She wasn’t fast enough.
He grabbed Rose’s ankle. She cried out, kicking him ineffectively with her other foot.
Not wanting to inadvertently spray Rose with the mace, Laney frantically scanned the room for something she could use as a weapon. Anything to give them a fighting chance until help arrived.
A lunge whip Laney used to evaluate play drive in puppies rested by the closet. Snatching it up, she furiously slashed at the man’s head and hands with the heavy nylon cording. The last hit left a welt on the bare skin between his gloved hand and his sweatshirt sleeve, causing him to release his grip on Rose.
He angrily grabbed at the whip as it angled down toward his head, trying to yank it from Laney’s grasp, but it was slick with foam mace.
Jerking it back, and ignoring biting shards of glass under her feet, Laney rushed toward the intruder. The only other weapon she had was the mace, so she brought the canister down with force on the side of his head and ear. Letting out a howl, he cursed again and came around swinging. Laney ducked. Scrambling backward, she narrowly avoided the blow. Her feet lost purchase on the slippery floor and flew out from under her. She landed on her backside, the jarring force sending pain shooting through her body all the way up to her aching head. She felt dizzy, sick, and then he was on her, one hand on her throat, the other pointing the gun. She lifted the mace, pointed and prayed.
*
Gravel crunched under the tires and pelted the bottom of Grayson’s sedan as he sped along Laney’s drive. It had been several minutes since Laney had called, and time wasn’t on his side. It took only seconds for a life to be snuffed out. Grayson knew that all too well.
Pulling his car to an abrupt stop in the front drive, he noticed the officer in a heap by the open driver’s-side door of the marked car—head bleeding, gun holster clearly empty. There was no time to check his condition.
Leaving his emergency lights flashing, Grayson rushed to the front door, the distant approach of another car on the gravel road giving him hope that backup was on the way.
The house was locked tight. He’d never be able to break down the solid oak door. Knowing that the sliding glass door to the kitchen was his best bet, he ran the length of the porch, vaulting over the railing and sprinting around the corner of the house.
“Laney! Rose!” he called out, racing toward an open window and the scuffling sounds of a struggle mixed with barks and growls.
“Gray! In here! Help!” Rose’s voice.
Hoisting himself up, he dropped through the window, into the room.
Laney was on the floor, wrestling with a man for a gun. One of the dogs had a hold of the man’s pant leg. The other dog was by Laney, barking and growling furiously. Rose was doing her best to help, pelting the intruder around the head and neck with a boot.
“Get back, Rose!” Grayson yelled, rushing forward as the man wrenched the gun from Laney’s grasp and rose to his feet, turning the gun on her.
The quiet click of the trigger, then nothing.
No bullet. No blood.
And no way was Grayson giving the guy a second chance. He rammed into him. Hard. They were both thrown off-balance as Grayson grabbed for the guy’s gun hand, twisting it around until the perp had no choice but to drop the gun. It clattered to the hardwood floor.
“Aunt Rose—get the lights!” Laney called out.
Balling his fist, Grayson slammed it into the guy’s ribs, then quickly followed that blow with an uppercut to the jaw.
The lights flicked on, and Grayson dodged a punch. Then another. His opponent was slower, half-blinded by mace. But Grayson still had the image of Laney at the barrel end of the gun in his mind. Still heard the click of the trigger. He had no mercy as he returned the attempted blows with an onslaught of punches to the perp’s face and ribs.
The guy dropped to his knees with a grunt.
Grayson helped him the rest of the way to the floor with a hard shove, then pressed his knee into the guy’s back.
Reaching for his cuffs, he saw Laney going for the gun. “Leave it,” he cautioned her.
Laney stopped short. Dressed in black yoga pants and a tank top, her feet were bare and bloody. Smudges of mace lined her bruise-covered jaw. Her hair fell in wild, tangled waves around her face. “What do we do now?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip. Somehow she managed to look both tough and vulnerable.
“There’s a police cruiser pulling up to the house. You two meet the officers at the door and bring them back to me.”
Ten minutes later, he and Laney were seated at the kitchen table while Rose busied herself making a pot of tea. Laney’s foot was elevated. A paramedic used tweezers to extract small shards of glass. Grayson was certain it hurt, but probably not as much as being shot had. And she’d come close to having that happen again, close to dying.
She winced as a larger splinter of glass was removed.
“You holding up okay, Laney?” he asked, his eyes turning toward the suspect who’d been read his rights and brought to the kitchen to be cleaned up. His ski mask had been bagged as evidence, along with a glass-cutter and some duct tape. The only other thing he’d had on him was a folded piece of paper with Laney’s address printed on it.
And the gun. He’d taken it from the patrol officer after he’d knocked the guy out.
“I’m great,” she responded, and Grayson turned his full attention back to her. She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen.
“You’re lying,” he replied with a soft smile.
“Maybe a little.” She flinched as the paramedic dug another piece of glass from her foot.
One of the officers was none-too-gently wiping remnants of the mace from the intruder’s face with a washcloth. Grayson wished he’d hurry. Having the guy who’d tried to kill Laney in the same room had to be disconcerting for her.
There was a flurry of sound from the foyer. Then Kent Andrews rushed into the kitchen with Deputy Chief Tom Wallace right behind him.
“What have we got?” Andrews asked Grayson. In his early fifties, Andrews was a fitness buff who made the gym part of his job. Grayson had brought him into the case six weeks ago when the first Maryland victim, an eight-year-old girl from Annapolis, had disappeared. Since then, Andrews kept an open line of communication between the MPD and Grayson. Though Grayson was used to working alone, he appreciated another set of eyes on the case file and ears on the streets.
“White male. Possibly late twenties, early thirties. No ID on him, and he won’t give his name.” Grayson sighed. “He’s lawyered up, not talking.”
“Typical.”
Grayson nodded in agreement. “The officers are cleaning him up. Quite a bit of mace squeezed through openings of the ski mask he was wearing. We’re hoping either Laney or Rose will recognize him.”
“Any signs of an accomplice?” Wallace asked.
“Not that I could see. He appears to be working alone. How’s the officer?”
“He’s conscious. Paramedics are loading him into the ambulance,” Andrews said. “He’s a little fuzzy about what happened, but we surmise the suspect staged a distraction and attacked after the officer got out of the car to investigate, obviously stealing the gun while the officer was down.”
“It was fortunate the safety was on and the perp didn’t have a clue,” Grayson replied.
Andrews nodded. “Right now we’re canvassing the area to see if we can tie a vehicle to him. It stands to reason he either lives or is parked somewhere in the community and came up the gravel road.”
“That’s my thought, too,” Grayson agreed. “Though there’s still a slight possibility he has a car and driver waiting for him, or a scheduled pickup time with an accomplice.”
“Agreed. This property backs right up to Route 2, I’ve got two cars searching,” Andrews offered with a glance at the suspect, whose back was to them. “But the underbrush is heavy this time of the year, and he looks way too free of thorns, burrs or dirt to have taken that route.”
“S
ounds like you’ve got all the bases covered. I was going to see if I could call in some agents if you didn’t have men to spare.”
“This case is our number-one priority right now. We’ll do what needs to be done.” Grayson recognized the sincerity and determination in Andrews’s tone.
“I know you will.” Grayson cast a glance at Laney. “And by the way, this wasn’t a random breakin. He had a piece of paper with Laney’s address folded up in his pocket.”
“He’s as good as he’s gonna get, Chief, but his eyes are still a little swollen shut.” The officer grabbed the suspect by the arm, yanking him toward the kitchen table. Grayson took a good look at the suspect. The officer was right. The perp’s eyes were red and irritated. The mace had done a job on him. The punch he’d taken to the face hadn’t helped, either.
Grayson stood up, grabbing the suspect’s other arm and turning him toward Laney. “Do you recognize him?”
Laney shook her head. Sighed.
“No.” She bit her lip, resting her head in the palm of her hand. Grayson could see Laney was as disappointed as he was. If this had been one of the kidnappers, they would have been one step closer to finding Olivia and the other children. Instead, they had another mystery on their hands. Who was this guy, and how was he connected to the case?
“Rose, how about you?” Grayson asked. Rose came around from the kitchen counter, walked right up to the suspect and gave him a once-over.
“He doesn’t look familiar.” Rose took one step closer, peering up at the suspect, and Grayson thought he felt the suspect twitch. “Nope. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Get him out of here,” Andrews said to the uniformed officers.
He then turned back toward Grayson. “What do you make of this, Agent?” Chief Andrews asked.
“It’s got to be connected to Olivia’s abduction.”
Andrews nodded his agreement. “Can I speak with you in the foyer for a moment?” he asked.
Leaving Laney and Rose in the company of Deputy Chief Wallace, Grayson joined Chief Andrews in the foyer. “Here’s what’s bothering me about this. There have been a number of home invasions in the surrounding area lately. Same MO—a glass cutter and duct tape have been used to cut a pane of glass from a window so the robber can reach through to open the lock. We’ve kept the method out of the media.”
Grayson hadn’t been aware of that similarity. The implications were not good. He knew this breakin hadn’t been random. If it had been, the perp would have aborted when he saw the uniformed officer outside. Besides, the slip of paper with Laney’s name and address made it clear that she’d been specifically targeted. But someone obviously wanted the breakin to look like it was connected to the recent home invasions.
Someone with access to law enforcement files.
“I don’t like this, Andrews.”
“I know where you’re going with this,” Andrews said quietly, “and unfortunately, I’m thinking the same thing. There’s a leak somewhere, and whoever it is has access to MPD files.”
“Can you pull the files from the breakin cases? We can review them to see who might have had knowledge of the abduction and shooting tonight.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that, but I know every man in the precinct, and I can’t think of one who would want Laney hurt.”
Grayson knew Andrews wanted to believe that his men were honorable, but unfortunately, things were not always as they seemed. “You could be right. I’d also like to send a forensic expert down here to triage your computer networks. It’s possible that your networks have been hacked—that you have a leak, but it’s not from one of your own.”
“Your forensics expert can have full access. I’ll let our IT guy know he’s to cooperate fully.”
“Thanks. I’ll have my laptop triaged, as well.” Even though Grayson hoped the leak wasn’t in his own house, the fact remained there was a leak—either in the local PD or the FBI—and he had to check out every possibility. He’d kept his suspicions to himself, sharing them only with his supervisor, Michael King, and his friend and mentor, retired FBI profiler Ethan Conrad. Like Grayson, both men were reluctant to believe the leak was in the FBI. But they’d agreed he had to look at all scenarios equally.
“Has anyone taken statements from Laney and Rose?” Andrews inquired.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll do that now.”
“Can you step up patrol in the area until sunrise?” Grayson asked. “I’m going to stay here until then if Laney agrees. I’ve also asked Special Agent in Charge Michael King to authorize FBI protection starting tomorrow.”
“There will be a car on this property until morning, Agent. With two officers,” Andrews stated matter-of-factly, glancing into the kitchen, where Laney and Rose were quietly talking. “There’s no way I’m leaving Laney’s safety to chance.”
“Then that makes two of us,” Grayson said. And judging from the events of the night, he suspected that keeping Laney and her aunt safely out of trouble might be more of a challenge than Andrews thought.
EIGHT
An hour after the police carted the suspect away, Laney sipped a cup of now-cold tea and waited to be asked the same questions another fifty times. She was pretty sure that was how many times she’d already been asked them.
She wasn’t annoyed by Kent’s thorough interview. She was exhausted. She eyed the police chief as he paced across the room, pivoted and headed her way again.
“So,” he continued, “what you’re saying is that—”
“I’ve never seen the man before. I don’t know why he broke into the house. I don’t know what he wanted. Aside from the fact I tried to stop a kidnapping, I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to hurt me or my aunt.”
Grayson snorted, and Laney was pretty sure he was trying to hold back a laugh.
He hadn’t said much since the interview began, just leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee and eyeing her intently.
She’d tried not to notice.
It had been difficult.
The guy exuded masculinity, confidence, kindness. All the things she’d have wanted in a man if she’d actually wanted a man in her life at all.
“Sorry to keep asking you the same questions, Laney,” Kent said. “But sometimes things become clearer the more we go over them.”
“I think this is all pretty clear,” she responded, standing on legs that felt a little weak and walking to the sink. She washed her cup, set it in the drainer. She felt…done. With the questions, with the interview, with what seemed like an endless night.
She needed to sleep. She wanted to pull the curtains back from the window so she’d be awakened by the sun rising above the trees. Sunrise was always her favorite time of day. It reminded her of new beginnings, second chances.
“I think she’s had enough,” Grayson said quietly. No demands. No commands. But there was no doubt he was saying the interview was over.
She almost turned around and told him that she could take care of ending it herself, but she was too tired to protest. The past few years had been tough, digging out of the hole of mourning and guilt, rebuilding her life into something that resembled normal. It had worn her down. So had all the events of the past ten hours.
“I guess I have everything I need. You get some rest, Laney.” Kent patted her shoulder, the gesture a little awkward and rough but strongly sincere.
“I will.” She forced a smile and walked him to the door.
She thought Grayson would leave, too, but he just waited while she said goodbye to Kent, didn’t even make a move toward the door as she waited with it open wide. The sky was dark, dawn’s glow not yet peeking above the trees.
“You should probably go, too,” she said, and he shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he wants to help me with this crossword puzzle,” Aunt Rose said as she looked up from the dining room table. “I
’m stumped, and I’ve heard that FBI agents are very intelligent.”
“I’m not sure that’s true in my case,” Grayson said with a smile. “But I’ll be happy to help if I can.”
Laney didn’t have the energy to argue with either of them. Shutting the door, she retreated to the family room.
Not only was she exhausted, but her headache was returning, the dull throb making her stomach churn.
She dropped into her grandfather’s chair and pulled one of the handmade quilts across her lap and shoulders. Grayson and Rose were discussing which five-letter word best fit Rose’s puzzle, and she let her eyes close, let herself drift on the quietness of their voices, the gentle cadence of their conversation.
It felt…nice to have other people in the house. Paws clicked along the wood floor, and she opened her eyes to see Grayson crossing the foyer from the dining room into the family room, Jax and Brody at his heels. The dogs seemed to have taken a liking to the FBI agent.
“It’s been quite a night,” he commented as he sat on the couch across from her, the dogs taking their spots on the dog beds in the corner. “How are you holding up?”
“Pretty well, all things considered.” She smiled.
“God was watching out for you and Rose tonight, Laney.” Grayson ran a tanned hand through his hair.
Laney admired his conviction, but it was one she had a hard time sharing. She’d gone to Sunday school every Sunday as a child, had prayed every night for her mother to get better. To be stronger. To leave her father. And every day those prayers went unanswered. As she’d gotten older, she’d stopped praying and started acting. She’d had to rely on her own ingenuity and street smarts to protect them both from her father.
“We definitely got lucky,” she agreed.
“I don’t believe in luck. Everything happens for a reason. The good and the bad. All the events of our lives, big and small, shape us into who we are. Prepare us for our purpose.” He fingered the scar over his brow absently, and Laney again wondered how he’d gotten it. It was definitely an old scar, its jagged ridges faded. It didn’t detract from his good looks, but rather gave his face more strength of character. He looked real. Not like some politician, musician, or model. Like a man who would risk his life for what he believed in.
Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 Page 47
