The Sniper

by Kimberly Van Meter

  It wasn’t the time to fixate on Brady’s tremendous appeal. Extending one muscular arm in front of them, he led her through the crowd, forming a path to her car. He took her keys from her hand, unlocked the doors and helped her into the passenger side. He climbed in the driver’s seat, fastened his seat belt, held down the horn in warning to the media to move and drove them away from the gallery and the crowd.

  Susan shook off her shock and confusion. “What are you doing here? You told me to leave you alone.” She had tried to talk to him in the hospital. He hadn’t been interested in hearing what she had to say.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Being this close to Brady, her heart raced and her skin tingled. He still had that effect on her. “About what?” The answer snapped to mind as the words left her mouth. “Look, if this is about Reilly, I’m sorry. I know he was placed on admin leave because he was at the scene. He’s my friend, and he and Haley have been wonderful to me. I never meant for that—”

  Brady shook his head. “I’m not here to blame you. I’m here to talk. I know you, Susan. I know you’re a good, honest person. I want you to tell me what happened with Justin the night he died.”

  Susan stared at him. She would have told him if she could. “I don’t know what happened to Justin. I didn’t kill him.”

  “I know that.”

  Susan stared at Brady for a long moment. “You don’t think I killed him?” Most everyone else did. Why not Brady?

  “Things ended badly between us. That doesn’t mean I think you killed the next guy you dated,” Brady said.

  A show of support from one of the last places she’d expected it. “Thank you for believing me, but I don’t see what I can do to help Reilly.”

  Brady pulled her car to the side of the road and parked. He faced her. “Susan, come on. It’s me. I know how your mind works. This isn’t the first time you’ve been through something terrible and blocked it out. When you get upset, you shut down. I know what this must be like for you.”

  Susan rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You know what this is like? Sorry, no, you don’t.” Justin was dead and everyone blamed her. Brady didn’t understand what that felt like.

  “Susan, I know you better than almost anyone.”

  Susan had trusted Brady once and confided in him her deepest thoughts. He had been her go-to person. He had been the man she had wanted to spend her life with. That was the past and she’d put it behind her. “You don’t know me anymore. Things have changed.”

  “Things have changed. People don’t change. Not that much.”

  “Brady, I’m in the middle of a disaster. I can’t deal with you or with whatever the reason is that you’re here.” Her words were similar to the ones he had spoken to her six months before, when he was a recovering patient in the hospital. They had wounded her fiercely. She hoped her words didn’t have the same effect on him.

  “I can help you,” Brady said. His voice was low and soft.

  Right. Help her how? Did he realize how bad her life had become? If he wanted her to help clear Reilly’s name, she didn’t think she could. “If anyone would listen to me, I would tell them that Reilly showed up at the scene and didn’t have a thing to do with Justin’s death. The police don’t want to hear my side of the story.” Susan had worked for the police as a freelance sketch artist for the past five years and it hurt that people who she’d considered friends had turned their backs on her.

  “I know.” Compassion laced his voice.

  “I’m followed everywhere by the media.”

  “I know.”

  “The mayor, Justin’s family and the police think I’m responsible for Justin’s death.”

  “I know,” he said.

  His simple, two word answers were annoying her. “Then you know everything I do, so why are you here?”

  “I’m here to help you. To protect you,” Brady said.

  A nice sentiment, but not one she’d buy. “You can’t protect me. No one can. I got myself into this and I’ll get myself out of it.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Susan. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  She had never been able to count on anyone to stick around for her. How could she put her trust in Brady now? He’d left her once before. “Of course I do. I’m alone now. I’ve been alone all my life. I don’t want your help.”

  Susan turned away from Brady, hating the pity she read on his face. Not everyone was lucky enough to be born into a family like the Trumans. For better or worse, some people had to muddle through life on their own.

  * * *

  Susan pulled another blanket over her. The draftiness of the old farmhouse didn’t usually bother her, but the past several nights, nothing had made her feel warm. Justin was dead. The guilt was crushing her and breaking her down. At different times over the past few days, she’d felt someone watching her. The police? Justin’s family? The media? She’d never actually seen anyone, yet the uneasy sensation persisted. Her world had been turned upside down and shaken, and now everything felt wrong and uncertain. Maybe she was losing her grip on her sanity.

  She couldn’t remember what had happened the night Justin had died. She’d tried. Had she blocked out his murder because it was too traumatic to remember? Had she played a role in his death? They’d ended their relationship, but Susan hadn’t been angry with Justin when she’d met him on the boat. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. She was the one who had told him it was over. She’d realized she wasn’t in love with Justin and Justin deserved better. Was it possible she had killed him, disposed of the body and didn’t remember it? The police and media seemed to believe so.

  Had it been a robbery gone bad? She absently touched her necklace, a gift from Reilly’s wife, Haley, that she cherished. Nothing had been taken from the boat except her camera, and she wasn’t certain it had been stolen. Normally, she was exceedingly careful with her expensive camera and equipment. Where had she left it?

  The confusion surrounding that night made it difficult to say that she hadn’t misplaced the camera, lost it or taken it somewhere and forgotten it. The more she tried to remember, the more frustrated she became. Her sleep-deprived mind was only half functioning. If she were rested and relaxed, could she break through the mental walls blocking her memories?

  To add to her stress, Brady’s appearance a few days ago had shaken her. She had been too flustered and emotionally wrung to deal with him. Why was he offering to help now after making it clear six months ago he didn’t want her in his life?

  Going over the incident outside the gallery, she was bothered by how rude and hostile she had been to him. Brady had walked out of her life over a year ago and she wanted to get over him.

  She’d met Brady at a barbecue at a police colleague’s home. Reilly had brought his younger brother, the Special Forces pararescueman who was on leave from the air force. The attraction and chemistry had been instant and hot. Susan had never experienced a connection that strong with a stranger.

  Brady had strolled over to her and introduced himself. Susan preferred to be the listener in conversations, but Brady had drawn her out. He had asked her questions about her work and her hobbies. She’d loved telling him about her artwork, her sketches, her paintings and the photographs she took. His focused interest in her had made it easy to talk to him. He’d made her feel as if everything she said to him was incredibly riveting.

  By the time the party was breaking up, Susan and Brady had been talking for four hours. They’d spoken on the phone every day after that, had their first date a week later and remained together through Brady’s deployments over the next several years. His returns home had been wonderful and exciting.

  She’d never seen the breakup coming.

  Susan had told herself and her friends she was over him.

  Then, six months ago, Reilly had
told her that Brady had been injured in combat, and the fear that had struck her had left her physically shaken. Reilly hadn’t known much about his brother’s condition, only that he was en route to the nearest hospital for surgery. Brady had returned to America after a few days to recuperate and by that time, Susan had been engulfed with worry. She’d had to see him. She couldn’t stop herself. Susan had to know he was okay.

  He hadn’t seemed okay. She had sensed a heavy, underlying resentment and anger in him. Though she could chalk some of that up to his negative feelings for her, more had been at play. Brady hadn’t been willing to confide in her. She’d wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let her in. He had dismissed her, turning her worry for him to frustration with herself. What had she expected Brady to say to her? That he was sorry? To offer some explanation for why he’d broken up with her?

  That his rejection had hurt was telling. She wasn’t over Brady. She couldn’t write him out of her life. Her unresolved feelings for Brady doubled her guilt over Justin. Why wasn’t she grieving for Justin as deeply as she’d grieved when she’d lost Brady?

  Susan turned off the television. She wasn’t paying attention to it anyway. Though sleep had eluded her many nights, she was exhausted and her eyes were heavy with fatigue. If she were lucky, she would fall into dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Susan awoke to the sound of Brady’s voice. Was she dreaming? Sweat covered her skin and her sheets were knotted around her body. Why was it so hot? What was that sound? She fought with the blankets to get some air.

  A shadow appeared and grabbed her by the shoulders. Susan screamed and coughed, her voice choked by the heavy air. Her eyes were burning and adrenaline spiked in her veins.

  “Susan, it’s Brady. Your house is on fire. We have to get out.” He tore the rest of the blankets away from her body.

  Brady? What was he doing in her room?

  She wore only a blue nightshirt, her legs bare. She needed clothes. Brady didn’t give her time to think or react. He dragged her to the ground, and the floor was hot under her hands and knees. She followed him at a crawl out of her room and into the hallway.

  The front door at the bottom of the stairs was open. They crouched low as they thundered down the stairs. Brady stayed next to her, keeping one guiding hand on her back. Smoke warred with the oxygen in the air. Susan coughed, cupping her sleeve over her mouth, trying to draw fresh air. None existed. Brady’s gaze met hers, and alarm flickered in his eyes while the flames crackled and hissed around them.

  “Keep going,” Brady shouted over the roar of the fire.

  The heat from the fire was unbearable and her lungs heaved. Fresh air. They had to get outside. The house groaned and screeched under the assault from the fire. Dizziness assailed her and she grabbed at Brady to steady herself. He slid his hands around her and under her knees and carried her from the house.

  The cold night air refreshed her, a dramatic change from the heat inside. Brady set her on the ground.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. Susan stared at her home, now consumed in flames. Was she okay? No. She wasn’t. This incident alone was bad. On top of everything else, it was cataclysmic.

  Confusion and sadness weighed heavy on her heart. How had this happened? She hadn’t lit a fire in the hearth that night. Hadn’t cooked dinner after work. Didn’t fix herself a cup of tea to relax. How had this fire, which was now consuming her home, her artwork and her possessions, started?

  Questions flashed in rapid succession and she spoke the two that repeated most often. “What happened? Why are you here?” She’d made it clear outside the gallery she wouldn’t—couldn’t—see him. It hurt too much.

  Then again, him saving her life put a fresh, bewildering twist on her feelings. Gratitude, desire and security mixed with guilt in a heady cocktail, jumbling her emotions.

  Brady rubbed at his knee, pain written on his face. His injury! She’d been worried about herself and her house. What about Brady? He’d risked his life for her.

  “Are you hurt? Is your knee okay?” she asked before he could answer her first questions.

  He looked at her unblinking, emotionless. “I don’t know what happened. I saw the flames, called 911 and rushed inside. I didn’t hear your smoke detectors going off.”

  Had they malfunctioned? Or was something more sinister afoot? Susan had never been the paranoid type, but events over the past week had put her on high alert. “Why are you here?” she asked again.

  Brady shifted on his legs and stood, shaking out his right leg. “I explained the other day why I’ve been hanging around. Reilly’s gotten caught up in this and I need the truth. He’s worried about you, and given the current state of his career, he can’t look out for you. He wants me to.”

  Susan’s jaw slackened. Her friendship with Reilly didn’t include talking about Brady often. He was a subject they both avoided. Reilly knew she wouldn’t be comfortable with Brady involved in her life. “I asked you to leave me alone and you were spying on me?”

  He blew out his breath. “No, Susan, come on. I was making sure you were safe.”

  Had he been the person she’d sensed watching her? She shivered, feeling a combination of cold and uneasy. “Did you look in my windows?”

  Brady’s eyes narrowed in indignation. “No, dang, Susan, I’m not a creepy pervert. I was making sure you got home from work safely and no one was harassing you.”

  “I’m trying to handle things.” She shivered again and rubbed her arms. Brady removed his jacket and slipped it over her body. It smelled like a combination of smoke and Brady. The scent of him was both comforting and arousing.

  Brady glanced at her burning house. “I’m seeing a number of threats coming in your direction and while I know you’re independent and can handle yourself, I don’t know if you realize who you’re up against.”

  Brady wanted to help her. Protect her. Had Brady figured out something she hadn’t? Susan had tried to sort out how her life had spun out of control. She had tried to remember what had happened the night Justin had died. She had come up empty on answers in both cases.

  Every time Justin’s name came to mind, which was at least a hundred times a day, guilt and hurt slammed her in the gut. That she wasn’t emotionally shattered by his death only compounded the guilt. She missed him and she was sorry for his family and what they were going through, but she wasn’t experiencing the gut-twisting, heart-wrenching heartbreak of lost love. She had been on his boat before he’d died and she couldn’t recall anything to help the police. Had she been involved? She wasn’t a temperamental woman, but the circumstances made her question everything.

  Justin had been a good man. He’d deserved better than a violent death. “I don’t know who I’m up against because I don’t know anyone who would do this to me.”

  “Justin’s murderer.”

  Susan tried to wrap her mind around Brady’s words. “If the person who killed Justin wanted me dead, they could have killed me that night, too.”

  Brady’s face took on a serious expression. “My theory is that you were a good scapegoat for his murder and now that enough time has passed to leave the investigative trail cold, you’re a loose end that needs to be tied off.”

  ISBN: 9781460318737

  Copyright © 2013 by Kimberly Sheetz

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