Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  “I understand…”

  “I don’t think you do. You’re my only witness, Laney. The key to closing a case I’ve been pursuing for over a year.”

  “Wow,” she said drily. “I feel so…special.”

  That surprised a laugh out of him. After speaking with Andrews, he’d known Laney was a force to be reckoned with. He hadn’t expected her to make him smile, though. “You should. I gave you my coat. I’m taking you for a moonlit drive.”

  “You’re saving my life,” she added quietly.

  “You saved your own life. Or maybe Murphy did. You’ll have to thank him.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing. No sign that they were being followed. He wasn’t sure that meant anything. If the perps knew their witness was alive, they might also know her identity. He drove into a cul-de-sac, waited a few seconds, drove out again. Still no sign of a tail.

  His phone vibrated, and he answered it quickly. “DeMarco here.”

  “It’s Kent Andrews. I’m at the hospital.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “No sign of either of the perps. The fire marshal is here assessing the damage from the electrical fire that caused the power outage. He’s calling in the arson investigator. Looks like the wiring in the circuit panel was tampered with. Someone went through a lot of trouble to make it look like faulty wiring, but the fire chief isn’t buying it. How’s Laney doing?”

  Grayson glanced at Laney.

  She smiled, and something in his heart stirred to life, some gut-level, knee-jerk reaction that surprised him as much as his laughter had. “I’ll let her answer,” he responded.

  *

  That was Laney’s cue to speak, and it should have been easy enough to answer Kent’s question. The problem was, she wasn’t sure how she was doing.

  “Laney?” Kent prodded.

  “I’m fine,” she managed, and Kent let out a bark of laughter.

  “You were shot in the head. You’re not fine.”

  “In a couple of days, I think I’ll be good as new.”

  “That’s a relief,” he said, “You had us all worried. Murphy was beside himself, by the way. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, even the patrolman who responded to the scene. Luckily he was wearing his MPD collar, so a K-9 handler was called in. He backed down on command.” Laney could hear the smile in Kent’s voice. “He did real good tonight.”

  “Yes, he did.” She smiled at the thought of the overly excitable dog, of the hours she’d spent working with him, determined to make him into the K-9 team member she thought he could be. She hadn’t been sure it would work. Not every dog was capable of the focus required, and Murphy had already flunked out of the K-9 training program once. Now there was hope. All the hard work on both their parts was finally paying off. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s at headquarters being pampered. The guys bought him a huge steak and brought a dog bed into the office for him. He thinks he’s a king or something. Never seen that dog look quite so proud of himself.”

  Laney laughed. “Good for him.” Before tonight, you couldn’t have paid a K-9 handler to work with Murphy. A couple more weeks and he’d be ready to enter the program again.

  “We’ll take good care of him until you’re ready to have him back. Don’t you worry.”

  “You can bring him by tomorrow. I don’t want any breaks in his training routine. He’s almost there.”

  “Are you sure? Wallace reported back the doctor’s orders for you to take it easy for a few days.” The concern in Kent’s voice was obvious. The guy was gruff and abrupt most of the time, but he had a heart of gold.

  “I won’t overdo it. Riley and Bria both work tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty of help at the kennel.”

  “You’re not going there tomorrow,” Agent DeMarco said so abruptly, she nearly jumped out of her seat belt.

  “Going where?”

  “To the kennel.”

  “Of course I am. It’s my job.”

  “You think your job is worth dying over?” DeMarco responded, and Laney frowned, all her fatigue washed away by a wave of irritation mixed with anxiety.

  “Of course not, but I have to live my life.”

  “Have your crew do the work at the kennel tomorrow,” Kent cut in. “That will be the safer. As a matter of fact, maybe you should be in a safe house until we find the guys who are after you. What do you think, DeMarco?”

  A safe house?

  Laney hadn’t even given that scenario a thought. She’d agreed she wouldn’t take unnecessary chances, but she wasn’t sure she was willing to put her life on hold. After all, if the kidnappers knew who she was, they could have just waited for her to arrive home rather than cause an elaborate power outage at the hospital.

  “I think we can wait on that,” Agent DeMarco responded. “If the kidnappers knew her identity, they would have waited at her place, taken her out there.” Hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud, imagining men skulking in the shadows of her house, made her blood go cold.

  “Are you sure waiting is the best decision, DeMarco?” Kent asked.

  “No. But I am sure there’s a leak, and since I don’t know if it’s in my house or yours, I can’t be certain Laney will be any more protected in a safe house than she would be at her own house, under guard.”

  “Okay. I’ll send an officer over. He’ll be there when you arrive.

  “Thanks, Andrews.”

  “Laney’s one of us. We’ll do whatever’s needed to keep her safe.”

  “Understood. When do you think you’ll be wrapping things up over there?”

  “About an hour. We’re waiting for copies of the surveillance video and questioning the security guard.”

  “Did he see anyone in the area?”

  “He says he didn’t.” Laney could hear the hesitation in Kent’s voice.

  “But you’re not buying it?” Grayson asked.

  “It’s just a gut feeling, but no.” Kent said. “We’re going to make an excuse to get him down to the precinct for more thorough questioning.”

  “I think I’ll get someone to run a background check on the guy. Can you email me his information?” Grayson asked.

  “Sure, but the hospital does a thorough background check before they hire someone. I think you’ll find that his record’s clean.”

  “I’m more interested in the state of his bank account.”

  “You think he was hired to set that fire—or look the other way?” Kent asked, his Boston accent thicker than usual. He’d transplanted from New England years ago, but Laney had noticed that the faster he talked and the more enthused he was about the subject, the thicker the accent became.

  “I just want to be thorough,” Agent DeMarco replied.

  “And yet, you didn’t ask me about his work record.”

  “I take it you checked?”

  “Absolutely,” the chief said, sounding almost gleeful. “His logs check out, but he’s been reprimanded previously for sleeping on the job. Ideally the surveillance videos will give us a good look at what really transpired while he was on duty tonight.”

  “I like the way you think, Andrews,” DeMarco said as he veered onto Route 50. “Do you mind if I drop by the precinct while you’re questioning the guard?”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “Then I’ll head over after I get Laney settled.”

  “See you then.” Kent disconnected, and Laney laid her head back against the seat, tempted to close her eyes just for a minute. She was that tired. So tired she didn’t care that she might start snoring loudly while a good-looking FBI agent sat beside her.

  “You still with me?” Agent DeMarco asked.

  “Where else would I be?”

  “Dreaming?”

  “Good idea. I think I’ll give it a try,” she responded, and then she did exactly what she’d been wanting to do, closed her eyes, the pain still pulsing through her head as DeMarco sped along the highway.

  *

  Grayson found Wynwood easily, d
riving into Laney’s well-established, affluent neighborhood and glancing in his rearview mirror as he turned onto her street.

  Nothing. The road was empty. Just the way he wanted it.

  Laney groaned softly, asleep, but obviously not pain-free.

  He didn’t wake her. Just followed his GPS coordinates down the quiet street. Grand brick homes sat far back from the street, their large lots sporting well-manicured lawns and decorative plants. Nothing wild or unkempt about this place. People who lived here were affluent and not afraid to show it.

  It was a nice community. Pretty. Well-planned.

  Laney shifted in her seat, and he glanced her way. She’d pulled his jacket close, her hands barely peeking out of rolled cuffs. It reminded him of a spring evening long ago, the scent of rain in the air, the refreshing coolness. Reminded him of Andrea, her senior year of college, his jacket around her shoulders as they lay on a blanket watching the sunset. He’d proposed to her that day, and she’d had the tiny diamond ring, the best he could afford, on her finger.

  “Our access road is on the right, just after that set of mailboxes,” Laney said, her voice rough with sleep. It jarred him from memories that he tried hard not to dwell on.

  The past was what it was. He couldn’t change it.

  He could only move forward, do everything in his power to be the man God wanted him to be, do the work that had been set before him.

  “Where?” He could see nothing but thick foliage that butted up against the narrowing road. This end of the neighborhood had fewer houses and was less polished, but there was beauty in the overgrown fields that stretched out on either side of the road.

  “See those tall bushes?” She gestured to the left. “And the mailboxes? Just slow to a crawl. You’ll see the access road when you’re almost on top of it.”

  He did as she suggested, barely coasting past the mailboxes until he spotted the road, a long gravel driveway lined with mature trees.

  He drove nearly a quarter of a mile down the gravel road before the first house appeared. A quaint one-story cottage with white shutters and a wraparound porch, it was nothing like the other houses in the neighborhood. The moon had edged out from behind the clouds, its reflected light shimmering across a small pond set off to the left. Tall trees cast dark shadows across the gardens and neatly cut yard surrounding the building—perfect hiding places for an assailant. Despite his confidence that they’d not been followed from the hospital, Grayson wasn’t comfortable with this setup at all.

  “Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, imagining all the ways someone could approach the house unnoticed.

  “It really is,” Laney agreed. Apparently she hadn’t heard the sarcasm in his voice. “My great-grandfather built it. At one time, he owned all the land in the neighborhood. When my grandfather sold a portion of the land, he kept the cottage and the main house. Aunt Rose lives in the cottage. I’m at the main house.”

  “Which is where?” he asked. The location of the cottage wasn’t ideal. Maybe the main house was in a less secluded spot.

  “Just keep following the driveway. It veers past the cottage. The house is another quarter mile in.”

  The headlights of the sedan flashed across thick woods and heavy foliage as Grayson drove past the cottage.

  The “main house,” as Laney had called it, looked to be a slightly larger version of Rose’s cottage. Same wooden shingles, same white shutters and a very similar porch. Its single-story layout meant that all rooms of the house could be easily accessed by an intruder. Worse, it sat in the middle of a clearing that looked to be approximately twenty acres in diameter and was surrounded by woods on three sides, making it a surveillance nightmare.

  Grayson pulled up to Laney’s darkened home and turned off the engine. “What’s in the back of the house?”

  “The kennels, agility course and covered training pavilion.” Laney tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head out?” she asked.

  “I’ll pass on the coffee, but let me take a quick look around the property while I wait for the officer to arrive.”

  “Sure. I’ll turn on the outside lights for you.”

  “Hold on,” he said, but she was already opening the door and stepping out of the car.

  By the time Grayson had grabbed his flashlight from the glove box and exited his vehicle, Laney was halfway up the stone walkway to her house. For someone who’d nearly died, she moved fast, making her way up the porch stairs. He wasn’t sure how long it would take her to realize she didn’t have the bag her aunt had packed for her. Rose had said the keys were in it, so he grabbed it, heading up the porch steps after her.

  She was patting the pocket of his jacket as he reached her side. The hood had fallen off her head, and her auburn hair looked glossy black in the darkness, her face a pale oval. “I hope I didn’t leave my keys at the hospital,” she said, plucking at the fuzzy sweater as if the keys might be hiding in there.

  “Didn’t Rose mention she’d put your spare set in the bag?” He held it out, and she took it, offering a smile that made her look young and a little vulnerable.

  “Oh, that’s right. Thanks.” She dug the keys out, said good-night and walked inside. Seconds later, the porch light went on, casting a soft white glow across most of the yard. He saw the front curtains part slightly and wondered if it was Rose or Laney who peeked out.

  He waved to whoever it was, then turned toward the yard. A large sign sat to the left of the driveway. He flashed his light across it, reading Wagging Tails Boarding and Training Facility. Flower beds around the sign and in front of the house were similar to those surrounding Rose’s cottage. A cool breeze carried the faint scent of pine and honeysuckle. Above the sound of the rustling wind, Grayson detected the crunching of leaves and underbrush in the woods to the left of the house. He turned the corner of the house just in time to see the last of a small herd of deer returning to the safety of the woods.

  He trained his flashlight back toward the house, inspecting the grass and mulch beds for signs of disturbance.

  Nothing.

  The window screens were all in place. Floodlights shimmered over the expanse of yard between the house and the kennels. He was impressed by the setup. There was a very large agility course with tunnels, beams, ladders, hoops, cones and platforms at various heights connected by tight netting. The kennel looked as if it could accommodate twenty dogs, with each dog having its own inside space and an exterior fenced-in run. The dogs were in for the night. One or two barked as he walked around the structure, checking doors. Everything was locked.

  Next to the kennel, the covered pavilion was also fenced in. He walked around the training facilities, shining his flashlight into the darker corners of the yard and toward the woods. All was quiet. Peaceful. Almost idyllic.

  Satisfied that there was no one lurking in the shadows, Grayson turned back toward the house. Laney was safe, at least for the moment. Yet he felt uneasy at the thought of leaving her alone, even for a quick trip to the precinct. He tried to shrug it off. She wasn’t in protective custody. At this point, there were limits to what he could do to keep her safe. But Grayson was used to pushing the boundaries, and he knew that if he wanted to solve this case, bring the kids home, and keep Laney safe, he was going to have to think outside the box to do it.

  He wasn’t sure what that would mean, what it would look like, but he knew one thing for sure—he would do anything necessary to protect his only witness.

  SIX

  Agent DeMarco was still outside. Laney could see his light bouncing along the tree line near the kennels.

  Jax, her six-year-old Australian shepherd, and Brody, her ten-year-old Belgian Malinois, were too happy to see her to notice the stranger out in the yard. Both followed her through the kitchen, tails wagging as they waited patiently for her to acknowledge them. She took off Agent DeMarco’s jacket, tossed it over the back of a wooden chair and called the dogs over. They sat in front of her
, tails thumping as she scratched behind their ears, murmured a few words of praise. Both barked as a car pulled into the drive. Must be the officer Kent had sent over. That would mean that Agent DeMarco would be heading out soon.

  Good. There was something about him that made her…uncomfortable.

  Maybe it was the way he studied her, as if she were the secret to some great mystery he had to solve.

  She almost laughed at the thought, because that’s probably exactly what she was to him.

  The only witness to Olivia’s kidnapping, the one person who could identify the kidnappers and potentially help put them behind bars.

  She tugged at the itchy sweater as she headed toward her bedroom. She needed to take off this getup. Now. Not only because it looked ridiculous but also because it was probably the most uncomfortable outfit she’d ever owned. There was definitely wool in the sweater. Perhaps if she threw it in the washer and then put it through the dryer on high, it would shrink so badly it that wouldn’t be fit for anything but the Goodwill bag. She smiled at the thought, but who was she kidding? Even the homeless wouldn’t grab this outfit off the rack. The dogs followed her down the hall toward her bedroom.

  The door to the guest room at the end of the hall opened, and Aunt Rose popped her head out. “Oh, you’re home, dear. Don’t you look nice.”

  Laney ignored the compliment. Aunt Rose meant well, but she had questionable taste at times. “It’s after eleven, Aunt Rose. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

  “I was just catching up on my devotional,” Rose said. “Let me grab my slippers and robe and I’ll be right out.”

  “There’s really no need…” But Rose shut the guest room door before Laney could get her sentence out. She sighed, hurrying into her room before Rose could reappear. She immediately peeled off the offending tights and sweater, letting them drop to a heap on the floor, then changed into some comfortable yoga pants and her old University of Colorado sweatshirt. A glance in the mirror showed she still had a few faint streaks of blood on one side of her face, and the bruise on her jaw was starting to turn from red to blue. She carefully peeled back the bandage. A thin line of five staples started at her temple, disappearing into the hairline. Only about a half inch of the scar would be visible when healed. The rest would be concealed by her hair.