Cold Malice

by Toni Anderson

  Why escape now, near the end of his prison term?

  Mac didn’t believe seeing Tess had driven him over the edge. But maybe seeing Kenny Travers had… The guy knew something about what was going on and Mac wanted to know what it was. “See if there are any records for the people who stayed at Kodiak Compound. Seems to me it would be a nice va-cay destination for your average white supremacist family.”

  One side of Walsh’s mouth curved up. At least someone besides Tess got his sense of humor.

  “Cross check with Eddie’s visitors.”

  “Who owns the land now?” asked Walsh.

  Mac took a sip of cold coffee, feeling as if he was about to hammer nails into an innocent woman’s coffin. “Tess and Cole Fallon still own the land. Their adoptive mother, who in an interesting twist was a wealthy woman of color, bought it and paid the taxes until she died. Again, Tess says Cole doesn’t know about owning the land. I got the impression she doesn’t want to sell the land until she’s told him about their family history, but she’s not ready to tell him about their past, so she’s still got the land.” A conundrum.

  “Something tells me he’s gonna discover the truth in the very near future,” Walsh commented dryly.

  Mac nodded. Either when the FBI questioned him, or when a member of the press figured it out. His stomach grumbled with hunger. He’d kill for a slice of pizza. “Okay, people, let’s move on this. I want this murderer identified before he, or she, hurts anyone else.”

  He was itching to head back out into the field, but made himself walk into his office and start going through reports. Time to let others do the legwork. Time to delegate the good stuff.

  * * *

  A noise had Tess cracking open a heavy eyelid. It was dark and it took a few seconds to figure out why it shouldn’t be.

  She froze, listening intently for whatever it was that had woken her. She grabbed her weapon from the nightstand, moving the covers aside as stealthily as possible then sliding her feet onto the floor.

  She cocked her head.

  Someone was in her house, in her kitchen. They were being quiet but the sound of a zipper and then Velcro fastenings tearing apart were loud in the silence of the night.

  What were they doing?

  She picked up her cell, dialed 911 but immediately hung up. No way could she speak to an operator without alerting whoever was downstairs. And if it was Eddie, she didn’t want him to run. She wanted him back in prison paying for the things he’d done.

  She used her cell phone flashlight to see Mac’s business card and dialed his number. She heard him pick up and she whispered softly, “Send help.”

  She slipped the phone into her pocket without listening to his response. She braced herself to do what needed to be done and hoped Mac trusted her enough to stay on the line. After a few moments, the creak of wood beneath stealthy footsteps made the hair on her nape rise.

  Someone was creeping up her stairs.

  She moved tentatively over the carpeted floor of her bedroom until she reached the open doorway. Below her, a shadow moved in the darkness.

  Her heart pounded as she ducked back behind the wall. There was no lock on her bedroom door. No chair she could wedge under the handle if she wanted to barricade herself inside. Her grip tightened on her Ruger. It felt heavy in her hands, the idea of using it even heavier in her heart.

  She steadied her heartbeat, stretched her neck to one side and calmly breathed out. This asshole was about to receive the fright of his life.

  She stepped into the hallway and switched on the light. The figure on the stairs froze in shock as she aimed the weapon at him. Eyes glittered from behind a black woolen balaclava, too far away to make out their color. The guy was lean but fit looking in black pants and a plain dark hoodie. Eddie? She couldn’t tell. He eyed the gun in her hand as if weighing the chance of her using it.

  “Take off your mask and move down the stairs. Lie on the living room floor with your hands stretched out over your head. Do as I tell you and I might not pull the trigger.”

  Her intruder sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jersey. Then he slipped his hand in his hoodie pocket.

  “Stop! Put your hands up where I can see them!”

  But it was too late. He pulled a gun and got off a shot which hit the wall only a few inches from her face. Dammit. She jerked back behind the wall, heart pounding like a panicked jackrabbit.

  The sound of his footsteps told her he was running away. Too late to return fire.

  Damn.

  She didn’t want to live in constant fear. She wanted this over. She took a quick glance around the doorway and then moved fast across to the top of the banister, easing to look over into the hall below. Empty.

  She heard him open the back door and it slam against the counter as he fled. Damn. She needed him caught. She needed this over. She ran quickly downstairs and noted the open kitchen door and the sound of trashcans being knocked over as the guy escaped.

  The intruder had gone through her laptop case and purse. Her wallet was on the floor.

  Another sound registered, a weird tinny sound like music through earbuds. She suddenly realized what it was and lowered her gun. She fished her cell out of her pocket and put it to her ear. Mac was yelling her name over and over.

  “I’m all right.”

  He blew out a big breath. “Why the fuck didn’t you talk to me? First responders are on the way. I’m twenty minutes out. What the hell happened?”

  “An intruder was in my house.” Her teeth chattered in reaction. So much for being brave.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. He wore a balaclava. I didn’t see his face.”

  “It was definitely a guy?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Eddie?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe? I really don’t know.” Who else would it have been? She went to the front door and opened it wide. Sat heavily on the front step when her knees gave out. “Y-you don’t need to come. Cops are on their way. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.” The words were curt.

  She nodded and hung up when a fire truck arrived and a man from across the street started jogging toward her to make sure she was okay. Realizing she still had her gun in her hand, she released the clip and then emptied the chamber. Laid the bullets and the weapon at her side so the cops could do their thing. Covered her face to combat the overwhelming sense of stress and relief that wanted to pound her into the ground.

  She’d thought she’d left the danger behind in Idaho. Instead it had followed her home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  That’s how Mac found her.

  A patrol officer was crouched down beside her as she sat on the steps. She wore soft-looking pink pajamas, different from the ones she’d worn last night—the ones he’d stripped off her just before dawn. All day, he’d tried to push aside the memory of what they’d done, but being confronted by Tess looking shaken and scared left him with a raw ache in his chest. Not for what they’d done, but for what he couldn’t do. He couldn’t pursue a relationship with her. He couldn’t risk letting her into his heart. He was too close to achieving his goals to abandon them now. But the idea of never seeing Tess again except in an official capacity hurt like a punch in the gut.

  It didn’t matter. His job was what defined him. It had given him purpose and made a dirt-poor kid from the wrong side of the Montana tracks believe he could make a difference.

  Police officers moved around inside Tess’s house.

  Fuck. He stood for a minute on the sidewalk next to his truck, his heart still spinning out of control after getting her call earlier. He’d been in his office, and at first thought she’d accidentally pocket dialed him and had been curious as to what he might overhear. Then he’d heard her say, so quietly he was worried he might have imagined it, “Send help.”

  He’d told Walsh to do just that and reeled off her address. As he’d sprinted toward the undergr
ound garage where he now had a parking spot, he’d listened as she told someone to remove a mask and lie down on the floor.

  He’d never felt so powerless.

  He’d known she was in trouble, but until he’d heard the gunshot it hadn’t hit him exactly how much danger she was in. And he hadn’t realized how crazed with worry that would make him feel. She could have died. Again.

  They were organizing a team to watch her but the agents wouldn’t be available until tomorrow at the earliest. Unless Tess agreed to go into protective custody—which his boss wasn’t ready to sign off on yet. Either way, she was going to have to get used to being shadowed by the Feds.

  Was it Eddie? The idea that psycho was in town pissed him off. Why hadn’t the goddamned USMS picked him up yet?

  Motherfucker.

  And if not him then whom? Why was Tess a target? What wasn’t she telling him? What was he missing?

  She glanced up from her position on the step and spotted him. The relief in her eyes was followed by a flood of tears and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk up to her, open his arms and let her hang onto him as she cried.

  At least she wasn’t mad at him anymore.

  And in that moment, he realized something else—how isolated she was. How the events of twenty years ago continued to shape her existence.

  “They find anyone yet?” Mac asked the uniform who eyed his badge with interest.

  The guy rested his hands on his equipment belt. “Lady here swears she didn’t see his face and didn’t fire her gun. It’s cold so I believe her.” The uniform handed him the weapon, a nice little Ruger 9mm, which Mac slipped into his pocket along with the ammo.

  “We found a bullet hole in the wall outside the bedroom door and neighbors report hearing a single gunshot and seeing a figure fleeing the house. No sign of forced entry.”

  Mac frowned.

  Tess pulled away and seemed to realize what the officer said. “So how did he get in?”

  “You sure you locked up?” Mac asked.

  A look of incredulity passed over her features. “With Eddie on the run? Are you serious?”

  “Eddie?” the patrolman queried.

  Mac took pity on Tess as her eyes widened with dismay. “An escaped felon threatened Ms. Fallon’s life if he ever got out. Feds are gonna be taking over this scene.”

  “Eddie Hines? The guy who escaped prison after serving nearly twenty years? Guy’s got a screw loose.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Mac agreed. “Thanks for your help.”

  Tess was shivering in his arms. She thanked the cop through chattering teeth, and all the uniforms who started to leave as people from his task force rolled up.

  Walsh, Carter, and Makimi turned up in one car. Agents Ross and Atherton piled out of another. Detective Dunbar pulled up in a Crown Vic that had a dent in the front fender. They eyed Tess like a pride of lions eyed fresh meat.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said quietly.

  She nodded mutely and headed back into her house. She seemed subdued, zoned out, in shock. He followed and the other members of the task force filed in behind him.

  Carter thanked the last patrolman and closed the door with a quiet snick that echoed through the house. Tess sat on the couch, dragging a blanket off the back of it and wrapping it tight around her shoulders. Her hair was tied up on top of her head, dark curls falling in unruly waves around her face. Her skin had lost all vestige of color.

  Mac stood by the window, looking out onto the street. Turned to face her, strangely uncomfortable with his role as task force leader when questioning this woman who’d gone through so much and whom he was starting to think of as much more than a mere acquaintance.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. Probably had something to do with sleeping with her last night and knowing what she looked like when she came.

  “Why don’t you talk us through what happened here tonight. What time did you arrive back at the house?”

  She reached for a tissue from a box on the table and wiped her eyes, blew her nose. “I was stuck in Denver until early afternoon due to mechanical failure so didn’t get home until after five.”

  She told them about coming home, and the unease she’d experienced. Then how she’d realized the toilet seat was up when she’d been relaxing in the bath.

  Anger settled in his jaw. Why the hell hadn’t she called him?

  But he knew. She’d told him she didn’t trust easily. When he’d walked away from having sex with her earlier she’d consider it a rejection and had retreated back behind her walls. He got it. She thought he hadn’t wanted what she’d offered when the truth was he’d wanted it so much it had ripped out his guts to walk away.

  He ignored the weight of the guilt. He could live with his mistakes. But he wouldn’t compound them by getting involved with another woman who didn’t value his commitment to his career. He gritted his teeth. If he got involved with Tess he wouldn’t have a career worth preserving.

  He turned to Walsh. “Get an evidence response team in here.”

  “What? You’re going to dust my toilet for prints?” Tess appeared horrified.

  “Why not?”

  “I hope they receive hazard pay. Tell them to dust my office desk drawers, too. I swear someone went through them though nothing was taken.”

  “So you thought someone had been in your house but you went to bed without calling the cops?” Walsh asked.

  “I grabbed my gun, searched the house from top to bottom. Found exactly zero evidence besides my ever-increasing paranoia. I was exhausted.” Her hazel eyes held his then glanced away. “I decided I must be imagining things and overreacting so I made sure the house was locked up and went to bed.”

  “What woke you up?”

  “A noise.” Her pale cheeks gained a little color. Probably remembering the noise that had woken them both last night. “I opened my eyes and realized someone had turned off the hall light. There’s a switch at the top and the bottom of the stairs,” she explained. “Someone was going through my bags.” Her hand rose to her mouth and the blanket fell off her shoulders. “My laptop! My work.”

  She raced between Ross and Dunbar into the kitchen. Mac followed on her heels, the others crowding after them.

  “It’s still here. Thank goodness.”

  Mac grabbed her arm when she went to touch the machine. “We need to brush it for prints.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I need it for work.”

  “Evidence tech will be here in half an hour, tops. We’ll get him to dust the laptop first as a priority.”

  “Or her,” Miki said under her breath.

  “Or her,” he agreed. “Can you tell without touching if anything is missing?”

  Tess bit her lip nervously. “I’d have to look in my wallet.”

  He averted his eyes from her beaded nipples. He tried not to think about the lack of underwear beneath her thin pajamas or the fact the house was cold thanks to the police searching the place earlier and leaving the doors wide open. No wonder the cop had interviewed her outside.

  He told himself not to be an idiot as he fished out a pair of nitrile gloves and pulled them on. He took some photographs and then carefully lifted her wallet off the floor. Pens, notebooks, tissues, tampons were scatted amongst the papers on the table. He opened the wallet using the very edges and showed her the inside. Several bills were visible as were a bunch of credit cards and her driver’s license.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, maybe aware of the fact her nipples were poking against the thin fabric. He wanted to offer her his jacket but was aware of everyone watching their interaction, judging his ability to do the job. Judging the effect she had on him. And her ability to spin a tale.

  “Is it all there?” This time his voice came out sharply and her chin came up.

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “Is it possible the intruder got inside the house when you went to Idaho? Maybe you left in a hurry and left the front door open?�
�

  “No.”

  “No? Are you certain?”

  Her eyes flashed belligerently. “I locked up before I left for the airport. I told you before, I’m not an idiot.”

  “But rather than call the cops when you thought someone might be in your house, you searched it yourself and then went to bed with a gun by your bed?” This from Agent Ross.

  “I figured the cops would dismiss me as a scared female living alone. Or maybe someone who wanted attention.” She snorted. “Trust me, I do not want attention.”

  “So any idea how they got in?”

  Her mouth opened and closed. Then she shook her head.

  “Who has a key?” Mac’s phone went off with the goddamn MC Hammer tune and he was ready to run the thing through the garbage disposal.

  She swallowed. “Myself, obviously, and my brother, Cole.”

  “Any reason to suspect your brother might want to hurt you, Ms. Hines?” Ross asked.

  “Fallon,” she snapped at him. “And no way would Cole want to hurt me.”

  Ross nodded as if satisfied. Mac didn’t believe it one bit.

  Mac studied his team. They were waiting for instructions, unsure as to whether or not they were needed here. “They didn’t take cash, jewelry or anything of value. It looks more like they were looking for something. Can you think of anything you might have that someone might be interested in, Tess?”

  “If you’re referring to things from my parents’ compound then the answer is no.” She clenched her fists and brought one to her lips. “I don’t even have any photographs.” She looked away.

  Was there something she wasn’t telling them?

  The front door banged open and Mac found himself face-to-face with a young man wearing dark jeans and a green t-shirt. Easily identifiable as Tess’s kid brother because he was so like David Hines Mac had to do a double-take. Gone was the pimply kid with thick glasses he’d seen in the photograph on Tess’s mantel. This guy was younger and leaner than the man Mac had once known, but overall the resemblance was a little unnerving. Why hadn’t Tess mentioned it?