When Jarvis had shut the door behind him, Greavy hunched over his desk. “Bruce Chandler Pierpont the Third was in Buck Ridge to visit you, Noelle?”
“He was here to ski, knew I lived in the area and dropped by. I wouldn’t say his sole purpose for coming to Buck Ridge was to visit me.”
“You ruled him out as your stalker?”
She tucked an errant strand of dark hair beneath her knit cap. “Not necessarily, but I have no proof that he was the one stalking me.”
J.D. trained his gaze on Sheriff Greavy’s grizzled face so that he wouldn’t give away his surprise at Noelle’s answer. Guess she didn’t want to involve the local P.D.
“You didn’t confront him about it?”
“No. We all had a pleasant dinner last night—that’s it. We discussed some plans we’d had previously for turning my guesthouse into an art studio and just sort of left things hanging.”
“Why all the questions, Sheriff? Pierpont’s death was a skiing accident, wasn’t it?”
The sheriff tapped his chin with his pen. “As far as we can tell.”
“Do you have reason to suspect foul play, Sheriff? Was Pierpont alone when he went over? Were there any witnesses?”
Sheriff Greavy’s shaggy gray brows collided over his nose as his gaze sharpened on J.D. Then he slumped back in his chair. “He was alone. No witnesses to the actual accident. There were several people on the run with him, but they were all going too fast to see anything. Folks behind him just saw him take a turn and disappear between the trees.”
“Do the lift operators remember anything? Was there anyone with him on the lift?”
“We questioned them.” Greavy spread his hands. “Nothing unusual. I wanted to find out if Noelle could shed any light on Pierpont’s life, especially considering that camera in your house appeared just about the time Pierpont showed up.”
“Yeah, I had thought about that, too.” Noelle leaned forward and dug her elbows into Greavy’s desk. “But I didn’t ask, and Bruce didn’t tell.”
The sheriff steepled his fingers as if in prayer. “Could he have been suicidal? Going off that cliff is an act of a very bad skier who had no business on that run or someone who was suicidal.”
Or someone who was forced off by a man holding a gun to his back.
Zendaris’s men would’ve wanted Pierpont’s death to look like an accident.
“I can’t imagine Bruce being suicidal.” Noelle turned to J.D. “Did he seem despondent to you over dinner?”
“I didn’t know the guy, but if that’s his despondent I’d be blown away by his happy.”
“We already notified the family, and I have a feeling Bruce Chandler Pierpont the Second is going to send an army of his own private investigators out here to look into things.” Greavy heaved a heavy sigh. “That type is never satisfied with the job we do.”
Noelle convulsively kicked J.D.’s foot under the table. If Bruce’s father started nosing around, he could get into a lot of trouble. “Let me know if you need anything else from me, Sheriff Greavy. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sheriff Greavy stood up and said, “Will do, Noelle. How’s your head?”
She touched the bandage. “It’s fine—just a mild concussion.”
“You should’ve been driving instead of your friend here. You know these roads like the back of your hand.”
“I don’t know if I could’ve avoided that accident either. We hit a patch of ice. You know how that goes.”
“Yep.” He gave Noelle the same stare he’d turned on him a few minutes ago. “With everything that’s gone on since you’ve been back, including your friend’s death, you must be ready to hightail it back to D.C.”
“It’s been an...eventful few days, but I still have some business to attend to in Buck Ridge.”
“Hope that still includes sprucing up your ranch.” Greavy’s eyes flicked to J.D.
Before Noelle could respond, a clamor of voices arose from the room outside the sheriff’s door.
J.D.’s pulse ticked up. Had they discovered something about Pierpont’s accident? Witnesses? Suspects?
He jumped from his seat with Noelle hot on his heels, but neither of them could beat Sheriff Greavy to the door.
He flung it open while muttering, “What the hell is going on out there?”
A hysterical woman held court in the middle of the substation, waving her arms and screeching unintelligible words. She jerked her head up. Black hair whipped across a tear-mottled face.
Noelle stiffened beside him as his own gut rolled.
What was a visibly upset Tara doing at the sheriff’s substation?
“Noelle!” Tara clawed her way through the small clutch of officers and threw herself into Noelle’s arms.
Noelle soothed her friend, smoothing a hand over her tangled hair, while her gaze skewered J.D. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Tara sobbed against her shoulder and then pulled away. “I was carjacked or hijacked or something.”
Noelle gripped Tara’s shoulders. “Someone stole my truck?”
J.D. cursed under his breath—not that anyone could hear him since Tara decided to let loose with another wail.
“No. I have your truck here.”
J.D. wiped a hand across his mouth, where his upper lip sported beads of sweat. So she still had the truck and she seemed safe. Had something happened to her mother?
“What happened, Tara? Are you okay?” Noelle drew her in for another hug.
Tara continued in a muffled voice, “I dropped Mom off and decided to save you a trip and drop off the truck and your prescription and to see if J.D. could give me a ride back to my ranch, but you weren’t home. I called Ted to see if he knew where you’d gone, and he told me you were up here talking to Sheriff Greavy.”
An officer handed Tara a box of tissues.
She grabbed a handful and mopped her face, then took a shuddering breath. “When I got back into the truck, two men came at me.”
“Oh my God. Did they hurt you?”
J.D. moved behind Noelle to see Tara’s face. Had Zendaris’s men believed they had Noelle? Another case of mistaken identity?
“They roughed me up.” She looked down at her jacketed arm, where the men had probably grabbed her. “And they had a gun.”
Sheriff Greavy had been listening to Tara’s story, hanging back by the door to his office, but he stepped forward when she mentioned the gun.
“Hold on, Tara. A couple of men held you up with a gun? Do you have a description? What did they take?” His gaze skipped to the purse slung over her shoulder.
“They were wearing ski masks and dark jackets. They could’ve been anyone.” Her eyes darted around the room; the officers had gotten back to business.
“Vehicle?” Greavy crossed his arms.
“It must’ve been parked on the road because I sure as hell didn’t see any car drive onto Noelle’s property. They came at me on foot and then made me lie on the ground when they took off.” She brushed at her snow pants as if just remembering she’d been lying on the ground.
J.D. put a hand on Noelle’s back. Zendaris’s men had been on her ranch again. He should’ve put cameras up before fixing the porch.
Greavy cleared his throat. “Two men accosted you with a gun at your truck, um, Noelle’s truck, at gunpoint. They didn’t harm you, and they didn’t steal the truck. Then they made you lie on the ground while they took off. I guess I’m missing something here. What did they take?”
Tara blew her nose. “I’m so sorry, Noelle.”
Noelle took a step back from Tara, leaning against J.D.’s chest. “What? Why?”
The air felt heavy, and J.D. held his breath.
“Noelle, they stole your laptop.”
Chapter Fifteen
Noelle stumbled back farther, and J.D. held her against his solid chest. When hadn’t he been there for her in the past few days?
A selfish thought skimmed across her mind—now they’ll leave me alone. Sh
e didn’t allow that thought to take root. As crazy as it sounded to her, the theft of her laptop had serious consequences for her country. This transcended her petty issues and even her safety.
If the plans were even on the laptop. She and J.D. didn’t know for sure and neither did Zendaris.
“I’m so sorry, Noelle. I know you kept a lot of ideas for your art on there.” Now in the role of comforter, Tara sniffled and patted Noelle’s arm. “I-is there any chance you have one of those backup services?”
J.D. tightened his grip on her shoulders, but Noelle had to disappoint him. That would’ve solved their problem if they could’ve retrieved those plans from a backup server. Is that why Abby hadn’t recommended one along with all her other security recommendations?
“I don’t have one of those services. But don’t worry, Tara.” She straightened the back that might no longer have a target on it. “I backed up a lot of my work on flash drives and CDs. The important thing is that you’re unharmed.”
“The important thing is to nail these thieves.” Sheriff Greavy jerked his thumb toward the open door of his office. “I want a statement from you, Tara, from the beginning. I’m not going to tolerate masked men roaming through Buck Ridge committing armed robbery.”
Noelle squeezed Tara’s hand. “Go ahead. We’ll wait for you at the lodge, and I’ll give you a ride back in the truck to your place. Did Zach ever come out to my ranch to tow your truck?”
“Yeah, he did. Too bad he wasn’t still there when I returned. Those clowns never would’ve tried that stunt if Zach had been there.”
Noelle gave her a tight smile. If Zach had been there at the same time as the clowns, he’d be dead.
J.D. followed her out of the sheriff’s substation and into the frigid air. The pale yellow sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, leaving a biting cold to take over the night.
Their boots crunched the snow in unison, the only sound between them, as they walked toward the Buck Ridge Lodge. The bright lights and warmth of the lobby had them shedding their jackets as soon as they walked through the door.
Chatty skiers and boarders looking for some warmth and atmosphere clustered around the fireplace, so J.D. steered her toward a couple of armchairs in the corner.
Noelle tossed her jacket over the back of the chair and swept the hat from her head before collapsing against the soft cushions. Extending her legs in front of her, she tapped her boots together. “If Abby put those plans on my laptop, Zendaris has them now.”
“How did he know to go after the computer?”
“You’re asking me?” She spun her cap around one hand. “They probably saw your rental missing from the ranch and when they saw Tara pull up in my truck, they figured they hit pay dirt.”
“You think they mistook her for you?”
“Makes sense. We look similar, unlike Bruce and Ted. By the time they realized their error, they’d spotted the laptop, some lightbulbs went off in their heads and they grabbed it.”
“I hope that’s the way it went down.” He chewed on the side of his thumb, deep lines bracketing his mouth.
“You hope? How is that in any way a good scenario?”
J.D. sat forward, wedging his forearms on his thighs. “Because the alternative is that they somehow knew about the laptop, and how could they know about the laptop unless they were bugging us.”
“Bugging us?” Goose bumps raced up her back despite the heat of the room, and she eyed the bag at her feet as if it had just sprouted ears.
“When were we talking about the laptop? In my rental SUV on the way over here.”
“But then they would’ve known Tara had my truck, and they would’ve known I wasn’t in it when she pulled into the ranch.”
“So? They weren’t after you at that point. They figured they’d check the truck for the laptop and if it wasn’t there, they’d break into your house again while we were gone.”
“And if they put some kind of listening device in your truck, maybe they put a GPS monitor on it at the same time.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know when they would’ve had time to do that. The only time the SUV was out of my sight was when I parked it in front of your house when I brought you home. I think we would’ve noticed a couple of men out front tinkering with my rental car.”
Noelle cleared her throat. “We were busy at the time.”
“You’re right.” He raised a brow in her direction. “During our, uh, interlude, I wouldn’t have noticed a 747 landing in your driveway.”
She pinned her hands between her knees. He’d admitted he’d been totally focused on her while she’d been focused on...a rug. “Then they could’ve done it.”
“I’ll give it a sweep when we get back inside.”
“However they figured out to nab the laptop, I’m so grateful they didn’t hurt Tara. I couldn’t take having three...” She broke off, a flush creeping from her chest to her face under his dark gaze.
“I’m glad Tara’s safe, but this still means Zendaris may have gotten those plans back. And if he did? The U.S. military can say goodbye to one of the most effective weapons we have against terrorists.”
“It’s all supposition, J.D. We have no idea whether or not Abby loaded that file on my laptop.”
“I guess only time will tell.”
“You mean we have to wait until our drone fleet starts mysteriously falling out of the sky?”
“I mean, we’ll know as soon as the threats against you stop.”
That little flare of hope danced in her chest, and she folded her arms across it. Besides, did she really believe J.D. would be hanging around Buck Ridge with her once Zendaris’s men absconded with the plans?
She’d shut him down when he’d been naked, ready and willing to take her for his own. Why would he want to sign up for more of the same? He’d probably be more than happy to go off and chase arms dealers and terrorists in some other part of the world. A warmer part.
Some other woman probably needed saving—one who would more than welcome him in her arms and in her bed.
“Hey.”
He squeezed her knee, and she jumped.
“None of this is your fault. Abby involved you in her scheme when she had no right to drag you into this. According to my buddy Cade Stark, that woman was seven kinds of crazy.”
“And I’m one.” Noelle blinked back the tears. Her vision blurred so that J.D. turned into a dark shape moving into her space.
His warm body squeezed in next to her in the chair, his arm snaking around her shoulders. He pressed his lips against the bandage on her temple. “If you’re crazy, half the people I know are raving lunatics. I don’t know one woman and only a handful of men who could’ve endured what you’ve been through and still be standing, walking, talking and even reasoning like you’ve been. Okay, that sounded kind of sexist, but you know what I mean.”
She allowed her head to drop to his broad shoulder. “When Alex was murdered in front of me, I went into this downward spiral of obsessive-compulsive behavior. My mother was OCD, and I’d had some tendencies over the years, but I think my art saved me. But when Alex died, the guilt was overwhelming.”
“A lot of survivors experience guilt. Hell, it’s a full-time occupation in my business.”
“It was more than survivor’s guilt.” He opened his mouth to protest again, and she placed a finger over his lips. “You don’t understand, J.D. By the time Alex was murdered, I had already asked him for a divorce. I was done with that marriage. We were talking things out. He didn’t want a divorce, and he promised things would be better. Then he died, and I didn’t have to argue with him anymore—and I got life-insurance money.”
His hand slipped to her back and he rubbed circles on her sweater. “A lot of couples fight. A lot of couples get divorced. Just because your husband died at the time you two were having trouble doesn’t make it your fault.”
“It felt like my fault, and the guilt drove me to extraordinary means to try to control my
world.”
“But you worked your way out of it.”
She guffawed, half laugh, half sob. “That’s what you call working my way out of it? I’m buck naked with a hot guy who’s doing unbelievably hot things to my body and I’m trying to straighten a rug?”
“It’s not like you weren’t responding to those hot things I was doing to your body.” He chuckled softly in her ear, while his hand crept beneath her sweater and thermal top and flattened against her bare back.
“Because even if your mind was thinking about that ripple in the rug, your body was heating up under my fingers.” Those same fingers walked to the band of her snow pants and thermals and slipped inside to tease the upper curve of her buttocks.
“My lips.” He laid a path of kisses along her hairline.
“My tongue.” His tongue dipped into her ear.
“And my...” He made a slight turn in the chair to press against her thigh.
She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She should be thinking about Zendaris searching through the files on her laptop, but if J.D. could take a break from his spying to tickle her...fancy, she could take a break to savor his attentions.
“Sorry I took so long.”
Noelle opened one eye and even that took a Herculean effort as she tried to shake off the sweet languor that had invaded every cell of her body.
Tara had the good grace to sport two red spots on her cheeks for interrupting. “Or maybe I should’ve taken longer.”
J.D. recovered first, adjusting his position in the chair and crossing one booted ankle over his knee. “How’d it go with Sheriff Greavy? Were you able to give him a better description of the men?”
“No.” She collapsed in the chair recently vacated by J.D. “Honestly, all I remember is the gun pointing in my face. I could describe that in minute detail.”
“I’m so sorry, Tara.” Noelle had found her tongue after losing J.D.’s.
“You have no reason to be sorry. I should be apologizing to you since I couldn’t safeguard your laptop.”
Conceal, Protect Page 15
