Even so, creeping furtively through the shadows came second nature to him, between the amount of time he’d spent in the woods while growing up on Long Island and his time spent with the police force, and it might have worked if he’d been alone, but Addison stood up a little too high.
A bullet whizzed past them, barely missing her head. He yanked her down, throwing himself over her as he returned fire.
Blue and red lights bathed the night as a police cruiser rounded a curve down the road.
Jace rolled with Addison into the brush, grinding his teeth together to stifle a groan as sticks, rocks and dead leaves clawed his injured side. He came to rest beside her, his face planted against the ground. Sucking in a mouthful of sand and dirt, he started to choke, then froze, straining to hear even the slightest noise.
Someone crashed through the woods in the opposite direction. Apparently, the police car had scared off their attacker. But they were on borrowed time. He grabbed Addison by the arm and pulled her up. Jace was sorry there wasn’t a moment to gain her trust, but saving her was more important. “Stay close to the woods on the side of the road. If you see or hear anyone, dive in. Now run.”
With no hesitation, she did as he said.
He followed on her heels. They had to make it to the car and get out of there before the cops stopped them. Connor’s warning had been very specific—no cops. And Connor was a private investigator with plenty of friends in high places. If he had wanted the police involved, Jace was the last person he’d have called. After being forced to resign from the Suffolk County Police Department amid a cloud of accusations about activities he’d had no involvement in, and losing the love of his life, his wife, Jennifer—the thought of which still brought a pang of grief and guilt that robbed him of breath—Jace had no use for anyone in the SCPD.
“Psst.” Addison stood staring at him, her expression guarded. “Is that the dirt road you meant?”
Jace hadn’t realized she’d stopped running and was gesturing across the street toward the narrow dirt road where he’d parked the borrowed Subaru Outback—what he’d thought would be a discreet, everyday car that wouldn’t draw attention. Except, of course, in the dead of night, fleeing from a scene where gunshots had just been fired. That could possibly make it stand out a little.
He held his breath. Crickets chirped, a dog barked in the distance, too far away to be of any concern to him, and a foghorn sounded across the bay. He nodded toward Addison and jogged across the street, fishing the keys from his left pocket as they approached the car. Still holding the weapon, he used his left hand to slide the key into the lock.
A low growl brought him up short.
“It’s all right, Phoenix. She’s with me.”
The big German shepherd relaxed.
“Down, boy.”
He followed the command instantly, dropping to lie across the back seat, keeping his head up. Alert.
Once Jace slid into the driver’s seat, he unlocked the door for Addison. He’d already disabled the interior lights. He eased his door closed as quietly as possible.
Addison did the same. When she started to buckle her seat belt, he reached out a hand to stop her. “Get down.”
Her eyes widened, but she obeyed immediately, sliding lower in the seat. “Is someone out there?”
He hadn’t meant to frighten her, just wanted to keep her safe—at least until he could arrange to dump her with Connor. Then he’d tend to his bullet wound and return to his life of misery, compliments of Addison and her sister, Maris. “No. Just stay low until we get out of here.”
He started the car, rolled up the windows he’d left partially open for Phoenix, and shifted into Drive.
Keeping her head below window level couldn’t have been easy and didn’t look comfortable, but Addison didn’t complain. She didn’t say anything.
With the headlights off, Jace rolled slowly to the end of the dirt road, looked both ways and pulled out onto the side street. The sun would begin to rise soon, and he would lose the cover of darkness. They’d have to be long gone before that happened. He flipped on his headlights as they made a right onto the two-lane road. He glanced at Addison in the glow of the streetlights. She was holding it together.
Phoenix still lay quietly on the back seat, waiting patiently for Jace to release him.
“Okay, boy.”
The big German shepherd sat up and poked his head between the seats. He nudged Jace’s shoulder and whimpered, likely disturbed by the scent of blood.
“It’s all right, boy.”
Keeping her head low, Addison eyed the dog warily.
“This is Phoenix. He’s friendly.” At least he was friendly to people Jace deemed trustworthy.
She reached out a tentative hand for him to sniff, then gave him a few hesitant strokes on the head.
Jace returned his attention to the road ahead and holstered his gun. Connor should have called by now. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on. Three missed calls. All from Connor. What a surprise.
A car sped toward them from behind. Its high beams reflected off the phone’s screen, blinding him for an instant, and he swerved as it flew past.
Addison gasped, her gaze riveted on his blood-covered hand clutching the phone.
TWO
“Is that blood?” Addison motioned toward the reddish-brown streaks covering the stranger’s hand as he fumbled the phone.
He spread his fingers wide, as if noticing the blood for the first time. “Yeah.”
Addison waited. “Are you hurt?”
He frowned and scrolled through something on the phone. “I’m okay.”
Phoenix whined.
“It’s okay, boy.” She turned on her side so she could reach him, careful to keep her head low, and smoothed her hand along the side of his face.
He had long hair for a German shepherd, his face more black than tan. He studied her for a moment, leaning his head into her hand, before returning his attention to his owner. He whined again.
The stranger scratched beneath Phoenix’s chin. “Relax, boy. I’m fine.”
She couldn’t tell if the statement was true or if he was just trying to soothe the dog’s obvious unease.
“Lie down, now.”
Phoenix snorted and rested his chin on his paws. If it was possible for a dog to sulk, he did.
Streetlights illuminated the interior each time they passed beneath one, casting light over the man’s hard features and then plunging them back into shadows. There was something familiar about him, though she was quite certain they’d never met before. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Connor’s.” His jaw clenched.
She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. A dizzying array of questions swirled through her mind. “Why would Connor send you to help me? How would he have even known I was in trouble?”
The man ignored her questions and pressed the phone to his ear. His harsh breathing echoed through the small space.
“Can you at least tell me your name?”
“Jace.” He pressed the end button and slammed the phone into the cupholder in the center console with a little more force than necessary, then shoved his hand through the dark, shaggy hair that brushed the collar of his shirt. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he entered the nearly deserted expressway.
Reality knifed through her, cramping her gut. There was no doubt she was being stalked by a ruthless killer, and here she was, locked in a car with a complete stranger and a giant dog on a deserted road in the wee hours of the morning. She shot up in the seat. “Let me out.”
Phoenix’s head popped up, his ears standing erect.
Jace spared her a quick glance, checked the rearview mirror, then returned his attention to the road, keeping the speedometer pegged at exactly sixty. Just enough over the speed limit not to draw attention but not enough
to get pulled over. “Please, just give me a minute, and we’ll talk.”
Maybe she should just fling the door open and throw herself out. A narrow stretch of woods bordered the side of the road, separating the six-lane highway from the surrounding neighborhoods. Surely she could find help fairly quickly?
Phoenix settled back down.
Addison sighed and dropped back against the seat. Even if she could outrun Jace, her chances of outrunning the dog were nil.
She closed her eyes and reminded herself there was a time to be quiet and a time to speak. Maybe he was so quiet because he was praying. Or injured too badly to talk. Or concentrating. Or worried about something. And she was making it more difficult for him by demanding answers. Jace had appeared just as she’d prayed for deliverance. If she couldn’t trust him, she should at least have faith in God.
With Jace’s attention split evenly between watching the road ahead and checking the rearview mirror, he hit the lock button. “Get down.”
She slid to the floor. Headlights reflected from the side-view mirror as a car barreled up behind them. Red and blue lights washed over the interior.
The police. Her instincts kicked in, demanding she signal for help. But even as she started to rise, his hand settled on her shoulder. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have signaled anyway. At least Jace might turn out to be...safe.
When she’d received the first email from the killer a week ago, she’d thought it was some sort of a sick joke, then maybe an elaborate scheme to unnerve her. When she’d flipped on the twenty-four-hour news channel and spent the night watching the eerily familiar scene unfold, she’d been forced to accept the reality that a killer had targeted her.
Though she’d considered going to the police then, fear of her ex-husband, Brandon Carlisle, and his associates had held her immobile. Brandon, a high-ranking, horribly corrupt chief in the Suffolk County Police Department, wielded a tremendous amount of power, and their marriage had ended badly. His cronies had harassed her relentlessly after the divorce, despite the fact Brandon had been the one to file.
Once the authorities had connected her book to the first killing and arrived on her doorstep, she’d cooperated fully, answering all of their questions, ignoring their disbelieving expressions, being as honest as she could.
Until Detective Marshall Brooks had interrogated her. That interview had been the game changer. She remembered Marshall from several events she’d attended during her marriage. He was a good friend of Brandon’s and, no doubt, a member of his posse. The arrogant detective had swaggered into her kitchen with a chip on his shoulder and a gleam of anticipation in his eyes before he’d cut her apart, openly accusing her of lying and conspiring with a killer to promote her book.
Letting the cops get ahold of her would be a terrible mistake.
She was about to tell Jace not to pull over when the cruiser flew past them.
“Sorry.” The pressure of his hand eased. “It’s safe to get up now.”
She swiped the tears tracking down her face and sat in the seat, buckling the seat belt without acknowledging him. Silence weighed heavily, a physical barrier between them. Lowering her head, she massaged her temples, desperate to ease the constant throbbing so she could think.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Connor barely gave me any information when he called, but the one thing he was adamant about, other than making sure you were safe, was not involving the police.” Jace glanced at her, sighed and shifted position, concern etched in the deep lines bracketing his mouth. “And now I can’t reach him.”
She nodded. Connor would know her history with Brandon, since her sister, Maris, had tried, and failed, to take him down. Her head pounded in time with the steady rhythm of the tires against the pavement.
The phone rang, and she jumped, the sound deafening in the confines of the silent car. She pressed a hand against her chest and leaned back against the seat.
Jace grabbed the phone on the first ring. “I have her, and before you ask, I know I was only supposed to keep an eye on her, but when I found her fleeing her bedroom window with a killer on her heels, I figured you’d want me to intervene.”
The mumbling of what sounded like a man’s voice echoed through the car, but she couldn’t make out any actual words.
“What are you talking about? That wasn’t part of the deal, man.” His breath wheezed out between clenched teeth, and he winced and leaned toward his door. “No.”
Remembering he was injured, possibly badly, intruded on her fear, but didn’t lessen her curiosity.
“Lis—”
The volume of the mutters from the other end of the line increased, the caller’s sense of urgency apparent.
“No, Con—”
Silence returned. Jace pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it for a moment, then lowered it gently to the cupholder and dropped it in. He returned his hand to the wheel, his grip tightening the tendons in his hands. “Okay, can you please tell me what’s going on?”
Surprise held her tongue.
“I can’t help you if I have no information,” he insisted. “The whole story, not just an urgent plea from Connor in the middle of the night to protect you until he can get there.”
She shook her head, still trying to wrap her head around Connor’s involvement. How had he even known she was in trouble? She couldn’t remember, but she thought Ron might have said something over the phone before she’d jumped out her window, about a reporter connecting the murders to her novel. It seemed like they’d spoken ages ago, but in reality, it was probably not more than an hour or so. If what Ron had said was true, how much did Connor know?
Since her sister, Connor’s wife, was an investigative journalist with quite a list of accomplishments to her credit, it was possible Maris had heard something, even though she and Addison hadn’t spoken in several years. The sisters had fallen out after Maris had written a scathing article about Addison’s ex-husband without even giving her a heads-up. But had they read Addison’s book? Did they realize the danger Maris was in? She’d have to get in touch with them, warn them, if they didn’t already know. She turned her gaze on Jace.
“Look...” He tilted his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders. “I want to help, but my hands are tied if no one will tell me what’s happening. Please.”
Help? The small flare of hope dimmed almost immediately. No one could help her. She’d do well to accept that. Now that the immediate danger had passed, though, her curiosity about Connor’s involvement was piqued. “What did Connor tell you?”
“Nothing.” His jaw clenched in what she was beginning to recognize was a sign of agitation. Or possibly pain.
The fact he’d been hurt trying to help her gnawed at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” He blew out a breath and leaned a bit to the side, and his posture relaxed. “Connor called a few hours ago. He didn’t give any details of what was going on, but he said he needed a favor. He told me he had reason to believe you were in danger and asked if I would watch the house discreetly until he could get there.”
He shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe for him it was perfectly normal to go out in the middle of the night with a loaded gun, leave his car hidden, and crouch in the woods outside a woman’s window. Her hand shook as she swiped her tangled hair behind her ear. It didn’t seem he was being purposely evasive, more like he just didn’t have any information to give her. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what?”
Anything. Probably better to keep that to herself. “Didn’t you question Connor?”
“Yeah. I asked him who you were.”
“And when he told you, you said yes? Just like that? Why would you do that when you don’t even know me?”
The deep timbre of his laughter startled her.
“Actually, when he told me who you were, I said no.”
She stared at him, unsure what to say.
“I owe Connor big-time, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, despite the issues between us. So here I am, helping Maris Halloway’s sister.” He lowered his gaze and shook his head before returning his attention to the road ahead. “Who’d have thought?”
She barely caught the last comment as he mumbled it under his breath. Obviously, there was some problem between him and her sister. Maybe he was an ex-boyfriend or something. He seemed like her type. Maris always had gone for the bad boys. And there was no mistaking the danger practically radiating from him. “So...now what?”
He squinted as he checked something in front of the steering wheel. “First, we have to stop for gas. Then... I don’t know yet. Connor was supposed to meet me, but he got held up.”
“Where is he?”
“Out of town on a case.”
“But he’s on his way back?”
“Yeah. But something happened.” He frowned and glanced at the phone, which remained silent. “And before you ask, he didn’t say what.”
She huffed out a breath and slouched in the seat, exhaustion finally weighing on her now that the adrenaline surge had subsided. She needed rest and time to think. She needed peace to pray and listen. She needed to check her email. “I have a cabin.”
The cabin she’d had Ron buy reminded her he was on his way. She had to get in touch with him.
Jace shook his head. “We have to go someplace no one will find you until we figure out what’s going on.”
“No one knows about the cabin.” She’d considered trying to buy it through a dummy corporation, but Brandon would probably have been able to find it that way. The last thing she needed was to spend her time there looking over her shoulder. Though she didn’t fully trust Ron, since he most often seemed to have his own best interests at heart, he’d done right by her as far as her writing career. So she’d “loaned” him the money and asked him to buy the cabin for her. The arrangement had worked out well enough. She got peace when she needed an escape, and he got a cabin he could use when he wanted. A win-win for both of them.
Crime Scene Connection Page 2
