
All Charlotte wanted to do was take a long soak in the tub, and then drop into bed so she’d be refreshed to open her shop tomorrow. She’d have to work at covering up the bruise that was sure to come, but she refused to let this get her down.
She retrieved her phone from her now damaged wet purse to check if Trent had called or texted. He hadn’t. “Dad, did you say something to Trent?” Like to stay away from me?
Trent was no more at fault than her dad had been when her mom had been stalked.
“No.”
Before she could ask her mother what she thought of Trent’s behavior, the nurse came in with her discharge papers. It was a little after midnight and Charlotte was anxious to leave. Not only did her face hurt, her heart ached for Trent and what he might be going through right now. She understood what it was like to have someone want her dead.
Her mother helped her out of bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us? What if you get sick?”
Her mother had always said that even though Charlotte was a grown woman, she’d always think of her as a little girl. “I’ll call you if I’m feeling bad, okay?”
“You better.”
The nurse wheeled her out while her dad retrieved his car. Even though she wore her coat, the scrubs the hospital gave her provided little warmth.
In no time, Dad was parked in front of her apartment, and Charlotte patiently waited for him to open the car door and then let him guide her up to the front entrance. She could have insisted her parents stay in the car, but she understood their need to help.
“You make sure to call us if anything happens, okay?” her mom said, pulling Charlotte’s coat closed.
She wanted to tell them to stop smothering her, but she wouldn’t. They were merely being cautious. “Promise. I’ll call you tomorrow after the opening.”
Both hugged her goodnight and left only after she’d safely entered the building. On the ride home, she’d asked her dad if he thought she was in any danger from her attacker, and he said he didn’t believe so, but to keep her sidearm close by just in case. He thought she might have to file a report with the police stating she’d fired a shot in the city limits, but she’d worry about that after speaking with Trent.
Charlotte was not paranoid by nature, but when she stepped into her apartment, she turned on the lights in each room and checked to make certain no one had been there. Then she ran her bath and undressed.
She was almost afraid to step into the bathroom and look in the mirror to see the damage to her cheek. In the end, she decided it was better to face it now rather than tomorrow morning.
The right side of her face was swollen, but with a little artfully placed makeup, she could minimize the distortion. For a brief moment, she debated taking a selfie and putting it up on Facebook to show her friends back in Kalispell, but then she worried her attacker might see it and conclude she knew something, when in fact she didn’t.
Once the tub was full, she eased in and groaned in pleasure. The wicked sensation reminded her of the joy she and Trent had experienced in her apartment. She wished he could be here right now. On second thought, it might be better if he weren’t. The man would fuss at her more than her mom had and then forbid her to ever go out again. His protective nature was admirable, but sometimes he took things too far.
Trent kept saying it had been his fault the man had run past her and pushed her down, but she didn’t see it that way. She’d been wrong in wanting to be a hero. That had been dumb, dumb, dumb. As soon as she heard the gunshots, she should have called the cops and let them handle things. Live and learn.
Tomorrow after opening her store, she’d spend some time working on Mr. Samuels’ design and then call Trent. If he saw that everything was back to normal, he just might forgive himself.
After she finished her long bath, she crawled into bed, but as much as Charlotte tried to sleep, the image of running down the alley with fear pummeling her heart bombarded her. It was bad enough that she couldn’t stop picturing Trent shot, but then that evil man had to attack her. She could still visualize his gun and remembered the fear clawing at her belly.
As the night progressed, her sleep became more and more erratic. She’d doze for a bit, then relive the scene, even making up a different ending in which she’d raised her arm and shot the bastard.
In hindsight, she shouldn’t have been so indecisive. When she’d described to her father what had happened, he’d said she’d done the right thing in not sho
oting him until after he’d assaulted her. She, however, wasn’t so sure.
* * *
Somehow, Charlotte had survived the night, but in the morning, the soreness had returned. The side of her face had doubled in size and her head still throbbed, but thankfully there was no bruising—yet. Wanting to make a good impression on any potential clients, she took care dressing, hoping that if anyone stopped in, they wouldn’t be upset at her injury.
After choking down a rather bland breakfast, she headed out to her first day at work. While she was excited, she was also scared that no potential clients would stop by. It didn’t help there were snow flurries this morning.
Once she opened, to keep occupied, Charlotte focused on Mr. Samuels’ bedroom design. She had her phone close by in case Trent called, as well as her gun in a nearby drawer.
Unfortunately, Trent didn’t call. Most likely, he was at work filling out the paperwork, but she was disappointed he hadn’t wanted to find out how she was doing. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been caring, so this behavior was not like him. She could only conclude that he was trying to keep his distance so she’d be safe.
Stupid man.
She would just have to show him she wasn’t afraid of being with him, that this incident didn’t sour her on dating a cop.
Shortly after lunch, two women came by to check out her services. While neither of them hired her, Charlotte had a good feeling that if they ever required decorating services, they would give her a chance to show them her designs.
By five o’clock, Charlotte decided it was time to close shop. She thought about stopping at her dad’s office and seeing if Sharon wanted to go out to dinner, but then thought better of it. She wasn’t in the mood to run into her dad and have him lecture her on her bonehead move. Again.
Charlotte snapped her fingers. Because she didn’t want to bother Trent, she went with the next best thing—Harmon. He might know what his brother was up to. From the way Trent talked, the two of them were fairly close.
It was a little after five, and she had no idea if Harmon worked at the restaurant tonight or if this was one of his two nights off. The only way to find out was to call him.
