by Debra Webb
An alarm sounded deep inside Merri. If possible, the pain had deepened on the man’s face.
“I spoke to Detective Whitehall,” he said to Merri. Then turning to his wife, he continued, “The Colby Agency is looking into the case. They were retained by Brandon Thomas.”
For one long trauma-filled moment Merri feared that would be the end of her visit.
Merri knew that Mrs. Randolph spoke but since her back was turned, she couldn’t read the words on her lips.
“I know how you feel about that,” Randolph said to his wife, “I didn’t say I thought it was true. I just—” his gaze lit on Merri “—want the truth.”
“Mr. Randolph—” Merri acknowledged him, then his wife when she turned back to her “—Mrs. Randolph, I wasn’t trying to mislead you in any way. I certainly wouldn’t have suggested you call the detective if I’d planned on deceiving you. I didn’t mention that Brandon was involved with this investigation because I didn’t want to add to your suffering in any way.”
The two stared at her for a time. Mrs. Randolph broke the ice first. “I don’t care who you’re working for as long as it’s the truth you’re seeking.”
Merri gave her a nod of assurance. “You have my word and my agency’s word. Feel free to call me or the office any time. This is about the truth. Yes, I’d like nothing better than to prove my client’s innocence, but the bottom line is the truth. Detective Whitehall will be appraised of all my findings.”
“That’s all we can ask for.” Mr. Randolph led the way to his son’s room.
Merri followed his wife.
The first door on the right led to Kick’s room, which faced the street side of the property. The walls were white. The furnishings were oak. Beige carpet. No posters, no trophies. A few books on the shelves. No personality whatsoever.
Except for the ancient computer sitting atop a desk in the corner. Even then, this wasn’t what she would have expected from an aspiring journalist.
“Is the room similar to the way he left it when he went away to college?” She wanted to ask were these the things that marked the room as Kick’s, but she hadn’t wanted to say it exactly that way.
“This is exactly the way it’s always been. We’ve painted the walls a couple of times but he always wanted it white.”
Unexpected.
Together they went through the drawers and the closet, which were mostly bare. The few CDs he’d left behind were without cases. Nothing in the pockets of the few items of clothing in the closet. Nothing under the bed or mattress. The only items that gave any indication that he’d ever lived here was the computer and his senior yearbook.
While Mr. Randolph powered up the computer, Mrs. Randolph covered the highlights of the yearbook. Nothing there, either. The guy hadn’t belonged to anything. There were two pictures of him in the yearbook. His senior portrait and a class photo.
“There’s nothing on the computer’s hard drive,” his father said. “It’s as if when he finished with it he wiped it clean.”
The father was correct. The computer held nothing but the original software installed.
“What about his sister?”
“Bethany is at home with her family,” Mrs. Randolph put in quickly.
“It is Christmas Eve,” Mr. Randolph added. “And she has small children.”
Perfectly logical explanation. But Merri needed to speak to the sister.
“If you think of anything else or if anyone who makes you uncomfortable comes around,” Merri urged, “call me. You have my number on that card.”
Mr. Randolph moved toward the window. Mrs. Randolph turned that way, as well. The two had a brief exchange, but Merri only picked up bits and pieces.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her instincts screaming a warning.
Mr. Randolph frowned. “Someone in the street is blowing the horn. Don’t they know that it’s late?”
Merri rushed to the window. Verified as the vehicle rolled beneath a streetlight that it was Simon’s sedan moving slowly down the street. “Is that the car making the noise?”
“I believe so,” Randolph said.
“I have to go.” Merri thrust out her hand. “Thank you so much for your help.” She started backing out of the room. “I’ll call you.”
She rushed down the stairs. Wasn’t sure whether she dared go out the front. Instead, she rushed through the kitchen and out the back door. She couldn’t hear the horn blowing, but Brandon wouldn’t have known that.
She spotted a car moving slowly down the street in front of the house where he’d dropped her off.
Merri sprinted across the Randolphs’ yard and then the one behind that. The streetlamp he passed under allowed her to once more identify Simon’s car.
It was definitely Brandon.
She raced to the street.
The car squealed to a stop.
She’d jumped into the passenger seat before it completely stopped rocking. “What’s going on?”
Brandon turned to her. “A dark sedan, four doors, three men. Drove past the Randolph house four times. Then they didn’t come back.”
Damn it. “They may have parked somewhere to come back on foot and check things out. They must have a spotter watching the house.” She pressed him with her gaze. “They know we’re here.”
Headlights cut through the darkness behind them.
Brandon stomped the accelerator.
Merri was thankful he didn’t need directions.
There was only one thing to do at this point…
Clear out.
Brandon skidded into a right turn, then a sharp left.
He’d been here before. Surely he knew the most efficient route for losing a tail.
Merri slid her safety belt across her torso and snapped it into place as the vehicle bolted forward.
Brandon slammed the brakes and took a hard left at the next intersection.
She twisted at the waist, tried to see what was behind them.
The rear windshield cracked right before her eyes. A web of lines split from the crack.
A gunshot!
Brandon flattened a palm against her head and pushed her down into the seat. The safety belt cut into her neck.
Merri grappled for the weapon in her purse. The way the car was fishtailing and skidding, she dropped the gun twice before she got a firm grip on it.
She raised her torso upward. He shoved her down again. She glared at him. His lips were moving but his face was turned away toward the street. What the hell was he saying?
Another high-velocity turn, then he rammed his foot against the accelerator and the vehicle charged forward. Every time she tried to rise up, he pushed her back down. She was a highly trained investigator, a former cop. What the hell was he doing?
A lunge to the right and then an abrupt stop.
Headlights went off. Brandon slammed the gearshift into Park and turned the key in the ignition to the off position as the car rocked one last time.
Total darkness.
Brandon didn’t move.
Merri didn’t dare move.
A long minute passed with no movement. No light. Nothing.
Then the pressure on her head and shoulder eased and he allowed her to sit upright.
It was dark as pitch.
She couldn’t see enough of his face to read his lips but she understood the universal gesture to remain quiet. He held his finger to his lips, then to hers. Despite the circumstances, a spear of warmth shot through her body.
Another minute, maybe two passed with no movement, no light and utter stillness. Then he slid down in the seat until his head was lower than the back of it, ensuring no one could see him. Merri did the same. He took her cell phone and held it open so that the light from the screen would illuminate his face.
It wasn’t until that moment that she considered that he didn’t have his cell phone on him. The police had taken it along with his wallet and apparently not returned it. No wonder he hadn’t been able to call her wh
en she was in the Randolphs’ house.
His lips moved and she peered intently to recognize the words.
“We’re safe here. They won’t see us.”
She didn’t know precisely where they were, but she had to trust him.
“Don’t move. Don’t talk,” he warned, his expression unyielding. “If we’re completely still, we’ll be okay until the coast is clear.”
Merri told herself to relax. They were safe.
For now.
Chapter Eight
Christmas Day, 4:48 a.m.
It was still dark.
And it was cold as hell.
They had waited quietly for hours last night. The winter chill had invaded the vehicle. But between their coats and, more important, the warmth of their bodies they had managed to stay warm. At some point they had both fallen asleep. Merri wasn’t sure if she’d surrendered to the weariness first or if he had.
Whatever the case, she’d slept like the dead. Even better than she had at the lake house yesterday morning. Had to be the man holding her tightly against him…as if he were afraid she would suddenly disappear.
Brandon appeared to be asleep even now.
It was still too dark to see his face, but Merri confirmed her conclusion by the rise and fall of his muscled chest. After she’d fallen asleep, she’d somehow managed to make a pillow out of his torso. He felt strong, and warm. She’d snuggled deeper inside his coat, pressing her face to his sweater—the only thing separating her cheek from his chest. Her legs cramped in their curled-up position along the length of the front seat. Brandon’s were stretched out in the floorboard all the way across to her side of the vehicle.
If she wasn’t careful in moving up and away from the draw of his warmth, she would encounter the steering wheel. But she had to move. She couldn’t let him wake up and find her sprawled across his body like this.
Any way she moved, there was no way to avoid a part of him stretched out that way.
She scooted her backside as close to the passenger door as possible as she pulled up, grasping the back of the seat for leverage. If she could just find the door handle, she didn’t care if she fell out of the car. Right now, she had to remove herself from this compromising position before he woke up and noticed.
Her fingers wrapped around the handle and yanked. The door moved. So did Merri. She scrambled, righting herself, until her feet were on the ground. She swayed upward. Careful not to make any more noise than she already had, she eased the door closed and tried to survey their surroundings.
Merri stumbled around the car. They were in a driveway of some sort. There was a house…as best she could see in the darkness. The canopy of trees didn’t allow the meager light from the stars and the streetlamps to filter through.
Taking care, she moved toward the edge of the yard and peeked past the thick shrubs that towered well over her head. The street was deserted. The streetlamp on the corner provided sufficient light for her to see that the coast appeared to be clear.
Their tail had given up on the chase.
She breathed a sigh of relief. They could leave. Go back to the motel and…
A hand settled on her shoulder. She jumped. Barely bit back a squeak.
His scent told her it was Brandon before her eyes took in and registered his frame in the deep gloom.
He said something but she couldn’t see well enough in the near darkness to comprehend the words.
Taking her hand in his, he led her back to the car. She shouldn’t have noticed how the warm feel of his palm sent a shiver along her arm. Or that the smell of him had completely invaded her lungs and had her pulse thumping faster. She would have much preferred blaming the physical reaction on the scare he’d given her, but she understood that wasn’t the problem.
That silly attraction she’d noted before was playing havoc with her ability to remain neutral toward the man who was her client. Her first client. Not a good thing at all. She had to get a handle on her professionalism.
He opened the passenger side door for her, she slid into the seat. Thankfully the interior light didn’t come on when the door was opened. Obviously Simon or Brandon had recently set the interior lamp to the Off position, which was good because someone could be watching from a position she hadn’t detected on the street.
Brandon moved around the hood and settled behind the steering wheel, then fiddled with the controls until the interior light came on.
Before she could protest, he turned to her and said, “We have to talk. This can’t wait.”
Several things flashed through her mind as he said the words. Him pushing her down in the seat during the car chase. His holding her there until they were safely away from the threat. Then, him holding his finger to his lips then hers…and using the light from her cell phone to ensure she could see when he spoke to her.
He knew.
“You should have told me.” Those dark eyes were impossible to read with any certainty. But she understood from the expression on his face that he was not happy.
“It’s not something I find easy to admit right up front.” She hadn’t had any trouble explaining her situation to the Randolphs. But that was different. Brandon was her client. She wanted him to feel confident in her ability.
And he was a man to whom she felt some physical attraction, like it or not.
“You can’t hear anything at all.”
That the disappointment or whatever she’d seen turned into worry shouldn’t have given her such a warm, fuzzy feeling just then, but it did. She shook her head. “Though I do remember what things sound like.” When she wanted to take the time, she could conjure up the sounds in her mind related to any activity she’d done in the past. She didn’t do that as much anymore. She’d gotten used to the silence. Operating in that mode felt normal, instinctive. Strange, she mused, how the human body adapted to whatever circumstances became necessary.
“You read lips extraordinarily well.”
The teachers and experts she’d sought out at first had been amazed by her lipreading. She’d done some of that, she’d realized eventually, her entire life. Watching people had always been her favorite pastime. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on anyone’s conversation, but she had occasionally. Honing that skill had been part of the natural evolution after she’d lost her ability to hear. Ultimately she’d done what she had to do to survive. The same way a person who’d lost a limb learned to overcome that challenge. End of story.
“I didn’t like the business of sign language,” she admitted. Though it was a great communication method for some, she didn’t go for it. Mainly, she supposed, because that was a blatant admission to any and all that she couldn’t hear. She’d wrestled with the question as to whether she didn’t want people to know because it indicated a physical weakness or because she wanted to prove she was just as capable as anyone who still possessed their hearing.
Bottom line: she’d been denying that her life was different for several years now.
“So there was a time when you could hear.”
She nodded. “Until I was into my twenties.”
“What happened?” He searched her eyes. “If you don’t mind sharing that with me.”
The answer to that question was still a little cloudy. “It was one of the bizarre infections the medical professionals couldn’t find a way to treat. When I was finally well again, I couldn’t hear. I tried a couple of surgical procedures but neither one worked. It seemed smarter to go on with my life and just attempt to live with the situation.”
He reached out. She braced. His fingers traced her left ear. The anticipation of feeling those fingertips on her mouth had her catching her breath. As if he’d read her mind, he made a path with those long fingers along the line of her jaw to her mouth before he let his hand fall away. The intent expression on his face tightened her chest. She liked having him touch her.
“I noticed you’d missed a couple of things I said,” he explained, “but it wasn’t obvious until we were running f
rom those men. I shouted for you to get down when the first shot rang out but you didn’t hear me.”
He’d pushed her down in the seat when she didn’t listen. He’d saved both their lives by losing that tail. He’d saved her by thinking quickly. “Thank you for getting us out of that situation.”
“I need coffee.”
There it was. She saw it even as he turned away and started the car.
He looked at her differently now.
No one ever saw her the same way after they found out.
Brandon would be no exception, even though she was pretty sure he struggled with a challenge of his own. One he’d managed to set aside quite well during that intense chase. She didn’t understand that part.
Men…they were the worst at accepting flaws.
5:30 a.m.
“THEY’LL BE LOOKING for this car.”
“If we’re lucky,” Merri said as they braked to a stop at an intersection near their destination, “they won’t be out this early.” She looked around the neighborhood. “We need to visit Kick’s sister, but it’s a little early for that, too.”
Brandon sat at the intersection a moment, his foot on the brake so the car wouldn’t move forward. He needed to get his bearings, and it wasn’t daylight. He turned to Merri. “Bethany lives a few streets over.” But Merri was right; it was early and he needed coffee badly. “There’s a church—”
“What?”
Damn. He’d momentarily forgotten that she needed to see his lips. He turned his face toward hers. “There’s a church a couple of blocks from Bethany’s house. We could wait it out there.”
“Sounds workable.”
Kick had taken Brandon to that church once or twice. The doors stayed open 24/7 so people could come in and pray whenever they wanted. Brandon hoped that hadn’t changed since he’d been here last.
Keeping an eye out for other vehicles, he drove the short distance. The church parking lot was empty as he’d known it would be. Instead of pulling into the lot, he drove past it and parked on a side street. If the bastards after them spotted this car, they would surely descend upon the church. Brandon might not get so lucky the next time they gave chase. His ability to react hadn’t been delayed…that time.
