by J. B. Lynn
I realized that Angel had disappeared too.
Reed dropped his hand from his gun. "I stopped by the frat boy house and saw the van was gone but the Jeep was there. I wanted to tell you that my techs confirmed that there are photos on that memory card you gave me."
I nodded. Had it only been that afternoon that I'd handed it over? It had seemed like a lifetime ago.
"They say what the pictures show?" Smoke asked.
Reed shook his head. "It's damaged. Techs hope to have something in a couple days."
"Convenient," Smoke muttered under his breath.
"Is that why you stopped by?" I said hurriedly, hoping Reed hadn't heard him.
"No. I wanted to ask you if you'd found any drawings in the frat boy house."
"Drawings?"
"Probably more like sketches. Martin Nottoway's fingers were smudged with graphite, the same grade as 'lead' in an artist's sketching pencils."
So that's why Martin's fingers were dirty. "I don't remember coming across any." I turned to Smoke. "Do you?"
He shook his head and then turned his attention to Reed. "You're sure it's from a pencil and not that chemistry set that's in the dining room?"
"It's just a guess until the tests are complete, but they don't think so."
"I'll keep an eye out and let you know if we find any," I said.
"I'd appreciate—" A series of crashes from inside the house. He turned toward the racket. "What's that?"
Smoke arched his eyebrows and tilted his head, challenging me to come up with an answer.
Ignoring him, I said, "A friend is helping me rearrange my kitchen cabinets."
I forced myself to smile as Reed swung his gaze back to me.
"Is that why you had all that stuff out on your counters?" he asked.
I nodded.
More crashes.
"She's passionate about her work," I said through my frozen smile.
Reed turned to Smoke. "I saw your Jeep parked outside the frat boy house. Need a ride back to it?"
Smoke shot me a look I couldn't decipher. "Yeah, Reed. That'd be great."
A few minutes later, after Reed had told me twice to call the police if anything suspicious happened, they drove off together, leaving me alone in my driveway.
I really didn't want to go face Delia in the mood she was in, so instead I went to work in the garage, cleaning up the mess I'd made with my earlier temper tantrum. It had taken me just a few moments to do damage that took me close to forty-five minutes to put right again. By the time I was done, the crashing inside the house had stopped, signaling it was safe for me to return.
Tiredly I turned to go inside.
A man stood at the edge of the garage, his face hidden by shadows.
Startled, a vice of fear suddenly crushed my chest. I stopped in my tracks.
"Did you have a nice dinner with Ruth and Artie?" His voice was high for a man and tinged with an accent I couldn't place.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. My mouth had gone dry, and my throat constricted painfully.
"You were told to stop poking around." The man reached into his pocket.
My heartbeat thudded in my ears, convinced he was pulling out a weapon. I looked around the garage for something to hide behind.
He tossed whatever he pulled out of his pocket onto the garage floor at his feet. It was too dark to see what it was, but I heard it scrape against the concrete.
"Don't worry, Ms. Spring. I'm not here to hurt you." I could hear the smile of satisfaction his voice. He was pleased that I was terrified. "I'm here to give you your last warning. Mind your own business, or the people you care about will be hurt."
I blinked at him.
He took a step backward. "It might be a good idea if your padre didn't drive to work tomorrow."
My heart stopped.
Just then a pair of headlights flashed down the driveway, bathing the man in a swath of light for the briefest of seconds. He wore a cap, so I still couldn't his face. He jumped away into the shadows and disappeared.
"Victoria?" Smoke called worriedly. His footsteps slapped against the asphalt as he ran toward the garage. "Are you okay?"
My mouth formed words, but I couldn't force any sound out. I tried to get to the garage door, but my legs wobbled beneath me unsteadily. I stumbled toward the door, leaning heavily against the frame. Grabbing my upper arms to keep me upright, he propped my back against the wall, so that he could examine me. "Did he hurt you?"
I shook my head.
Pinning one of my shoulders to the wall with a firm grip, he used his free hand to gently brush the hair away from my face. I winced as he skimmed my black eye. He studied me intently, worry creasing his forehead as though by looking into my eyes he could read the depth of my fear. "You're okay, Tori. Nobody's going to hurt you."
"You don't know that," I whispered past the burning lump in my throat.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," I said, even though I secretly hoped he could.
"He'll try his best," Angel declared, suddenly appearing behind him.
Her arrival startled me. I gasped, staring at the spot where she stood.
Smoke immediately released me and whirled around, ready to take on my would-be attacker.
But of course to him it appeared that there was nothing there.
"What did you see?" he asked, turning back to look at me.
"Me! Me!" Angel shouted, jumping up and down.
Considering his reaction the last time I'd mentioned her presence, I just shrugged.
"He threatened you?" Smoke asked, his voice deceptively matter-of-fact.
"He said my father shouldn't drive to work tomorrow." My voice, though weak and thready, was at least audible now.
His sharp intake of breath echoed against the walls of the garage. "You'd better call Reed."
I nodded, but made no move to do so.
"Or I could call for you," he suggested gently.
I nodded. "Thanks."
He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his directory, and hit send. "Did he say anything else?"
"He dropped something."
Unbeknownst to Smoke, Angel started looking for it.
Detective Alan Reed's voice sounded annoyed as it came through the speaker of Smoke's phone. "Barclay?"
"Somebody just threatened Victoria Spring," Smoke said.
"Is she hurt?"
"No, but she's pretty shaken up."
"Where is she?"
"Her home."
"I'll be there in five. Stay with her."
"As if you could get me to leave," Smoke muttered, disconnecting the call.
"Here it is! Here it is!" Angel called triumphantly.
"I think he dropped it over there," I told Smoke, pointing in her direction.
He bent over to pick up a small rectangle of paper. As he squinted at it, his frown-lines deepened.
"What is it?" I asked fearfully.
Instead of answering, Smoke dialed and raised his phone to his ear.
"Reed," the detective bit out.
"Change of plans. Meet us at 56 Shortview Ave." Smoke said, reaching out to grab my hand.
"What's there?"
"Her parents. Reason to believe they may be intended targets." He hung up before Reed could ask him anything else.
"C'mon, sweetheart." He tugged me toward him. "We've got to get over to their place."
"Maybe I should call them," I said as he half-dragged me toward his Jeep.
"They don't strike me as the type that make midnight runs to Walmart," Smoke said, opening the passenger door and ushering me in. "On the other hand, your dad strikes me as someone who will run out to check his car the moment you call to say someone may have messed with it. That could be dangerous."
He shut my door, ran around to the driver's side, and jumped in. I was fumbling with my seat belt. Since I was trembling, I couldn't get the damn thing to buckle up.
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"Let me," he said quietly, taking it from me and sliding it into place with a smooth click.
"Thanks." I turned and looked out the passenger window, not wanting him to see how close to tears I was.
"We'll get this figured out." He started the car and backed out of the driveway.
Angel stood watching us go. The Jeep's headlights made her ghostly apparition shimmer like stardust. She raised her hand to wave good-bye.
Instinctively I waved back.
"Please tell me you're not waving at your ghost," Smoke growled.
I dropped my hand back into my lap. "Not my ghost."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
All the lights in my parents' house were out, which wasn't unusual since they'd always been the early-to-bed, early-to-rise types, a character trait which had irritated me to no end when I was a teenager. Most of my negotiations back then had included the phrase, "But an eleven o'clock curfew is so uncool."
Only in hindsight did I realize that their strict rules about what time I had to be home had kept me out of trouble on more than one occasion.
Detective Reed was pacing back and forth in front of my parents' driveway like a runway model just told she has to lose ten pounds before a show. The beams from the streetlight bounced off his blonde hair, making it look as though a halo wreathed his head.
Smoke and I had barely emerged from the Jeep when Reed began his interrogation. "What the hell is going on? Who threatened you? Why are we here?" When I didn't answer quickly enough, he turned on Smoke. "And what the hell were you doing back at her house?"
Smoke wasn't intimidated by the onslaught of questions. He managed to sound bored as he answered, "Keeping an eye on her."
"You seem to be spending a lot of time doing that," Reed said, a challenge in his voice.
"If you mean, I'm doing your job, watching over someone who's obviously in danger, I'd agree," Smoke replied.
"If she has a problem she should call the police."
"She didn't call me, I just showed up."
The two men glared at each other, locked in a standoff neither wanted to lose.
"She can hear you," I reminded them. "And she's less interested in the pissing contest you two are intent on indulging in and more worried about whether her parents are in danger."
Reed had the good grace to hang his head, signaling he'd been chastised. Smoke on the other hand just stalked away.
"A real charmer, that one," Reed said, watching him go. "Now tell me exactly what happened."
I told him what had transpired as quickly and accurately as I could, ending with Smoke discovering the registration for my father's car. I didn't mention that it was Angel who'd really found it.
"Car's clean," Smoke declared as he rejoined us. "Nothing under the hood. Brake lines haven't been tampered with. Paint is scratched where they used something to pry the door open but not much. Looks like it was a clean in-and-out. Took the registration and that's it."
"Let's go talk to your parents," Reed said, stepping toward the house.
"No." I crossed my arms and shook my head to emphasize my response. I didn't budge.
"No?" the two men asked simultaneously and equally incredulously.
It would have been funny, if the situation hadn't been so tense.
"Absolutely not. They're asleep." I jutted my chin in the direction of the darkened house. "If we go knocking on their door in the middle of the night, we'll scare them to death."
"But—" Reed started to counter.
"If you wake them from a sound sleep, they'll think the worst. They'll think Jerry's dead. My dad could have another heart attack!"
Reed frowned.
"I promise you that they've got nothing to do with this. Please leave them out of it. They've been through so much already…"
Reed acquiesced. He put his notebook away in his pocket. "Okay. I'll take the registration have it checked for fingerprints."
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
I could see from the way Smoke stood with his hands on his hips he would require more convincing.
"I'll have a patrol car swing by your place every hour to keep an eye on things," Reed told me.
"Thank—" I began.
"No need," Smoke said. "She's staying at my place."
"She is?" There was no mistaking the annoyance in the detective's tone.
"I am?" I asked, surprised.
"You can sleep in Halley's room. I don't want you in that house of yours alone tonight," Smoke said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Okay," I agreed easily. I hadn't relished the idea of being there either. I couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to protect me from Delia or the guy who'd threatened me. Either way, I was grateful for the escape.
"Anything else happens, you call me," Reed ordered.
I nodded, despite the fact I wasn't certain whether it was me or Smoke he was addressing.
Smoke turned away, strode over to his Jeep, and got in, leaving me alone with Reed under the streetlight.
"You don't have to go with him," Reed said. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I could spend the night at your place. We could count it as that date you owe me.
"I don't put out on first dates," I told him, unable to hide my amused grin.
"I wouldn't expect you to. I'm a perfect gentleman…just ask my grandma." Reed flashed his mega-watt smile, then grew serious. "But I would stay with you, if it would help."
"This is easier." I said. "I'll sleep in his sister's room, and then he can drive me to work first thing in the morning."
Reed looked disappointed, but all he said was, "Okay. I'll check on you tomorrow."
"Thanks," I turned toward the Jeep, then back to him. "And Alan, thanks for agreeing to not disturb my parents. It means a lot to me."
He nodded. "I can understand wanting to keep them clear of this thing."
"Goodnight," I said as I turned and walked to the Jeep.
"Goodnight, Vicky."
Smoke was silent as I got into his car. I happily leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the first moment of peace I'd had in hours.
It didn't last.
"I can't figure you out."
My eyes flew open. "Excuse me?"
"Are you some kind of masochist or something?" Smoke took a turn a tad too tightly, punctuating his annoyance with the squeal of tires.
I reached for the handgrip mounted near the windshield. I held on for dear life.
"Or maybe you've got some kind of martyr complex." Smoke said.
"What are you talking about?" I asked through clenched teeth, pressing my right foot into the floor, as though by doing so I could slow down the car.
"You hate your job, but you don't have the balls to tell your folks that."
"I've told you that's not why—"
"And this situation gets dropped in your lap," he steamrolled over me, "illustrating how dangerous your job can be. But instead of letting Reed tell them about it, you protect them from the information. If they had it, maybe they'd want you to give up Spring Cleaning. Then the onus would be taken off of you."
He zoomed through an amber traffic light, and my stomach flip-flopped nervously.
"Could you please slow down?" I asked. "You're scaring me."
He immediately eased off the accelerator, but it was too late.
The tell-tale lights of a police cruiser flashed behind us.
"What the hell?" Smoke muttered, cruising to a stop alongside the road. "If this is Reed's idea of a joke…that light wasn't red, was it?"
He turned to look at me, noticing for the first time my death-grip on the overhead handle. He reached over and peeled my fingers away from it. "I didn't mean to frighten you. You weren't in any danger. I'm an excellent driver."
"That's what Dustin Hoffman said in Rain Man," I joked weakly.
Chuckling, Smoke shook his head. "Fatal Attraction. Rain Man. You and your movie references don't paint the best picture of me."
Turning
away, he lowered the driver's side window to address the cop who'd strolled up alongside the Jeep.
"Hey, partner," Detective Lacey Halperin purred.
If I hadn't already been on edge, her arrival would have done the trick.
"Hey, Lacey. What's up? You're not going to try to tell me I blew through that light back there, are you?" Smoke's tone was light.
She laughed, tossing her long, blonde hair. It was totally illogical, but I really didn't like the woman. Her constant flirting with Smoke grated on me like a new shoe against a blister.
"No," she said. "I just wanted to talk to you."
"I have a phone," Smoke said. A subtle thread of tension wound through his words.
She pitched her voice so low, I could barely hear her. "But I didn't want a paper trail of our conversation. Come talk to me for a second." Without waiting for his response, she spun on her heel and walked back to her car.
"She didn't acknowledge you," Smoke said.
"I hadn't noticed." That was a lie, but I wasn't going to recognize her snub.
"Stay here." He climbed out of the Jeep. "And don't touch anything."
I listened to his footsteps crunch away.
Almost immediately his cell phone buzzed where he'd left it on the dashboard. Fearing it might be Reed, I ignored his hands off order and picked it up. Once I saw that it was "Uncle Bernie" calling, I put it back where I found it. Again wondering who the hell Bernie was.
"I don't like her."
Angel's sudden arrival in Smoke's vacated seat startled me so badly that I yelped. I immediately slapped my hand over my mouth and slid down in my seat so that I could see Lacey's Mercedes in the rear view mirror on the passenger door. It was too dark to make out much more than the vague shadows of Smoke and the lady detective sitting in her car behind the strobing light on her dash. They faced one another, and neither seemed to have heard my exclamation.
"You need to stop doing that," I told Angel gently.
"Doing what?" she asked.
"Scaring me like that." I kept one eye on the mirror and one on her. She seemed agitated, picking at the hem of her non-existent dress. "Is something bothering you?"
Her lower lip trembled and her big, blue, ghostly eyes welled with tears. "I have to tell Smoke something. Something important. But he won't listen."
