Grant cleared his throat. “Mom and Dad, here’s to many, many more anniversaries and a lot less excitement, unless it involves your friends, family, and fun.”
“Hear, hear!” Three voices responded.
“And Miranda’s considered a very special friend,” Pat said, and winked at her son.
She tasted the bite of champagne on her tongue before turning away.
“I’ll be visiting Emma Springs more often,” Grant said.
“We’ll be waiting.” Tom grinned at Pat and squeezed her hand. “We didn’t redo the upstairs for nothing.”
They’d better put dust covers in the dormer rooms. Miranda twisted her lips into a smile. “With your work, Grant, I’d think you’d welcome breaks.”
“I will from now on.”
“Maybe Miranda can join you soon?” Pat said.
“Maybe.” Grant stood and held his hand out to Miranda. “Dad’s beat. We should head out and give you time alone before the agents arrive.”
Miranda rubbed her sleeves, fighting the chill of fear.
Pat gave her a gentle hug, then turned to Grant. “Thanks, honey, for bringing us home. We’re proud of the man you’ve become.” She pulled him into a firm embrace. “I love you.”
Tom stretched one arm out, and Grant hugged him.
“I love you both.” Grant stepped back and helped Miranda into her coat. “We’ll call you in the morning. Rest easy.”
“You can bank on it,” Tom said.
Pungent wood smoke permeated the fresh air outside their home. A coyote howled in the distance, and another one called an answer.
Grant scanned the perimeter of the icy driveway, then supported Miranda’s elbow crossing to the Suburban. “The initial questioning tonight should be brief.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Then you can tuck in and enjoy peaceful Montana.”
His body stayed rigid while he hopped in and started the engine. He pulled onto the empty highway.
Miranda balled her fists. “That’s a crock. How many Venomettes are still here, and why can’t I go to Seattle?”
His eyes flicked to check the road behind them at regular intervals. “We’re simply taking the usual precautions.”
“Maneski won’t stop until I’m dead,” she said.
A car jetted past them, cut in front, and braked.
Grant unholstered his gun.
Chapter 14
Miranda dug her fingernails into the suburban’s leather seat. “An ambush?” she cried.
The other car turned onto the next dirt lane. The taillights disappeared over a rise.
“Damn drunk at the wheel,” Grant muttered. “You okay?”
“Not in Montana.” She studied his profile. In another lifetime, her fingers would reach out to the tight waves of his dark strands of hair or stroke his stubbled chin to calm him. Not happening in the near future. Grant couldn’t divulge everything he knew to her. Lies by omission were still lies.
The Suburban’s headlights flashed at the faded For Sale by Owner sign next to a mailbox with “MORLEY” printed in distinct letters above a painting of geese taking flight.
“How wonderful to have wings,” she murmured.
“I commented once how I enjoyed watching flocks head south and received the mailbox on my next birthday from Mom.”
Grant steered his truck to the barn. His eyes panned out to the perimeter of the pasture. He unzipped his coat and adjusted his gun holster. “Horses must be hungry. Want to help me feed them?”
Big Red’s mulish whinny hailed from inside.
“No option,” she said.
The barn door creaked open, and nickers greeted them. Grant flicked on a light. “Seems peaceful.”
“The barn, yes.” She scratched Red’s long neck. “Want a little exercise?” She memorized his uneven white blaze and turned to Grant. “My one staunch beau would appreciate being turned out in your pasture.”
He tossed a halter to her. “I’m assuming he put in his written request?”
“Tapped out in hoofography,” she added.
“Right.” He walked down the aisle, looking in each stall. “The middle stall opens onto the meadow, and your mule’s smart enough not to wander.”
He’d called Red her mule again. Could she afford her apartment and pay to board him? “I’ll help you feed and muck out the stalls.”
“Give them each two scoops from the covered tub.”
She dug a metal scoop into a grain bin, where tiny pieces surrounded her hand. Grant and his family tried to protect her from all sides, tried to close all the gaps on all the outside forces. It provided false comfort.
How long before they’d get through the trial? Could she even locate a stable near Seattle? She bit her lip.
Red stretched his head to reach her.
“Mind reading mule.” His nose felt velvety soft to her touch. “No more city slickers riding you on trails.”
“He’s bonded to you.” Grant split a bale of hay. “Hard to believe Red took you to Emma Springs instead of cutting thru the woods to go home. Maybe he remembered the peppermints the drive thru gives to any horse coming by.”
“No. He’s my miracle mule.” She filled his bin with grain. “I knew the garnet horse slide held special magic. It sounds woo-woo, but after Red saw me, we trusted each other.”
“Smart animal.”
“Too bad you can’t bottle trust.”
Red’s ears twitched to catch each word.
Grant ignored her comment. “The animals are happily munching. Let’s get you inside. Jesse and the group should arrive soon for your statement.” He stepped onto the porch and stopped.
A dull ache began in her forehead. “The last time I was interrogated, it concerned Jacob and—”
His hand shot into the air. “Wait,” he whispered. He slid his key in the door and pushed it open.
Warm air reached her face.
“Don’t move.” He yanked his gun out. “Intruder.”
Miranda’s feet remained anchored to the porch. Her heart thumped double time. Not again, not this soon. Her eyes adjusted to dim light.
Grant’s body disappeared into near darkness after he crouched and entered, his revolver pointing the way. His form, plastered against the wall, stealthily climbed stairs.
She bunched her gloved hands into fists, taking gulps of frigid air. Her pulse drummed in her ears.
The hallway light flicked on, illuminating Grant standing a few feet from her, his face an iron mask. “They’ve come and gone.”
“How’d you know?” She hugged her arms to her body.
“A series of short, wide footprints on top of ours in the snow. Not familiar.”
Chills continued. “Karpenito?”
“Can’t say. We’re not sleeping here tonight. Head upstairs and pack. I need to call Dad.”
Outside, the craggy outline of Mt. Hanlen appeared deceptively peaceful against a dark sky.
She grasped the handrail, pulling her body upstairs. Each step drummed into the silence.
Karpenito had been here. Hunting her.
She ran into the guest room, stuffed Grant’s T-shirt into her pocket, and headed downstairs.
“Hey, Dad, we had a prowler,” Grant said. “I’m moving us all to a safer spot.” He wedged the phone on his shoulder and took off his coat. “I’ll call Kyle. Someone will get you in ten minutes.”
Miranda studied the stress lines crinkling around his eyes. Remnants of dinner churned in her stomach.
“Miranda. I forgot this.” He reached into his front hall closet, and removed a blue cap emblazoned by a white S on the front. “Venom brought this to my house. He found it in the woods searching for your . . . for you.”
“Ke
nny’s hat. I thought I’d never see it again.” She clutched it to her chest and brushed her chin with the crown. “He only removed it to sleep.”
He nodded toward the door and tapped his phone. “Kyle, slight change of plans. We’ve had unwelcome visitors. I need to accept your dad’s offer of lodging for my family. Can you meet us there in ten?” Next, he called Jesse and gave instructions.
She tugged the ball cap on. “Take us to Three Falls. I can’t put Kyle’s dad in danger.”
Grant propelled her to the front door. “Roy Werner’s attending a regional clock conference in Billings.” Grant buttoned a padded black vest over his shirt.
“Is that bulletproof?”
“Yes, Kevlar.”
What would protect her heart if anything happened to him? “Standard procedure’s putting on body armor in Emma Springs? This must be your worst nightmare.”
He shrugged into his coat. “Nope, I’ve had worse. Come on. I need to call Sam to let him know Maneski sent me a visitor.”
“To kill me.” Her whispered words escaped into dark. “No house is safe.”
“Roy’s place is alarmed like Fort Knox. We fly to Seattle tomorrow.” Grant stepped to the door, panned the area, and pulled her to the truck.
She climbed onto the cold front seat. “Isn’t Mr. Werner a lawyer?”
“Correct. He owns a rare collection of antique automaton clocks and has a state of the art security system.” He slid his hand to her knee. “We’ll be safer there than at a hotel. He’s told me many times if I ever needed to bring guests, they’d be welcome.”
Her eyes moved from the meadow to the pond as Grant steered away from his home.
The truck tires slid on iced-over tracks in the snow.
Her fingers shook while she gripped Kenny’s hat. “I’m prey, not a guest.”
“This’ll be over soon, Miranda.”
“One way or another.” She stared out the window while they drove to town.
“Here’s the Werner’s.” He turned the Suburban onto a driveway and into an open garage. “Head through the steel door to your right. I’ll meet you in the breezeway,” Grant ordered.
Filigreed wrought iron covered the windows on the short corridor between the garage and house. She approached the back door, and a series of locks clicked on another steel door. Grant strode to her side and pushed her behind him while the door swung open.
Kyle strained to smile. “A few of your FBI friends beat you.” He studied Grant’s face. “I mean, got here first.”
A figure stepped out of the entry.
“You remember Bullseye?” Grant asked Miranda.
Her chest tightened. “Yes.”
Bullseye wore matching Kevlar and a grimace. “For the record, I’m Special Agent Tabatha Banks. I’ll try to make this session brief.”
Tabatha, a sweet girl’s name. How’d she become a sharpshooter? Miranda sank onto the couch. “I’ll do my best to recall what happened.”
Bullseye took the overstuffed chair opposite her and opened a laptop.
“I figured you’d appreciate a warm drink.” Kyle set three mugs of cocoa onto the coffee table and then left.
“Miranda, please start an hour before you saw Venom in the elevator.” Grant remained standing. “Tell us any details.”
She pictured the grisly scene and described each element.
Grant and Bullseye listened, stopping her at unclear events.
“So, the plant hid your face.” Bullseye stopped taking notes.
“Otherwise, I’d be dead.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “I pinch branches to promote growth. Mom taught me how.”
Bullseye nodded and tapped the keyboard.
“They’ll question your leaving the crime scene,” Grant said.
“Ike’s warning scared me, and the cop insisted I go to my apartment.” Miranda took a sip of warm chocolate. “I knew it wasn’t normal procedure.”
“The man Judge Gilson identified as Detective Karpenito instructed you to leave.” Bullseye looked up. “Make the judge’s instructions clear in court.”
“Identified as Detective Karpenito?” Miranda bristled.
“The detective’s ID had been stolen, and there’s a few discrepancies,” Bullseye said. She glanced at Grant.
“You still don’t believe Ike and me?” Miranda glared at Grant and banged her mug onto the table.
“I do, but we need tests to verify,” Grant said. “You were afraid of me in the cabin. Didn’t you recognize me?”
“Your disguise included a hat and a partial beard. Like Karpenito,” she snapped.
Grant recoiled. “Right.”
She’d leave out how she’d know those broad, carry-me-to-your-castle shoulders anywhere. “I saw your shotgun and freaked. And you didn’t act sympathetic.”
“A day after Judge Gilson’s shooting you materialized in Montana with a bullet hole,” Grant countered.
“Understandable.” Bullseye kept typing while Miranda continued her story.
She caught Grant staring at her. Trust, such a tenuous thing. Beginning at her temple, she slowly finger-combed her hair down to the ends, then looked away and finished the account by describing her ride to Kyle’s.
“Got enough for tonight, Bullseye?” Grant’s color had deepened. He shifted his feet.
“Probably.” She closed her laptop and pulled out her phone. Her lips thinned. “Jesse texted. No vacancies in the nearby motels. Okay if we bunk here tonight, Grant?” She adjusted her revolver on her belt.
Grant’s eyes followed the movement. “Sure.”
“The agents are transporting your folks,” Bullseye said. “Jesse never plans ahead. The local hotels are full. I should’ve checked. We’d all appreciate a bed for the night.”
“No sense driving all the way to Three Falls.” Grant’s placating tone had returned. “Should’ve told me sooner. Plenty of couch space and rooms in the attic. We’ll make it a party. Okay, Miranda?”
Hell, no. One thing she remembered from a college psychology class, rambling sentences backed a lie. Three Falls wasn’t that far, and there weren’t any local hotels, facts she knew. She turned toward the window.
Liars. They’d be guarding overnight due to a threat.
~ ~ ~
Agents who’d arrived on the premise of needing a place to crash filled Roy Werner’s kitchen. Grant scowled. Bullseye must’ve gotten one helluva text.
Miranda’s cold shoulder inferred she’d figured out the reason behind their appearance. Details could unhinge her.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then changed hands and rubbed from the other side.
Jesse caught his eye from the entry and waved his thumb toward the kitchen.
“You gave a good account of what happened.” Grant spoke calmly to Miranda. “You must be exhausted.”
“Yeah.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa.
“My folks retired to a guest room.” He forced a yawn. “Kyle suggested you stay in his old bedroom. I recall the comfy twin beds.” He held out his hand.
“I’d be fine on this couch.” She wormed her back into a pile of pillows at the corner. “I won’t disrupt the agents. Have two of them sleep in the bedroom.” Her eyes darted to where Jesse and Bullseye spoke with their heads bowed together. “Where are the other men?”
“They’re in Roy’s office submitting statements from my folks. I’m still amazed you found Kyle’s house yesterday.” He adjusted a pillow behind her.
“Thanks to Big Red.” Her hand rose toward his bruised jaw.
Grant clasped it in his. “You risked your life to save mine. I won’t ever forget.” He kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger on her satiny skin. His body craved to hold her in his arms. He turned away while
he still could. “Thank you doesn’t cover it.”
“I owe you much more,” she said.
He had to hold back, not tell her she’d unlocked his heart. “There’s no debt between us. Let me talk to the team and figure out how we’ll bunk.”
The killer would attempt to strike tonight, and he needed Miranda unaware.
“Okay.”
He sensed her eyes following him to the kitchen. The group had assembled in front of a coffee maker sputtering the last drops of a strong-smelling brew. He stopped behind a hanging cabinet, tapped his finger on his ear, and pointed toward Miranda and the couch. Their nods indicated they’d gotten the message that she could hear them.
Bullseye held out her phone, displaying a text from Sam.
Third murder attempt on the judge. Grant took a deep breath and read on. Direct link between Maneski and Karpenito. Karpenito still off the grid.
He looked out the kitchen window. “What’s next, Jesse?”
“I never complimented everyone on today’s coordinated and unique efforts,” Jesse began. “A foolproof plan was engineered by a smart woman assisted by her mule. Nice shot, Bullseye. Grant, I must say, your training on agility helped.”
“My family’s alive because of your efforts.” Grant looked around the cabinet to where Miranda sat with her head back, eyes closed. “Great teamwork,” he said, before lowering his voice. “Maneski has no loyalty to his lackeys. He’ll deny hiring Venom and order someone else to silence Miranda. Like Karpenito.”
Jesse nodded in agreement and cleared his throat. “Your face got dinged pretty bad, Grant. I assume Kyle checked it?” He cocked his head. “What else did Venom do?”
“Damn, I need to log in the additional charges.” He lifted his shirt. “Kyle said nothing appears broken.”
“Whoa, solid purple from pecs to waist.” Bullseye snapped phone photos. “Got them recorded to add aggravated assault to Venom’s booking.” She returned her cell to a pocket of her tactical pants. “I want to stow my gear. Where we bunking?”
Jesse pointed upstairs. “You get the scenic view, Bullseye.” He flipped his hand at the office, did a V point to his eyes, and then motioned outside. Those agents would patrol the perimeter. “The rest of you can pick a couch.”
The Hitman's Mistake Page 21
