Angel on Fire

by Jacquie Johnson

“Did Derrick know about Dad’s military record and the government projects?” Angela frowned. Pain clouded her mind, preventing her from piecing things together in a way that made sense.

  Doc nodded. “Mac and Derrick met in the military. Your father saved his life, in more ways than one.”

  “How do you know all this, Doc?” Angela was amazed that she hadn’t known any of this information. She had always thought her father was an open book, easy to read with no secrets. Why would he share this with Doc but not with her? Did everyone in town know about his military service?

  Doc smiled. “I did med school courtesy of the Army. During my mandatory stint as a military doc, I heard stories about Mac. When you two moved here, I put two and two together. Your dad brushed off my early attempts to talk about our experiences but a couple of years ago, he started opening up and shared a few of his tamer stories.”

  Marcia poked her head into his office, tapping on her watch to indicate he was running late, and darted back out. The sound of a child screaming traveled down the hall and Angela cringed. Doc laughed at her reaction. “I guess it’s time for me to head back to work, Angie.” He stood and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I know this is hard, but you have to understand that heart attacks aren’t that unusual for people over fifty, and they can happen without warning. Why doesn’t matter so much. If you need me, give me a call.” With a final smile, Doc walked out to tend to his next patient.

  Angela’s heart sank. She had been hoping Doc would be able to shed some light on what happened, but he appeared to accept the heart attack story. She swung her legs over the edge of the table and eased down to the floor just as Marcia entered, carrying a small packet.

  “Take these now.” She dumped two pills in Angela’s hand and waited for her to swallow. “Technically, you shouldn’t drive while taking these, but you’ve never been a rule-follower. I’ll call in your prescription and have the pharmacy deliver it. You go right home and rest.” Marcia pulled a root beer lollipop from behind her back. “Your favorite, I believe.”

  Angela’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. She pushed away from the exam table and brushed her tangled curls over her shoulder. “Thanks, Marcia. I appreciate the help.” She pressed a hand against her ribcage as she hobbled from the room, more confused than ever about her father’s death.

  Angela walked to her car, fighting fatigue and pain with each step. As she turned right onto Maple Avenue, she noticed a dark blue Ford Taurus a few car lengths behind her. She took the next right, and the car tagged along. Angela accelerated while keeping a close eye on the vehicle.

  Her eyes narrowed when she realized she had a tail. Ignoring every rule she had been taught, she slammed on her brakes, pulled over to the side of the road, flung the car door open, and stumbled out of the Mercedes. The driver hit the brakes and stopped a few cars lengths away. With one hand on her hip and the other against her ribs, Angela stared at the driver, trying to make out his features behind the dark glass. When she stepped closer, the driver accelerated and sped past her.

  Angela hobbled back to the Mercedes. She had a feeling she knew the driver, but she couldn’t place him. The thought that the FBI was trailing her crossed her mind and she felt nauseous. While keeping a close eye on the cars around her, she wracked her brain, trying to think of anything she’d done that would merit an investigation by the FBI. Everything was fine until Dad died. All my cases were routine. This has to relate to Dad’s death.

  With a sigh, Angela grabbed her phone and punched in Cass’s cell phone number. She physically recoiled when an automated voice announced that the number had been disconnected. How could that be? She had just talked to Cass a few days ago, after her boss insisted she take additional leave. Surely, nothing had happened to Cass, had it? She tried Cass’s office number only to snap the phone shut and throw it on the seat next to her when an automated voice announced that Cassidy Santos had been reassigned. Angela pulled into the garage and thunked her head against the steering wheel. She had a feeling Cass’s decision to share confidential information with her backfired on Cass. At least reassigned didn’t mean fired. She didn’t think.

  As soon as the garage door closed, she crawled out of the car and dragged herself to the couch. Just as she collapsed, the phone rang and she snarled out a greeting.

  “Don’t forget. Nine o’clock at the Oak Bar at the Fairmont Copley,” a man’s voice hissed.

  “Damn it! Who the hell are you?” she demanded just the line disconnected.

  Son of a…. She let the thought trail off and replaced the handset before resting her head on her arms. Now what? Do I take a pain pill, drive back to Boston to confront this idiot, and tell him to leave me alone? Or should I take a pill and go to bed?

  Fifteen minutes later, Angela dragged herself up the stairs and into the shower. She let the steamy water soothe her aches and pains while she pondered her options. One, she could ignore the call. Two, she could meet with the man and hope he listened while she explained that she had no idea what he was talking about. Three, she could go to the bar and try to locate the caller without actually meeting him. Perhaps she could trail him and learn more about him and what he wanted. Ruefully, she shrugged. Hell, he wants to meet with me. The direct approach sounds like the best option. Perhaps he can tell me what happened to Dad. The more cautious side of her whispered frantically, “He’s probably dangerous. You should stay far away from him.” Angela smiled. Playing it safe hadn’t helped her dad. Maybe it was time to add a little danger to her life.

  Chapter 5

  Angela parked the Mercedes in the parking garage at the Fairmont Copley. Chase pulled in a few slots away and waited for her to exit her vehicle. Since he had already revealed himself once today, he couldn’t afford to get too close to her. He used the car’s side mirror to follow her movements. Chase sighed as she struggled out of the car, placed her palm against the side panel and took shallow breaths before straightening and walking toward the door. Her resilience amazed him.

  Chase fought a smile as he watched her talk to herself as she moved. Angela was definitely one of a kind. Most women would be hiding under the covers between Mac’s death, the break-in and a hit and run accident, but not Angela. Apparently, she was going to a hotel. He had no clue why she was at the Fairmont though. She didn’t have any luggage so she wasn’t checking in, and the background check he had done didn’t show a boyfriend, so she probably wasn’t meeting a man though he couldn’t rule it out. As he ambled through the main entrance, Chase considered the possibility that she was somehow involved in Mac’s death. He shook his head. It didn’t play for him. Her reactions were too genuine.

  Chase looked around the cream colored lobby. He couldn’t help but be amused when he located Angela staring at the marble columns, clearly lost in thought. One hand reached out and touched the cool marble before she sighed, straightened her shoulders and marched down the hallway.

  He followed from a distance as she strolled toward the Oak Bar, taking a good, long look at each individual who passed. Obviously, she was meeting someone but from the way she was acting, she didn’t know the person. Angela poked her head inside the bar with its dark, glossy tables but continued on down the hallway. Chase stopped at the next corner and climbed the stairs. From his position on the balcony overhead, Chase shook his head in amazement as he watched Angela pace back and forth waving her hands and muttering to herself. No one else was around, and he bit back a bark of laughter. God help him, she intrigued him. Beautiful, intelligent, observant, caring, courageous, and just a little bit crazy.

  After five minutes, Angela wandered back to the Oak Bar. A man with spiky jet black hair and skin the color of nutmeg stalked out of the bar with a frown on his face, and Angela hurried after him. Chase trailed after her, swearing under his breath.

  Angela rushed down the corridor, her hand pressed against her ribs as she tried to keep up with the man winding his way through the hallways. Chase peered around the corner and caught sight of he
r leaning against the wall and holding her ribs as she tried to breathe. He admired her determination as she pushed off the wall and hurried down the hall. Chase heard a door slam shut and rounded the corner just as Angela stepped outside. It shut behind her and he frowned. His long legs made quick work of the distance and he glanced out the small glass pane at the top of the metal door, pulling his head out of sight when Angela turned around. She pounded against the locked door and he considered opening it for her but decided against it. She didn’t appear to be in immediate danger and Zach had warned him to stay out of sight and unnoticed. He had already broken his cover once.

  He smirked when he felt the door shake. He had a feeling she had just kicked the door. He chuckled and risked another glance out the small window in time to see Angela walk slowly down the alley toward the main thoroughfare. He gave her a brief head start before exiting and trailing along behind her. As he expected, Angela headed for the parking garage and then drove carefully home. After settling into the house across the street, he emailed the picture of the man Angela had pursued to Zach. Thirty minutes later, his secure phone rang.

  “Sir,” he greeted his boss.

  “What the hell is going on?” Before Chase could answer, Zach continued, “Why did you let her get anywhere near Chul-Moo?”

  “What?” Chase jolted upright in shock. “Chul-Moo? The Iron Weapon?” The guy in the picture was a Korean terrorist? What the hell was Mac mixed up in?

  “Tell me how Angela ran into him.”

  “She went to the Fairmont. That’s all I know. He was there, looking for someone I think, and she followed him.” Chase raked his fingers through his thick, wavy hair, trying to figure out what in heaven’s name was going on.

  “Shit.” Chase heard the familiar creak of Zach’s chair as he leaned back. “Mac would never have put Angela in that kind of danger intentionally.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe he thought he could handle whatever it was. He’s been out of the game for quite a while. Perhaps he had something to prove.” Chase leaned back against the arm of the couch and stretched out his long legs.

  “No. Something had to have happened the day he died.”

  “So, do we know what he was working on at the time of his death?”

  “No.” Zach’s voice was tight. “I’m looking into Derrick Blakely though.”

  “What was Mac’s relationship with Blakely?” Chase tucked the phone under his chin as he stretched his arms out and arched his back, fighting back fatigue. He wasn’t going to make it much longer without a few hours rest.

  “They served together. Mac saved his ass on several occasions. I don’t know why they bonded but, for some reason, Mac felt responsible for Derrick. Then once Heather, Mac’s wife, passed away, Derrick encouraged Mac to move to Manchester so he and Jenny could help with Angela. Mac relocated his business and made Derrick a partner. I spoke to Mac about six months ago, and he indicated that he was upset with Derrick. He refused to tell me why though.”

  “I could really use some backup here, Boss. We need to tap her phone. Besides, I need a few hours of sleep, and we can’t leave her unprotected with Chul-Moo involved.” Chase could tell he was losing the fight with fatigue.

  “I’ll have a black minivan outside in thirty. You get eight hours. Call me when she’s on the move tomorrow and I’ll handle the phone.”

  Six and a half hours later, Chase leaned back in his chair and watched in surprise as Angela backed out of her driveway. The black minivan pulled out and trailed a few car lengths behind her. With a sigh, Chase poured his coffee in a to-go cup and prepared to start his day. For some reason, he was feeling quite protective of Angela McKenzie.

  Chapter 6

  Angela collapsed onto the soft, clean sand at Singing Beach, hugging her knees to her chest. She could picture her father running along the shore, chasing after her as they played in the surf, the sounds of her delighted laugher echoing in the air. In her mind, his blue eyes flashed with amusement as he stalked toward her, lifted her in his strong arms and swung her around in a circle. Sitting on the beach with her eyes closed, Angela could almost hear her father laughing and calling her name.

  Angela lay down and looked up at the sky. The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a cheerful glow on the water; waves crashed upon the shore; and the scent of the sea salt wafted through the air. She tried to clear her mind and enjoy the beauty of the morning but all too soon reality intruded.

  “Angela!” Sheriff Bates’ voice carried over the sound of the crashing surf, and she frowned.

  She sat up and looked into the man’s blue eyes. “Morning, Sheriff.”

  “You know this beach doesn’t open until 9:00 a.m., young lady,” he chastised, his eyes smiling despite the rebuke.

  “I know,” she replied and gestured toward the ocean, “but the ocean called me this morning. I’m not causing any trouble just sitting here.”

  “I’ll admit I’m not surprised to see you here.” The sheriff chuckled at Angela’s surprise. “Did you really think I didn’t know you and Mac used to sneak onto the beach before it opened?” He shook his head. “It’s my job to know everything that goes on in this town. I knew you and Mac found peace here in the early mornings, so it was an easy thing to let slide.” He sat down on the sand next to her before patting her on the knee. “These old bones could use a rest, so I think I’ll just sit with you a bit, and then we’ll leave together. How are those ribs, honey?”

  She grimaced, not surprised he was aware of her injury. It was just how Manchester operated. Still, it didn’t mean she liked everyone talking about her injury. “Sore,” she admitted, “but I’ll live.” Silence reigned for a few minutes while they both enjoyed the sound of the waves hitting the shore. “Sheriff?”

  “Yes, Angie?” He glanced over at her, his eyes conveying concern and affection.

  “If I thought Dad’s death wasn’t an accident, what should I do?” She scooped up handfuls of wet sand and started building a small sand castle.

  “Angie, honey,” the sheriff started, his deep voice quiet and soothing. “Derrick mentioned that you were having difficulty dealing with Mac’s death.”

  “It’s not that.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his, but he continued speaking despite her protest.

  “It’s natural for you to be looking for answers. I felt the same way when my Myra died. But asking why won’t help you heal. Mac’s gone, honey. He had a heart attack. Yes, it was unexpected, but it can happen. I know it was a shock, but you have to accept his death and move forward, Angie.”

  Realizing that arguing would accomplish little, she nodded and stood. As she turned toward the small parking lot for residents, she caught sight of a tall, dark haired man leaning against one of the large black rocks near the shore. She stiffened, recognizing the man as her Good Samaritan from yesterday. What’s he doing in Manchester? He’s not local and he was near the jeweler’s yesterday when I was. The man nodded, and she responded in kind just as Sheriff Bates joined her and placed a firm hand at her waist, escorting her to her car and waiting for her to drive away.

  Why won’t anyone listen to me? She clutched the steering wheel, her fingers turning white. And why is Derrick telling people I’m having trouble accepting Dad’s death? I’ve barely spoken to him. Besides, it’s none of his business. She replayed Derrick’s words in her mind. You need to go back to Washington, Angela. You should pack up Mac’s stuff, Angela. If you can’t do it, I’ll take care of it. Maybe you should sell the house. After all, you’re living in Washington now. He had made such an effort to appear caring, but now she wondered if he only wanted to get her out of the way. Angela quickly turned right and pulled into the Donut Shoppe’s drive-thru. With a steaming cup of black, hazelnut coffee in hand, she drove home more determined than ever to figure out what was really going on.

  About an hour later, Angela tapped her pen against the edge of the kitchen table. Come on, Daddy. Help me here. Why were you in Boston? Were you working on a project there li
ke Doc suggested? If so, why won’t Derrick tell me? And what was the project about? Were you protecting someone? Something? Could that be the item the caller wanted? Did Dad have it when he died? Boston and Derrick are the keys to this thing.

  Angela hurried down the hall into Mac’s room. She hadn’t set foot in the room yet but recalled Derrick telling her that he had picked up Mac’s personal items from the medical examiner’s office and put them on the dresser. She stopped with one foot on the threshold. The scent of Mac’s cologne lingered in the air. Angela closed her eyes and inhaled. In her mind, she saw her dad standing in front of the dresser, teasing her as he finished getting ready for the day. When she was little, she would often sit on the bed and watch while he put on his shirt. Then he would let her choose his tie.

  Shaking off the memories, she stepped inside the room and walked to the long dresser where a small cardboard box sat. Shaking fingers pried open the lid and she removed a short sleeved blue button-down shirt, a pair of navy dress slacks, the brown leather wallet she had given her father for Christmas two years before, a watch, and a pair of brown leather loafers. Angela inspected each item. When she reached the wallet, she removed the money, credit cards and identification. Then she examined each remaining item. Nothing jumped out at her. She returned each item to the wallet and set it on the dresser. Out of habit, she checked Mac’s pockets. She pulled out a receipt from South Station. Now that’s something to check into. Why was Dad there? He drove into Boston the day he died.