“Until the fantasy life turned into a nightmare?” Wes asked, all censure out of his voice.
“I think she would’ve put up with it for longer if she hadn’t had kids.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I noticed she changed after her daughter was born and even more after her son. She wasn’t on the gossip pages or on social media as much. Her posts and tweets had more to do with her kids than partying with the rich and famous.” Wöden laid down at her feet. She lifted one leg up into the chair, wrapped one arm around it and relaxed into the cushions. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to help her. She was in over her head and wanted to get out before Joe killed her or one of her kids.”
“You said he broke the restraining orders?” Wes asked, rubbing the day-old stubble on his chin.
“Yes. All four. Why?”
“I’m just thinking he’d have had to develop stalking skills to find her, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, but like I told you earlier, he’s in prison for twenty years. I don’t see him stalking me from inside a jail cell.”
“True. But he might still have the resources to hire someone to do it for him.”
“This feels too personal to be a hired thug. Besides wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be terrorizing Tamika?”
“Yes, on both counts. Still, I’ll keep him on our list,” Wes said, typing on his laptop again. “We’ll see if he’s had any regular visitors at the prison.”
“You’re going to access federal prison records on your little laptop while we’re snowed in out here in the woods?”
He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “I have an app.”
She snorted. The man had an app for everything. “You’re kidding, right?”
He didn’t answer, just lifted one eyebrow her direction. “Anyone else you want to add to the list?”
Chloe pulled more cookies out of the packet and munched on them. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the man on the couch had connections that could get him into federal data bases and apps that let him clone cell phones, much less search her own memory banks for anyone who’d ever threatened her. The whole thing—Wes and her stalker—seemed too surreal.
“Anyone else you might’ve pissed off doing a case pro bono?” Wes prompted her.
She focused on the few side cases she’d had since joining the firm. One name came to mind. “Nathan Tremont.”
“And who is Nathan Tremont?”
“He’s the owner of the Tremont Athletic Goods stores. There are several in the Cincinnati, Dayton and northern Kentucky area.”
“What did he do?”
“Ran a stop sign while talking on his cell phone and t-boned my client’s car.”
“Did he do time?”
She shook her head. “Just a fine and points on his driving record.”
“So why would he be after you?”
It was her turn to give a casual shrug. “Tremont and his insurance company wanted to settle out of court for a pittance of the amount he’d cost my client, Mr. Algeron. He came to me for advice and we sued him in civil court for damages and reimbursement of medical bills. I made sure he felt the pain in his wallet that matched the pain Mr. Algeron did when his car was hit.”
Wes made a face and started typing.
“What?” she asked, feeling like she’d been caught cheating on a test or something.
“Nothing. You just go for the jugular, don’t you?”
“One of the things I always remembered my father saying when I was little was, the best defense is a good offense.”
“A football guy, huh?”
“Bengals all the way.”
Wes studied her with those intense blue eyes of his again. “Amazing how something our parents say can influence us years later. This time your dad’s advice may have triggered Tremont’s need for revenge.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Are you…saying…it’s my fault…someone…is…stalking…me?”
The tension in Chloe’s voice and the deliberate way she enunciated each word warned Wes she’d reached her limit of patience. The fact that it took her nearly twenty-four hours, a change of surroundings and a mild, if lengthy, interrogation surprised him more than her sudden ire.
Wöden had taken notice, too. The half-wolf lifted his head to study her, this time not trying to sooth her with a nuzzle. Smart dog.
“No. What I’m saying is being you— determined, strong, as well as beautiful—has struck a chord in someone. Could be revenge, like in the case of Tremont or Whitehead. Could be intimidation factor like the Hinkley Global group or even your boss. People we can trace down and deal with on a logical or legal level. That’s the good news.” He paused, letting the words sink into her mind.
“And the bad?” she asked after a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line.
She wasn’t going to like hearing this, but she needed to.
“If it isn’t one of those men for specific reasons, then, we’re dealing with someone who may have other issues.”
“Other issues?” Her dark brown eyes focused on him and he already knew she understood him, but wanted him to be the one to say it out loud.
“Then we may be looking at someone who has mental problems.”
“Such as?”
“Delusional fantasies at best.”
“And at worst?”
“We could be dealing with a psychotic bent on hurting you.”
She bolted out of her chair.
“Great! Just great.” She stalked across the room, her long legs taking up the limited space to the cabin’s front door in four quick strides. On one heel, she pivoted and strode back across the room. “I can’t believe it. One scenario, just being me and doing my job might, just might, have triggered some male with an oversized ego to think he has the right to punish me or try to intimidate me because I’m a woman.
“And if it wasn’t something I did and this isn’t about someone with an over-inflated sense of entitlement, then some mysterious crazy person has fixated on me and we have no way of knowing who they are or when they’ll attack.”
“It isn’t necessarily a stranger,” Wes said, making her pause and look at him with one raised brow. “It could be someone in your circle of acquaintances who has developed an obsession with you. Someone you come in contact on a daily basis.”
That sent her on another trek across the room. “Great! Now I have to wonder about the guy at the coffee shop or maybe one of the guys at the deli around the corner where I get my Reuben sandwich every Wednesday, which by the way I’m really missing today.”
When she pivoted this time, she slammed right into Wes, who was holding her hiking boots.
“What?” She looked down at the boots, then back at him, her eyes snapping with the fire raging inside her.
“Put them on, we’re going outside.”
She glanced out the window at the snow-white wonderland on the porch, the ground beneath the trees and hanging off the stark-black limbs of the trees and bushes beyond. Swinging her gaze back to him, her brows lifted in puzzlement. “Are you crazy? There’s at least a foot of snow out there.”
“More like two. I need to be sure the SUV still starts and the path behind it is clear in case of an emergency.”
Chloe took a step back, her hands raised. “I’m not shoveling snow.”
“Sure you are,” he said, thrusting her boots into her hands. “You need to work off some of this steam. You can do that outside shoveling snow.”
She slipped on her boots and started lacing them up tight, tucking her jeans down inside. “Okay, on one condition,”
Always the negotiator.
“What’s that?”
“Please tell me you have stuff to make s’mores. I’ve been craving them ever since you started the fire last night.”
He winked at her as he grabbed both their coats off the hooks by the door. “S’mores fixings are in the pantry.”
She stood, pulled on her coat, ha
t and mittens, then grinned at him. “My hero.”
He followed her out into the cold air, wishing he believed that as much as she did. But then he knew the truth. Five men were dead because of him. He was no hero.
* * * * *
Deputy Daniel Löwe turned his snowmobile up the driveway area to the little house. Cutting the engine, he sat and studied the scene in front of him.
Everything was covered in snow. The drive, the bushes, the fence that circled the property and the land beyond the house. The house had snow over the porch and up against the bottom of the door. The blizzard winds had pushed snowdrifts up to the lower edge of the windows, which were completely dark. A foot of snow lay on the roof and chimney, which had no smoke coming from it.
God, don’t let there be anyone inside.
All the other homes he’d stopped at in this area of the county had some sort of life. A fire in the chimney, lanterns in the window. The sound of a generator keeping the occupants warm.
This place was eerily silent.
Not good.
With a sinking feeling he started the engine again and drove up to the porch. Still seated, he tried to see in the living room window. No one came to the window to investigate the noise his snowmobile engine made. No one came to the door. Normally, he’d just assume no one was home and head on to the next place. But his gut told him to check inside to be sure someone wasn’t in trouble.
Damn, he didn’t want to go in here alone.
Pulling out his sat phone, he dialed in the number for the phone Cleetus was carrying. The big guy had gone further northeast to where the Amish farms started. The religious group might be its own secluded community, but in their county, Gage, and his dad before him, believed every citizen’s welfare was part of the Sheriff’s Department’s responsibility.
“What’s up Dan?” the other deputy said without preamble.
“Where are you?” Hopefully not too far away.
“Over at Thomas Yoder’s farm. He and his oldest son just got back from checking on their neighbors by horse and wagon. Everyone was good, so saves us going to all those farms. Why?”
“I’m on Bridge Road about a mile off County Road 456. The old Thurber place.”
“What’s up?” Worry laced Cleetus’ voice.
“Nothing. That’s the problem. I’m going in to check it out. I might need some help. I’ve got a bad feeling.” Which was growing stronger by the minute.
“Dammit, that’s where Rosie Cochran moved to last summer. Josiah Thurber’s family rented it to her after he passed away.”
“You think she’s in there?” Daniel had already killed his engine and was climbing off the snowmobile, his heart heavy with every step.
“Her and her daughter, Lexie. I’m on my way, Dan. Should take me about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Cleetus. I’ll be inside.”
With a prayer that he’d find the place empty, that Rosie had taken her daughter somewhere for the weekend, he slipped the sat phone into his pocket, grabbed his flashlight and headed to the front door.
“Rose? You in there?” he yelled as he knocked on the wooden door then waited for a response.
None. Not a sound.
He tried the door. It was locked.
Flashlight on, he stomped over to the front window, sinking down to his knees in the snow with each step. He scanned the dark room with his flashlight. Empty pizza boxes sat on the coffee table. Beer bottles on the floor. Drug pipes and disposable lighters lay among the trash on the end tables. A basket of laundry, whether clean or dirty he couldn’t tell from where he stood, sat next to the couch.
Nothing moved.
Slowly, he worked his way around to the kitchen on the east side. It appeared in the same half-kept hoarder-in-training mess as the living room. He moved on to the back of the one-story ranch style home where the bedrooms were located. It was also the north side and therefore the coldest part of the house.
The first room was empty. The bed unmade, trash and clothes spread all over the place.
Finally, he came to the second, smaller of the bedrooms. The toys on the shelf were stored neatly. The dresser top had a stuffed animal and a book on top. The floor was neatly picked up. He moved his flashlight to the bedside table. It had a lamp and a book. Then he scanned the bed. At first, he thought it was just a pile of blankets.
Then the pile moved.
Shit!
He moved the flashlight towards the head of the bed. The pile of blankets stirred again and little fingers moved the edge of the covers. He stared into huge dark blue eyes in a pale oval face.
“It’s okay Lexie. It’s Deputy Daniel from the Sheriff’s department. I’m here to help you and your mom.” As soon as he said it, he had to wonder where her mother was. Could she be in the basement? Injured? She certainly wasn’t anywhere on the main floor.
Didn’t matter at the moment. Right now, he needed to get inside to that little girl before she froze to death.
Moving as fast as the deep snow would let him, he headed back to the front door. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and slow his heartrate.
A faint sound came from northeast of the house. The motor of a snowmobile. Cleetus was on his way. Not waiting for the big man, Daniel tried the knob again. Still locked. He took a step back, turned slightly then rammed his left shoulder into the door. The wood around the jamb was old and splintered under the force of his weight. The door slammed back against the wall.
He shook off the snow and stamped his feet out of habit, then hurried through the clutter and debris straight back to Lexie’s room. Careful not to scare her, he slowly opened her door. “Lexie, it’s Deputy Dan again. Remember me? I helped at the school safety program in the fall.” Thank God, he had, maybe she’d remember him.
He moved further into the only clean place in the house. “Lexie, honey can you hear me?”
Slowly, like a little bear coming out of hibernation, she moved the covers down off her head. Her lips trembled and her body shook. She appeared to be about five or six. “Where’s…mama? Did…she…bring…you?” she said between shivers.
“Your mama’s not with me, sweetie,” he said, coming over to squat in front of the bed.
Removing his glove from one hand, he stroked her head and her cheek. Her skin was cold. Gripping her hand in his, he warmed her little fingers with his body heat. He prayed she hadn’t gotten frostbite.
“When was the last time you saw your mama?” he asked, counting the blankets on the bed. There were five quilts piled on top of her. Smart girl.
“Before the snow started falling,” she whispered, her eyes going past him and growing bigger, if that was possible.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw Cleetus filling the doorway, and holding his thermos. He looked back at Lexie. “That’s my friend, Deputy Cleetus. He’s here to help, too. Would you like to go someplace warm for a while? At least until we can find your mama?”
The frightened child glanced from him to Cleetus, who gave her his best nice-guy smile, then back again. She nodded.
“Okay. It’s awful cold outside. Do you have a coat?”
She nodded, then gave him a half smile. “I wore it to bed last night.”
“That was a very smart thing to do,” he said, scooting back as she sat up. “Would you like some hot chocolate? Cleetus has some in the thermos.”
She nodded.
Cleetus handed it to him then leaned in close to whisper so only he could hear. “I’ll check the rest of the house.”
Daniel nodded.
They both knew what he was looking for—either her mother injured or worse in the basement. Daniel wasn’t sure which he preferred the big man find. Instead of contemplating the idea that the child’s mother was dead or had abandoned her in a blizzard, he focused on pouring some hot chocolate into the mug. He held it steady as Lexie wrapped her hands around the thermos cup and sipped the now warm, but not scalding hot liquid.
“Pretty good, huh?” he
asked and was rewarded with a smile. “That’s Miss Lorna’s special hot chocolate for brave girls. She sent it especially for you.”
“Miss Lorna with the yellow hair at the Peaches ’N Cream?”
Daniel nodded, not surprised that the café owner made an impression on the little girl. Lorna had a way with children, teens and adults. “That’s the one. What’s your favorite thing to eat at the café?”
“Ice cream,” she said then drank more of the chocolate.
Daniel smiled. “But maybe not on a cold day like today, huh?”
She nodded.
“What would you like to eat today?”
The tiny little brunette twisted her mouth and stared up in the corner of her room as if giving the question great consideration. “I like grilled cheese.”
“Me, too. And I like tomato soup with mine,” he said, looking around and finding her tennis shoes on the floor. His heart broke more and his ire grew when he saw their battered, holey appearance. How could a mother not provide the barest of necessity for her child? He doubted she’d even considered the kid might need boots for the cold Midwestern winters.
When he turned back to her, Lexie had drawn her brows together and studied him over the brim of her almost empty cup of hot chocolate.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What’s tomato soup?”
“You’ve never had tomato soup?” he asked, actually surprised. It had been a staple of his childhood, especially in winter.
She shook her head.
“Oh, man, it’s the best stuff, especially with grilled cheese. I bet Miss Lorna has some over at the Peaches ’N Cream. Would you like to have some when we get there?”
“If I can have grilled cheese, too.”
“Well,” he said standing and walking to her dresser. “The first thing we have to do is get you out of this house. Problem is, it’s really cold outside.” He tugged open her top drawer and found several pairs of thin, holey white socks. Tucked in behind them was two pairs of pink hand knitted socks that appeared to never have been used. He gathered them and some of the less flimsy ones, an idea forming in his head.
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 12
