“Is it McCall?”
He shook his head. “No. My contractor. Finally. Been chasing him about my office for two days.” He hit the button before the call went to voice mail. “Hang on,” he said into the phone.
He slid her car key from the ignition then dug into his pocket and handed her his key ring. A simple, worn leather braid with—one, two, three—four keys on it. Her best guess? One for his office, one for his parents’ home, one for the condo and one for his car. No clutter of unnecessary keys for this man. He was nothing if not efficient.
“The signal in the building sucks,” he said. “Go on in while I take this. Be there in two minutes.”
Gladly. The few minutes alone would allow her to make a cup of tea and wrap her head around the current state of her life.
She strode up the walkway to David’s private entrance. The units on the upper floors had interior entrances via a doorway that led to a stairwell, but the two units on the ground floor had direct access from the front and rear. Another perk of the building.
With no idea which key fit the door, she tried the first one—no good—then the next one, and hit on the door key. Soon, she imagined, he’d move his condo key to the end, as that would be the one used most often. But that could be the way her brain worked. She and David, though, were like-minded in some ways. This might be one of them.
She unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped inside. The living room light fixtures had yet to be installed and the afternoon sun offered minimal help in illuminating the room. For now, she’d put the stove light on and hope it threw some secondary light over the breakfast bar into the conjoined dining and living areas.
They’d also have to put a shade or curtain on the glass door at the end of the hallway or people would be peeping in. Frankly, the door was a break-in waiting to happen. All someone needed to do was cut—or punch—a hole in the glass, reach in and flip the lock.
And, holy smokes...
The lock. More specifically the knob on the lock. Before they left, David had checked it. She’d watched him lock it, leaving the oblong knob in a vertical position. Vertical equaled locked.
So why was the knob horizontal?
Lexi. She had a key. Maybe she’d come back after they’d left and forgotten to lock it again. From where Amanda stood, the door appeared unharmed, so it must have been Lexi. Or maybe someone else David had given a key to. That had to be it. Amanda breathed out. Stress had morphed into crazy-making hypervigilance. This was what happened when she left her safe zone. Emotional upheaval obviously made her paranoid. Unsteady.
Need my plain, boring life back.
For now, she’d relock the door and mention it to David. Anyone with a key needed to make sure they locked up before leaving. Three steps in, something clinked—guest bedroom—and Amanda halted.
Paranoia?
Clink.
And then a scrape. Like someone dragging something. And that was definitely not paranoia. Unless paranoia clinked and scraped.
Whatever or whoever was in there must have been moving the table or sculpture stand she’d set up.
Could be a worker. She didn’t know who he had in and out of here. But he’d also told her they wouldn’t be working in that bedroom while she was in there. He had, in fact, told everyone to stay out.
A slow tingling crawled up her arms. Get out. As silly and cowardly as she’d feel, she’d go outside and get David and the two of them would come back in. Cowardice aside, a smart woman didn’t confront an unknown person. She lifted her foot, ready to turn back, when a man, a big man with linebacker shoulders, exited the room. Veins exploding, her entire system came to a state of alert. Her focus narrowed, zoomed right in on the profile of a man wearing a blue hoodie. In his hand he held...no...the skull. As if he sensed her, his head came around—beard. Not full. More stubbly. The man’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be there.
That made two of them.
The tingling on her arms changed to a full stab, and the chemical odor in the room intensified, burning her nose and throat.
Skull.
She stepped forward and the man put his arm out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Take whatever you want. Not the skull. Please.”
She took another step, but he backed away. “Don’t,” he said, stretching the one-syllable word to two.
Nervous. She should run. Just let him escape. The sheer size of him terrified her. But that skull—the PD had left it in her care. It was their property, but they’d entrusted her with it. She’d promised... “Just...please...leave it.”
She moved closer and held out her arms and then something in her head snapped, something feral and desperate and protective and she lunged—big mistake. The man reared back, swinging sideways, pulling the skull from her reach, but her fingers grazed his meaty hand.
“No,” she said, struggling to grab hold.
The man yanked free, spun back and, with his free arm, launched her. Shoved her with enough force that she flew backward as if she weighed nothing. Crack. She hit the floor, hard, her tailbone taking the direct hit.
Pain roared into her back and down her legs and she closed her eyes for a split second. One tiny second to recover because—God—that hurt. Where is he? Where is he?
She opened her eyes, ready to fight off another attack, but the man had gone the other way. Back door.
“No!”
Amanda scrambled to her feet just as David came in the front. “Get him!”
He ran toward her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“He stole the skull. Back door. He went left. Blue hoodie!”
Being closer to the front, David tore out that door and Amanda followed him, limping a little, as he charged around the side of the building.
“Stay inside!” he hollered. “Lock yourself in!”
Chapter Eight
David flew around the corner of the building, eyes scanning left and right. There. Blue sweatshirt. A big guy lumbering down the sidewalk. Out of shape. David picked up speed. Easily, he’d catch him.
Parked cars lined the street, and the man ran by them, heading to the corner, where, dammit, an ancient Chevy with a missing rear hubcap sat parked, puffs of smoke coming from the tailpipe.
David kicked his sprint up in case he could tackle the guy before he got to that car.
A biker shot out of an alley and the big guy swerved. Too late. He crashed into the rider and—yow—the rider went one way and the bike the other, both landing directly in David’s path. He veered left, intending to leap right over the bike and maybe, maybe, catch the runner. As long as the rider stayed out of his way.
The biker hopped to his feet.
Of course he did.
David leaped and—oh, man—sucked a huge breath and readied his body for impact, twisting slightly to avoid a direct hit to the chest. Bam. Their shoulders collided.
“Oof!” the biker said. “Dammit! Watch where the hell you’re going.”
A sharp pain ripped into David’s chest and neck and he plummeted, hitting the sidewalk flat on his back. His head bounced off the ground, the edge of the grass easing the impact and probably saving him a concussion. Still, his vision blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them quickly and refocused.
“What the hell?” the rider said “He could have killed me!”
That might be extreme, but the guy could have seriously gotten his bell rung. Shaking off the impact, David rolled to his side and spotted the idling car pulling into traffic. Missed him. The stream of swearwords from his mouth would have lit up his mother for sure.
“Who was that guy?” the rider asked.
“No idea. He broke into my condo. Are you all right?”
The man stretched his right leg. “Tweaked my kn
ee. I think it’s okay.”
David rolled to his feet, brushed the dirt off his jacket and took inventory of his clothing. The knee of his jeans was blown out and his jacket sleeve was scuffed, but everything else was intact. The goose egg on the back of his head would hurt later, though. He grabbed the bike and held it upright while the rider got to his feet.
“You sure you’re okay? Don’t need an ambulance?”
“Nah. I’m good. Wouldn’t be the first time I got tossed off this thing. I live around the corner. I’ll walk it the rest of the way.”
David glanced behind him, making sure Amanda hadn’t followed.
And hello...
On the ground right behind him, where the suspect had leaped out of the way to avoid the biker, sat a set of keys. David pointed. “Those yours?”
“Nah, man.” He gestured to a small pouch attached to the bike’s seat. “Mine are in my pouch. I think they fell out of the guy’s pocket. I heard something clink but figured it was something on the bike.”
“You got any tissues in there or anything?”
“Yeah.” The rider dragged a napkin, one of those cheap ones fast-food places offered, out of the pouch and handed it over.
Using the napkin, David clasped the edge of the plastic key ring and wrapped the keys in the napkin. When he got back to the condo, he’d find a baggie or something to put them in and then decide what to do with them. For sure, they’d check them for prints. It was just a matter of who would do the checking—Hennings & Solomon’s private lab or the PD’s lab.
He cut through the alley on his way back to the condo. With the darkening sky, he hoped he wouldn’t scare the life out of Amanda by banging on the back door. Assuming she’d locked herself in.
She’d better have locked herself in.
He jogged up to the door where the overhead light lit the immediate area, including just inside the door. But his view didn’t stop there. He could see clear into the shadowed hallway thanks to the stove light. He needed to get something to cover this window. Something he should have thought about way before now, but the place had been empty. Who’d rob an empty condo?
Someone looking for a skull maybe.
And yep. Back door locked. Good girl. He knocked lightly. “It’s me,” he said, his voice loud but not yelling.
Would she even hear him? Her head poked out of the room where she’d set up her makeshift studio and he waved. She rushed to the door, unlocked it and didn’t give him three seconds to get inside before launching herself at him. A hug from her he’d take any day and he wrapped her up and held tight while patting her lower back.
“Honey, let me get inside so we can lock up again.”
She backed up a few steps, apparently too terrified to let go, and that made him want to tear something apart.
Reality was, he’d convinced her to do this reconstruction and right after that her life went to hell. And now someone had stolen the damned skull.
“He bolted,” David said. “Got into a car and took off.”
She backed away and gave him a once-over. “Your pants are ripped. And your jacket! What happened?”
“He took out a guy on a bike. The rider wasn’t too happy when I plowed into him.”
“Are you hurt?”
She ran her hands over his arms, squeezing as she went, checking for injuries. The fussing was nice, but if he had a broken bone he’d feel it. He pointed at the back of his head. “Got a bump. No big deal.”
“Let me see you.” She walked around him, her hand traveling across his shoulders and gently moving into his hair so she could feel the lump. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking about hoodie-wearing bad guys.
“I’m fine. You looked like you were getting up when I came in. Did he hit you?”
“No.” She waved toward the end of the hallway. “He pushed me over. He said he didn’t want to hurt me. And he sounded nervous. I think he just wanted to get me out of the way, but I panicked.”
David stepped closer, wrapped his arms around her and cradled the back of her head. “I’m sorry this is happening. Did he take anything else?”
“No. Just the skull.”
“Which means he found what he was looking for. And if nothing else, we know, without question, someone doesn’t want you finishing that reconstruction.”
* * *
AS MUCH AS Amanda wanted to disagree with David’s assessment, reality had made it clear that her willingness to do the reconstruction had caused her life to implode.
“I know. There’s no way the timing on these mishaps is a coincidence. I’ll try McCall again.”
She strode to the end of the hallway, where her purse still sat on the floor after her fall. “I checked the locks. They’re all intact.”
“He must have picked it. Doesn’t surprise me with how cheap that lock is. And it serves me right for putting off installing the new ones. Wait.”
He patted his jacket pocket, then pulled out a folded napkin. “What’s that?”
“This, my love, is a set of keys I think your assailant dropped.” He started for the back door. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if one of these keys fit my door?”
Without waiting for a response and keeping the napkin wrapped around the end of the key, he shoved one into the lock and jiggled it. Nothing. He moved on while Amanda wrapped her hand around the two middle fingers of her other hand and squeezed. The pressure from her ring sent a piercing stick straight to the base of her finger and she loosened her hold. Damned nerves. Totally fried.
After trying all the keys, David turned back to her. “They don’t fit.”
“Well, good. Because that would have been another flipping mystery to solve. We need to tell McCall. I’ll get a hold of him.”
David blew out a breath and propped his hands on his hips. “Hang on.”
Hang on? For what? “Why?”
“Let’s think about this. Your building was condemned and then your accounts were frozen.”
“And?”
“Think about it. The city’s building department issued the vacate order on your building.” David held his finger up. “And your accounts were frozen after the bank was issued an order from the Cook County State’s Attorney. Where’s the connection?”
Following his logic, Amanda thought about the administrative offices within city government. “Holy cow. The city. Could someone at the PD be behind this?”
“It could be. I mean, they would definitely have connections with the SA’s office. The building department? Eh. Possibly.”
“But...”
“What?”
She held her hand up, then let it drop. “I don’t know. I’m just...confused. Why would McCall ask for my help if he was behind all this?”
“It might not be him. Maybe it’s someone he works with.”
“How do we figure that out?”
David grinned. “Hennings & Solomon has investigators. Good ones. They know everyone in Chicago. Plus, Penny’s boyfriend is FBI. Between them, we’re aces.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. And based on the conversation we just had, I think we should turn the keys over to McCall but, as a backup, borrow one of them and send it to the lab my dad’s firm uses. They’ll check them for prints. So will the police. Hopefully, we’ll get a similar result.”
“Oh, David. McCall won’t be happy if we do that.”
“I know. Wouldn’t be the first time someone was mad at me. I’m good with it. But this involves you also. We’re a team. If you’re not comfortable, we’ll give McCall everything.”
Not in her lifetime would she be comfortable with this. Any of it. For three days she’d been in hell. And now David wanted her to knowingly annoy a homicide detective she was supposedly helping solve a murder.
Before her life had fal
len apart, she’d have gladly turned the keys over to McCall. Now? With all this craziness, the only one she trusted was David. And he had a plan that sounded, in an off way, reasonable.
She met his gaze, and those alluring eyes of his sucked her in. The man had no fear. None. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from him. Considering that she’d spent the past ten years trying to live her life in neutral. She shook her head.
“I don’t like it,” she said. “But do it anyway.”
He jerked his head. “Good. I’ll take the heat on it. No problem there.”
Then he plastered a kiss on her. A good, solid smack, more fun than steamy, but a little bit of tongue was involved and she gripped his jacket, holding him in place for a few seconds before releasing him.
“Nice,” he said. “We’ll do more of that later.”
“Excellent. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. If I had to deal with this alone, I’d have had a nervous breakdown.”
* * *
IGNORING HIS POUNDING HEADACHE, David snagged his cell phone from his back pocket and scrolled to Penny’s name on his phone. And God help her if she gave him any attitude. In the mood he was in, it’d be war. He tapped the screen and hit the speaker button. “This should be good.”
Amanda stood a few feet from him, her back flat against the stark white wall that basically served as a canvas showing off her supple curves. Her hips and the idea of them under him might drive him insane.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“My sister.”
“Ah.”
Penny picked up. “Hi.”
She sounded decently cheery, which would only help his cause. “Hey. I’m about to make your night.”
“Really?” she said, her voice laced with that special brand of skeptical sarcasm only Penny could pull off.
The Rebel Page 10
