Wyatt’s throat constricted. “I know. I lost it. I’m sorry, man.”
John blew out a breath. “Let’s move on.” He pointed to the lit-up signs of a diner a block away. “Trish left a note on the check. Wants to meet us there on her break in ten minutes.”
The small hairs on Wyatt’s arm stood up. Maybe she’d seen or heard something that could give them a lead.
They entered the diner, sat in a booth with duct tape sealing a rip, and ordered coffees. While John had an exchange with his backup unit, Wyatt warmed his hands over the steaming mug. What did Trish want to talk to them about?
She opened the door and glanced around before approaching. Worry lines wrinkled her brow as she slid into the seat opposite John. “I didn’t realize you were a cop.”
“How do you know?” John asked.
“I stayed near your table and overheard part of your conversation.” Her face turned blood red. “I was worried about you guys because those bikers are rough.”
John’s mouth twitched. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t have to save us.”
“Yeah, I feel pretty stupid now.” She rubbed her arms.
“Don’t.” John leaned closer. “You helped us out, and I appreciate your concern. Now what did you want to tell us?”
She straightened. “I might be able to help if you can tell me what you wanted with Moe Dog and Charlie.”
John smiled and acted like he was having a fun chat with a friend. “I need to find out who hired them for a recent job.”
Trish’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I think I might know.”
A spark of hope flared in Wyatt’s chest. She had his full attention.
“That Big Wig asshole I told you about who left the penny tip?” She tilted her head. “He came to Jerry’s, dressed down. Went out the back door to the alley, and Moe Dog followed him.”
Wyatt clamped his teeth together. If Trish recognized him, they’d lied about not seeing his face since he’d walked through the bar before going to the alley. No surprise. Couldn’t expect thugs-for-hire to tell the truth.
“What happened next?” John sipped his coffee.
“Moe Dog come back in later and handed Charlie some money. Big Wig never returned. I guess he left through the alley.” Trish shrugged.
“What did he look like?” asked John.
“Tall with dark hair and brown eyes. Both times I saw him he wore a suit or coat, so I don’t know if he has any tattoos or anything.”
John tapped his chin. “Any distinguishing features?”
“No, but I would recognize him if I ever saw him again.”
John handed her a business card. “Can you come by the station and work with our sketch artist?”
“Sure. I can fit it in tomorrow afternoon between babysitting and my study group. I’m sorry, that’s the soonest I’ll be free.”
“Study group?” John eased back in the booth.
Trish smiled. “Yeah, I’m in a nursing program up the street at Hopkins. We have a big exam Monday.”
“Wow, impressive. That’s great, and thanks for your help.”
Trish stood and glanced around again before leaving.
“Talk about a damn big break.” John pushed his mug aside.
“No kidding.” Wyatt wiped his brow and frowned. “I’m not sure what to do about tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I have this huge Big Brothers Big Sisters fundraiser. It’s an overnight camping trip at Ocean City. I hate to let the kids down, but I think I should cancel.”
John shook his head. “Actually, I think you’d be better off going.”
“Why?”
“Think about it. Moe Dog and his goons were told specifically to rough you up and leave Anne alone. This was a hit on you. She’s probably safer with you not around.”
Wyatt picked up his mug. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know what to think anymore. She’s supposed to be spending the night at Emily’s with the girls tomorrow. Some wine and cheese party.”
“That sounds safe enough. She won’t be alone. I’m more concerned about another attempt on you.” John glanced out the window. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Hopefully, with Trish’s help, we’ll get a sketch of the guy and find him. Things can happen fast.”
“All right.”
Until John figured out what was going on, Wyatt didn’t want to say anything to worry Anne. This was his burden. As long as she stayed at Emily’s and away from him, she should be okay. His heart twisted into a knot. They were engaged now. He ached to hold her in his arms and make love to her, not be apart.
Much as it hurt, he’d keep his distance to protect her.
Chapter 34
Anne sipped a cup of coffee at the kitchen table and gazed at the huge diamond on her finger. Excitement danced in her chest. Wyatt had shocked her with the proposal, but she’d followed her heart and said yes.
His ringtone sounded, and she grabbed the phone. “Good morning. Did you and John have fun last night?”
No response.
“Wyatt? You there?”
“Yeah. It was okay. We’re going to be busy at this event, so I figured I’d call now. Is the wine and cheese party still on for tonight?”
“As far as I know. You sure everything was all right with John?” Usually Wyatt laughed or made some joke about the guy.
“He’s fine. So, you’ll call me if anything changes about you sleeping over at Emily’s?”
Anne stood and went to the coffee maker for a refill. “I guess, but why would it?”
“Stuff happens. Like maybe you drink too much and get sick or something.”
“When have I ever done that? And if I did, then I would feel like crap the next morning. Besides, I’m still recovering from the concussion, so I’ll stick to soda.” She poured the coffee but sloshed some over the side, burning her finger. Damn. She ran it under cool water.
Wyatt continued, “Well, you may decide you want to go home, and then someone would have to take you and—”
“Everyone else is going to be drinking. No one would drive me home.” She frowned and turned off the faucet.
“They could get an Uber.”
“What?” She thrust a hand on her hip. “If I got sick, which is not happening for the record, do you think my friends would shove me into a car with a stranger and send me on my way?”
Wyatt sighed. “I guess not.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” She picked her mug up and returned to the table.
“I know you won’t get sick, but something else could happen, like a pipe bursting that floods the place.”
Anne choked on her coffee, irritating her throat. What the hell was wrong with him? She held the phone away until her coughing fit subsided. She slowly returned it to her ear, wary of what insanity might come over the line next. “A pipe bursting? Emily’s apartment is brand new. This is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had. Why are you imagining all this stuff?”
Silence.
She rubbed her neck. “Wyatt?”
“I’m worried because of the attack, and I don’t like being out of town,” he said, resignation in his tone.
She let out a breath. “I’ve been fine all week. You can stay over when you get back in—”
“No,” he said, sharply.
Anne blinked. “What? I thought you said you were worried—”
“I did, but…I mean…you’re right. I’m being paranoid. You’re okay without me there.”
A dull ache formed in her head. She smoothed the lines over her brow. He was making her crazy now. “Try to enjoy the kids and relax. I promise if anything comes up, I’ll call you. If a pipe bursts, a fire alarm sets off all the sprinklers, or a mandatory evacuation is declared, I will let you know. All right?”
“Yeah.” He paused, his voice softer. “Remember, I love you.”
Like always, her heart did a slow melt when he said those words. “I love you, too. Now, drive safe and see you tomorrow.”
Sh
e hung up and slid the phone across the table, eyeing the thing as if it were possessed. Between the attack and the proposal, the last week had been super stressful. Anyone could crack a little under all that pressure. She’d give Wyatt a pass.
Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but half-smile. Bursting pipes?
Chapter 35
The sun warmed Anne’s face as she popped the trunk. She’d picked up brie and chardonnay to take to the party, where she absolutely would stay no matter what disaster might happen. With a grin, she shook her head. Maybe that ring on her finger had short-circuited Wyatt’s brain.
Emily called, and Anne answered, placing the bags in the car. “What’s up?”
“I need to see you right away. Where are you?”
A wave of alarm rose from Anne’s belly. Something was wrong. “I’m at the store. What’s—”
“Which store?”
“The TJ’s near my house. You don’t sound right. What’s going on?” She got into the car and started the engine.
“I’m at an outside table of Grand Nachos. Can you come right over?”
Anne frowned, her heart picking up pace at Emily’s tone and urgency. “I guess. You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”
“Y-yes, but I need to talk to you in person. Hurry.”
The line went dead.
Jesus. Maybe someone died. Anne backed out and drove to the restaurant, ticking through a mental list of all their friends. There hadn’t been any texts or news of any accidents. When she reached the place, she parked and turned off the engine, hands clammy and dread compressing her lungs.
Emily sat rigid at a table, her mouth drawn in a tight line. Her chest rose and fell when she met Anne’s gaze. Okay, now she knew something was terribly wrong. She hurried over and sat opposite Emily.
“You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?” Anne leaned forward.
“Shit.” Emily leaned her head down, shielding her eyes. “This is even harder than I thought it would be.”
Anne’s throat thickened, making it hard to breathe. “Please, for God’s sake, talk to me. I’m picturing someone dead.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, but I think…” Emily raised her head and swallowed. “I think Wyatt might be cheating on you.”
What little breath Anne had taken sputtered out like the air in a released balloon. Her body froze, every muscle stiffening. No way. She must have heard wrong. “Why would you think that?”
Emily chewed on her lower lip and nodded to the empty table beside them. “Earlier, I overheard two women talking.” Her knuckles turned white in her squeezed hands. “I didn’t pay much attention until I heard one of them bragging about how she was back with Wyatt. She said whenever she came to town, they got together.”
“There’s a million Wyatts. Why would you think—”
“Because her friend said she’d heard that Pearson had gotten engaged.” Emily’s eyelids slitted. “I glanced at them and recognized the woman. She’s Victoria, the model he dated. When they broke up, the tabloids splashed pictures of her.”
Anne’s heart hardened under a protective shell. No. She wouldn’t believe it. Not Wyatt. “That woman had to be lying. I don’t care what she said.”
“There’s more.” Emily winced. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to tell you.”
Anne’s legs refused to push her up and out of the bench. That’s what she needed to do. Get up and go. But she sat there like a rubbernecker on the highway unable to stop looking at a wreck.
Emily’s cheeks puffed out, and she exhaled. “She said he was supposed to be out of town this weekend, but since she was here, he changed plans, and they were going to spend the night at his place.”
“I don’t believe any of it. Why would he do that?” Anne shook her head.
“God, I hate repeating this, but she bragged about their sex life, saying he liked things wilder than he was getting.” Emily reached for Anne’s hand, but she pulled away, crossing her arms over her chest.
“That woman is a crazy liar.”
“It’s fucked up, Anne. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I really don’t know Wyatt very well, and let’s face it, you guys haven’t dated long. Did he say or do anything to make you think this could be true?”
Anne’s temple throbbed as the memory of their last conversation flooded back. Wyatt’s intense insistence that Anne stay at Emily’s overnight. The ridiculous scenarios of pipes bursting and Ann getting cab rides home…and he’d made her promise to call if anything came up and she had to leave. God, was it because he didn’t want to chance her finding him with another woman?
“What is it?” Emily leaned across the table and touched Anne’s arm.
“N-nothing.” Anne’s insides quaked, and every insecurity she had rose to the surface, smothering her. “I-I have to go.”
Emily leaped up and rounded the table. “Come to my place and we’ll talk—”
“No. I need to be alone.” Anne stood.
“Nonsense. I’m cancelling the party, and we’ll spend—”
“Please, no.” Anne held up a hand and closed her eyes. Her head spun, and her throat was dry as chalk. “Thanks, but I have to get out of here.”
“I hate this so much.” Emily threw an arm around Anne and hugged her. “I’m here for you. I’ll do anything to help. If you want me to drive you to his place or stay with you, or anything, just name it.”
Anne managed a stiff nod and headed to her car. This couldn’t be happening. Victoria was probably an attention hog who ran around telling wild, made-up stories. That’s all.
Except that didn’t explain Wyatt’s abnormal behavior and downright paranoia over Anne staying at Emily’s overnight.
Anne sank into the driver’s seat and gazed down at her engagement ring. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She’d thought they had something special, but maybe Wyatt was only content because he had women on the side. Sick to her stomach, she bent over the steering wheel and forced a deep breath.
Now what?
Chapter 36
Since Paul had uncovered the deadly fire articles, it had been an agonizing week of waiting for the opportunity to snoop around the antique shop. His blood still simmered. He’d been following the money trail and knew a portrait and lamp were shipping out tomorrow. They must be stashed somewhere on the premises. Devon had mentioned a dinner meeting, so Paul should have the place to himself.
When he entered the building, the grandma’s-attic, musty scent of mothballs and old, wooden furniture filled his nostrils. He glanced around, but nothing unusual stood out. Stacked paintings rested against the wall, and antiques adorned tables.
Not sure what he was even looking for, he circled the room, stopping in the middle. He pinched his chin and sized up the area. All open with no closets or attic meant nowhere to hide anything. His gaze dropped to the floor. But what about beneath?
Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, he clicked the button and ran the light along the hardwood floor. No deep cracks, no hinges, no signs of an opening. His heart sank.
Wait, something wasn’t right. The boards next to a carpet bearing a heavy armoire were darker than the others, not faded. Maybe the rug usually covered them.
Dropping to his knees, he shined the light under the wardrobe. His stomach jumped. Tiny wheels beneath the legs made it mobile. He pushed the armoire to the edge of the carpet.
His pulse quickened as he rolled up the carpet, revealing a trap door with a recessed handle. Bingo. He grabbed the ring, pulled hard, and the door swung open. Darkness swallowed the descending stairs, and the humming of a machine rose from below.
He beamed his light into the black hole, but the ray only illuminated the steps. Taking a shaky breath, he placed a foot on the first tread and bounced up and down to test the strength of the wood. Seemed solid enough and appeared to be newer than the flooring of the antique shop. Maybe Devon had built the downstairs after he’d purchased the store. This had to be where he kept his exports.
Squinting, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the flickering of fluorescent lights. A metal heater or air conditioning unit buzzed in the background. Piles of various sized boxes, tape, and shipping materials lined the perimeter. A large taped box stamped “fragile” leaned against a wall. Had to be the portrait.
He whipped his phone out and took pictures, documenting the room’s contents.
A small table in the corner with gleaming gold drawer handles caught his eye. He crossed the room and stepped onto the thick, black velvet carpet mat in front of it. Nothing weird about that.
A silver candelabra on top held five half-burned tapers. He ran a finger across the smooth, dark wood of the stand. Not a speck of dust. Devon kept the surface polished. An eerie feeling creeped up Paul’s backbone. The table, the carpet, the candles—this looked like some sort of shrine.
He opened the cabinet doors and pulled out a crudely made wooden box. Hardened glue gummed up the sides and bound the uneven edges together. “Mom” was scrolled on the top in child-like writing. Paul rotated the box to check the back, which bore the initials “DB.” Devon must have made the case for his mother. Hard to imagine he’d ever crafted anything less than perfect.
With trembling fingers, Paul slid the lid off to reveal a yellowed newspaper article about the house fire. He sucked in a breath. Devon had highlighted the line about his brother dying in the fire, trapped in his room. Sick son of a bitch.
Paul set the clipping aside and extracted a ribbon-tied, rolled-up parchment. He slid the band off and unrolled the paper. Devon’s college diploma. Odd place to keep it.
Two pieces of gold jewelry winked under the light. Paul picked up a smaller college ring that matched his own. A sick, twisted thought wrapped its arms around his lungs. Oh God, no. Lynn’s?
Love on the Line (Love Beyond Danger Book 3) Page 22
