Chasing Secrets Page 10

  “What? About what Duncan told me about my supposed past?” She frowned at him. “That doesn’t even make sense. I hadn’t even talked to him before the first drive-by.”

  “And maybe that’s why the first drive-by happened when it did. So you wouldn’t get the chance to talk to him. After all, he said he thought someone was following him.”

  Haley processed that idea and shook her head slowly. Then stopped. Someone had been following her. But that someone had turned out to be Duncan and the man he’d hired. “Following him to get to me? I don’t think it’s likely.”

  “Well, how about this then? You got some pretty life-rocking news. News that you don’t really seem to have reacted to at all. What’s really going on behind those beautiful green eyes?”

  Beautiful? She blinked and looked away. Then let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve been so distracted, I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

  He looked out the window toward his car. “All right. So what are you going to do now?”

  He turned from the window and she met his gaze. “I’m going to go home and think about it. Think about everything. Including your crazy theory that the shootings had nothing to do with a gang-involved, former-probably-still felon and something to do with my past.”

  “That’s a good idea. And get some rest while you’re at it.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll follow you home.”

  She frowned. “I don’t need you to do that. I’m fine. Quinn’s got people keeping an eye on Richie, remember? I’ll know if he gets anywhere near me.” But his words played in her mind. Was it possible that the shooting had something to do with Duncan’s news? “Duncan’s just found me—or the guy he hired did. If what you think is fact—that the shooter was after me, not Zeke or his family—then this guy has just been biding his time, waiting for Duncan to be confident that he’s found the right person. And tonight, he decided, was the time to act on that. In public, parked right out on the street waiting for me to come out of a busy café, with plenty of other people around.”

  “It does sound kind of crazy when you put it like that.”

  “That’s because it is crazy. It’s too big of a stretch.”

  “I don’t know. I mean someone tried to kill you twenty-five years ago, right? That someone thought he’d been successful. If that person got word you were still alive, he might not be happy about it.”

  She shook her head. “I guess anything is possible.”

  “Just think about it.”

  “All right, I’ll do that. But I’m skeptical.”

  “No kidding.”

  Steven got out of the Hummer and jogged to his vehicle. He drove off with a wave and Haley sat looking at the sad little blue house. The old Ford truck was gone and she figured Zeke’s mother had taken Micah to the doctor. She said a quick prayer for them all and started to drive off when she caught sight of a police cruiser in her rearview mirror. She pulled to a stop and climbed out. The cruiser stayed behind her, but the officer rolled down his window. She recognized him. Brad Hudson, a twenty-year veteran of the force who loved being a cop and did his job well. She’d had the pleasure of working with him several times over the past few years. “What are you doing here?”

  “Quinn asked me to keep an eye on you,” he said.

  She huffed and barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “Why does everyone think I need eyes on me?”

  He held up his hands as though to defend himself. “Don’t get testy with me. Take it up with Quinn.”

  “I’m not being testy.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so!”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she said. She wanted to scream. Okay, so maybe she was being a bit testy. “Sorry.”

  “We’re good.”

  “I’m going home.”

  “Awesome. I’ll get to see where you live.” He sounded thrilled. Not.

  Out of energy and willing to admit defeat when she had to, she carefully climbed back into the Hummer, mindful not to pull her stitches, and headed toward home.

  When she arrived, she parked in her garage while Brad planted himself at the top of her circular driveway. She shook her head and clipped her phone to the case on her belt as she entered her home through the door that led from the garage into the kitchen.

  Once inside, she dropped her purse and her weapon on the kitchen counter and went straight to her favorite recliner. She supposed she should go upstairs, take a shower, and get in the bed, but first she wanted to check on Duncan.

  While she waited for the hospital to pick up, she realized she’d never gotten her grandfather’s number or any way to contact him. But she could find him. And probably with very little effort.

  She focused on the person who answered. “I’d like to find out about Duncan O’Brien’s condition, please.”

  “I’ll transfer you.”

  The recliner felt good. Very good. The thought of climbing the stairs to her bedroom sapped the rest of her strength. She might just take a nap first.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes.” She repeated her request.

  “I can only say that for the moment, he’s stable.”

  “Please, can you tell me anything else? He took that bullet for me.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I really can’t. Not unless you’re family.”

  Haley grimaced. “I’m not. Thank you.” She hung up. Stable was okay. Stable was one step better than critical. He was still alive and that meant there was hope. She could cling to that for now. And as soon as she woke up, she’d work on that research she needed to do. And she might even call Steven and ask if he wanted to help her. There was just something about him . . .

  He parked his car on the side of the road after following Haley and her watchdog to her house. He’d walked the perimeter of the home earlier and learned as much as he could about it before he mapped out the plan to kill her.

  She’d pulled into the garage a few minutes ago and lowered the door, so he figured she was now in the house. The light in the kitchen came on, confirming his suspicion. He glanced at his watch, then back at the cruiser sitting at the top of her circular drive.

  Dumb.

  The guy was just sitting there. Just one cop against him? He smothered his chuckle. He might not even have to kill the guy. Which was good. He had only been paid for one death, although if he had to kill another to complete his assignment, he wouldn’t hesitate.

  He pulled away, drove to the street behind Haley’s property, and parked on an old two-track access road not far from her pasture. A quick search on the internet brought up the listing of the home, and he scrolled through the description of the house to learn that the master bedroom was at the top of the deck’s stairs. The killer checked his weapon, screwed the suppressor on the end, and made his way to the back of the house. He pulled his phone from the pocket of the lightweight black jacket he’d donned just for this job. The black cargo pants held any tools he might need to gain access to the house, such as the radio frequency blocker for the home alarm system he noted. Sweat rolled off him in buckets, but for now he would have to be hot. From the bottom of the deck’s steps, he studied the back of the house.

  Excellent. He could enter the French doors, kill her, and leave the way he came in.

  Plans made, he crept back around to the front of the house to check on the police officer. Still sitting there. He shook his head. Fine. He could sit there until someone discovered her cold, dead body. The killer made his way back to his vehicle. He’d be back when darkness fell.

  [11]

  MONDAY, 1:00 PM

  Five hours of sleep was enough to revive him. Before Steven headed out the door, he checked on his father, who slept in front of the television, and kissed his mother. His aunt Sadie was on her way in. She hugged him in the middle of the driveway. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too.” He kissed her cheek. “Dad’s sleeping. Mom just finished a bowl of
ice cream, but if you don’t tell her you know she already had one, I’m sure she’d be willing to eat another on your behalf.” His aunt, along with his mother, was an ice cream fanatic and never turned down a bowl of the sweet stuff.

  “I’ll be sure to keep my lips sealed. Where are you off to?”

  “To check on a friend.”

  She squeezed his arm. “You’re a good boy.”

  He laughed. In her eyes he probably was still a boy. “See you later.”

  She walked through the garage, heading for the door that would lead into the kitchen, and Steven climbed into his truck.

  He marveled that he still had Haley on his mind. She’d really made an impression on him. His desire to see her puzzled him. And amused him. He didn’t have any business being interested in her. Not at this point in his life when he was so unsettled about what his future held. Investigating an attraction with Haley wasn’t smart.

  And yet he found himself driving toward her home anyway.

  His phone rang. Quinn. He hit the Bluetooth button. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been talking to the dead guy’s widow.”

  “Elaine.”

  Quinn went silent. “Yes. Elaine James. No disrespect meant.”

  “None taken. And he might not be the dead guy. Have they ID’d him yet?”

  “Not yet. His prints weren’t in the system, so they’re having to go another route. His wife is providing a toothbrush and has allowed evidence techs access to his office to gather prints. Should have something soon.”

  “Are you there now?”

  “Yeah.”

  Steven did a U-turn. “Hold on. I’m two minutes away.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  He sighed. Might as well get it out in the open. “I’m staying with my parents for the moment. And they live just down the street from Carter and Elaine James.”

  More silence. “Oh. Okay. See you in a few minutes.” He hung up.

  Steven grimaced. He wasn’t ashamed of his parents, but he’d learned early to hide—or at least play down—the fact that he was from a wealthy family when it came to those he worked with. Most of the guys on the force struggled paycheck to paycheck, and they didn’t always look favorably on those who were on a higher economic level.

  Within the promised two minutes, he’d pulled in front of the James house. Quinn and Mrs. James were seated on the front porch in matching white wicker rockers. Steven got out of his truck and walked up to join them. After a short introduction, Steven asked, “Mrs. James, have you heard from your husband?”

  “No. I was just telling Detective Holcombe here that Carter isn’t answering his cell phone and he hasn’t called.” She wrung her hands together, then grabbed another tissue from the box near her elbow. “But when he’s out of town, he calls sporadically, so I haven’t been overly concerned about not hearing from him. Do you really think the man in the trunk is my Carter?” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked.

  “We don’t know, but I’d say you need to prepare yourself for the possibility.”

  She sniffed. “Thank you.” She studied him. “You’re Gabriella’s son.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She stopped by earlier this morning. Brought me some coffee and a cinnamon roll and let me cry on her shoulder.”

  It didn’t surprise him. “Sounds like something she’d do. Would Carter have loaned the car to anyone while he was out of town?”

  “No. He didn’t like to fly. He always drove. And that was the car he used, so . . . no.”

  “All right, then why was Carter in that part of town?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He wasn’t even supposed to be in town. He called me around noon yesterday to tell me that he was heading to the conference and would call me today. When I didn’t hear from him, I figured he just got busy and would call when he could.”

  Quinn rubbed his chin. “I hate to tell you this, but we checked with the conference. He never checked in.”

  She gaped. “What? And no one called to tell me this?”

  “We’ve got officers trying to locate him.” Steven scratched his chin. “What exactly was he doing out of town?”

  “He was teaching at a seminar for CPAs. It’s an annual two-day thing. I was supposed to go with him but wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed home. And now I find out he’s in town. And . . . possibly dead?” A sob slipped out on the last word and Steven rested a hand on her thin shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

  “It sure doesn’t and I’m sorry.” Steven waited a moment to allow her to gather herself. “Do you know what he was wearing when he left?”

  “A white shirt and black slacks, I think.”

  Steven paused. The guy in the trunk had been wearing khakis and a blue shirt. “Does he have any specific birthmarks, tattoos, or scars?”

  “Um. Yes, he has a scar on his chin from when he fell off his motorcycle. And a large scar on his right leg from the same accident. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

  “All right, we’ll check into this. Do you have anyone coming to stay with you?”

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “My daughter and two sons. I’ve called them and they’re all on their way. It will take a while for them to get here since they all live several hours away.”

  “Do you want me to get Mom to come sit with you?”

  “No.” She patted his arm. “But thank you. She has enough on her plate with your father. I’ll . . . manage.” She twisted the tissue clutched in her fingers. “I called the morgue and asked to see him, but the woman I talked with said he was . . . she said his face was . . . that I wouldn’t be able to . . .”

  Steven placed a hand over hers. Tears tracked her cheeks and she closed her eyes for a moment to gather her composure.

  “I want to wait for my daughter to be with me,” she finally whispered.

  “Of course you do. It’s okay to wait until she gets here.” Steven frowned. “Someone stole his keys.”

  “I know. That’s what the officer told me last night.” She swiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed. “I’ve already arranged for the locks to be changed later this afternoon.”

  “That was quick.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what else to do. Making arrangements, taking care of details, those are things that I’m good at. It helps me not think so much.”

  “Sure. I understand.”

  She paused. “Did you take any pictures? You take pictures of crime scenes, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Was the man in the trunk wearing a wedding ring?”

  Steven frowned. “Yes. That’s how we knew he was married.”

  “If I could see it, I’d know if it was his or not.”

  Steven cleared his throat. “His hands were covered in blood. I’m not sure you’d be able to tell anything looking at the pictures.”

  Her lower lip quivered again and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

  Steven shoved his hands into his front pockets. “What about his office? Does he keep anything there that someone might need a key for?”

  Quinn stayed silent, seeming content to let Steven do the talking.

  Mrs. James shook her head. “I don’t know. Nothing that I can think of. I mean, he has all of his work there. Truly, I don’t know what he keeps there. He’s an accountant—it’s not like he was working on state secrets or anything.”

  Steven shot a glance at Quinn and knew his partner was thinking the same thing he was.

  Was Mr. James doing some accounting on the side for someone who didn’t like the numbers? That was his first thought. “All right. Thanks, Mrs. James. I’ll get Mom to check on you in a while.”

  She patted his hand again and rose. “I need to call Selma, Carter’s secretary. This is going to hit her hard.”

  “Let’s wait until we know for sure that it’s Carter,” Steven said. “We should hear something soon.”

  She went in
side and Steven saw two cars pull in the drive. There were three ladies per car and when they got out, each held a covered dish. He figured Mrs. James would be all right for now. But he’d still tell his mom to check on her. It would be hard when she was all alone again. If the man was Carter. If it wasn’t, then . . . where was he?

  “What’s next, partner? You taking the rest of the day off?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Naw. Maddy’s working so I might as well do the same. Want to go see what Richie’s up to?”

  “Sounds good to me. Heard anything from Haley?”

  “Nope. And I haven’t heard anything from the cop on her house, so hopefully that means all is well.” He paused and Steven caught the sideways glance Quinn shot him. He braced himself.

  “So, rich boy, you want to follow me so I don’t have to come back this way?” Quinn didn’t disappoint.

  Steven rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

  “Maybe we can do dinner later. You can buy.”

  “Shut up.” He hurried to his truck before Quinn could say anything else about his parents’ money. He didn’t mind the man knowing, he just wasn’t in the mood to be hounded about it. Then he smiled and shook his head. The fact that Quinn felt like he could needle him about it said a lot, though. He’d seen the spark of amusement in his partner’s eyes and knew Quinn wasn’t being snide or pushing his buttons.

  He was treating him like a partner he’d known for longer than three days. And Steven had to admit, he appreciated that.

  He dialed Haley’s number and got her voice mail. The fact that she didn’t answer didn’t bother him. He knew there was an officer on her house. He hoped the fact that she didn’t answer her phone was a sign that she was resting.

  Haley woke with a gasp, the ache in her side intensifying with each passing moment. Nightmares had intruded, forcing her to relive the shootings. Shootings that had blended into each other, overlapping the details, morphing into something that never was. She saw Duncan taking bullets in front of Zeke’s house and Steven carrying Micah while bullets riddled their bodies. Then she’d dreamed she was racing from a shower of bullets only to finally figure out she was hit. Then her legs had quit working and she’d been paralyzed, unable to run, to escape. To breathe. Shivers raced through her.