Tell It Like It Is

by Stanalei Fletcher

The author slid along the seat and reached for Shelby. Her hands were icy from the cold, but latched on as Shelby tugged her down from the SUV and into the snow. “Be careful where you step.” To Kane she shouted, “We’re out.”

  “Right behind you.”

  Shelby saw Kane trying to open the front passenger door. It hadn’t been as damaged as the rear, but he still had to force it open against the snow.

  She helped Rosalee uphill a few feet away from the car. The damage was easier to see now. The right rear bumper had caught a tree trunk, which was the only thing keeping the SUV from careening downhill.

  Kane joined them, pulling his aunt into an embrace. “Help is on the way,” he said over the wind and snow. “But we need to get up to the road. Do you think you can climb?”

  “Where’s Oscar?” Rosalee repeated. “I’m not leaving without Oscar.”

  “I’ll get him.” Shelby stepped toward the car, not wanting to risk life and limb for a dog, but she knew Rosalee wouldn’t budge without him.

  “It’s not safe,” Kane said. “I’ll go.”

  Shelby turned to him. “You need to stay with Rosalee. I can’t carry her to safety.”

  “No.” Kane’s tone was firm. “Shelby, it’s too dangerous.”

  Ignoring him, she pushed back through the snow to the car. “I’ll be right behind you,” she shouted and reached the open back door. “Oscar! Where are you? Come here, boy.”

  Listening carefully, she heard a small whimper from the other side of the seat. “Oscar?” She climbed inside the SUV, ignoring Kane’s warning shouts. A scratching noise from the floor drew her eyes down to a grayish outline. “There you are, rat-thing.” Reaching down, she grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck. It yelped, but didn’t try to escape. “I’ve got you.”

  Just then, the vehicle lurched.

  “Shelby!” Kane yelled. “Get out of there!”

  She scooted backward as fast as she could, holding the little Yorkie in one arm until her feet plunged into the snow again. She pushed through the drifts toward Rosalee and Kane. A second later, the bumper on the luxury SUV tore free with an ear-splitting screech. It plowed downhill, gaining momentum, then tumbled end over end. The sound of tearing metal and broken trees echoed through the blizzard. A few seconds later, the headlights winked out, leaving them stranded in a black winter nightmare.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sheets rustled, making just enough noise that Shelby stirred in the chair next to Rosalee’s hospital bed. She opened her eyes as the author groaned. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” She gave the older woman a smile.

  “Shelby!” Rosalee scooted upright. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

  “Like a snowplow ran over me.” Rosalee sported a large white bandage over her right eye to hide the ten stitches it took to sew up the cut she sustained when the car rolled. A sling stabilized her bruised right shoulder. Although she’d been diagnosed with a mild concussion, the author would pull through just fine.

  Shelby smiled. She’d been in the bedside chair all night, sleeping off and on. Now she stood and glanced around the room as she stretched. Kane still hadn’t returned. He’d left right after Rosalee was settled in her room to handle the logistics of the accident and take the dog to the vet. He’d probably not slept at all the previous night.

  They were fortunate to have been rescued only forty-five minutes after the accident. Shelby learned that the emergency service on the luxury SUV had triggered a signal, displaying their location on the satellite GPS, until the SUV rolled and broke off the antenna. Between Kane’s 9-1-1 call and the emergency service, they’d only been out in the storm less than an hour. The doctor insisted Rosalee stay put for a few days because she’d lost consciousness during the accident. Reflecting back on the night’s events, Shelby was grateful none of their injuries were more severe.

  Rosalee looked around the sparse room. “Was everything lost in the accident?”

  “Both our laptops and your briefcase were in the car when it rolled down the hill.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a USB flash drive. “But I have the entire manuscript right here.” Then she opened a drawer in the bedside table. “Your purse is here, too. But they cut the strap to remove it so they could treat you.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Rosalee’s relief was tangible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  Shelby grimaced. No. She wasn’t. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’m really sorry this happened.” She gestured to the hospital room. Rosalee was almost killed—for a second time—in the past twenty-four hours. On Shelby’s watch.

  Right after they’d arrived at the hospital, she’d phoned Northstar to see if O’Neal had any more news about who was behind the incidents. With Denato in a nursing home, she and Kane had hit dead ends on their only lead. O’Neal’s displeasure at hearing about the night’s events came clearly through the line. He’d wanted to come out and take over the case himself, but was unable to leave D.C. because they were still shorthanded at the firm.

  The author waved a dismissive hand at Shelby’s concern. Notably absent were her bangles. The nurse removed all of Rosalee’s jewelry when she was admitted. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault we had an accident.”

  “I’d like to know whose fault it is.” Shelby scowled. “I have a feeling the person behind the accident is also behind everything else that’s happened.”

  “We’re one step closer to figuring out who it is,” Kane said, poking his head in the doorway.

  Shelby turned, relieved to see him since they’d split up after Rosalee had been secured in her room.

  “Nelson.” Rosalee held out a hand and he stepped to the bedside. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Kane glanced down at his aunt. “You had me worried.” Then he cocked his head at Shelby and winked, his expression a bit more than friendly interest. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better, too.”

  Heat rose to Shelby’s cheeks and she quickly glanced away. What was it about FBI Special Agent Kane that kept her off-balance? All he had to do was walk in the room and look her way to make her feel like a giddy schoolgirl—and she’d never felt like a schoolgirl even when she was in school. She tried to compose herself as she sat down. “So FBI. You’re closer to finding the source of the threats?”

  “You can talk business in a minute,” Rosalee interrupted. “Is Oscar okay?”

  “Oscar’s fine.” Kane patted his aunt’s hand. “He’s a bit bruised like you are, but recovering at the vet. We’ll be able to pick him up when you’re released.”

  “I was so worried.” Rosalee sighed and pulled her nephew down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

  “Of course.” He gave his aunt a gentle hug.

  “Now that I know Oscar is okay, I need to call Manny and let him know we’re all safe and sound.” She picked up the phone from the bedside and dialed.

  While Rosalee spoke to her old friend, Kane glanced at Shelby, and his expression sobered as he stepped away from his aunt’s bed. He waved her over to the other side of the room. When she joined him, he said, “Someone tampered with the brakes on the SUV.”

  “I figured as much.” Shelby frowned. “That type of vehicle had too many safety features to go into a tailspin and fly off the road—even in a snowstorm. When do you think it happened? Before we left Rosalee’s cabin, or later?”

  “The mechanic couldn’t tell.” Kane sank into a chair. “I can’t help but wonder if it happened before we left the cabin. Sort of a contingency if that bullet didn’t work.”

  Exhaustion showed in the dark circles under his eyes. He needed sleep as much as Shelby did. Neither of them had let down their guard since that kiss back at Mansfield’s house. Too much was at stake.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. What I don’t understand is how knowing what happened to the car narrows the list of suspects.” Shelby gave a disheartened sigh. “Sounds like we don’t
know any more than we did yesterday. Someone not only wants Rosalee to stop writing her book, they want her dead.”

  Silence met her bald statement. She looked at Rosalee who’d just ended her conversation. “I’m sorry, ma’am. That came out wrong. I didn’t intend to upset you more.”

  Rosalee pointed her finger at Shelby. “I’m not made of rice paper. I want this bastard stopped as much as the two of you.” She pinned her gaze on her nephew. “Tell us what you’ve learned.”

  He seemed to hesitate and shift uncomfortably on his chair. “We now know who killed the maid.”

  “Who?” Shelby and Rosalee asked at the same time.

  ****

  Kane swallowed, remembering that he hadn’t wanted to believe the report. He still couldn’t believe it. “A man named Grady Cooke.”

  “Who is that?” Rosalee asked.

  Shelby cocked her head with the same question on her face.

  “Remember the shooting I was suspended for?” he reminded his aunt.

  She nodded. “You killed a man.”

  “Right,” Kane said. “It happened during a bust when my team was trying to capture an escaped convict I had put away for killing a cop.”

  “This ex-con killed the hotel maid?” Shelby asked.

  “Yes,” Kane answered. “My team was given a false lead that Cooke was in L.A., when he was really in New York. The forensics from the knife wound on the maid’s neck tied back to Cooke’s known cases.” He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, knowing his aunt had been close to becoming one of Cooke’s victims. “His M.O. is to slice through the throat.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s the one who killed the maid,” Shelby protested.

  “Shelby’s right,” Rosalee added. “That seems an awfully long stretch to connect him to the murder.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would agree,” Kane admitted. “Especially since we can’t figure out how Cooke got from California to New York without raising any flags.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ coming.” Shelby leaned forward on her chair. Her blue eyes were serious, but not disbelieving.

  Kane was grateful she hadn’t dismissed this information. He’d need her help guarding his aunt if Cooke came after him again. He believed Cooke was behind the shooting at his aunt’s cabin—except he’d been the target, not his aunt. “With Northstar’s help, the police cleaned up the video from the hotel. The image of the person leaving Aunt Rosalee’s room was only a profile. Techs extrapolated the features and ran it through facial recognition, getting a match on Cooke. He hadn’t left physical evidence at the scene, but because of that video, we have confirmation he was there.”

  Shelby gave him a puzzled look. “I was on the phone earlier with O’Neal. He didn’t say anything about this.”

  Kane rubbed his neck, a little embarrassed that he’d received the news before Shelby. “Riley O’Neal wanted to warn me about Cooke first. I told him I’d share the news.”

  “Why warn you first?” Aunt Rosalee asked. “What haven’t you told us?”

  “I believe the reason Cooke came after you in New York was because of me.” Kane hadn’t wanted to divulge the information, but his aunt would eventually figure it out anyway. “At his sentencing, Cooke threatened to kill me. Usually, those kinds of threats are meaningless—empty. After he escaped, I had a hunch he’d come after me. I just didn’t think he’d target my family.” He looked at his aunt. “I’m sorry. He must have learned about our relationship. Being the celebrity that you are, I’m sure it wasn’t hard.” He swallowed. “In fact, he could’ve been behind the threatening letters, hoping that I’d investigate. He’s probably the one responsible for the dead rat. Staking out your house the entire time.”

  Aunt Rosalee leaned back against her pillows, a thoughtful gaze on her face, then she shook her head. “The evidence may prove he killed the maid, but he didn’t send those threats to draw you out. Those were too personal.” She reached for a water cup. “We’re still missing a piece of the puzzle.”

  “I agree.” Shelby handed the cup to Rosalee, then unable to stand still, she crossed to the window. She checked outside before closing the door that Kane had left open.

  “My team’s been searching for Cooke since he escaped. They’ve been following his trail, but hitting dead ends. My gut tells me he’s back in California. Maybe even here in Tahoe.”

  Shelby turned. “You really think he’s the shooter?”

  “I’m convinced he was targeting me.” Kane rubbed his eyes, which felt like sandpaper from lack of sleep. “Using a rifle isn’t his typical method. He must have been desperate enough to try anything.”

  “Then I won’t leave Rosalee’s side until he’s caught,” she said. “If he’s got a bead on you, call your team. Get them here to guard the door. If he comes for you, we’ll be ready.”

  Rosalee clapped her hands. “Perfect!” She smiled at Kane. “I think that’s a splendid idea.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t put you in the crossfire, Aunt Rosalee. This isn’t your fight.”

  “There’s something we can do to mitigate the risk.” Shelby’s expression showed she was working through something.

  “What do you have in mind?” Kane asked. He was desperate to catch Cooke, but he didn’t want Shelby in the line of fire either.

  She answered him with a heart-stopping smile. “Let him come for you. We’ll turn the tables on him.”

  ****

  Kane was surprised it hadn’t taken much to convince Aunt Rosalee to spend Christmas Eve, and maybe even Christmas day, at the hospital. Since the doctor insisted he monitor Rosalee’s concussion, the decision to stay put worked well for everyone. She hadn’t argued because this place was quiet and she could focus on completing her autobiography.

  Christmas Eve, Kane did some frantic last-minute shopping to pick up notebooks and a laptop for his aunt to replace what had been lost in the accident. A new laptop, shipped overnight from Northstar, arrived that morning for Shelby. Kane had offered to buy her a new one, but she required encryption that wasn’t readily available in off-the-shelf merchandise.

  Instead of buying her tech gear, Kane gave in to a whim and picked up a pendant he’d spotted in a jewelry shop. The moment he saw the black-and-white enamel Tao, he thought of Shelby. He didn’t know when he’d find a private moment to give it to her. She rarely left his aunt’s side. Her dedication to the job impressed him, even though it kept them from being alone together. Regardless, he hoped she’d like the gift.

  Kane checked his watch for the hundredth time. Things were on schedule, and for once the weather cooperated, allowing his partner, Roberts, to drive to Tahoe late the night before.

  The small hospital had emptied most of their rooms, sending non-critical patients home to spend the holidays with loved ones. That policy worked in favor with Kane’s plan. Should something happen over the next couple of days, while Aunt Rosalee finished her book, the collateral risk was minimal.

  Kane had even arranged for Aunt Rosalee to stay beyond the holiday, if the book wasn’t finished. He hoped the hospital, being a more public location, would discourage Cooke from trying anything here. On the other hand, he had to concede that if Cooke was behind the attempts, he’d be frustrated by failure, pushing him to become more brazen to complete the job.

  If Cooke attempted anything at the hospital, Kane and Roberts would be there. He’d hated asking Roberts to forfeit his holiday plans, but his partner had volunteered. If nothing happened, all the better. Roberts had driven a SUV large enough to take them all home once Rosalee was released from the hospital. By then, the book might be finished, too. Shelby assured him that Rosalee was nearing the end of the book. A day, maybe two at the most, and the manuscript would be in the publisher’s hands.

  Kane entered Rosalee’s room as she finished dinner. She’d arranged her room with a small desk to work on and the hospital staff provided suitable chairs.

  “Ah, Nelson.” She looked up as he entered. “I’
m almost hoping something happens tonight. I’m really tired of this food.”

  He glanced at Shelby who was putting away the tray. “Worse than Shelby’s cooking?”

  The Northstar agent’s eyes narrowed. “I heard that.”

  Rosalee laughed. “Your soup and sandwiches were just fine. Nelson put away enough of them.”

  Shelby faced Kane, and for a moment, he felt they were the only two people in the room. He had yet to wipe her taste from his memory—her response to his kisses. Color rose in her cheeks, revealing she hadn’t forgotten the incident either. He liked that feminine reaction—more than he had a right to.

  Shelby turned to his aunt and cleared her throat. “While your nephew’s here, I’m going to check in with Northstar, and then we’ll get you settled for the night.”

  Kane’s gaze followed her as she ducked out of the room, carrying the tray.

  “Be nice to her, Nelson,” Rosalee said.

  He whipped his head around. “I am nice to her.”

  “She’s a woman,” his aunt scolded. “Treat her like one, once in a while.”

  “Maybe.” He pictured the pendant he’d purchased. “When this is all over. Right now, I’ll treat her like your bodyguard.” Crossing to a chair next to his aunt, he sat. “Shelby said you’re about finished with the book.”

  “We are.” She adjusted a pillow under her injured arm. “Shelby’s completed all the transcriptions and we’re reviewing the final chapter. I expect we’ll be done by tomorrow. Won’t that be a nice Christmas gift for us all?”

  “Yes. If Cooke isn’t behind the threats, then I hope sending your story off to the publisher prevents any more,” he said. “Once the book is out of your hands, we can return to L.A. My suspension is almost over and I can focus on apprehending Cooke.”

  Rosalee held out her hand. Kane took it, sensing her concern. “Please, be careful.” She squeezed his fingers.

  “Always,” he replied.

  ****

  Shelby headed to Rosalee’s room after her conversation with O’Neal. He’d approved the plan to extend the author’s hospital stay during an earlier report. When she advised that they’d probably finish the book the following day, he suggested they send a copy of the manuscript through Northstar’s secure network to assure the delivery to the publisher. She agreed. The sooner the book was out of the author’s hands, the sooner they could focus on capturing Cooke and bringing him to justice.