by Debra Webb
With that said, she walked out.
A blast of wind kicked up, flapping her hair across her face as she hurried to her car. Since Ryan hadn’t called, she’d try Bill. She had to reach one of them. They had to know what was going on.
She pulled out onto the street and headed back toward Memphis proper as she entered Bill’s number. She got his voice mail, as well. Where the hell were those guys?
Forest Lawn was located on the edge of the city, in the suburbs, almost. Though she hated the place, she could understand why Rita had selected it. The cemetery was lovely—for a graveyard. The whole setting was picturesque, if one didn’t know the people behind it. Garland Hanes had been nothing but a scapegoat. The real evil resided in Desmond. She wondered how many other empty coffins were buried in that cemetery.
She slowed for the upcoming curve and something in her rearview mirror caught her eye.
A vehicle, truck or SUV maybe, dark in color, roared up behind her. The driver wore dark glasses and a baseball cap. She jerked her attention forward and pressed harder on the accelerator.
“What’s your hurry, jerk?” she muttered.
The vehicle stayed right on her bumper as she reached the section of highway that was bordered by the river on one side and trees on the other. He was way too close. So close he made her nervous. Then he swerved into the next lane to pass.
“Thank God,” she breathed the words. All she needed was some—
He crossed the yellow center line.
Metal slammed against metal.
She screamed. Whipped the steering wheel to the left.
He came at her again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ryan stood back as Rodney Mason’s body was removed from the office he would no longer need. The M.E. had estimated the time of death between 7:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. this morning.
If Ryan had only gotten here sooner.
But he hadn’t.
So far, the search through the office had turned up nothing in the way of a list of names to connect with the disk he had found. The hard drive from his office computer as well as that of his secretary were being dismantled byte by byte by the resident hacker associated with the Bureau’s Memphis field office. Unless he could find concealed information or a trail to some electronic site, they had reached a dead end.
“Our boy Wilcox has been a busy fellow,” Bill said offhandedly as the M.E.’s office left with the body. He’d personally seen to it that the examiner in charge handled this case. No assistants since they couldn’t be sure which ones were on the up and up just yet.
Ryan surveyed Mason’s office once more, disappointment settling in. Dammit, he’d wanted to find more—something specific to Katlin. “Or he may be running from whoever the killer is.” There was no proof yet that Wilcox was the shooter. Just one of the players.
Bill nodded. “That’s a definite possibility. He doesn’t really fit the profile of a cold-blooded killer, but desperation can push a man beyond his normal capabilities.”
That was also true. “I should call Mel,” Ryan said, more to himself than to Bill. He’d been on the line for most of the last hour in an effort to track down Mason’s secretary only to discover that she’d run off with some Internet boyfriend and her former boss had yet to hire anyone new. Since none of her friends and family knew where she was, Ryan hoped her office computer would reveal the Romeo with whom she’d disappeared. She might have information that could help, even if she didn’t realize it was significant. Sometimes the benign was the most telling.
Bill scratched his head with his pen as he studied his notes. “I’m going to get Cuddahy up at Quantico on Mason’s financial background and any criminal record he might have.”
“Let me know what you find out,” Ryan told him but doubted if he’d heard since he looked so deep in thought.
The abrupt roar of the vacuum drowned out all else as the crime-scene techs searched for trace evidence. Ryan took that as his cue to step outside. In the rear parking area, more forensics guys were going over the Mercedes before towing it in to Memphis P.D.’s evidence holding and analysis facility. More testing would be done there, but since any disturbance could contaminate evidence, as much as possible would be done at the scene.
Ryan surveyed the alley between the law office and the salon again as he made his way to the front of the building. Had the shooter come this way?
If the M.E. had the time of death right, someone next door may have seen something. Memphis P.D. would be canvassing the area, interviewing anyone who might have noticed the arrival or departure of a vehicle at the law office.
Ryan frowned when Mel’s phone went to her voice mail. He depressed the end button and almost didn’t see the icon on the screen denoting that he had a voice message before he dropped the phone back into his pocket. He quickly accessed the message and listened as an excited Mel asked him to meet her at Forest Lawn Funeral Home.
A sensation of dread moved through him. He would have preferred she not go there alone. He liked even less that the message was nearly an hour old. He hissed a curse and loaded into his car. He’d let Bill know his destination en route.
Once he’d pulled out onto the street and taken a moment to get his bearings and plot the quickest route to the funeral home, he entered Bill’s number. After four rings the call went to his voice mail. Ryan swore again when he considered that Mel had gotten that same option when she’d tried to call him. The call waiting had never worked properly on his phone. He wondered if that was Bill’s excuse for not taking his call or if he was simply too absorbed in his present conversation to notice who was trying to get through. Either way, Ryan couldn’t reach him.
If Mel had been in trouble when she tried to call…
He punched the accelerator and shoved away that line of thinking. She’d sounded excited not scared. She’d likely discovered something she wanted to share with him.
But…that had been almost an hour ago, he reminded himself. Why hadn’t she tried to call again when he didn’t show?
A lump of fear gelled in his gut.
Maybe she couldn’t call.
He floored the gas pedal and the car rocketed forward.
During the tension-filled journey to the outskirts of Memphis on the opposite side of the city, Ryan attempted to call her a half dozen more times with no success.
By the time he reached the road that wound alongside the Mississippi River and would take him to Forest Lawn, hysteria had crowded into his throat.
The cold, calculated calm he was known for had flown out the window. He could do nothing but imagine all the horrible scenarios that could take Melany from him yet again.
Damn, what a fool he was. She didn’t belong to him anymore. But, somehow, it felt like she did…that he was responsible for keeping her safe.
And he’d failed.
Just like he’d let her down the last time.
The cluster of cars in the distance had him braking hard. The throb of red and blue lights captured his attention first. The sight of the boxy white ambulances with the red and yellow lettering claimed his gaze next.
A patrolman directed traffic to the far right to avoid the tangle of official vehicles on the left.
A steel band tightened around Ryan’s chest. He searched the vehicles…the people milling around at the site…and he prayed that this had nothing to do with Melany.
A loud banging jerked him back to attention. He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until the patrolman slammed his hand down on Ryan’s hood.
“Come on, buddy, move it along!”
His foot still heavy on the brake pedal, he caught sight of one of the vehicles involved in the mishap.
Big…black…SUV…badly damaged on the driver’s side.
But there were lots of black SUVs on the road.
Just because Mel had a similar…
The blood rushing through his veins rendered him all but deaf, doing nothing to lessen the clarity of what he saw next.
His gaze narrowed. The target he zeroed in on zoomed into vivid focus.
A pink angel hanging from the rearview mirror.
He was out of the car and moving toward the official throng before the reality fully assimilated in his brain. Vaguely he heard the patrolman ranting at him as he tried to stop the car Ryan had left running and in gear.
He pushed past the beat cop who attempted to block his entrance to the scene, not bothering with his I.D., his gaze never leaving the damned angel that drew him like a guidepost through the sea of pandemonium.
All thought except one ceased: she had to be all right. He refused to consider any other possibility.
“Ryan!”
The sound of her voice cleared the fog from his head. A thousand fragmented synapses fired at once. He spun around, his gaze seeking the sweet face that went with the voice. She burst from the back of the ambulance amid the protests of the paramedic. Two seconds later she was in his arms.
Ryan’s eyes closed as he nuzzled against her hair. Thank God, thank God. He had refused to believe for even an instant that she might be hurt…or worse. But now that she was in his arms he imagined all the things that could have happened. And, just like before, he hadn’t been there for her. Not even when she’d called.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated the words over and over. He was sorry for so many things. There was so much he wanted to say. But he couldn’t string together the right words…couldn’t bring himself to let her go long enough to look her in the eyes and say what needed to be said.
Not for a moment had he ever stopped loving her.
“Ma’am, we really need to tape up that wound.”
The paramedic’s words filtered through the haze of relief and Ryan pulled away, holding her at arm’s length to visually inspect her from head to toe.
He swore violently at the blood matted in her hair. A small gash on her forehead, at the edge of her hairline still leaked the red, life-giving liquid.
“You’re okay?” He had to know, unable to determine with mere human eyes if there were other injuries not readily seen on the surface.
“I’m okay.” Her lips trembled. He felt the quake go through her body.
The paramedic put a hand on Ryan’s arm. “Sir, we need to get this done.”
Ryan released her. “Of course.”
The paramedic led Mel back to the ambulance with her looking back at Ryan every step. He wanted to go with her, but his more rational senses were finally kicking in. He needed to find out what happened.
While Mel got patched up, Ryan sought out the officer who appeared to be in charge. He flashed his I.D. “FBI Special Agent Bill Collins and I have been working on the Jackson case,” he explained. “Can you tell me what happened here?” He took in several things at once. Mel’s SUV was damaged on the front and rear ends as well as the driver’s side. Another vehicle, a car, had sustained front-end damage and was currently being towed away. The guardrail, about twenty yards back, had been battered, as well.
Just then a cop surfaced from the depths of the murky water beyond the narrow shoulder of the road. Even before the officer standing next to him said there was a third vehicle in the water Ryan knew someone had gone over the guardrail.
“Did the driver and passengers escape?”
The officer shook his head as a second cop surfaced empty handed. “Looks like he’s still inside.”
“He?” Ryan resisted the urge to shuck his jacket and shoes and jump into the water himself and see if it was Wilcox in there. “Any I.D. yet?”
“Not yet.” He looked at Ryan, as if only then realizing that he might be telling more than he should. “Did you say you were with the FBI?”
He nodded, keeping up the farce Bill had started.
“Then you’ll want to question the woman, Ms. Jackson.” The officer glanced toward the ambulance. “She says that the guy in the vehicle down there—” he gestured to the water “—tried to run her off the road but ended up there himself. We’ve got an APB out on any eighteen-wheelers heading north on this road. She says the driver of the eighteen-wheeler saved her. According to her, if he hadn’t come along when he did, forcing the guy down there—” he nodded to the water again “—to swerve, she’d be the one in the river.”
* * *
MEL WAS STILL SHAKING so hard her teeth chattered from time to time when Ryan drove her home. He took it slowly because she couldn’t tolerate otherwise. Every car seemed to veer too close. The seat belt, the airbag, none of it was enough. She wasn’t safe…and if she were injured or killed who would look for her baby?
She turned to the man driving and studied his profile. He’d been scared to death. For the first time since she’d met Ryan, she’d seen him vulnerable with his eyes open. Not once in all their time together had she seen him that scared. Ryan Braxton wasn’t afraid of anything.
Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she considered what that meant. Could he still be in love with her? Even after she’d walked out? After she’d had a child—a child he thought another man had fathered?
That just didn’t seem feasible. But it felt exactly that. He’d held her, intense emotion shining in those blue depths, murmuring the same words over and over. I’m sorry. Thank God.
Could she possibly still mean that much to him?
Mel chewed on her thumbnail and tried to think more rationally. Impossible, she decided. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the seat and tried to calm her frazzled nerves. She would be sore tomorrow. Like last time. Besides the cut on her head, the seat belt and airbag would leave their own reminders that once again she was lucky to be alive. Her hands and arms felt weak from wrestling with the steering wheel. She kept seeing that other vehicle coming at her, trying to force her over the guardrail. That huge eighteen-wheeler had suddenly been heading for them and the other vehicle accelerated and swerved hard to cut in front of her. If she hadn’t hit her brake at that precise second, he would have clipped her front end, likely forcing her over the guardrail with him.
She had slammed on her brake with all her weight and the guy behind her had hit her, forcing her forward just enough to bump the rear end of the other vehicle before it hurdled over the guardrail. She hadn’t even realized anyone was behind her until then. That’s why the guy had cut in front of her, there was no time to drop far enough back to dart in behind her. The driver of the big rig hadn’t even slowed. Probably lacked the time and initiative to be a material witness.
The cops were looking for him, though. Mel or the driver behind her hadn’t been able to give much of a description, but an all points bulletin had been issued for any eighteen-wheelers traveling that road. She hoped they found him so she could thank the guy. He’d saved her life.
She shivered as she considered that she’d escaped near death twice in the last week and a half.
And still she hadn’t found Katlin.
“You’re sure you didn’t get a look at the guy who tried to run you off the road?” Ryan asked, breaking his long minutes of silence.
“No. He had on dark glasses and a baseball cap. No facial hair, nothing distinguishing about his mouth and chin which is basically all I got a glimpse of. I was too busy trying to stay on the road.”
After another lengthy silence, he said, “I shouldn’t have missed your call. I shouldn’t have let you do this alone.”
The memory of this morning’s discoveries piled one on top of the other inside her head in that instant. “Ryan, despite your belief otherwise, you couldn’t have stopped me. I had to follow my lead. Too much time has wasted already. The only reason I called you was because I figured out part of what Wilcox and Letson have been up to.”
She spent the next few minutes telling him all that she had learned, with an emphasis on Walton’s statements. By the time she’d finished, Ryan had parked in front of her house.
“We should call Bill and pass this information on to him,” Ryan suggested, his gaze settling on hers. “We’re going to need the Memphis field office
to get in on this now.”
“Why can’t we go straight to the command center? Is Bill there?”
Ryan shot her a firm look. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve been through enough, already.”
To have argued with him would have been a waste of energy at this point. She’d already gotten past him once today, he wouldn’t let it happen again. Instead she shoved the car door open and climbed out. “Just make sure you call him and get someone on this before Walton goes missing like all the rest of our information sources.”
Ryan grabbed his briefcase and followed her inside. She checked her telephone for messages and disappeared into her bedroom. Her white blouse was stained with blood. She probably wanted to change. And to be alone…away from him.
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across one end of the sofa. His cell phone in hand, he headed to the kitchen to make her something warm. He doubted if she’d bothered with lunch, so he scanned her cabinets for soup as he put a call through to Bill.
By the time he’d relayed the gruesome details of Mel’s discoveries to Bill and thrown in a few hypotheses of his own, the soup was ready. Before ending the call, he told Bill to track down Letson. He’d been conveniently out of pocket the last couple of days. Ryan definitely wanted to talk to him. He wasn’t going to tolerate the man’s evasiveness any longer.
He tossed his phone onto the counter and searched for a tray. When he’d found what he was looking for, he arranged a bowl of soup on a plate with some crackers on the side. Then poured a glass of milk and a cup of the coffee he’d brewed. With the meal and a napkin on the tray he went in search of Mel.
He found her in her room sitting in the middle of the bed holding a picture of her daughter. The adrenaline had gone, leaving her weak and grieving once more. He set the tray aside and eased down on the bed next to her.
“She’s a beautiful little girl,” he said softly.
Mel nodded and sniffed, then her gaze locked with his. “What if they cut her up like that, Ryan?” Tears crested on her lashes. “What if they did that to my baby?”
