“Any time.”
[13]
Monday evening
9:00 PM
Riley wasn’t sure which way was up right now. Her uncle had almost been killed. Again. One of her greatest fears had been close to happening and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Praying helped, but she had to admit, her faith was wobbling. She might say all the right things, and truthfully, she really did believe them, but . . . it was hard to understand what God was doing. Not that she thought she had to understand everything about God to believe in him, but seriously, hadn’t she and her uncle been through enough?
She and Katie had exited the hospital and Katie had handed her off to the woman in the driver’s seat. It was Haley Callaghan. Haley drove, keeping her silence, her eyes alert, her body taut, as though ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.
“So you’re the M&M lady.”
Haley glanced at her. “What?”
“I owe you a bag. Olivia gave me the one she was keeping for you.”
Haley gave a rich throaty laugh that invited others to share in her mirth. “Honey, you’re welcome to them. I’ve got so many people givin’ me bags o’ those things, I’ll never run out.”
“I think that’s the point.” Riley smiled, not just at her comment but at her accent, which she was trying to place.
Haley glanced at her, genuine amusement lighting her pale green eyes.
Riley looked down at her phone and sighed.
“That’s the third time you’ve done that. What is it?” Haley asked.
“Oh. Sorry. It’s just . . . well, there’s this guy I’m . . . well . . . let’s just leave it at that. There’s this guy.”
“Ah.”
The knowing sound made Riley pause. “What does that mean?”
“You like him, he has your number, but he hasn’t texted or called you yet.”
Riley lifted a brow. “You bodyguard people are scary.” First Katie, then Olivia, and now Haley.
A snicker escaped Haley. At least Riley thought that was what it sounded like. The woman shook her head. “No, we’re just well trained.” Another pause. “And I was once a teenager too.”
“Ah,” Riley said.
Haley glanced at her. “What?”
Riley shot her a small grin. “Nothing. I was just seeing if I could sound as wise as you did when you said it.”
Laughter escaped Haley and Riley grinned at her.
“I like you,” Haley said. “You’re different.”
Riley’s smile faded and she glanced at her phone again. “In some ways maybe. In other ways I’m just like every other red-blooded teenager out there.”
“Crushing on a boy who won’t give you the time of day and you can’t figure out why?”
“Something like that. He’s more of a friend that I’ve known a long time, but has decided other things are more important. Although he did say he wanted to talk.” She paused. “And yes, I might have a small crush on him.” She slipped the phone into her pocket. “But enough about that. I have another question.”
“Lay it on me.”
“How am I supposed to do my job if I’m jumping at shadows—and have a shadow? Not that I really mind, but . . .”
“What’s your job?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Well, if you were a usual client, yes, I would know that and anything else I could find during me research into you. However, since I’ve just been brought into this all of a sudden, I’d like to be excused for not having done me homework.”
Riley smiled. “You’re excused. I’m a nanny for two girls after school every day—except when the mom doesn’t need me.”
“A nanny, are you? Is that the politically correct term for babysitter these days?”
This time Riley laughed. “Yes, probably. And I like your accent. Irish?”
“You’ve a good ear.”
“Thanks. Your name kind of gives it away, though.”
Haley laughed again. “I suppose so.”
Riley pulled her phone out again and let another sigh escape. “I should have gone to Mexico,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”
Daniel woke early Tuesday, relieved to find the obnoxious pounding in his head had eased to a dull ache. He could live with that. A glance at the clock made him groan. Two in the morning and he was wide awake with his brain spinning. Someone had tried—and almost succeeded—in killing him yesterday. Unfortunately, Quinn had gotten in the way. From what Katie had said, Daniel owed the man—and her—his life.
He’d find a way to repay the detective.
After trying to get comfortable and failing, he flipped on the television. At the end of the half-hour comedy rerun, Daniel realized he had no idea what he’d just watched. He picked up the remote to turn the television off when his face appeared in the top right-hand corner of the screen over a wide shot of a blonde reporter standing at the edge of his restaurant property. A RECORDED EARLIER graphic scrolled across the bottom.
“Thank you for joining us for an update on local restaurant owner Daniel Matthews. After Mr. Matthews discovered a body hanging in the basement of his restaurant, A Taste of Yesterday’s downtown location, he then learned that his restaurant on North Lake was burning. And now, we’ve gotten word that he was attacked during a visit to the burned location. A detective was hurt in the attack as well. We’re following the story carefully and will have updates as they come in.” Quinn’s crushed car was in the background, still where it had been left. “Peter, have you been able to talk to Mr. Matthews?”
The scene changed to the outside of the hospital. Daniel groaned. Great.
“. . . unable to speak with Mr. Matthews, but speculation is that his former cook, fired by Mr. Matthews only a few short weeks ago, was a member of one of our local gangs. Now, it was originally reported that Mr. Armstrong’s death was a suicide, but new information from one of our confidential sources says this isn’t so. And that the gang, who believe that Mr. Matthews is responsible for Armstrong’s death, is now retaliating for his murder by burning the restaurant.”
“What?” Daniel’s head nearly exploded as his blood pressure spiked. “The incidents happened within thirty minutes of each other, you moron. There was no time for any gang to find out about his death and retaliate.”
He closed his eyes. He was talking to the TV. He’d well and truly lost it.
The reporter continued. “It’s been speculated that all of the incidents are somehow tied to this gang.”
“And is Mr. Matthews a part of this gang?” the blonde woman asked.
“That question has come up, of course, but nothing has been found to support that he has any ties to it.”
“Other than a dead body and a burned restaurant.”
The second reporter, Peter, frowned. “Again, the only connection proven has been Mr. Armstrong’s.”
“Thanks so much.” The blonde came back onto the screen and Daniel flipped the television off. He shut his eyes again and practiced deep breathing exercises he’d learned in his counseling sessions.
By 3:30, Daniel knew he was done staying in the hospital bed.
He swung his legs over the side, placed his feet on the floor, and simply sat for a moment. His head wasn’t happy with the movement, but at least he was upright. When he stood, the room tilted slightly. He swayed, then caught his balance, then waited for the mild dizziness to pass.
Once he could move without the possibility of doing a face-plant into the floor, he found his clothes and dressed, ignoring the blood stains on his shirt. By the time he was done, he was ready to crawl back in the bed.
A light tap on the door made him stiffen. When it opened, a young nurse stepped inside. She blinked when she saw him standing there. “Um . . . sir? Shouldn’t you be in the bed?”
“Probably.” Another figure entered the room behind the nurse. Wh
en he caught sight of her, he blinked. “Katie? You’re still here?”
“Yes, I’m your night-duty bodyguard.” She gave him a slight smile. “Are you trying to pull a middle-of-the-night escape?”
He sank back onto the bed. “Something like that.”
She shook her head. “Lie down, Daniel.”
He grimaced but eased back onto the pillows. “I can’t sleep. I might as well go home.”
“In the morning.”
He stared at her. “When do you sleep? This hasn’t exactly been a restful day for you either.”
Another small smile. “I’ll sleep when Olivia takes over.”
“Oh.”
The nurse moved closer, tossing Katie a grateful look. Then she turned her attention to Daniel. “On the one-to-ten scale, what’s your pain level?”
“A four. Maybe a five. But just some ibuprofen, please. No more of the strong stuff.”
She lifted a brow but nodded. “I don’t know that that’s going to do much, but you’re the boss.”
He shot a glance at Katie. “I think that’s debatable.”
Katie gave a low laugh. “Funny. Take advantage of the situation and use it to get some rest, Daniel. You’re going to need it.”
The nurse turned toward the door. “I’ll be back with that ibuprofen in just a few minutes.”
“Thanks.”
She left and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, fatigue sweeping away his previous burst of restlessness. He felt Katie’s hand on his and opened his eyes to find her frowning at him. “What is it?” she asked.
“I want to be doing something. I need to be doing something.”
She tilted her head slightly as she studied him. “What is it you think you can do?”
“I have skills. I can use them.”
“Help with the investigation?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded. “You’re right. You do have skills. You’re not a run-of-the-mill client, so to speak.”
“Okay, glad you recognize that.”
“And you wouldn’t even have us here if it weren’t for Riley.”
He hesitated a fraction. Was that true? “Yes, I’ll agree with that,” he said. “Frankly, the idea of hiring a bodyguard service probably wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
Her lips tilted in that small, mysterious smile she was very adept at. “I can’t say that surprises me.”
“So. What next?”
She studied him for a moment, then gave a small shrug. “You tell me.”
“I want to visit Quinn.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Of course you would want to, but you have to know, he’s pretty heavily drugged—and when he’s not, he’s ornery.”
“That’s okay.”
“Let me text Maddy. I know she’s with him right now. If he’s awake, she’ll be awake.”
“All right. Tell her we’ll come first thing in the morning.” He glanced at the clock again. “Or in a couple of hours.”
Katie sent the text and they waited in silence. The nurse came back and handed Daniel the pills. He swallowed them and finished off the cup of water. Just about when he was ready to give up on Maddy texting back, Katie’s phone chimed. She looked at it. “Quinn’s awake and being ornery. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute. Now? It’s just after four in the morning.”
“Maddy sounded desperate. We’re going.”
He gave a light shrug. “All right then, if you say so.”
“I’ll roll you down there.”
Daniel barked a short laugh. “No wheelchair. I’ll walk.”
“It’s a chair or you don’t go.” It wasn’t an argument when she said it, just a simple fact. Daniel knew if he didn’t let her roll him, he would not see Quinn. Stubborn woman. “Fine.”
Katie gave him a small smile that carried a lot of triumph. He grimaced. She disappeared for a few minutes, and when she returned, she had the chair. He rose from the bed and swayed. Her hand gripped his arm and he waited for the dizziness to pass before he lowered himself into the seat. Once his head quit spinning, he actually didn’t feel that bad, but he’d let Katie have her way with this one.
She rolled him out the door and to the elevator. “He might yell at you.”
“I’ve been yelled at before.”
The elevator doors opened and she pushed him in. They rode in silence to the sixth floor and then exited to head down a long hallway. Other than the darkness outside the windows in the hall, one would never know it was the wee hours of the morning. Nurses bustled, phones rang, family members entered and exited the rooms, some looking sleepy and rumpled.
At room 624, she knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened and a woman he’d never seen before stood there looking wan and tired. Maddy.
“Hey, come on in,” she said. “He’s been awake for about an hour, refusing to take pain meds, so no guarantee you’ll leave with your head.”
“You look tired,” Katie said.
“I am.” She looked down at him. “You must be Daniel.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Hope you’ve got a thick skin,” she muttered.
Katie motioned him into the room.
Daniel’s eyes sought Quinn’s. The man wore a deep scowl that pulled his brows together just above the bridge of his nose. His legs were in casts and held in traction by what looked like some form of torture device. Daniel held Quinn’s gaze for a few seconds. “Thank you.”
The frown eased slightly. “Welcome.”
They studied each other for another moment, then Daniel nodded and looked up at Katie. “We can go now.”
She raised a brow and looked at Maddy, who raised one back. Katie drew in a breath. “All righty then.” She started to turn him toward the door, then paused. With a sigh, she walked over to Quinn, leaned down, and kissed his cheek. “I’m not going to ask how you’re doing. I’m getting regular updates from Maddy.”
He grunted. “Tell Bree to catch the psycho who did this.”
“Already done. Be nice to Maddy, Quinn.”
He patted her back and gave her a slight shove toward the door. “Get out of here. You’re messing with my beauty sleep.”
And then Katie was behind Daniel and pushing him out of the room. Once in the hall she took a deep breath. “Well, that went better than expected.”
Before he could speak his thoughts, his phone buzzed. With a fierce frown, he snagged it from his lap and looked at the screen, then brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”
“Mr. Matthews?”
“Yes.”
“The alarm at A Taste of Yesterday on Elmwood is going off. Officers are en route.”
He jerked. “What? I’ll meet them there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.
“So you’re going AWOL from the hospital?”
“I am.”
She pulled her keys from her pocket. “I’m not sure where we’re going, but I guess I’m driving?”
Once Daniel had learned that officers were at the scene, he used his phone to shut off the alarm. Upon arriving at the restaurant, Katie hung back while the officers did their job. She didn’t recognize any of them so simply watched and took mental notes while she kept an eye on Daniel and the surrounding area. Police officers cleared the restaurant and Daniel came back to stand beside her.
“You sure you’re feeling up to this?”
“No, but it can’t be helped.”
Streetlights cast a hazy glow over the area, giving it a feeling of darkness, a coldness that only the sunshine could chase away. “There’s no sign of anyone having gotten inside and there’s nothing to indicate that someone was here,” he said.
“So why did the alarm go off?”
“Someone punched in the wrong code.”
Katie frowned. “Was the person trying to make a good guess and failed?”
Daniel started to shake his head and seemed to think better of it. “No, whoever it was punched in the right code. As of yesterday. I changed
it this morning on my phone while I was feeling sorry for myself. And mad.”
She lifted a brow. “Well, that puts things in a different light, doesn’t it?”
He held his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then looked back at her. “Only a little if you think it narrows the field of suspects. All of my trusted employees have the code—the managers, a few who’ve been with me awhile, and a couple of delivery guys.”
“Delivery guys?”
“Yes.” He lifted a hand to his head, then dropped it. His head had to be killing him, but other than the occasional grimace and the lines at the bridge of his nose, nothing else told her he was hurting. He sure wasn’t going to complain about it. “They’ve been delivering here for several years. Sometimes they’ll want to make a delivery when the restaurant is closed. We’ve built the kind of relationship where I don’t have to come in and open up. They just use the code.”
“For an ex-Marine, you’re awfully trusting.”
“There’s no such thing as an ex-Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He gave her a grim smile. “And yes, I’m trusting. But only when someone’s earned it. And now? I’m afraid even those people are suspect.” He paused and his eyes roamed the area. She could see the hair on his arms spiked. He rubbed them, then he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Want to go flying tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Why? You got something better to do?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure flying with a head injury is a good idea.”
He scowled. “Maybe not.”
“But speaking of deliveries, my new kitchen cabinets are set to arrive around ten in the morning, and I’m installing them tomorrow.”
“Want some company?”
She tilted her head and eyed him. “Sure. If you think your head can handle it.”
He turned his gaze back to his restaurant. “It can. I need something to take my mind off this mess. Helping you out will be perfect.” He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. He touched his bruised cheek, then his still-bandaged head. He narrowed his eyes, a slow anger burning there. “Yeah. I need a distraction.” His gaze caught hers and the anger faded. “I find you to be a good distraction.”
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