Oath of Honor

by Lynette Eason

  Ryan was still on the phone yelling something at her.

  “I’m fine. Call for backup!” Fine was pushing it, but she didn’t have any bullet holes in her body, so she’d go with that.

  Izzy put the dog into the bathtub. He could climb out but probably wouldn’t, as he loved baths and would stay there as long as he thought he was getting one. Hopefully if the bullets started flying again, he’d be out of the way.

  Heart crashing against her rib cage, she shut the bathroom door, then raced back into the bedroom to lock the door and, out of desperation, to try the windows again.

  Still jammed.

  Heavy footsteps sounded in her living area, and she whirled, grabbed the lamp on her nightstand, and tossed it through the nearest window.

  No time to climb out.

  The bedroom knob was already rattling. One hard kick and he’d be inside the room, but maybe he’d think she’d gotten out the broken window. Izzy raced back to the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.

  She stood away from the shower on the other side of the toilet and aimed her weapon at the door while her heart beat a harsh rhythm in her chest.

  “All right,” she whispered. “I’m ready. Where are you?”

  “Izzy! Izzy … answer the phone!”

  Ryan’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “Be quiet, Ryan,” she hissed even as she lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Did he shoot you? Are you hit?”

  “No. I’m locked in my bathroom.” She spoke so low, she wondered if he could even hear her. “Now hush. I need to listen.”

  He fell silent and she lowered the phone.

  According to her intruder’s footsteps, he was heading toward her broken window. Would he think she went out and leave?

  His steps thudded against her hardwoods again.

  Heading straight toward her. He wasn’t leaving voluntarily. She’d have to convince him.

  Izzy lifted the weapon and aimed it at the door. A heavy thud sounded against the bathroom door and she bit back a scream. “I’m armed. If you don’t want to get shot, you’d better leave now!”

  “Give me that phone, Officer Isabelle St. John! Is it worth dying for?”

  So it was the phone he was after. And that was the guy from the parking garage. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Fear shuddered through her. “I don’t know. You tell me!”

  The flash of remembered terror when she was hanging over the side of the garage sent her already-rushing adrenaline into overdrive. She shoved the memory aside and focused on the man outside her bathroom door.

  Another thud ripped the door from the bottom hinge. One more kick and it would fall. She fired once. Twice. Three times. He cried out. Izzy fired again, this time hitting the doorframe. The bullet sent wood fragments flying and she heard his running footsteps.

  He was leaving. He was gone. She lowered the weapon to her side and drew in a ragged breath. She’d just lifted the phone to her ear once more when the building shook with an explosion that sent her to her knees.

  Ryan pulled to a stop as flames shot out of her front door. He grabbed his phone and called it in as he charged toward the duplex. Mrs. Spade stumbled from her side of the building. “What happened?”

  “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

  She nodded, eyes wide and fearful. “But Izzy and Mozart—”

  “I’ll get them. Help is on the way. Get in the back of my car for now.” He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed. And he didn’t see the officer who’d been watching Izzy’s house. The car was there, but no one had exited the vehicle during all of the commotion. As he raced toward the front door, his mind replayed the gunshots he’d heard come through the line, then Izzy yelling at the intruder that she was armed. Then more gunshots.

  And the explosion.

  Ryan made it to the first step of the porch before he had to stop and pull back. Hot flames barred his entrance.

  “Izzy!”

  Ryan raced around to the side where the sliding glass door was. He tried it, but found it locked and the flames spreading toward it anyway.

  “No. Come on. Izzy!”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, but he had to get her out before her side of the place was completely consumed.

  He ran around to the side where her bedroom was and found flames licking there as well.

  Terror flooded him. He couldn’t lose Izzy too. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he stared at the burning home and knew there was no way she’d be able to get out. “Izzy!” He went to his knees as the fire trucks pulled to a stop in front. He should have insisted she stay with her family.

  Fear and grief pounded him as the flames grew higher and hotter, driving him from his knees to his feet. He backed away, desperately searching for a way in. He should have known that guy wouldn’t give up so easily. “Izzy, come on, come on, get out of there.”

  How had the person who’d done this found her? From the car registration. But why come after her? Or send someone after her? Unless it was someone from the warehouse? Maybe she’d been seen?

  Izzy had just said he was in her front seat when she’d walked out to her car. Who breaks into a car in a police station parking lot? Either someone really desperate—or someone who wasn’t worried about being caught.

  The guy from the parking garage definitely hadn’t wanted to be caught.

  So, that left desperate.

  17

  Izzy choked on the smoke as she tied the wet towel around her face. She had only seconds to act before she and Mozart went up in flames with the rest of her home. With the towel firmly over the lower part of her face, she grabbed the dog and pushed him out of the bathroom, stepping over the destroyed door.

  The smoky haze burned her eyes. Her goal had been to make it to her broken bedroom window, but he’d set fire to her bed and the carpet around it. The flames sent her scrambling back toward the hall. An idea hit her and she hurried into the den where she dropped to the floor and shoved Mozart through the doggie door. It was almost too hot to try it, but the alternative was death.

  Please, God, let this work.

  She stayed low to the floor and followed Mozart through the small opening while the flames licked at her feet. She had a moment of panic when her hips became stuck, but some desperate squirming and a twisting maneuver got her through and into Mrs. Spade’s side of the duplex.

  Smoke followed her into the room and swirled above her, but on the floor, she was able to draw in breath. She prayed the fire wall between their two units kept the flames on her side and spared Mrs. Spade’s area.

  For several seconds, she lay still, not having the breath or the energy to move. In spite of the wet cloth, she knew she’d inhaled quite a bit of smoke and her head spun. She touched her pockets, first one, then the other. She had her phone. She’d dropped her weapon back in the bathroom when the explosive device had gone off, but there was no time to get it now.

  Mozart ran to the door, barking, anxious to get out of the place.

  She groaned and held the towel to her face with one hand while she pushed herself to her knees with the other. The smoke was getting thicker, rolling through the little door. Izzy shut it, then crawled to the front door, but paused.

  What if he was still out there waiting?

  Then the red lights bouncing off the walls registered. Those weren’t flames, those were fire trucks outside. Grateful, she hauled herself to her feet and opened the door.

  Through his tears, Ryan saw Mrs. Spade’s front door open. At first he thought he’d simply snapped and was losing his mind. Then Mozart darted out and Ryan’s heart thumped a bit harder in his chest. “Mozart, here, boy.”

  The dog ran to him and Ryan passed him to the nearest officer. “Take him to the woman sitting in my car, will you?”

  He didn’t wait for a response, he just took off running toward Mrs. Spade’s front door and was almost there when Izzy’s soot-covered face appeared. She spotted him and went to her knees. He grabbed her up in
his arms while water from the hoses rained down around them. “I need a paramedic!”

  “I’m okay.” Her faint words reached him. He ignored them and hauled her to the nearest ambulance while coughs wracked her slender frame.

  “Izzy!”

  Ryan heard the chief’s voice and spun to see the woman climbing out of her Suburban. He ignored her too, his full attention on Izzy as the paramedic slapped an oxygen mask over her face.

  The chief raced up beside him. He just now noticed the news vans and other media vehicles behind the tape that had been pulled across the road. “Detective Stiles called me. Is she okay? What happened?”

  Ryan moved to allow her access to her daughter. “She’s alive. A few minutes ago, she called me and said someone was outside her home and was trying to kill her. I heard gunshots come over the line. When I got here, her home was in flames.”

  And he’d thought her dead.

  He still hadn’t recovered from that emotional hit and wasn’t sure if he would anytime soon.

  The chief stopped a uniformed officer. “Start canvassing the area. See if anyone saw anything, if there are any security cameras aimed this way, and detain anyone who seems suspicious or evasive—or isn’t a resident of this neighborhood.” The officer took off and Ryan didn’t bother to tell her he’d already set most of those orders in motion. The chief looked back at him. “Why would someone do this?”

  Ryan shook his head. “It probably has something to do with the guys in the warehouse. It’s all I can think of anyway. Izzy may have something more to add to that speculation.”

  The chief nodded, then stepped into the ambulance.

  “Mom?”

  Ryan peered inside to see Izzy had shoved the mask away. Her mother leaned over to give her a quick hug, then put the mask back over her face. “Don’t talk. Just breathe.”

  She pushed it off again. “What are you doing here?”

  “Checking on you, of course.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  The chief replaced the mask. “Take this off again and you’re grounded. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes, but Ryan noticed she left the mask alone. “I’m right behind you,” he said.

  When the ambulance pulled away, the man on the hill lowered his binoculars and ignored the bleeding wound in his side. He needed to know if she was dead but didn’t dare stand around with the other gawkers. The officers would be questioning them, watching for signs that the arsonist had decided to stay and enjoy his handiwork.

  He grunted. Nope, no need to be stupid.

  It hadn’t been very hard to get inside Izzy’s home. He’d done his job scouting the place and had come up with a plan that had been perfect. He hadn’t planned on the cop playing bodyguard, but he’d been easy enough to get rid of. A simple tap to the head with his meaty fist had knocked the guy senseless.

  And it had all been for nothing apparently.

  They’d put someone in the ambulance and it looked like Isabelle St. John. How had she survived the fire? After she’d shot him, he made sure to light the gasoline-soaked rag and toss it onto the floor near her window. Then drop the same thing right at her front door. The insulation had welded the sliding door shut.

  There was no way she could get out.

  And yet she had.

  He swore.

  It was proving to be a bit harder to grab the phone than he’d thought it would be. Grab it or destroy it.

  Whatever.

  He tossed the binoculars into the passenger seat.

  Next time he wouldn’t fail.

  18

  11:00 P.M.

  Izzy paced the hospital room while she waited for Chloe to pick her up. Her chest ached from the smoke inhalation, but it wasn’t anything that would keep her in the hospital. Antibiotics, an inhaler, and rest were her marching orders and she was glad enough to get them. But she couldn’t go home.

  Her home, her private sanctuary … gone …

  Grief and fury flooded her and she wanted to cry.

  No, she wouldn’t think about it. She was alive. Mrs. Spade and Mozart were fine. The officer had a massive headache, but no one had been seriously hurt.

  And she had insurance. In the end, after she mourned the loss of some of her favorite things and went through the rebuilding process, she would be fine. It would all be fine.

  It would.

  It really would.

  Maybe she’d eventually believe it.

  Chloe had insisted Izzy come stay with her, but that didn’t sound like such a great idea to her. Would she be putting her sister in danger? The person who wanted Kevin’s phone didn’t seem all that concerned if he hurt anyone who stood in the way of his getting it.

  A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Ryan peeking around the edge. “Come on in.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Izzy huffed. “I said I’m fine!”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  She crossed her arms. “What do I sound like?”

  “Like a frog. An annoyed one that inhaled too much smoke.”

  “Oh.” She touched her throat and grimaced, then dropped her arms. “Well, I’m that too. Annoyed, that is.”

  “I’ve got some good news that might cheer you up.”

  “Wonderful. I could use some good news.”

  “We got an ID on your friend, the Hulk.”

  She scowled. “Friend? Don’t even joke about that.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. His name is Lamar Young and he’s not a nice person.”

  “I find that shocking.”

  “Yeah. He’s affiliated with Tony Bianchi and has been suspected of several murders. Cop murders as well.”

  “A cop killer. Lovely.” Izzy shivered. “I guess it wasn’t my time yet.”

  Ryan moved closer. “I’ve checked with all the hospitals. If he shows up with a gunshot wound, we’ll know it. We’ve also got a BOLO out on him, so all the patrol officers are keeping their eyes open. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon.”

  “Like we’ve heard something on the guy that killed Kevin?”

  His jaw tightened. “Everyone’s looking, you know they are.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “So … you do realize your entire family, except Chloe and Derek, is in the waiting room, don’t you?”

  She coughed, several lung-wrenching hacks, then groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Yes,” she croaked, “and they’ve all been back here. Every last one of them. I just kicked Brady out twenty minutes ago, claiming I needed to rest. Chloe said I could go home with her. I’m just waiting for her to get here.”

  “You don’t want to go to your parents’ house?”

  “Nope.”

  Ryan sat beside her. “They love you.”

  “I love them too.” She rubbed her eyes. “And it might be okay if we were all at work at the same time, but Mom said something about taking a couple of days off, then Dad jumped in and said he could take care of me. It’s sweet, but no thanks. I mean, they have to work. Staying home with me is not an option.”

  The nurse bustled in and handed Izzy her walking papers. After a litany of instructions, she left with a hasty “Take care.”

  Ryan stood and Izzy put a hand on his arm. “Hold on a second.”

  He paused. “What is it?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to need a weapon. Mine is probably just a melted puddle of steel at this point.”

  “We’ll get you one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, I know this isn’t exactly a great time, but I got your text—I brought Kevin’s phone.”

  He pulled it from his pocket and she nodded. “Try this date.” When he punched it in, the home screen came up. “It worked,” he said. He looked up to see tears streaming down her cheeks. “Where did you come up with that?”

  “Our wedding day,
” she choked out.

  Ryan gaped. “Your what?”

  Izzy grabbed several tissues from the box next to the bed. “It’s a joke.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Those pictures, the ones that you found in Kevin’s room. They were all the things Kevin and I were going to do on our ‘honeymoon.’” She put air quotes around the word.

  “Iz, I think the smoke affected more than your lungs. Could you be a tad more clear?”

  “Bungee jumping, water skiing, hiking, and seeing the world,” she whispered. “I would have turned fifty first.”

  “What?”

  “And then he would have turned fifty a year later.”

  “Iz? You’re not making any sense.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  “Izzy, please! You’re killing me.”

  She finally looked up and met his gaze. And blinked rapidly, more tears falling. He handed her some tissues and she swiped her eyes. “Sorry. The pictures reminded me of a stupid pact Kevin and I made as teenagers. I’d forgotten all about it until you showed me those pictures and said you’d found them in his room. They were things we’d done that we said we’d do again as an old married couple.”

  “Okay, you made a pact. Keep going. I’m still waiting for the clarity part.”

  She gave a low laugh that held very little humor. “He asked me to marry him when he was fifteen and I was sixteen. I told him if I was still single when I turned fifty, I’d marry him.”

  “Wait, I think I remember him telling me about that.”

  Izzy shrugged. “It was so long ago, I …”

  “Guess he still thought about it.”

  “I know he did. He mentioned it the night he was killed. Wow,” she breathed.

  “Yeah.” He tapped another sequence on the screen. “I’m going to look at videos and pictures first.”

  “Check the last video he took. If he was filming, it should be right there.”

  Ryan tapped again and drew in a breath. “And there it is.”

  He held the phone where Izzy could see it. The picture wobbled, then steadied. The interior of the warehouse came into view and the camera zoomed in on the three men standing in front of the glass-encased office.