“That was always Dad’s job. I’ve tried to respect her privacy.”
“My turn, then. I still have a key to the house.”
“She keeps her password info taped under the lip of her desk, but she keeps her email up on the home computer, so it’s not hard to log on.”
“If you’re gonna traipse off after Emma, the least I can do is search around and see if I can’t fill in some gaps for you. Got your cell phone charged?”
What would she do without John? “I even brought my car charger. Proud of me?”
He grinned at last, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got your back, cuz. Watch for deer and call me when you get there.” He straightened and stretched. “Guess I’ll overlook your poor driving skills this time, but beware of weekenders. That can be a bear, even on the four-lane.”
He’d pulled away in his cruiser before she edged back onto the road. This was not the time to resume panic mode, and she couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse.
Nicolas Tyler slid the hasp one more time along the riding mower’s blade, sharpening it to perfection. He was rotating to the next cutting edge when the wall phone rang loudly enough for the neighbors to go deaf. His hand jerked, and the fleshy part of his right thumb encountered the newly sharpened blade.
It was a clean cut, and while the pain of it registered he couldn’t help a buzz of pride at the quality of his work as he watched blood seep from the wound. He winced at the continued ringing of the phone. Should’ve chosen lawnmower maintenance as his primary profession twelve years ago and avoided all the frustration of education, more education, sleepless residency, divorce, frivolous lawsuits. He preferred the landscaping business to family practice for now, and solitude to marriage to a cheater.
He glared at the phone as the ringing persisted. Voice mail was turned off; everyone knew Dad’s cell number. Why did Dad keep this phone out here, anyway? Didn’t a guy deserve some time to himself? But then, Dad wasn’t a recluse. Nick had been the one to morph to introversion when he received the notification of a frivolous malpractice lawsuit. Things had gone downhill from there.
He’d disconnected the doorbell after Chloe left and discontinued the landline at his home in Rockford, Illinois, only a few weeks before the explosion.
The ringing stopped and Nick relaxed. Dad had his cell phone with him in case someone wanted to contact him, but he was on leave from the church. A pastor couldn’t lead his flock when he was driven to his knees with grief; his church should understand that. Nick could think of no one he wanted to talk to. The neighbors knew he wasn’t much of a socializer these days.
He reached for the first-aid kit in its cubicle above the work stand. A little peroxide, gauze and tape would take care of this.
He was pouring medicine into his wound when the phone jangled again. He jumped, splattering the liquid in a three foot radius and giving the garage floor an expensive cleansing. Peroxide bubbled on his hand, the gauze hovering over his thumb, tape tangling in his arm hair. With a yank and a grunt, he tore away the tape and lost a considerable amount of arm hair. And women waxed. Go figure.
He pulled out another strip of tape, secured the bandage and replaced the top on the peroxide bottle before strolling toward the phone. Maybe it was Dad. One never knew when he might run into trouble with that old pickup truck.
A quick check of the incoming number sent a shiver down Nick’s spine as it had the last time he’d answered a call from Emma Russell—the name Mark Russell flashed on the tiny screen. As if he was receiving a message from a dead man.
For that fraction of a second, as before, Nick’s mind ricocheted through the grief, blackness and shock. Then he answered the phone, fully expecting to hear young Emma’s voice again. She’d called him and emailed him after he’d sent the girls flowers and a sympathy card, and she’d called again today. The kid had an uncanny sense of compassion for one so young. It surprised him that he didn’t mind talking to her.
“Hello, Nick?”
He hesitated. Not Emma. Too mature for a sixteen-year-old. He found his voice, but only barely. “Is this…Sarah?”
For a moment, there was no reply. Sarah was the quiet one, the twin who’d always remained in the shadows at her own insistence. Though he hadn’t heard her voice for many years, he recalled the beautiful script on her sympathy card after the tragedy.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” Her voice continued to wobble.
Not how he remembered her at all. “Bother? You? Never.” Her loss had obviously taken a heavy toll. “Kind of startled. I thought it was Emma. I saw your father’s…uh…name on the caller ID.” Oh brother, just what she needed.
“Yeah, Dad had all of us on a family plan for our cells. He wanted his name to show up when we called anybody, especially when Emma called boys. Leave it to Dad to be overprotective.”
“I remember Mark could be intimidating when boys came around.”
“Not with you, of course. Listen, um, I need to warn you that you might have company soon, if you don’t already.”
“Company?”
“Emma.”
“She’s coming here?”
“I’m on my way there, too. She told me about your theory…. The explosions? Murder?”
He wanted to bang his head against the wall in
self-reproach. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean for this to reach you or Emma. You’re struggling enough. I was looking for help from neighbors and friends here in Jolly.” That was how a newly minted recluse did things—online.
“You believe it.”
“I…have my suspicions.”
“Too coincidental to have two explosions like that.” As she spoke, her voice regained the steadiness he remembered from their teen years. “Two days in a row.”
“Exactly.” Why hadn’t he crawled from his hidey-hole here at Dad’s and gone door-to-door and faced all those neighbors instead of setting up that blog? “I was hoping to talk to you about all this after I’d found out more. You’re sure about Emma? She called me today, a little after noon, and she didn’t say anything about coming here.”
“You’ll understand better once you meet her. She thinks she’s going to help. She left me an extended email explaining it, which I didn’t receive until I got home from work tonight. I’m sure that was her intention.”
“I’m sorry. I knew that controversial blog could stir up trouble, but not for you.”
“So you were trying to gather information from the community?”
“Exactly.” And it was the very community that was never the same after Sarah was gone. The weight of seventeen years dropped from his shoulders for a few seconds, and he recalled with exquisite clarity the impact of Sarah’s presence in his life—and the dark pit that remained in his heart after Mark Russell moved his family away to St. Louis. By the time Nick was in college, he heard they’d moved to Sikeston so Mark could take a job as pastor of a congregation again.
After a brief hesitation, Sarah said, “I don’t understand. Didn’t the investigator blame the explosions on gas leaks from faulty pipes?”
“Two gas leaks in two days? Not likely. The investigator was a new kid, not only wet behind the ears, but as slick as if he’d just hatched. His father’s a local judge, and the kid—his name’s Chaz Collins—missed some inspection reports that showed no cracks where he indicated. He’s off the case, and right now there’s no one to fill his shoes. The sheriff’s busy chasing meth labs, and you know Jolly Mill’s always been low priority.”
“Chaz inspected both explosions?”
“Yep. He wouldn’t look me in the eye when I spoke with him.”
“Could he have had something to do with it? You know, start a fire, cause an explosion so he could make the judgment and prove his worth?”
“And kill people in the process? Chaz and his family attend Dad’s church.”
“Just because he’s a churchgoer doesn’t mean he’s a good boy.”
Nick hesitated. Emma
was on her way here and Sarah was following her; they’d find out the worst as soon as they arrived. “The problem is, Sarah, Chaz is nowhere to be found.”
There was a soft intake of breath.
“There’s a search under way. His parents called yesterday, and they’re frantic.”
“You think he did find something incriminating?” Sarah asked.
“Judging by his behavior, I’m almost sure of it.”
For a moment Sarah didn’t speak, and Nick recalled her tendency to choose her words carefully. In that way she was very different from her twin, who would chatter to anyone and everyone in school—Shelby, the popular twin.
“You think someone might have threatened him,” Sarah said.
“Seems possible.”
“A gas leak could have developed after the last inspection,” she said.
Nick shook his head, though of course she couldn’t see him. “Leo Larner constructed that conference building above code thirty years ago. Dad even did his own inspection before each event. He’s cautious that way. There were no faulty pipes.”
There was a soft sigh. “But why our parents?”
“I don’t know yet. You know they always stay to clean up after the others leave, but Dad just happened to get a call on his cell while they were working, and walked outside—that building never had good reception. That’s when the place exploded. It’s eating at him.”
“Who called?”
“He said it sounded like someone crying, but when Gerard Vance—he’s an ex-cop—had a check run on the number, it was from a burn phone. No name connected to it.”
There was another long silence. “So it was an attack on either Mom or Dad or Aunt Peg by someone who definitely wanted to spare Edward. But why him specifically? Does he have any ideas?”
“No, and it’s torturing him.”
“Why the nurse in the infirmary the next day?”
“All I can figure is that she might’ve been close enough to look out her window and see something before the explosion at the conference center.”
“So she could’ve been killed because she was an eye witness?”
“It’s all wild conjecture at this point. She wasn’t even from here—she was from Texas—so unless someone followed her here…I just don’t know. It’s why I got involved, and Gerard Vance is helping me. He was the nurse’s employer.”
More silence.
He gave Sarah time to assimilate what he’d told her, then frowned as the silence continued. “Hello? Are we disconnected?”
“I’m…here. I’m trying to grasp it all, and I can’t yet.” Sarah sighed. Sniffed. It was a wet sniff that told him how hard this was hitting her, and then it hit him, too. Again. As it did several times a day. Mom was gone. “I know Edward’s got to be torn up about this.”
“He just got out of the house for the first time last Sunday. Your cousin and her friends are all worried about him, bringing food.” Carmen Delaney, Mrs. Russell’s cousin, had been good about keeping friends and neighbors abreast of how the Russells were doing since they left Jolly Mill.
Carmen was also the one who’d broken the news about Emma’s birth nine months after their family left Jolly Mill. There were still moments when Nick wondered about the timing of her birth, and tried to weave his mind through the cloudy memories of Sarah’s twin, Shelby, on the night of the party. Nothing had ever come of his attempts. “I hear from Carmen that Emma’s an impulsive, intelligent, inquisitive kid.”
Sarah gave a soft groan. “Emma. She’s…amazing. She’s also a handful. I’m afraid you’ll find out what I mean soon.”
“Headstrong, obviously. I can’t believe she would let you worry like this.”
“We had a little spat last night, and that doesn’t often happen. In her note she told me she needed more information about how Mom and Dad died. I haven’t been able to reach her on her cell.”
He leaned back in the chair, focusing, for a moment, on the gentle wave of Sarah’s voice—recalling her quiet but welcome presence from their teen years. That voice had a musical quality that always soothed the soul, though he couldn’t miss the distress in it now. “The girl has her mother’s stubborn streak.”
There was a soft gasp, and then, “What?”
“Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to diss your mother. I just remembered my mom always talked about Lydia Russell and her determination to get things done. Mom admired her.”
“Oh. Thank you. Yes, Dad always said Shelby and I inherited Mom’s strong will.”
“As did Emma, obviously.”
“I need to get her back home to Sikeston,” Sarah said.
“Meaning I’ve frightened you.”
“You’d better believe it. I can’t believe the sheriff’s department isn’t even investigating.”
“He has very little manpower with all the budget cuts, and there’s a lot for him to cover in our county. Don’t worry, Gerard’s got a good eye on things, and if Emma shows up I’ll take care of her.”
What was it about Sarah’s vulnerable presence over the phone that brought out his old protective instincts? What was it about connecting with her that made him see the man—or lesser man—he’d become? He wanted to be that former man, who could be counted on for help, who actually wanted to help instead of search for ulterior motives behind every word. Divorce and the lawsuit had changed him, and he disliked the curmudgeon he’d become.
“Sarah? I’m serious about this. You’re not alone.”
There was another sniff. “Thanks, Nick. I’m glad I called.”
He closed his eyes at the memories Sarah’s voice resurrected. It sounded as if he might have company at any time, and he couldn’t help remembering her eyes—the color of the ocean on a cloudy day—and the tenderness of her heart, which she’d taken such pains to conceal behind her dyed-black hair, Goth makeup and clothing as a teenager.
Why had he allowed Shelby’s effusive, chatterbox ways to distract his attention from Sarah for even a few moments? And what kind of kid had he been to momentarily fall for externals at exactly the wrong time?
For the first time in many months, Nick found himself thinking about someone besides himself and his personal battles. “It’s going to be okay.” He only had to convince himself of that, and it was threatening to become an impossible task.
Copyright © 2014 by Hannah Alexander
ISBN-13: 9781460333853
FORCED ALLIANCE
Copyright © 2014 by Lenora H. Nazworth
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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THE NEXT TARGET
Tracking a serial killer in Harmony Grove turns personal for Detective Lexi Simmons when her cousin becomes a victim. It turns nearly impossible when she’s teamed up with Officer Alan White—the almost-fiancé whose heart she broke six years ago. Alan can’t understand how two people so right for each other didn’t end up together. But they have more pressing matters of the past to attend to: a ven
geful killer and a decade-old incident on a college campus. Now Lexi fits the profile of the next name on the hit list. And Alan finds himself not only engaged in a fight for her love—but for her life.
“Lexi, you’re the spitting image of the target. I’m worried about you.”
She tensed. “I know. I saw the photo.”
“What if the killer has realized that fact, too?”
“I’m being careful.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “If we’re going to make this work, you have to accept the risks and trust me to make the right decisions.”
“All right.” Alan should probably step back and give her space. But he couldn’t get his feet to obey.
She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I’ll call when I get home. I promise.”
He stood frozen, fighting for control. Finally, he stepped away and forced a smile.
“All right. If I don’t hear from you within thirty minutes, I’m sending out the search party.”
As he watched her back out the drive, his heart stuttered. Somewhere out there was a killer. And Lexi was vulnerable.
After six long years, he was so close to winning her back. He couldn’t lose her again.
Books by Carol J. Post
Love Inspired Suspense
Midnight Shadows
Motive for Murder
Out for Justice
CAROL J. POST
From medical secretary to court reporter to property manager to owner of a special events decorating company, Carol’s résumé reads like someone who doesn’t know what she wants to be when she grows up. But one thing that has remained constant through the years is her love for writing. She started as a child, writing poetry for family and friends, then graduated to articles, which actually made it into some religious and children’s publications. Several years ago (more than she’s willing to admit), she penned her first novel. In 2010, she decided to get serious about writing fiction for publication and joined Romance Writers of America, Tampa Area Romance Authors and Faith, Hope & Love, RWA’s online inspirational chapter. She has placed in numerous writing contests, including RWA’s 2012 Golden Heart®.
Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run Page 21
