Hook, Line and Shotgun Bride

by Cassie Miles

  Shane looked forward to the chance to talk with Josh and review the evidence. With insights from his new boss, he might be able to come up with answers; there had to be a better theory than what he was thinking now. But facts didn’t lie and the pattern was obvious: Neil’s custody demands in the pre-nup were designed to take Benjy away from his mother if she suffered a nervous breakdown, and her stalker used sleep deprivation to send her into a downward emotional spiral. The two events had to be connected.

  Logic told him that Neil was behind the stalking, but he had no hard evidence. Not yet, anyway.

  Angela emerged from her bedroom, checking her wristwatch and looking very nice in a gauzy light green dress with a thick belt that made her waist look tiny. Her thick brown hair was pulled back in a French braid that fell halfway down her back. Even though she was wearing platform sandals, she moved fast.

  “We need to leave pretty soon,” she said. “I don’t want to be late to the chapel.”

  “Relax. They can’t start without the bride.”

  “Are you sure Josh knows where I live?”

  “He found his way down from Mount Elbert with nothing but a compass. I think he can make it from the Tech Center to your house.” He stood and took her hand. All he really wanted was for her to be happy. If that meant marrying Neil, Shane would step aside like a gentleman. “You look great.”

  “Do you think I need more makeup?”

  He hadn’t noticed that she was wearing anything other than a bit of color on her lips. “You’re perfect.”

  “And the dress? Not too plain, is it?”

  In her eyes, he noticed a shadow, a hint that all was not right. “Something bothering you?”

  “I don’t know.” Her slender shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I can’t stop thinking about the pre-nup. And the stalker.”

  “Me, too.”

  “These things don’t just happen. Somehow, I must have brought this on myself.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong.” Except getting involved with Neil. He wanted to point the finger of suspicion, but the more he condemned her fiancé, the more she defended him.

  “You always support me.” Her pink lips curved in a grin. “I liked having you with me today.”

  “A free bodyguard. Not a bad deal.”

  The doorbell rang. Shane deactivated the alarm system, and opened the door for Josh and Marie, who had arrived simultaneously and were chatting. In French.

  AT THE SMALL STONE CHAPEL in the foothills outside Golden, Shane positioned himself near the arched entryway and watched as the wedding party assembled on the grass. He was still wearing his sunglasses, still on alert.

  After Josh seated Marie inside with the others, he took a position next to Shane. They were almost the same height, but Josh was as lean as a greyhound, which was ironic because he ate constantly—an appetite he blamed on his pasta-pushing Italian grandmother who made the best meat-balls west of the Mississippi. He asked, “How was your day as a bodyguard?”

  “Good practice.” Not that he needed training. From his years as a deputy, Shane had learned how to recognize trouble before it erupted. Being a bodyguard was second nature. “I couldn’t ID anybody as the stalker.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  There was a lot Josh could teach him in terms of technical skills and equipment, but Shane was confident in some abilities. He drawled, “I was kind of hoping for a name tag. You know, a badge that says, Hello, I’m a Psycho.”

  “Sarcasm?”

  “This isn’t my first ride on the merry-go-round. You know what I was looking for. Signals of lying. Furtive behavior. Inappropriate responses.” All day, he’d been watching and analyzing. “Angela interacts with a lot of people. None came across as suspicious.”

  “And you got nothing from the security cams you set up at the house?”

  “I checked the replay this morning. Nada.”

  A portly little pastor bustled around, organizing the small procession. Neil would be waiting at the altar. Benjy, the ring bearer, and the daughter of the best man would come first. Since neither of the kids were here, Yvonne would be in charge of starting them down the aisle, after which she and the best man would enter. The bridal march would play and Angela would enter, escorted by Shane.

  He didn’t want to give her away. Tension clenched inside his chest. This wedding shouldn’t be taking place.

  “Can you take a bit of professional advice?” Josh asked.

  “I guess.”

  “When you’re working a small event like this, the client might want you to stand out so everybody knows there’s a bodyguard present. Or they might want you to fit in. I’m guessing that Angela wants the latter.”

  “I’m fitting in.”

  “You’re about as subtle as a fist. Quit flexing.”

  But Shane wanted Neil to know he was there, wanted to post a signpost that warned Neil, his father and Prentice that he was protecting Angela. “Since Angela is my client, I have an agenda of my own.”

  Josh nodded. “How long have you been in love with her?”

  “We’re friends. She was married to my cousin.”

  “Whatever you say.” His dark eyes were far too perceptive. “In any case, I couldn’t help but notice that you and Marie aren’t exactly hitting it off.”

  “The mademoiselle is all yours.”

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  Shane scanned from the jagged foothills that rose behind them to the uncultivated acreage to the east. Though they’d had plenty of moisture this summer, the rolling hills had faded to a dull khaki with occasional green. He wasn’t in love with Angela. Sure, he cared about her. And sometimes when he caught a sudden glimpse or her or saw her from far away, his chest got tight and he found it hard to breathe. Sure, he’d wondered what would have happened if he’d met Angela first, before his cousin. But it hadn’t happened that way, and he’d be a fool to pine away with some kind of hopeless attraction to his cousin’s widow.

  His gaze focused on the group gathered in the small churchyard enclosed by a picket fence. Angela was talking to Yvonne, and their expressions were concerned. Probably talking about a problem at Waffles; Yvonne was going to have a rough time handling the restaurant on her own while Angela was on her two-week honeymoon in Baja.

  Beyond the picket fence was a two-lane road. A line of traffic chugged past—two SUVs and a black truck. In the parking lot to the south, several vehicles were parked.

  He looked toward Josh. “Now that you’ve met Neil, what’s your read on him?”

  “He’s egotistical and self-important. His colleagues would say he has good cause. After all, he’s a genius virologist who’s saving the world from disease. Neil is the kind of man who needs to control everything. Hence, the custody section in the pre-nup. He’s not somebody I’d choose to pal around with, but I’m trying to maintain a good opinion because Angela’s marrying the guy and I like her.”

  “Do you think he’s involved with the stalker?”

  “He wouldn’t do it himself,” Josh said. “Wouldn’t get his hands dirty.”

  “But he could hire someone.”

  “The big question is, Why? Even if Angela had signed the pre-nup, legal custody favors the natural mother. The court battles would go on for years.”

  So why did Neil want Benjy?

  The pastor waved his hand, summoning Shane to take his position in the wedding procession. He came down the three wide stone steps and got into line.

  Angela threaded her arm through his and shot him a grin. Under her breath, she said, “Were you paying attention?”

  “Don’t trip over my own feet. And don’t walk too fast.”

  “Not complicated,” she said.

  The hard part would come after the ceremony started and the pastor asked if anyone objected to the marriage—the “Speak now or forever hold your peace” part. Shane objected. A lot.

  IN THE PRIVATE DINING ROOM at Neil’s country club, seventeen guests sat at two
rectangular tables with white daisy centerpieces and brightly flickering candles. The French doors opened onto a deck with a view of a vast, green golf course.

  Shane was seated at the head of the second table with Josh on one side and a plump, gray-haired woman who was an ob-gyn on the other. From his vantage point, he was able to observe most of the guests. In spite of his misgivings about the wedding, there was nothing sinister about this group that included a couple of employees from Waffles and colleagues who worked with Neil.

  His gaze fixed on Angela. She was bright and vivacious, outshining Neil in every way. Her happy mood seemed to have started when they arrived at the country club and went into a private office where Josh read the revised pren-up and she had written her signature with a flourish. As soon as she lifted the pen, a weight seemed to fall from her shoulders. By signing the prenuptial agreement, she was committed. There was no reason why the wedding shouldn’t go forward.

  Except for his suspicions.

  He tried his best to put on a positive face. She was getting married. And he was supposed to be happy for her. Everybody else appeared to be having a good time. The meal started with a bite-size bit of pastry with blue cheese and an asparagus tip that Marie called an amuse bouche. “It’s supposed to excite the palate,” she said. “It gives the chef a way to show off.”

  The fancy tidbit made his stomach growl. The rest of the crowd tasted a red wine that was designed especially to complement the bouche thing, but he wasn’t drinking. Not only was he driving home, but he wanted to keep his wits about him.

  Leaning back in his chair, he tried not to scowl. There was nothing like being the only sober person in the room to make sure you had a dandy time.

  Since Josh was occupied with chatting up the lovely Marie, Shane turned to the sweet-faced older woman beside him. “Dr. Davenport,” he said, “how did you get to know Neil?”

  “We met at the Army Medical Center. Actually, I’m much closer to Dr. Prentice,” she said. “And please call me Emily.”

  “Okay, Emily.” It occurred to him that instead of pretending to have fun, he could use this time to gather information. These rehearsal dinner guests could be suspects, after all. “Are you a fertility expert, like Prentice?”

  “Heavens, no. Lab work isn’t my thing. I’m a baby doc.”

  Her grandmotherly sweetness almost convinced him to stop his line of interrogation, but the clarity in her baby-blue eyes made him think that she might not view the world through rose-colored lenses. As a test, he offered a chance to gossip. “I understand that Dr. Prentice has had some legal troubles recently.”

  “He calls it genetic engineering, but I call it fraud.” With an amiable smile, she added, “What the hell was he thinking?”

  Apparently, this kindly, gray-haired lady had an edge. He leaned closer to her. “I don’t know any of Neil’s friends. Maybe you could fill me in.”

  According to Emily, the best man was on the same career track as Neil. Their supposed friendship was based on the theory of “Keep your enemies close.” And the best man’s wife—also a doctor—resented the time she took off from work to have her baby. “She’s competitive. Little Benjy’s intelligence threatens her, and she won’t be friendly with Angela.”

  “Good to know,” he said. “What about the young guy at the end of the table?”

  “In spite of the baby face and the floppy brown hair, Jay Carlson isn’t as young as he looks. Probably your age. Doesn’t seem bright enough to have made it all the way through med school. Neil calls him a protégé, but uses him like a gofer. Carlson is the one who fetches the espresso drinks and tidies up the filing.”

  “He does Neil’s dirty work,” Shane said.

  “Last summer, Carlson’s main assignment was to build a gazebo in Neil’s backyard.”

  “He has carpentry skills?”

  “Which suit him a great deal better than the practice of medicine.” Her deceptively sweet smile stayed in place. “The woman sitting opposite Carlson is a secretary at the med school. Blonde and bland and plain as mud. She has quite a crush on Neil.”

  The main course—beef Wellington—was served. While Shane was eating, he considered the protégé and the secretary. Either of them could have set out to terrorize Angela. The secretary might have been motivated by a desire to throw a wrench into the wedding. And Carlson could be doing more of Neil’s dirty work.

  Further chat with Emily revealed more of the harsh underbelly in Neil’s supposedly idyllic world. It seemed that when these doctors weren’t busy saving the world, they engaged in all kinds of nasty infighting. Every business had a dark side.

  After their dinner plates were cleared and a custard dessert was passed around, he asked, “Tell me, Dr. Em, what do you like about your work?”

  “I do it for the patients,” she said simply. “Delivering babies makes me happy. I never set out to do research, but I stumbled over a genetic anomaly that gave me a big reputation.”

  “How big?”

  She sipped her wine. “Enough that Neil and Prentice both want to be my best friend.”

  At the main table, Yvonne tapped her knife against her glass. “Attention, everybody.”

  Conversations stilled. The guests waited expectantly as Yvonne rose. In her high heels, she loomed over six feet tall. Her dress was an explosion of pink and purple. “After the wedding ceremony,” she said, “it’ll be time for toasts. But I thought it might be nice if we shared a few memories about the happy couple. I’ll start.”

  Of course, her memory centered on Waffles. “The first time I met Neil, he showed up for breakfast. I knew he and Angela were dating so when he ordered an egg-white omelet, I ignored his request and brought him a praline waffle.”

  Yvonne nodded as everyone who had tasted Angela’s finest recipe murmured with remembered bliss. She continued, “Neil ate the whole thing. I’m pretty sure that’s when he fell in love.”

  Several other people offered comments. Neil’s father blustered through a generic speech about gaining a daughter and a grandson. He never mentioned Neil’s mother. Nobody talked about her, and the omission might be significant.

  Dr. Prentice talked about Benjy and his dinosaurs.

  Marie raised her wineglass and recited a love poem in French while Josh looked on adoringly.

  Since Shane didn’t really have any memories of Neil and Angela as a couple, he made a quick comment about how proud he was to be escorting the bride down the aisle.

  Then, it was Emily’s turn. “I remember,” she said, “the first time Angela and Neil met. Six years ago. It was at the Army Medical Center where Angela volunteered and always brought the most delectable treats. She was in one of the common rooms, talking to injured soldiers. Most of the boys called her Angel.”

  Shane remembered how proud Tom had been of his wife and her volunteering. Everybody loved Angela.

  Emily continued, “Neil passed by in the hallway. He came to a halt when he saw her. From the way he looked at her, I could tell that he wanted this lovely Angel for his own.”

  Even though she’d been married to another man. Shane swallowed his bitterness. From the start, Neil wanted to own her. Not to love her or cherish her. To him, Angela was just another possession.

  Chapter Eleven

  Today is my wedding day. Angela couldn’t have asked for better weather—warm summer sunshine and clear, blue, Colorado skies. A good omen, she hoped.

  In spite of the heavy meal last night, she got a solid eight hours’ sleep, uninterrupted by the midnight whispers of her stalker, and she was absolutely bursting with energy. Rather than pace in circles for the next four hours before they needed to depart for the ceremony, she decided to get outside for a run. It was a perfect time; Benjy was with the babysitter.

  Though she preferred jogging alone, Shane was still acting as her bodyguard and insisted on coming with. “Fine,” she said, “as long as you don’t bring your gun.”

  “No problem. I’ll change.”

  M
oments later, he emerged from the guest bedroom wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and baggy shorts. With his black hair uncombed and his jaw textured with stubble, he looked more like an urban guy who shot hoops than a deputy from Silver Plume.

  She stared at his black running shoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your boots. You didn’t used to work out.”

  “Nope.”

  “But now you do?”

  He keyed the code numbers into the pad beside the front door and stepped outside. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  Since there wasn’t much traffic, they jogged next to the cars parked at the curb. Her usual route—2.8 miles—looped through her neighborhood to a nearby park and back home again.

  She set an easygoing pace. The steady rhythm felt good. She used to make this run every day after work as a way of winding down and shifting gears before she picked up her son, but her routine had been disrupted by the wedding preparations. She missed this physical activity. When her body was moving, her mind had a chance to reflect.

  Today is my wedding day. From now on, this date would be circled on the calendar and celebrated in anniversaries. A special date. A date to be remembered.

  She and Tom would have been married six years on the twelfth of November. It seemed so long ago. She’d been only twenty—young but not naive. She knew their marriage faced significant obstacles. His deployment into combat zones was one. His alcoholism, another. Though he’d stopped drinking, the issue was always present. They’d argued and struggled, but she had never, ever doubted their love.

  She glanced over at Shane. “Tired?”

  “Not me. You?”

  “I feel great.”

  To prove it, she sprinted toward the corner house with the rows of yellow and purple pansies bordering the sidewalk. The garage door had been recently painted the same yellow as the cheerful flowers. On the next block, she saw two “For Sale” signs, like the one on her house. A pang of regret tightened her stride; she didn’t want to leave. Her cozy neighborhood was nowhere near as upscale as Neil’s, but she loved living here.