Detective on Call

by Regan Black

  “I couldn’t get that mask off before he made it out the back door.” His scowl was fierce, and it remained so even after he scrubbed at his face. “You sure you don’t want a doctor?”

  She shook her head. There was more he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t have the energy to press him for answers or theories.

  Gently, he tipped back her chin and moved the ice pack to examine her throat. “The scene is processed,” he said. “You can change clothes and take a shower if you want. I’ll keep watch out here.”

  “Gloves,” she repeated. “No prints.”

  “I’m begging you, Pippa. Please stop talking.”

  The worry on his face made it all so much worse. She had to talk to communicate, but when she flinched with pain, she saw it reflected in his eyes, so she kept her mouth shut. Her body felt stiff and sore as she headed down the hall. At her bedroom door, she halted, unsure if she could walk in alone.

  Emmanuel was right on her heels, and she turned into his arms. His hands moved up and down her spine, comforting and gentle. “You saved me,” she said, unable to hold it in any longer. She’d nearly become a statistic tonight. “Thank you.”

  “They took pictures and bagged most everything in your room,” he explained. His cheeks colored. “Faster that way. I had to tell them I was here too.”

  It wasn’t ideal, but it was better to volunteer the information than try to hide it and raise more questions. “How did the man get inside?”

  Emmanuel grumbled something incoherent. “Somehow he sneaked past the unmarked cars and bypassed your electronic dead bolt with a key.”

  So she wasn’t safe here anymore. Without the panic button she probably wouldn’t be alive. The tremors of shock started in earnest, and Emmanuel picked her up and carried her back to the couch, wrapping her in a quilt. “I’ll make more tea.”

  When he returned, she sipped the tea, letting the honey soothe her sore throat while he explained the events from his perspective. “I got the alert that the panic button went off,” he began. “As I told the others, I charged up here to help. Your door was unlocked, not open. I followed the noises to the bedroom and knocked the man off of you. We went a few rounds on the floor and down the hallway. He was clearly aiming for the back door.”

  So the man knew the condo layout, if not her condo in particular.

  “He seemed pretty familiar with the layout,” Emmanuel confirmed her unspoken question. “In the back hall he knocked me into the fire extinguisher, and was down the steps before I recovered. I knew the other team was out there so I came back for you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “There may be some follow-up questions by tomorrow.”

  This time she nodded, rather than worry him with the sound of her voice. When she looked at him, she wanted to cry all over again. Bracing against that, she stood up. “Shower.”

  This time she would make it all the way to her bathroom. She needed to wash away the memory of those horrible hands. It felt as if the attacker’s breath through the ski mask had stained her skin. Stale breath and sweaty wool were not a good combination.

  “Do you need help?” he offered.

  She desperately wanted to say no, to be the independent woman she’d been before the assault. But at her bedroom door her feet froze again. The attack was too fresh. She turned toward the guest room. “I’ll use the second bath.” It had the supplies her twin sister preferred, but it would work for tonight.

  “I’ll get some clothes for you,” he said.

  She pointed at him. “Not leaving?”

  “No.”

  The simple answer did more good for her than a longer explanation. “Thank you.”

  He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

  Everything was neat and tidy in the guest room and a stark contrast to the mess she knew was waiting in her bedroom. For right now, all she could manage was getting clean enough to feel safe in her skin. After that she’d figure out how to feel safe in her home.

  When she stepped out of the shower, her hair dryer was on the counter along with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. Cozy flannel pants in a deep green plaid, a thermal shirt and thick socks were stacked neatly for her, as well. She didn’t even care that he’d gone through her drawers to find the clothing.

  “You okay?” he asked from the other side of the bedroom door.

  The man was standing guard for her in the hallway. Her heart tripped and fell. He’d seen her naked hours ago, but he didn’t presume that gave him the right to hover too close now. Still, he guaranteed she could feel safe. Were they back to the original detective and attorney status or were they walking at the fringes of friendship?

  “Yes,” she said. Although it hurt, she pitched her voice loud enough that he could hear. Was it vanity or fear that had her wondering how long it would take her voice to recover?

  Dressed and ready for another cold pack, she opened the door all the way, grateful for his respect of her privacy. She stared up at him, knowing he didn’t want her to speak, but needing to show him how much his kindness mattered.

  She wound her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

  He let her hang on, his arms banding around her carefully, as if he was afraid she might break.

  “You’ll let me stay tonight? Inside,” he clarified.

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the warm, solid wall of his chest. She was so thankful she didn’t have to be alone.

  Chapter 10

  Emmanuel understood Pippa’s restlessness. She wasn’t ready to rest, despite the pain and exhaustion plaguing her. He knew there were things she wanted to talk about, and there were things he needed to say. Once she’d relaxed a bit, he guided her back toward her living room.

  “Do you want coffee?” she asked.

  She didn’t sound at all like herself. Her smooth, often prim voice was rough and damaged. “I’ll make it,” he said. “Do you want more tea?” She shook her head. “How about hot chocolate?”

  He was relieved when she nodded her answer. Her throat needed time to rest, but she would want to hash through a few more details before she could settle.

  When the coffee and hot chocolate were ready, they sank into opposite ends of her couch. She seemed steadier since her shower, but the signs of shock were still there. What he had to say wouldn’t make it any better.

  “I think I know who broke in tonight.”

  She raised her eyebrows, waiting with more patience than she’d ever shown before.

  “Joe McRath.” It didn’t sound any better out loud than it did in his head. He was potentially accusing a decorated cop of doing the unthinkable. He wanted to catch the perp and he wanted to be wrong about the suspect. Maybe CSI would find evidence to lead them to a different conclusion. Catching his friend and mentor in an attempted murder was too bizarre to process.

  Her brow flexed into a frown. “Saw his face?” she queried in her raspy voice.

  “No.” He sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’ve worked with him a long time. Trained with him, gone through various qualifications and exercises. The man under the hat and gloves and coat was built the same as Joe.” Not enough for a confrontation or to take to the lieutenant. Just enough of a similarity that Emmanuel would have to take a closer look into why Joe might’ve done this.

  “Not a Capital X attack?”

  “No.” He appreciated her brevity, though he had to hide the urge to cringe. Every word was a source of pain; he could see it in her eyes and the tension in her hands. He wished he’d insisted on a visit to the hospital.

  He shook his head. “As you said, it would take some pretty speedy work to connect you and the alias loan application. They have no reason to suspect the application is a trap anyway. To hear Griffin tell it, the company has been operating outside of the law for ye
ars, and they’re quite confident in their ability to keep it up.”

  “W Plenty of men are built like Joe.”

  He turned to catch her gaze. “Then call it instinct. Attacking you is minor compared to evidence tampering. It smells fishy, his daughter dating Hicks and Hicks dying at the home of his new lover, Anna. Joe has access to the evidence room, and I’m sure he has friends and ties to every prison in the state.”

  “To keep me away.”

  He nodded.

  “But kill me and stage the scene?” Her gaze was skeptical.

  Though he admired her willingness to be objective, Emmanuel was all but certain McRath had been under that ski mask. The sergeant had access to the building codes, and assuming he’d painted the threat on her wall, he would’ve had time to make a copy of the key for her front door that bypassed the electronic code.

  “Who else?” he said. “He must have framed Wentworth. He knew about my dislike for the woman and complained frequently about her frivolous calls.” He couldn’t prove Joe was the culprit. Yet. “Nothing else adds up,” he continued. “That evidence was laid out too neatly. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “A few times.” She gave him a weary half smile.

  Looking back, he could kick himself for following the breadcrumbs like an idiot newbie. And now all that perfectly planted evidence was gone.

  Joe had access, and if he was guilty, he had motive to steal it out of the evidence room and threaten the lawyer determined to expose the real killer.

  “Pippa, I’m going to dig deeper into McRath’s connections to Wentworth and Hicks,” he said. “He’s been on the force long enough that she could have pissed him off a thousand times. Maybe it was just too much and he snapped.”

  Her eyes were still a little red from the attack and the subsequent lack of sleep. The stress was evident in the way her hand gripped the quilt over her lap. “She’s difficult.”

  “More than difficult,” he said. “Wentworth’s calls tied up good police officers, wasting time. Not something Joe would appreciate.”

  The marks on Pippa’s neck were already deepening, and tomorrow Emmanuel would have to answer to Griffin. He was here to protect her, from herself and any outside threat. So far, he was failing in grand style.

  “Emmanuel.” Her hand slid over his, and the coolness of it slayed him. She was always so warm and vibrant. “Did you hear me?”

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

  She tapped her own brow. “I noticed.” The smile she gave him was a shadow of her typical self. He wanted to bolt out of here, or just hold her all night long. Neither seemed like an acceptable solution.

  “Be careful,” she said. “If we’re off track, we could wreck his reputation. Won’t send another innocent person to jail.”

  “I get it,” he said, pushing to his feet. He paced behind the back of the couch. “I still have to take a closer look. No one else on that list has access, ties or motive.” He couldn’t believe he was saying these things. “He was my mentor, Pippa. I don’t want to wreck a good man or a good friendship either.”

  “Motive,” she said. Her voice cracked and she coughed, her eyes tearing up. “Never motive in this case.”

  “And who should’ve found that motive the first time around? Me.”

  He couldn’t bear the pain clouding those beautiful green eyes. “You need to get some rest. Voice and body. Even if it’s not deep sleep, you need to rest,” he said when she started to protest.

  She opened her mouth again, and he cut her off again. “Hush. If you lose your voice, you’ll be more upset than you are now.”

  She glared at him.

  “Finish your hot chocolate.”

  “Dictator,” she whispered, once she’d polished off the warm drink.

  He took the cup to the kitchen and came back for her. “Bedroom or couch?”

  Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. “Couch.”

  “All right.” He went to the guest room for pillows and a blanket and proceeded to tuck her in. “I’ll take the chair.” He kissed the worry that puckered her brow. “It beats the car,” he joked.

  When she was comfortable on the couch, he turned the lights down and settled into the chair, stretching out his legs. In the morning he would have another briefing with the officers who let the intruder through. And he would take another hard look for any evidence outside.

  As much as he didn’t want it to be Joe, he knew in his gut the sergeant was guilty. As Pippa said, he just had to figure out why, and then he could figure out the best path forward.

  * * *

  When Pippa woke again, early-morning sunlight was filtering through the front window. She wondered why she’d fallen asleep on the couch, and then all the chaos from last night came rushing back. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she would not start today as she ended yesterday. Sitting up, she rolled her stiff shoulders and gently stretched the battered muscles of her neck. Nothing a hot shower wouldn’t fix.

  Her cell phone was on the coffee table, but there was no sign of Emmanuel. The chair where he’d slept was empty, the pillow and blanket he’d used folded neatly in the seat. He’d probably gone home or even gone into the station early to get a jump on his new personal investigation.

  His absence inexplicably irritated her, and she scolded herself for being out of sorts. She hadn’t wanted a babysitter, and yet now that he was gone, she missed him. The man was entitled to live his life, regardless of the promise he’d made to her overprotective brother.

  She checked her messages, mildly disappointed that he hadn’t left her a text. Come to think of it, no one had reached out to her. The way information moved through the GRPD, Sadie must have heard about the attack. Pippa knew she could reach out, any of her siblings would happily give her a shoulder to cry on. But with everything going on, that comfort would surely turn protective and hiding wouldn’t resolve this. Annoyed with her uncharacteristic neediness, she took a long, deep breath and slowly stretched her arms overhead. Getting to her feet, she padded to the half bath down the hall. She still wasn’t ready to face her bedroom all by herself.

  Had it been blissful ignorance or an ostrich mentality to believe things couldn’t get worse after the break-in? That incident paled in comparison to last night’s direct and violent attack. That man, whoever he’d been, was determined to silence her forever. To kill. She was alive thanks to Emmanuel’s quick response. She should spend today celebrating being alive, rather than revisiting events that couldn’t be changed.

  Of course she felt violated and vulnerable, another stain on a home she loved. That was a basic human reaction to being attacked by a stranger in a familiar place. Once the wall was reset, she’d invite Kiely over and break out some champagne, reclaiming the space as hers. That was her approach to a setback: brazen it out and keep moving forward.

  To hear her mom tell it, she’d been that way from the womb. While her twin sister might be more deliberate, once Pippa decided on a course of action, she ran with it. She had never seen the value in holding back.

  This wouldn’t be any different, no matter how hard her enemy came at her. Anna Wentworth was innocent, and she should not be in prison. If the process of freeing her caused Pippa some distress, so be it. This too would pass.

  Ready to exit the bathroom, she heard footsteps in the hallway. Another intruder? Her heart raced and her fingers curled into fists. Damn, she didn’t have her phone in here to call for help. She looked around the small space for anything she could turn into a weapon. As she tried to silently remove the heavy porcelain lid from the toilet tank, blood rushed through her ears, making it hard to distinguish the noises on the other side of the door.

  At the knock on the door she had to stifle a scream, and the tank lid dropped back into place with a bang. Thankfully, it didn’t break.

  “Pippa? Are you okay in there?”

&nbs
p; Not an intruder, Emmanuel. He hadn’t left. She should’ve known better. Dropping her head against the door, she tried to catch her breath while her heart rate resumed a pace closer to normal.

  “The shower’s free,” he said. “Sorry about that. Pippa?”

  “I’m okay.” Cursing her trembling hands, she unlocked the door and opened it. His smile smoothed the rough edges of her jangling nerves. “Good morning.”

  He winced at her voice. “Still hurts?”

  She nodded. Somehow he looked as handsome as ever in yesterday’s clothing. She just enjoyed the view with his damp hair curling at his collar and his beard neatly trimmed.

  “I made a fresh pot of coffee, but I don’t have time to do a full breakfast.”

  “No problem.” She couldn’t have eaten if she’d wanted to; her throat was so raw and tight it hurt to swallow more this morning than it had last night. Depending on how the coffee cooperated, she might try some soup later when her stomach woke up.

  She followed him to the kitchen, where he clipped his badge to his belt and put the gun in its holster at his hip. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  Not at all, but she wouldn’t be one more worry for him. “Go on,” she insisted. “I need to go into the office today.”

  “All right.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, the movement so easy and domestic it rattled her all over again. “Keep me in the loop about where you are today.”

  “You too.”

  “I promise.” His sexy smile left her feeling feverish.

  Normally she’d head straight to the shower, but she didn’t want to reveal the weakness that she wasn’t ready to face her own bedroom. For now, she had the excuse of seeing him off. She perched on a counter stool and watched him make a cup of coffee in a stainless travel mug, a little baffled to discover having him in her space felt so right. Something else to analyze later.

  When he was all set, he came around the counter and kissed her again. “Whatever you need, ask,” he said. “There are two teams watching the building, and they have instructions to follow you today, so behave.”