The Closer He Gets

by Janice Kay Johnson

  For an instant he lost the ability to breathe. Because he had the shattering fear that it might already be too late.

  And walking away from Tess Granath, even if that’s what it took to save himself, was not currently an option.

  He stood, too, and said, “I’ll follow you home. And walk you in, just to be sure no one else is already waiting for you.”

  Nothing like feeling the need to scare a woman.

  But this one only nodded and said, again, “Thank you,” before looking around for her handbag.

  * * *

  TESS SAT IN her car, waiting for Zach. He parked openly in her driveway, got out of his pickup and walked into the garage. He reached for her door handle as she pushed the remote to start the garage door going down.

  And, call her a coward, but she let him enter the house first. He’d changed out of his uniform before he’d started dinner, but Tess had seen him tuck a handgun into the waistband at the small of his back before they’d left his house.

  He didn’t pull it out now, but from the minute he stepped into her kitchen he moved in a silent, purposeful way that was unfamiliar to her. It made her think of a cat stalking prey. He was alert, focused, radiating intensity.

  Tess turned on the kitchen light and stood with her back to the island as Zach vanished into the dark living room. It would be smart, or at least reassuring, to start leaving lights on even when she expected to be home before dark, she decided. She imagined how terrifying it would have been to enter the completely dark house alone.

  Although she strained to hear his progress, Zach was absolutely quiet. He apparently didn’t turn on lights as he went, either. She quit breathing as she listened.

  Suddenly the hall light did come on and a moment later he walked back into the kitchen from the dining room, as casual as if he hadn’t, only moments before, been ready to take down an intruder.

  “No sign of visitors,” he reported.

  It was embarrassing that she felt compelled to ask... “Did you look in the closets?”

  He smiled. “I did. You’re a neat freak.”

  Her chin came up. “It’s called being organized.”

  Oh, God. He’d leave now.

  Of course he would leave now, she told herself before saying, “I’ll lock up behind you.”

  Nothing happened last night, she reminded herself. Maybe they’d given up now that she hadn’t changed her story.

  She’d feel more confident about her theory if Zach felt the same, but he didn’t. Unless he planned to install those cameras mostly to reassure her?

  Right.

  He was quiet until they reached the front door. Then he faced her.

  “You know how fast I can get here.”

  Her heartbeat kicked up a gear. No, the cameras weren’t the equivalent of warm milk at bedtime.

  She managed what she hoped was a saucy smile. “If you get a speeding ticket, I’ll pay it.”

  Zach grinned. “They’d have to catch me before they could issue a ticket.”

  Tess rolled her eyes.

  His smile died. He didn’t move, just stood looking at her. With only the single lamp on in this room, the shadows beneath his cheekbones were pronounced, his eyes dark.

  “I don’t want to leave you, Tess.” His voice was low and gravelly.

  “I know,” she whispered, and she did. Integrity, common sense, even dignity, felt unimportant compared to this almost painful need she had to touch him, to melt into him.

  She was so shaky, if he’d taken even a step toward her, Tess knew she couldn’t resist.

  But she saw him conduct an internal battle and then back away, nod and leave.

  Staring at the closed door, she wanted to cry. Instead she turned the dead bolt then leaned against the door, forehead pressed against the cool surface, and breathed.

  * * *

  ZACH’S EYES SNAPPED OPEN.

  He must have dozed off, at last, but his mind cleared instantly.

  Metal screamed and glass exploded. Son of a bitch. A car accident—

  He was on his feet, yanking on the pants he’d left draped over a chair, wishing his window looked out on the street. He heard the deep rumble of an engine...singular.

  Another slam of metal on metal could have been heard two blocks away. More glass exploding, crumbling.

  Suddenly he understood. He grabbed his Glock and ran through the house, barefoot, bare-chested. Out the back door, so they wouldn’t see him coming.

  When he came around the corner of the house, he was momentarily blinded by the headlights of a big pickup or SUV. From his ramshackle detached garage came sounds like a foundry in full production—metal being tortured into twisted shapes by impossible forces.

  A voice shouted out a warning, making him realize he had to be silhouetted by the headlights.

  Zach yelled, “Police! Don’t move!” and ran forward, prepared to fire, but he saw two dark shapes burst from the garage. Seconds later vehicle doors slammed and the pickup—no, it was an SUV—rocketed backward. Someone whooped.

  Despite the gravel cutting into his feet, Zach raced out to the street, taking up a stance in the middle of it. But the big, dark vehicle was receding at criminal speed. It had to be going fifty or more in a residential neighborhood.

  Lights were coming on up and down the block. He heard voices calling out to him.

  “I’ve called 911,” someone said, and he waved his thanks as he made his way more gingerly up the driveway to the garage, holding the gun, barrel down, alongside his thigh now.

  The double doors stood open. He stubbed his toe on something and, looking down, realized it was the padlock. Inside, the darkness momentarily defeated his eyes. Swearing viciously under his breath, he felt his way to the light switch.

  In the harsh glare, he stared incredulously at what had been his truck.

  Every window was shattered. Fenders, doors and roof smashed in. A few steps inside and he could see that the hood had been, as well.

  The truck hadn’t been alive, but, in that moment, he felt as if it had been. A killing rage rose in him.

  Zach kept his back to the neighbors he knew now clustered on his front lawn, because he couldn’t let any of them see his face. In the distance, a siren wailed.

  He shook with his anger...until something crept from beneath it. A fear so terrible, it wasn’t the truck he saw but Tess.

  Her body, battered until he barely knew her.

  What if...?

  Zach bolted for the house.

  * * *

  SHE WOULD NOT ANSWER, Tess decided when her phone awakened her from an uneasy sleep. Why give them the satisfaction?

  But she fumbled for her phone to see the number displayed. What if it was Dad?

  Zach.

  Apprehension gripped her as she answered. “Zach?”

  “Are you all right?” His voice was hard, urgent, threaded with something that lifted the hair on the back of her neck.

  “Yes. Yes. Nothing’s happened.” Not here. Not to her.

  They had gone after Zach instead, she realized.

  Clutching the phone, she whispered, “Oh, God. Are you hurt?”

  “No, not me.” He swore. “I shouldn’t have called. Scared you.”

  “Someone is hurt.”

  “Only my pickup.” He’d regained a measure of calm, or was pretending he had. “It’s totaled, Tess. There were three of them. I saw them. They cut the padlock off the garage door and took something like steel mauls to my truck. Smashed all the windows, doors, fenders. It’s a goner.”

  “Oh, Zach.”

  “They blinded me with headlights on high beam. I did see two men run out of the garage and jump into a big-ass SUV. There was already someone behind the wheel. They took off l
ike a shot. I stood there mourning the damn truck and then suddenly I thought...” He went silent.

  She knew. “That they might have been here first.”

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Ah, there’s a cop here I need to talk to. Don’t go to sleep right away, Tess. Stay alert. They probably went home, but just in case.”

  He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. I don’t have any transportation. Even if you need me, I can’t get to you tonight.

  “I’ll listen for trouble.” She sounded steadier than she felt. “I can call 911 and Chad next door. He told me to if anything else happens.”

  “Good. Okay.”

  She sensed he wasn’t okay at all. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “More than you can imagine,” he said quietly, a new tension in his voice. “But, no, Tess. I want you to stay safe where you are. I mean that.”

  “Will you call me in the morning?”

  “I’ll do that. You call me if anything makes you the slightest bit nervous. After you call 911 and your neighbor. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said crisply.

  He sounded a little bit amused when he said goodbye, which had been her goal.

  Tess sat on the edge of her bed, phone still tight in her hand, and discovered anger had once again supplanted her fear.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “HAYES HAS A girlfriend who claims he was with her all night,” Zach reported grimly.

  He had leaned on her doorbell before ten o’clock that morning. It was just as well that Sunday wasn’t a working day for either of them. Tess, for one, had a headache. It didn’t help that, as Zach seemed so often to do when he was at her house, he was pacing, which meant her head swiveled back and forth to allow her to keep him in sight.

  Put her in the stands at Wimbledon and she’d fit right in.

  Unfortunately not watching him didn’t seem to be an alternative. How could she look away from his broad-shouldered, long-legged, lean body in motion? The angles of his face seemed starker than usual today, too, more compelling than ever. She’d never been a big fan of the two-day beard, but had to admit Zach was incredibly sexy with his jaw shadowed by stubble. Obviously he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. Or to comb his hair, either, although the wild dishevelment might have more to do with his habit of thrusting his fingers into it when he was agitated.

  With an effort she gathered her thoughts. “Who interviewed his girlfriend? Not Detective Delancy, I hope.”

  His mouth tipped up on one side. “No. A detective with the Clear Creek PD. His name is Guy Easley. Seems okay.”

  “Oh. That’s right. You live within the city limits.”

  “Easley was already up to date on your problems. I was able to give him names of a couple of Hayes’s friends.”

  A sense of betrayal balled in her stomach. “You didn’t tell me you know who they are.” What else hadn’t he told her?

  “Because they may not be the ones involved in this. Easley expects to have a long list of names by this afternoon. He’s really beating the bushes. Turns out Hayes has a brother, by the way, which I didn’t know. A logger who lives in the area. A couple years younger.”

  “He’d have a splitting maul.”

  “That’s an easy connection, but the truth is, everybody who burns firewood has one. Which is half or more of the households in the county.”

  Of course, he was right. Even her dad doubtless still kept his maul and ax, although he hadn’t split any wood in a few years. Until she’d left home, she’d used both plenty of times herself.

  “There are probably other things they could have used to smash your truck,” she suggested.

  Zach shrugged. “Sure. The butt side of a single-bladed ax would have worked, as well. Against the headlights, all I could see was that they were each carrying something with a long handle, and from the dents we can tell whatever they were swinging had a bigger head than the typical mallet or hammer. No sharp cuts, like the blade of an ax would have made. It had to be metal.”

  She winced. “Have you talked to your insurance agent?”

  “Yeah, he came out first thing this morning. It sounds like I’ll be covered, fortunately, but of course I’ll lose money. The truck was less than a year old.” Frustration tightened his voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He stopped to frown. “Not your fault.”

  “I’m expressing sympathy, not apologizing.”

  Zach nodded. “Then, thank you.” The restlessness still drove him because he started another lap.

  “All of his friends will have alibis, too. You know they will.”

  “Probably, but we may be able to break them. How steadfast will the girlfriend be, for example, when it sinks in that being an accessory to a crime means she’ll be in deep shit, too?”

  “At least one of the friends helping almost has to be another deputy, right?”

  “The dead rabbit might have been a nasty gesture of support for Hayes from someone who wouldn’t consider committing an actual crime or threatening a woman who lives alone. Bran tells me a lot of people at work considered the dead rabbit a prank—and a pretty funny one.”

  Appalled, she stared at him. “And these are your coworkers?”

  He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he shared her opinion.

  He left a few minutes later in his rental car, letting her know he still intended to buy the cameras today as well as to look at pickups even though he would wait until he got the check from the insurance company before buying. Part of his annoyance, she knew, was that he’d also planned to purchase plumbing fixtures today but now would have to pay for delivery if he went ahead.

  Unless his brother had a pickup as well as the Camaro he’d driven to the roofing party.

  Somehow Tess had a feeling Zach wouldn’t be willing to ask for a favor from Bran right now anyway. Their relationship was obviously an uneasy one.

  She hadn’t much liked Zach’s brother, which she was honest enough to know wasn’t fair on such brief acquaintance. She’d definitely be keeping her opinions to herself.

  Knowing she’d have thrown her housekeeping chores over in a minute if Zach had asked her to go with him, Tess sighed and went to start a load of laundry. Maybe she’d invite Dad to have a late lunch here today. He’d like that better than her taking the makings of a meal to his house. That would just give him an excuse to accuse her of treating him like an invalid, waiting on him hand-and-foot. Her accepting that he was driving fine would salvage his dignity.

  * * *

  IT MIGHT NOT be in his job description, but Bran spent one hell of a lot of time chasing down rumors. This time, though, nobody was paying him for the effort. Whether Zach would be appreciative was an open question.

  At the moment Bran was leaning against his Camaro outside the sheriff’s department, going for “relaxed, not in any hurry.” It was mere chance he’d parked next to Dave Sager’s Explorer. He wasn’t going to interrogate anyone. Nope. Just ask a couple casual questions during an idle conversation.

  “What are you doing here on a Sunday?” the uniformed deputy asked, pointing his remote at his Explorer. The SUV flashed lights and beeped. Dave made the mistake of hesitating, responding to Bran’s friendliness.

  “Just thought I’d put in a few hours’ work.” It was a convincing excuse, since Bran often did come in on Sundays, taking advantage of the lack of distractions. Today, the goal was fictional.

  In fact, pursuing overheard gossip about a rumor that might or might not be true, he had timed his arrival carefully to be sure he crossed paths with Sager, who he’d known would be exiting the building about now. Bran hadn’t even had to check schedules; he’d heard him grumbling about his recent reassignment to the night shift.

  He was at least a couple of years older
than Bran’s thirty-seven. Hard to tell for sure, with his thin, boyish face and wiry, strong body. He was getting a bald patch, though, that he tried to disguise by shaving his head. To the best of Bran’s knowledge, he wasn’t friends with Andy Hayes, but might be with some of Hayes’s friends.

  A hint of aggression entering his voice, Dave Sager said, “I hear the new guy is your brother.”

  “He is,” Bran agreed. He went for a tone of mild curiosity. “You see anything of Hayes since he went on leave?” The segue was certainly natural enough.

  “Not me, but I hear he’s hopping mad.”

  “Yeah? I guess I haven’t talked to any of his friends.”

  Sager scoffed. “Like they’d talk to you, anyway, once it got around Carter and you are related.”

  “Why is he mad? Administrative leave is standard after something like this.”

  “Getting charged with murder isn’t, not when a cop is only doing his job.”

  Bran let his eyebrows climb. “Is that what you think? I don’t know, two witnesses both say the attack was unprovoked and brutal.”

  Sager thrust out his jaw. “I don’t know either of them.”

  “You ever worked directly with Andy?”

  Sager’s hesitation was telling. “I won’t say he doesn’t have a temper,” he was honest enough to concede.

  Bran nodded a greeting at another couple of deputies leaving the building for their vehicles. Neither was within earshot, but he lowered his voice anyway. It was a technique he’d used before, sucking the other person into believing the two of them were exchanging confidences when, in fact, only one of them would be sharing any.

  “Between you and me?” he said. “He swaggers around like he’s God. I can see him letting his personal feelings bleed over into the job.”

  Unaware he was being played, Sager lowered his voice, too. “If what I heard is true, he might have done that.”

  Bran shook his head as if dismayed. “Yeah, I heard something like that, too. I guess that Alvarez got a little too friendly with Hayes’s girlfriend.”