Always Watching

by Lynette Eason

  “I don’t know. I thought it a pretty strong reaction from someone who claims to have no romantic interest in you.”

  The lines on his forehead deepened and his nostrils flared as he thought. “I think you’re wrong, but I’ll talk to her.”

  “No, don’t. If she’s the one, then we don’t want to tip her off that she’s a suspect. Just play it cool.” Her phone buzzed and she answered. It was the officer watching Wade’s house. “Yes?”

  “Charlie Lee is approaching the house.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wade opened the door for Charlie and shook his hand. Charlie went into the den and Wade headed for the kitchen. He found Joanna and Martha huddled together at the table. He bought himself some time by grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. When he turned, he found their eyes on him. Martha’s accusing, Joanna’s narrowed and cold. He sighed. Really? Play it cool, remember?

  “Okay, ladies, what is wrong with me taking an interest in someone?”

  Martha blinked at him, all traces of ire or accusation gone from her gaze. “Nothing, of course.”

  “Then why are you both giving me the stink eye?”

  Martha dropped her gaze. Joanna looked over his shoulder. Martha finally shrugged. “It’s not important, Wade. Who you’re interested in is your business, not ours.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Joanna said. “But . . .”

  “But?”

  Now her gaze was concerned. “Do you really think you should be developing feelings for anyone while you have a stalker after you? Especially feelings for the person who’s been hired to protect you? What if she gets distracted? What if she’s in danger and you decide to try to protect her? What if something happens then?”

  Wade blinked. He’d already been placed in that situation and he realized he’d do it again if necessary. But he kept those thoughts to himself. He eyed both ladies. Was that all it was? Or was there something more behind their words? He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was even entertaining those thoughts. He’d become suspicious of everyone in his life.

  “And what if the stalker finds out you have feelings for Olivia and decides to go after her?” Martha asked. “But even more concerning than that, what if Olivia’s distracted with her feelings for you enough that Amy gets put in danger?”

  Wade paused and sucked in a deep breath. At first he was tempted to just brush aside their concerns, but at the mention of Amy . . . “All right, I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

  Martha nodded and exchanged a relieved look with Joanna. “Good.”

  Because distraction could spell disaster for them all.

  [33]

  Olivia stepped into the morgue and followed the sounds of the grunts coming from the office to her left. She’d visited the morgue enough times during her two years as a detective with the force that Megan, the receptionist, simply waved her on back. Wade got a strange look, but since he was with Olivia, Megan simply shrugged.

  “You should have stayed home,” she told him.

  “Not a chance.”

  She found Francisco on the floor of his office. “How many today?”

  “A thousand.”

  “Did you figure out the problem?” she asked, indicating the body on the table. Francisco did push-ups for a lot of reasons. One of those reasons was when he was confused or trying to work through a problem.

  “Yes. She was strangled from behind. Not a difficult problem to figure out. The fingerprints on the front of her throat were pretty much a dead giveaway.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “No pun intended, right?”

  “Of course it was.”

  “This is Wade Savage.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Francisco said from the floor.

  “Likewise.” Wade didn’t seem to find it at all strange to be talking to the medical examiner while standing over him.

  “Anything on Justine Harmon?” she asked.

  Francisco popped to his feet and motioned to the laptop on his desk. “Take a look.”

  He wiggled the mouse as Olivia slipped into the plush leather chair. Francisco had bought the chair himself, saying the hospital-issued one hurt his back. She could see why he liked this one. Wade moved behind her and she found she was very aware of his presence. Not just the fact that he was there, but that she was glad he was there. Glad he’d insisted on coming. Glad that Charlie had been willing to follow them and act as a lookout in case they were followed. She didn’t want to be glad. She frowned. Focus.

  Justine’s file was already on the screen and she pushed Francisco’s hand from the mouse. “I’ll take it from here, thanks.”

  “Right. You’re welcome.”

  She looked up. “Sorry. I appreciate you letting me do this.”

  “I know you do. Otherwise I would refuse. I’ll just be making a Y-incision in room 4. Text me when you’re finished.” With one last glance at Wade, he left.

  Olivia focused her attention on the words in front of her while Wade read over her shoulder.

  “The first part of the report just talks about what she looked like coming in, what she was wearing,” Olivia said. She clicked through the pages. “What I want to know is at the end of the report. Here.” She pointed. “See where it says, ‘Opinion’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, time of death is reported to be between 11:30 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. due to body temperature, rigor and livor mortis, and stomach contents. Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the head. Manner of death is reported as a suicide. No special remarks were made by the medical examiner.”

  “And why is it important that we know this?”

  She heard the pain in his voice and minimized the screen. “I’m sorry, Wade. You shouldn’t have come.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, yes I should have.” Then he frowned. “Wait a minute. Can you pull that back up?”

  Olivia hesitated, then complied.

  “There,” he said and pointed. “Where it gives the time of death. How accurate do you think that is?”

  “Pretty accurate. Why?”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. Then he held it out to her. “Because if the autopsy time of death is right, then Justine would have had to send me her text after she was already dead.”

  Wade stared at Quinn as he paced the morgue floor. The detective had been visiting Maddy’s family at the hospital on the fifth floor when Olivia texted him. He’d come right down and not said a word about Olivia reading an autopsy report. Now he had his gaze fixed on Wade’s phone, which showed Justine’s text. Then his eyes bounced back to the screen that clearly showed her time of death.

  “Well?” Olivia asked, her tone low, not rushed, just curious.

  “I would say this makes me go ‘huh.’”

  “‘Huh’ as in we need to check into this a little more or ‘huh’ as in ‘so what?’”

  “The first.”

  “Good.

  “I’ll get that exhumation request expedited and we’ll go from there,” Quinn said.

  “Are we all set for the charity dinner tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “All set. Security is as tight as I’ve seen with the private sector involved.”

  Olivia gave a short nod as though she’d expected no other answer. “Excellent.”

  Quinn took a screen shot of Justine’s text. “All right if I send this to myself?” he asked Wade.

  “Of course.”

  Quinn did, then gave Wade a penetrating look. “Did you ever doubt it was a suicide?”

  “I did, but never really considered murder. I thought at first it had to be an accident, but with the text . . . ,” he nodded at the phone and then gave a slight shrug, “. . . I figured I just didn’t know her as well as I thought I did.”

  Quinn nodded. “All right, I’ll be in touch.” He turned back. “Oh, meant to tell you, I talked to Erin Abbott.”

  “And?” Olivia asked.


  “She took the weekend off like you thought. She’s covered as far as an alibi. We checked her key card, and Friday, it was used last around 11:04 p.m. She placed a call from her room for breakfast at 8:15 a.m. and it was delivered at 8:47. So it looks like she was in the room the entire night. Same thing for Saturday night as well.”

  Wade shook his head. “I hate that she felt like she had to lie to me. I would have gladly let Stacy stay no matter what Erin wanted to do.”

  “Well, there really was a conference that she was registered to go to,” Quinn said. “She said she decided not to at the last minute. I don’t think she’s your stalker. Admirer? Yeah. A little phone happy with the calls to the station? Sure. Stalker? No. Probably not.”

  “She never gave her real name when she called,” Wade said. “I never knew it was her.”

  “She seemed embarrassed about the whole thing, to be honest.”

  “I won’t bring it up,” Wade said. “If she wants to talk about it, fine, but otherwise . . .” He shrugged.

  Quinn nodded and held out a hand to Wade. “I may have misjudged you. I thought you were just a rich daddy’s boy playing at having a career. You’re not. I was wrong and I apologize.” Without giving Wade a chance to respond, he left and Olivia rose.

  Wade didn’t move, just stared at the floor as he processed the fact that Justine might have been killed. “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what?”

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Why would someone kill her?” He saw the intense compassion in Olivia’s eyes and it was nearly his undoing.

  She rested a hand over his. He gripped her fingers. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe she had enemies you weren’t aware of.”

  “She had people who got mad at her sometimes if they didn’t like what she had to say in a counseling session or if a child confided abuse and Justine had to recommend removal from the home. But . . . murder?”

  Olivia sighed. “I know it’s hard to process. I’m sorry.”

  Wade didn’t think about his actions, he just pulled her into an embrace. A loose one so that if she didn’t want to be there she could easily slip away.

  But she didn’t. He held her against him, taking comfort in her presence and the compassion she extended. “I miss her,” he whispered.

  “Of course you do.”

  “She would have liked you. And you her.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He felt a slight tremor run through her. “Can I tell you something that’s going to sound awful?”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Okay.”

  “Justine and I had a different kind of relationship, as I’ve already explained, but I asked myself a question the other night.”

  “A question?”

  “If I’d have met you first, would I have looked twice at Justine?”

  Olivia caught her breath and he could see she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer or not.

  “Justine was a truly wonderful person and I liked her. Even loved her. As a friend. But . . .”

  “But?” Olivia whispered.

  “We lacked something.” He tilted her chin so he could look down into her eyes. Wary eyes. Thinking eyes. “Something that I think I feel with you.”

  “Wade—” She pulled back and stared at him. “I can’t respond to that right now.” She stepped all the way out of his embrace. “In fact, I shouldn’t even . . .” She waved a hand. “You know.”

  “I know. But I want to make sure that you know I care about you.” He cleared his throat and thought about Martha and Joanna’s concern that he could be a distraction for her. “It’s okay. Just concentrate on getting this person who’s stalking me. We can talk about—” he mimicked her hand wave—“whatever, later.” He kept his tone light, a teasing mockery.

  She gave him a slight smile and shook her head. “Fine. Let’s go back to your place and discuss security for tomorrow night.”

  “I’d rather talk about why you’re so scared of the water.”

  Her eyes darkened, lips tightened. “I’d rather not.”

  “You’d trust me with Shana, but not with that?”

  She blew out a sigh and he thought he saw a glint of frustration in her suddenly cool blue eyes. “It’s not a matter of trust, it’s . . .”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  [34]

  As soon as they walked in the door, Wade went straight to his office and closed himself in. Olivia checked the knob and found it unlocked. Which was what she wanted. She had to be able to get to him if she needed to. For now, she allowed him his privacy. She knew he was frustrated with her lack of willingness to bare her soul, but she also knew he would come around and realize he had to give her some time. And the fact that she’d already come to know him that well startled her.

  Releasing her grip on the knob, she moved into the large den that overlooked the lake and pushed aside one of the drapes she’d requested be kept closed at all times. No sense in giving a sniper an easy target.

  Olivia couldn’t get the conversation with Wade out of her mind, but she had to find a way to shove it to the side. She’d already told him about Shana, did she really want to open up yet another piece of herself? A piece she’d never really come to grips with? Her biggest fear was water. It made her nauseous to even think about the past, but she was considering telling Wade about it. What had gotten into her?

  She had to get ready for the charity dinner and make sure no one got through security who didn’t belong. She didn’t have time to be thinking about romance or anything else except the job. People could die if she lost her focus. And that wasn’t going to happen.

  She called Haley, who answered on the second ring. “How are the background checks going with the people on the list to attend the dinner?”

  “So far so good. A few minor things, but nothing that sets off serious alarm bells. The good thing is, it’s a small event. No more than fifty people.”

  “Yes, he likes to keep most of them small and intimate, to be able to interact with the attendees and give them the personal touch.”

  “We should be done with this in a couple of hours.”

  “Let me know if anything stands out.”

  “Of course.”

  Olivia hung up and swallowed two ibuprofen she dug out of her front pants pocket. The throbbing in her hand was getting on her nerves. Just one more thing to ignore.

  A footstep fell behind her and she spun to see Wade come into the den. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For?”

  “Prying. Pushing. It’s none of my business. I’ll stay at arm’s length.”

  She sighed. “No, I don’t want you at arm’s length.” It took a lot to admit, but it felt good to say it. She was tired of being alone and Wade was the one man who’d sparked her interest in a long time.

  He looked stunned at her admission and she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. She knew she was sending mixed messages and it was time to stop. To trust and take a chance by letting Wade past the barriers. She let the words tumble from her lips. “I haven’t liked water since one of my foster siblings tried to drown me when I was ten years old.”

  Wade paled. “Tried to drown you?”

  She shrugged and looked away while she gathered her thoughts to put them into words. “Before my parents were killed, I used to love the water. We hung out at the pool every summer, took trips to the beach. My dad used to call me his little fish. Then my parents died and I went to my first foster home. I liked it there. The mother was sweet and doted on me. I assume it’s because she didn’t have a daughter and wanted one. The couple’s biological son—and only child—Nate, was jealous of the attention I was getting from his mother. They had a pool. One afternoon I was outside kicking the soccer ball in the net, and he came out, grabbed me, and shoved me in the pool. When he realized I could swim, he jumped in and held me down. I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital.”

  Wad
e stared at her. “Who found you?”

  “The foster mother. She did CPR and called 911.”

  “What happened to her son?”

  “From what I remember and overhearing the adults talk about it, he was fourteen and had never had any kind of incident like that before. I was their first—and last—foster kid. I don’t know where he is today, I’ve never checked. I just wanted to forget about him back then and I still do.”

  “But you haven’t been able to.”

  “No, of course not, but you would think I’d be able to move past it.” She clenched her fingers into fists. “I can’t even wade in the ocean or take a hot bath. It’s crippling and I hate it, but I can’t seem to do anything about it.” Her heart thundered in her ears at the confession, the memories the telling invoked, but a sense of cleansing started to take place as well.

  Wade shuddered. “Why was that so hard to talk about?”

  She rubbed her temples “It’s just another incident in my past I try to forget about. Talking about Shana is different. Hard, but different. She wanted me to do something with her death. Make a difference in people’s lives. Help people. Having someone hate you enough to try to kill you leaves a permanent scar.”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

  They shared a small smile. Of course he knew how that felt. “And . . . ,” she sighed, “the incident left me with a permanent fear of the water. I tried to swim after that, but every time I got close to the water, I’d freak. You know Amy’s panic attacks?” He nodded. “Water does it to me every time.”

  “Understandable.”

  “But frustrating. I don’t like letting fear rule me.”

  “You like to be in control.”

  She straightened a picture on the mantel, then looked him in the eye. “Yes. I like to be in control. But you already knew that.”

  “Yes. I knew it, I just didn’t know why.” He moved closer and ran a finger down her cheek. “Your life spun so out of control when your parents died that when you finally got old enough, being in control is what’s enabled you to survive,” he murmured.