by Rebecca Deel
“You’re holding back on me, Ms. Copeland. Why?”
“I don’t have an enemy who hates me enough to kill me, Detective. Sorry. No easy answers for you today.”
Hmm. Definitely a story there, but Trent didn’t think the tale related to the accident. The least he could do was deflect the detective’s questions. “Any news on Mason?” he asked Nicole as he and Grace covered the last few yards to her side.
At that moment, the doctor opened the door to the exam room and walked into the hall. “You here for Mr. Kincaid?”
Nicole turned. “I’m his girlfriend. How is he?”
“A lucky man from where I’m standing. You must be Nicole. He’s asking for you. He’s more concerned about you than himself.”
“How is Mason?”
“He has multiple contusions, some bone deep, a few scrapes. He’ll be sore, but he’s lucky. I’ve given him a prescription for a mild pain killer, but I suspect he won’t take them. If over-the-counter pain relievers don’t work, you may have to insist so he can rest. He should be fine in a few days.”
“May I see him?”
“Of course. He’s wrestling with his shirt.” A smile from the doctor. “I’m sure he’d appreciate the help.”
Nicole brushed past him.
“Thanks, Doc,” Trent said.
“I hope I don’t see you folks again any time soon.” He smiled. “Might be wise to drive wherever you’re going from now on.”
After he left, Grace glanced at Trent. “I’m going to the nurses’ station to check on Devin.”
Trent lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. “Stay where I can see you,” he whispered against her lips. He didn’t want to leave the area near the exam room, concerned the detective might push his way inside and demand answers from Mason before his friend was ready to deal with the cop.
“Where’s your partner, Barton?”
“At the site of the accident, where you should be.”
Too bad. Neither of the men were going on his Christmas card list, but he preferred Weston over Barton.
From the corner of his eye, Trent saw Nicole hugging Mason before he had a chance to pull on his shirt. Interesting. The hug was followed by a kiss that was more than a polite peck on the lips. Maybe something real was brewing between them. In spite of his encouragement for Mase to go after what he wanted, Trent didn’t want his friend hurt, either. He’d been dealt enough hard blows in the past thirteen years.
“I need to question the ex-con.” Barton made a move toward the door of the exam room which Trent blocked. “Out of the way, St. Claire.”
“You can wait five minutes for Mase to finish dressing. He’s not going anywhere. Only one exit from the room.”
“Don’t you want to capture the driver who allegedly tried to run down your friend?”
“Two minutes won’t make a difference. You’ll learn more detail from your own man and the traffic cameras than Mason.”
“What do you know about traffic cameras?” The detective’s voice registered suspicion.
Trent smiled. Zane routinely hacked into traffic cams to track perps. He obtained results faster than the police with the added benefit of not having to wait for a warrant.
“Move.” Barton shoulder-checked Trent as he shoved past the SEAL. Since Nicole was helping Mason with his shirt, Trent didn’t bother trying to stop him again. If his friend needed help, he’d step in. From what he had observed the past year, the construction worker could handle himself.
Trent stood in the doorway, back to the room, so he could watch Grace and hear the conversation behind him.
To Barton’s frustration, Mason told the same story as the other three. “Why did you notice the truck while St. Claire missed it?”
Mase flashed him a glance. “He was looking at the flags on the apartment balconies.”
The detective snorted. “It’s a bunch of stupid flags, St. Claire. What’s the big deal?”
Trent glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been in many of the countries represented by those flags, Detective.” True enough. “Sometimes seeing those flags brings flashbacks.” Also true, but not a problem today. Too much was at stake. Getting lost in the memories would have endangered Grace and the others.
Barton stilled. “PTSD?”
“Hazard of the job.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” The cop sighed and shoved his notebook and pen in a pocket. “I’ll be in touch if I have more questions. Stay available.”
Trent moved aside for the detective. Maybe Barton had a human side after all. Made him wonder if the detective suffered from flashbacks or knew someone who did. The condition was common in law enforcement circles, an unfortunate byproduct of dangerous, sometimes deadly situations. Trent saw ugly things in his line of work, as did the police.
Grace returned from the nurses’ station. “Devin is improving. He’s still weak and out of it most of the time, but the doctor thinks he’ll recover.”
“Good to hear.”
“Trent,” Nicole called.
He swiveled to face the exam room. “Looking rough around the edges, Mase.”
“You try tangling with a truck and see how you feel,” he said, but his lips curved at the corners.
“You ready to go, man? I’m starving.”
“More than ready.” He slid from the exam table gingerly, flinched. “I don’t think I’m up to running from another truck anytime soon.”
“I’ll drive us to the hotel. We can order room service, then Grace and I will go to the law office and pick up the papers. We’ll return them later.”
Mason shook his head. “I’ll take a pain reliever and be fine for a while. No need to have Nicole and Grace exposed to danger for my sake.” He flashed a grin. “I hurt worse after football practices in high school and college.”
His opinion might change after a few more hours passed. “Let’s go. I’ll find a restaurant with padded seats.”
The construction worker huffed out a laugh. “Oh, man. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much.”
Trent found a restaurant with cushioned seats. Between him and Mason, they coaxed Grace and Nicole to eat a decent meal. Once they finished, Trent drove the group to the offices of Washington, Randall, and Satterfield.
The receptionist waved them through to the law office. Randall’s assistant smiled when they walked in. “Welcome back. How may I help you?”
“We need to see Mr. Randall,” Trent said. “He has papers for Grace and Nicole to sign.”
The smile faded. “I’m sorry, Mr. St. Claire. Mr. Randall hasn’t come in today.”
“Do you know if our papers are ready to sign?” Grace asked.
“Mr. Randall didn’t leave anything.”
“Can you tell us when he’s expected in?” Nicole asked.
“I have no idea. He’s missed three meetings this morning, and he’s not answering his phone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Grace twisted in her seat as Trent drove from the law firm’s parking garage. “I hope nothing is wrong with the Randalls.”
“Maybe they overslept. We were at the hospital and police station late into the night.” Despite her words, Nic’s voice indicated her doubt.
“Let me drop everyone at the hotel,” Trent said. “I’ll try to locate Simon and Judy.”
“You think there’s a problem?”
“Lawyers don’t make money by skipping meetings and not answering their phones. The way things have gone the last two days, I think we should be prepared for the worst.” He sent Grace a pointed glance. “You and Nicole don’t need to be on site if there’s a problem.”
“We might be overreacting,” Nic pointed out. “If we’re with you, we can sign the papers and be done with this part of the program. Then we can convince the detectives to let us leave Dumas.”
“If there is a problem, you’ll be the first ones on the scene of another crime,” Mason said. “Trent’s right. You and Grace shouldn’t be near the Randall
house.”
Nic scowled. “We’re not hothouse flowers needing protection against the harsh environment.”
Mason held up his hand to forestall more of Nic’s tirade. “Not protected, Nicole. I want to keep you out of jail. If your name continues to be connected to crimes around Dumas, you’ll see the inside of a jail cell up close and personal. Trust me, it’s not a pleasant experience.” His eyes darkened with memories.
“If the Randalls are in trouble, I might be able to help.” The likelihood of that was almost nil. Didn’t stop Grace from wanting to help the gracious couple.
The rest of the ride to the Randall home was finished in silence. Trent could be wrong. Her gut disagreed.
Her boyfriend parked on the street in front of the house. “Are you sure you want to do this, baby?”
Instead of replying, Grace shoved open the door and slid to the curb. She loved his protective streak most of the time. This wasn’t one of them. The others followed suit.
Trent caught up with her in three strides and positioned himself in front of her in case trouble waited for them. The thought of him hurt on her account made her stomach lurch in protest.
He lifted his hand to knock, stopped with his hand raised. Between one heartbeat and the next, Grace found herself swept behind Trent, a big black gun in his hand.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Trent held up his hand in a signal he’d taught her meant to be silent. He pointed to the front door which was ajar. Goosebumps surged over her body.
He mouthed for her to wait. Using his elbow, Trent pushed the door open further and slipped inside. Grace longed to follow on his heels, but made herself do as he asked.
He returned, a grim look in his eyes. “Grace, come with me.”
“Trent?” Nicole’s voice rose. When the SEAL shook his head, she blanched. “Oh, no,” she whispered, and turned into Mason’s embrace.
“Want me to call the cops?” Mason asked.
“I already called.” Trent led Grace toward the kitchen, his pace fast. “Simon is gone, but Judy is still alive.”
Grace spared Simon a quick glance before dropping to her knees beside his wife. “Find some towels, honey.” Judy had been shot once in the chest. She had a head wound as well, perhaps from striking her head on something. The wound didn’t appear to be from a bullet, but it had bled profusely, as most head wounds do.
Trent thrust a handful of towels toward her. “I’ll find more if you need them.”
She wadded up the cloth and pressed hard on the still-bleeding chest wound. Judy had lost so much blood. “Trent, what’s the ETA on that ambulance?”
He snatched up the handset of the house line and spoke to the dispatcher softly. “Two minutes.”
They needed to hurry. Grace checked for a pulse while holding the pressure steady on the chest wound. The weak beats stopped. “Trent!”
He tossed the handset on the counter and knelt beside her. “What do you need?”
“Do you know CPR?”
“Yes.”
Thank goodness. “Start chest compressions.” Together, they worked to keep Judy alive. When the EMTs arrived, they took over. As they wheeled the woman to the waiting ambulance, Grace and Trent washed their hands in the bathroom. Nothing could be done about the blood on their clothes.
“What are her chances?” Trent handed her a clean towel.
“Not good.” She tugged her shirt away from her skin. Maybe the hotel laundry could salvage it.
“I have extra shirts in my Go bag. I’ll bring you one.” He returned in under a minute and handed her a black long-sleeved t-shirt, then returned to the hall and closed the door behind him.
When she walked from the bathroom minutes later, he’d changed his own shirt and was now talking to Detective Weston at the end of the hall.
“You and your friends are bad news, St. Claire,” Weston said. “You’re like a four-man crime wave.” He sighed. “You know the drill by now. I want a rundown on your activities since you left the hospital.”
Grace slipped her hand into Trent’s as he summarized their movements.
Weston shot her a glance before turning back to Trent. “Why bring Ms. Rutledge inside? You further contaminated the crime scene.”
“Judy was alive. Grace is a nurse.”
“You have witnesses to corroborate your whereabouts?”
Trent smiled. “Surveillance cameras at the restaurant, a parking stub for the law firm’s garage. The receptionist will vouch for us. Check traffic cams.”
“Right. Ms. Rutledge, tell me what happened from the time you left the hospital.”
Once she finished her summary, Weston sent them outside to wait until Barton finished with Nicole and Mason. She wasn’t surprised to find Nic still in the circle of Mason’s arms. Her sister’s face was pale. But was the embrace for the detective’s benefit?
She so wanted things to work out with Mason and her sister. Nic deserved some happiness and her friend deserved a break. Wonder if Nic would be willing to move to Otter Creek?
Barton closed his notebook with a snap. “Stay out of trouble for a few hours.” He pushed past all of them and strode into the house.
“Like we want to keep company with that toad,” Nic muttered. “Do you think the hospital will give us an update on Judy?” she asked Grace.
“If we’re at the hospital to see Devin, I might be able to learn something from one of the nurses.” She took in the deepening lines at the corners of Mason’s eyes. He didn’t complain, but it was obvious he was hurting. “If we’re free to leave, I want to return to the hotel for a shower.” Although she’d washed Judy’s blood off, she still felt sticky.
Trent dropped them off in front of the hotel and parked the SUV. In the suite, he also took a shower, then returned to the living room with damp hair. “We need to change hotels.”
“Why?” Nic asked.
“The tango targeting you and Grace knows where we’re staying. Two attacks in less than six hours? We’re not safe here.”
“We can’t leave the area yet,” Mason said from the recliner where he was stretched out. Nicole had formed a makeshift ice pack for him to press against his side.
“We won’t.” Trent dropped onto the couch beside Grace. “We’ll find a new place outside the city.”
“The person hunting for us will still be able to find us.”
“Not if I register under a different identity.”
Grace frowned. “You have to have an ID.”
His lips curved. “I have ID. Some Fortress provided, some I procured myself in case I need to be off the grid.”
She stared at his handsome face. Where did he get a fake ID? She wouldn’t know where to start if she needed one. Her lips curved. Good thing Trent had skills from the darker side of life.
“I don’t want to know that,” Mason said. “Can’t be good for my continued freedom to know that and not report it.” He would have said more, but Trent’s cell phone rang.
The SEAL checked the screen and grimaced. “Ethan. I’ll take this on the balcony. The rest of you pack your bags. We’ll check out as soon as you’re finished.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Trent closed the French door behind himself as he answered the Otter Creek police chief’s call. “St. Claire.”
“Can you talk?”
He sat in the nearest chair, checking to be sure no one else was on a nearby balcony to eavesdrop on the conversation. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m not your commander, Trent. I’m calling as a friend.”
Right. A friend with a world of experience in Special Forces and a legendary tracking ability. Word in the special operations circles was that Ethan Blackhawk could track anyone in any weather condition or terrain. A bent or bruised blade of grass or a scuff of dirt told him volumes. Law enforcement agencies all over the country still called him in to track lost or abducted children.
“I heard Mason was hurt this morning. How is he?”
Figuri
ng Mase’s parole officer wanted more information than that, Trent summarized the doctor’s opinion on the construction worker’s injuries, then moved on to report the events surrounding Grace and Nicole since their arrival in Dumas. “Randall didn’t show up at the office or answer his phone. Grace and Nicole were to sign papers last night so their inheritance from Mrs. Bowen could be released to them. That didn’t happen because of Devin’s poisoning.”
“So you went to the lawyer’s home. What did you find?”
“Simon dead. Single shot to the heart, close range.”
“And his wife?”
“Also shot, but alive. Grace did what she could, but isn’t sure Judy will survive.”
“The detectives have any idea who’s behind the attacks?”
Trent gave a short laugh. “Besides us? Not a clue. They’re too busy trying to pin the crimes on us to look for the real culprit.”
“Won’t take them long to eliminate you as the suspects.” Ethan’s voice hardened. “I assume you have alibis.”
“When the detectives get the warrants to check security and traffic cams, they’ll have time-stamped proof we were someplace else during the critical times. Barton and Weston will be irritated. They believe Mason is guilty because he’s an ex-con and in a relationship with Nicole, and I’m crazy about Grace. According to Barton, my background makes me a prime suspect for murder.”
“Based on what?”
“Apparently, I’m money hungry and willing to kill for access to $5 million.”
Ethan whistled softly. “That’s more motive than most men need to commit murder. What’s your next move, Trent?”
“Changing hotels. Too dangerous to stay here.”
“Alternate ID?”
Trent didn’t answer Ethan’s question, a confirmation in itself. At least this way, if Ethan was questioned later about Trent’s actions, he could deny knowledge of wrong doing.
Ethan chuckled. “Good enough. Trent, it might be best if Mason returns to Otter Creek.”
