by Debra Webb
“Having trouble sleeping?”
The sound of his deep voice trapped her breath behind her breastbone. Good thing she had a tight hold on the wine glass. Smile pinned in place, she turned to face him. “I thought I’d try something new.” She held up the glass of wine.
“Understandable.”
It wasn’t until that moment that she allowed her gaze to take in the whole of him. Her attention drifted down from his face to his bare chest. Smooth skin, ripped muscles. His trousers hung low on his hips. For the first time since the fall she tried to remember how long it had been since she’d been kissed by a man—not the I’m-so-sorry pecks from her family. A passionate kiss...the real thing. She couldn’t remember. She had no idea when she’d been held, much less kissed. Years. At least two years.
She should never have asked him what April had alluded to about his past. She hadn’t needed to know... She hadn’t thought about sex in so long. How was it she couldn’t banish it from her mind now?
“Good night,” he said, interrupting her silent discourse.
She managed a nod. “Good night.”
Somehow she turned her back and resumed her climb up the staircase. Her chest ached but it was from the air bag and not from the loneliness. A frown furrowed her forehead. When had she become so obsessed with being alone?
For the first time she wondered if she would ever have a sex life again. She’d wondered plenty of times if her life would ever be normal but she hadn’t afforded any time on the subject of sex. Sadly, it took only one handsome man under the same roof with her to remind her of all that she was missing. Most women her age were married and had a child already.
Before she climbed back into bed she downed the remainder of the wine. Curling up beneath the covers, she sighed and closed her eyes. She sifted through the day’s events. She replayed the moments in the car before the air bag hit her in the face and then the hours at the ER. The unpleasant scene in the driveway with her sister and the examination of the garage for signs of foul play. But the last thought tugging at her before she slipped into the darkness was of the man downstairs and how grateful she was to have him here.
She didn’t want to be alone.
Chapter Seven
Birmingham Regional Lab
Thursday, September 22, 10:15 a.m.
Ricky Vernon passed the report he held to Clint. “Whoever did this knew what he was doing. This was no amateur job. The new sensor was set to engage the air bag as soon as she reached a speed of sixty miles per hour.”
Clint glanced at Natalie’s BMW. The vehicle would have to be towed to the dealer for repair. All sensors would need to be checked. They couldn’t be sure of the true extent of the damage to the electronic systems.
Vernon brushed his brown hair back from his face and adjusted his glasses. His button-down shirt was wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The trousers bore the same telltale signs of a long day in the lab that had extended through the night and into the next day. Some women considered the rumpled geeky look sexy. Clint wondered if Natalie would prefer Vernon’s type.
She’d seemed nervous last night when he interrupted her return to her room with a glass of wine. Had she forgotten he was in the house? Or had she wandered down the stairs wearing a nightgown and no robe on purpose? One narrow strap of the gown had fallen off her shoulder, but the way the hem hit midthigh was the most surprising. She spent her days in those fashionably conservative suits that hardly showed her great body. Last night she’d looked young and innocent, vulnerable. Not the kind of woman who would want a man like him.
Vernon spoke again, drawing Clint’s wayward attention. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“This isn’t the first time this vehicle has been tampered with,” the forensic expert repeated. “The main brake line has been repaired. It appears to have been damaged at one time, but the damage was a straight cut, which I find indicative of tampering versus some sort of normal wear and tear. At some point later it was repaired.”
“Would this have been recent?” A new kind of tension rippled through Clint.
Vernon shook his head. “Since the vehicle has been garaged for the better part of two years, it would be difficult to guess based solely on the road film and breakdown from routine exposure to the elements. But according to the maintenance log in the glove box, the brakes were repaired twenty-six months ago.”
Two months before her fall down the stairs.
“Thanks, Vernon. I owe you one.”
“Anytime. Lieutenant Harper said someone’s life depended on the findings.” Vernon glanced beyond the glass wall that divided the lab from his office on the other side where Natalie waited. Harper and Cook had arrived and were talking to her. “It’s nice for a change to be able to help someone before the worst happens.”
Far too often by the time evidence like this made it to the lab someone was dead.
Clint was very glad Natalie was unharmed for the most part. He intended to do whatever necessary to see that she stayed that way.
Clint assured Vernon he would get the BMW out of his way as quickly as possible before heading into the office to join Natalie and the detectives. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining the details to her. It was difficult enough when a person could accurately assess the threat around them, but for Natalie, there was no way to be certain. There were too many holes in her memory and too many questions she couldn’t answer. She had no idea who would want to harm her or for what reason. There was no way at this point to get a fix on the threat.
Harper and Detective Chad Cook had already introduced themselves to Natalie by the time Clint left Vernon to his next task. Harper and Cook were the only two remaining original members of the department’s Major Crimes Special Problems Unit. Harper was in command for now. He’d made lieutenant last year. Clint respected both men, called them friends. For him, that was high praise. Clint didn’t play well with others.
Harper gave Clint a nod. “Vernon says we got foul play here.”
Clint glanced at Natalie who looked even more worried than when they had arrived. “No question.”
“I confirmed that the mechanic who repaired the brake line is still employed at the Irondale dealership,” Cook explained. “His name’s Beckett. His rap sheet is clean other than a DUI back in high school. Harper and I are heading there now to interview him.”
Natalie’s worry turned to confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s going on with the brakes?”
“I’ll explain the full report to you,” Clint promised. To Harper he said, “I’d like to talk to the mechanic first. I don’t think we should tip our hand just yet as to police involvement. I’d prefer for whoever is behind this to feel safe for now.”
Harper didn’t look convinced. “I can give you twenty-four hours, but we can’t risk this guy posing a threat to anyone else. You know as well as I do that if he’d do it for a dollar once he’ll do it for a dollar again.”
Clint couldn’t argue his reasoning. “Twenty-four hours is all I need.”
“How is this possible?” Natalie turned to Clint. “I haven’t taken my car in for service recently. How could he have gained access to it? The only people...”
Her voice drifted off as realization struck her hard. There were very few people with access to her home and unfortunately she was extremely close to those few.
Clint could think of at least four people who were close enough, but which one was motivated enough to commit murder?
* * *
IT WAS TOO MUCH.
Natalie couldn’t reconcile what the lab’s analysis meant. The only people who had access to the house were Suzanna and Leonard, and April, of course. David had a key but he rarely came to the house unless Leonard called him.
Except, how could she be certain?
Before her fall sh
e had worked long hours at the firm. Afterward she’d been in the hospital and then in rehab for months. In the past two months she had spent several hours a day at the office. How could she say for sure who had come and gone? Had Suzanna or Leonard given a key to anyone else? The pest-control service? A plumber or electrician? What about the painters? The house had been given a fresh coat throughout while she was in rehab. The rugs had been cleaned and the floors polished. April had thought it would make Natalie feel better to come home to a fresh start.
Any one of those people coming in and out of the house may have picked up a key.
Or perhaps it was easier to believe a stranger was the culprit rather than someone close to her.
“Harper will check the security cameras at the parking garage next to your office.”
Clint’s voice startled her back to the present. “I appreciate the department’s efforts.”
What was the likelihood that someone had come into the garage where she parked while at work and tampered with her car?
None of this made sense.
“You’re in a difficult position.”
His voice was gentler this time, as if he understood her inability to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening.
“The worst part is I don’t know why.” She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. When had she become so emotional? How could she forget? The brain injury had changed some aspects of her personality that might or might not return to normal at some point. “How can I not remember someone who wants to hurt me?”
“Sometimes we remember what we feel comfortable remembering.”
The man had done his research. Sadie and the other doctors had said the same thing. The pieces she felt more comfortable with would fall into place first. If she’d had a confrontation or received a threat of some kind, those details might not return until her mind felt ready to accept the burden.
As long as she didn’t get murdered first, no problem.
The Irondale dealership wasn’t crowded the way it had been three years ago when she’d bought her new BMW. A salesman trailed a couple strolling the lot. Inside, sparsely furnished cubicles where salespersons were either making phone calls or finalizing deals with customers lined one wall. The large customer-service desk stood against the opposite wall while the center of the showroom was occupied by the current models of the carmaker’s most popular series. After the formal introductions, the manager, Adam Wheeler, was only too happy to see Natalie and Clint in his private office.
“You must be ready for an upgrade, Ms. Drummond.” He smiled broadly as they took their seats. “Mr. Drummond was here just a few days ago to order a new car for his lovely wife.”
Her brother hadn’t mentioned a new car to Natalie. She wasn’t surprised at the omission and it certainly didn’t trigger any alarms in her opinion. Like their father, Heath was focused on the business. Other than Thanksgiving and Christmas, the man was generally unavailable.
“Maybe another time,” Natalie assured him. “We’re actually here about one of your employees. My friend, Mr. Hayes, has a few questions he’d like to ask.”
“Of course. I am always happy to brag about my employees. We take great pride in the service we provide.” He turned his attention to Clint. “How may I help you, Mr. Hayes?”
“Your mechanic, Mike Beckett, what can you tell us about him?”
“He’s a very reliable employee. He has been for the past four years. Always on time and rarely missed a day. We haven’t had the first complaint about his work.”
“Is he here today?” Clint asked.
“He called in on Monday. Said he needed to get to Denver. Something about his mother being ill.”
“Did he indicate when he would return?”
“He did not. His absence left a big hole in our service schedule. We’ve been rescheduling appointments all week.”
Clint stood. “Thank you, Mr. Wheeler.”
Natalie promised to call Wheeler soon about a new car. Considering the damage to her current vehicle, he might be hearing from her sooner than either of them anticipated. She waited until they were back in Clint’s car to ask, “What now?”
“Now we talk to your housekeeper and gardener.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary to question Suzanna and Leonard.” The idea was ludicrous. She wanted no part of offending them with pointless questions.
“I’m not accusing them of wrongdoing, Natalie,” Clint glanced at her as he spoke. “I’m suggesting they may have seen something or someone without realizing it mattered enough to mention. You need to trust me, I know how to handle the situation without stepping on toes or injuring feelings unnecessarily.”
He was right. She had no reason to doubt him. “Fine. Just be extra nice, okay?”
The smile he flashed in her direction interrupted the rhythm of her heart in a good way. She thought about the way he’d looked last night only half dressed and standing in that doorway. Her throat went dry. Why was it her sexuality had to reawaken at the worst possible time?
What difference did it make? She had enough trouble at the moment without getting involved romantically with anyone, much less the man who needed to remain focused on finding the source of whatever the hell was going on in her life. Just now, neither he nor she could afford to be distracted.
Natalie leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. Now was not a good time for getting involved. She cringed at the ludicrous thought and reminded herself that it was difficult to get involved without someone to get involved with. Clint Hayes was the investigator she had hired not her friend or her potential boyfriend.
He was a professional providing a service...
Her fingers tightened on the armrest when she thought of the service he had provided other women during his college days. She wondered what his girlfriend—assuming he had one and she couldn’t imagine he didn’t—thought of his colorful work history.
Clint received a call on his cell. Natalie tried to gather the gist of the call based on his side of the conversation. He repeated an address that wasn’t familiar to her. He thanked the caller then dropped his phone back into his jacket pocket.
She found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to tell her what the call was about. It might have nothing to do with her case.
“That was Harper. Beckett’s girlfriend found him at his residence. From the looks of things he had been packing to leave town, but he never made it.”
Her heart sank. “He’s dead?”
“He is. Has been for at least a day. One gunshot to the chest.”
Natalie stopped the rush of thoughts whirling in her head and forced herself to focus. “Is there any way to determine if he tampered with my car or if his murder has anything to do with...me?”
“Harper and Cook are two of the best detectives in the department. If anyone can determine what Beckett was up to the final days and hours of his life, they can.”
“I don’t understand.” Why was this happening? She’d gone to bed one night with nothing more to worry about than the case she was assigned and when she woke up her world had changed. She didn’t remember getting up or falling down the stairs. Her first memory was waking up in the hospital with April asleep in the chair next to her bed. At that point Natalie had been in a coma for ten days. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know,” Clint admitted as he made the turn onto her street. “But I will find out.”
“The whole situation is simply insane.” Natalie shook her head, stunned, horrified and frustrated. She didn’t realize she’d braced her hand against the console until he wrapped his fingers around hers. He didn’t say a word, simply gave her hand a quick, gentle squeeze and then let go. Somehow that basic touch calmed her, made her dare to hope.
Natalie kept her chin up the rest of the drive. Clint p
ulled into the driveway to find Suzanna and Leonard packing up their SUV. At first Natalie thought perhaps they were merely leaving a little early today, but the back of the SUV was loaded with boxes.
“What on earth?” Natalie climbed out of the car.
Leonard closed the tailgate and moved around to the driver’s door without uttering as much as a hello.
“Suzanna, what’s going on?”
The older woman faced Natalie, her expression cluttered with dread. “We can’t do this anymore, Natalie. It’s past time we retired anyway. I left you a letter explaining our feelings.”
Natalie shook her head. “I don’t understand. You can’t do what? Has something happened you haven’t told me about?”
“Suzanna!”
The older woman glanced at the SUV. “He doesn’t want me to get tangled up in this mess.”
“Tangled up in what mess?” They couldn’t possibly know about her air bag fiasco or the murder of the mechanic who may have tampered with it. “What in the world are you talking about?”
Suzanna glanced toward her husband once more, but then leaned forward and whispered for Natalie’s ears only, “I found the bloody clothes and the gun hidden in your room, Miss Natalie. I don’t know what it means, but I can’t protect you anymore.”
“Suzanna, wait!”
Natalie’s words fell on deaf ears. The couple who had taken care of her family’s home for three decades loaded up and drove away while she stood helplessly watching.
“What was that all about?”
Natalie looked up at Clint, possibly the last person on the planet who believed in her. “I have no idea.”
The mechanic, Beckett, had been shot... Suzanna had found bloody clothes and a gun in Natalie’s room.
Could she...no, no, she could never have gone to his home and killed him...but she had shot someone.
Was Mike Beckett the intruder she shot in her kitchen? Why would she have changed clothes and hidden them and the gun before the police came? How could she have moved the body? She hadn’t even known his name, much less where he lived. Dear God, had she killed a man?
