Too Close to Home Page 17

  However, she kind of wanted to go on that sleepover. Just to do something different. To get away from everything. Just her and nature. No demanding friends, no crazy shooter trying to kill her, no dead cops, no funerals . . .

  No quiet, grieving dad. Her eyes flicked to the doorway. No bodyguards. She hadn’t seen anyone, but Jenna wondered if someone was watching her house too.

  Most likely.

  She doodled in her notebook. Danny. Bradley. 2COOL2BLV. Danny. Bradley. 2COOL.

  Her gaze dropped to her book bag. He’d asked her not to IM him anymore. He’d said that his modeling agency was moving, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get to a computer since he didn’t have one at home. But she could text message him if she needed him. She’d miss his online presence, though. He’d been quite funny, sending her sweet messages that said he “got” her, understood her. Every time she downloaded one, it would include a romantic card or just a thoughtful message. He made her smile.

  But then he’d sent her the last message, asking her to meet him. He’d liked her pictures and wanted to do a portfolio for her. He even sent her money to buy a dress. Part of her was afraid to meet him. Oh, not because she was worried that he was a perv or something, but she was afraid of herself. Of ruining a friendship that she desperately needed. Of saying something stupid if she met him face-to-face. Online or with text messaging, she could take the time to think about her responses, be witty, funny, charming.

  If she met him in person—

  The bell rang, jarring her. She realized she’d totally zoned during the last half of the class. Gathering her books, she made her way toward the door. Her shadow stayed nearby.

  Patty joined her in the hall and leaned over to whisper, “Hey, have you met that Danny guy yet?”

  “No, why?”

  Patty looked down, scuffed her toe, and shrugged. “Well, I was thinking I might like to see if he would be interested in representing me. You know . . . as a model. I really want to get into acting, and this might be the open door I need. To get my foot in and all.”

  “Really? I thought you were afraid he was old, bald, and fat.”

  Her friend grinned. “Doesn’t matter what he looks like, I guess, as long as he has the right contacts.”

  Jenna shrugged. “Sure, I’ll text him and ask him. He said they were moving the office, and he doesn’t have a whole lot of computer access right now, but maybe if I decide to meet him, you could go with me.”

  Eyes bright, Patty nodded. “That sounds cool. Let me know when you set something up.”

  “Okay. I’m sure he’ll want to. You’re prettier than I am, and if he’s interested in me, he’ll sure be interested in you. I’ll text him later and try to set up something for tomorrow.”

  Squealing, Patty hugged her. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”

  Jenna laughed. “Right. Just remember who to thank in your Oscar award acceptance speech.”

  Shared laughter felt good, and Jenna realized with a pang that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed out loud. Well, once she and Patty got their modeling contracts and she was making her own money, she could move out of the house of gloom and doom.

  And laugh all the way to the bank.

  Guilt eating her, Samantha rapped on Jamie’s door. She’d been so busy she’d had to settle for phone calls to check on Jamie. Finally, she had to visit in person to see how her sister was handling the aftermath of the shooting, not able to rely on Jamie’s over-the-phone assurances that she was fine, not perfect, but not cowering in the corner either.

  The door opened and Jamie cocked an eyebrow at her and waited.

  Sam cleared her throat. “Well, you look fine.”

  “Told you I was okay.”

  “Had to see for myself.”

  “You coming in?”

  Tears welled in Samantha’s eyes and she grabbed her sister in a tight hug. “I was scared you wouldn’t be,” Sam finally managed to whisper.

  “Sam, you really need to let go of your guilt.”

  Unable to find a suitable response to something she knew as well, she simply nodded and stepped inside. Just as Jamie shut the door, the bell rang.

  “Are you expecting someone else?”

  “Tom said he might stop by. He’s been coming to check on me just about every day.” Jamie pulled the door back open and froze.

  Samantha smiled. “Hi, Dakota. What brings you by?” Like she had to ask.

  “Oh.” He swallowed. “I can come back later. I didn’t realize Jamie had company. I mean I saw your car outside, but . . .”

  “No, no, please come in.” Samantha waved toward the den area and they made their way to the room.

  Jamie, twisting her hands, backed toward the kitchen. “I . . . I’ll just get us some drinks . . . or something.”

  Jamie disappeared. Sam turned to Dakota. “You like my sister, huh?”

  Mr. FBI Man blushed.

  Sam took pity on him. “Good. She could use someone like you in her life.”

  Surprise lit his eyes, then he smiled. “I don’t know. There’s just something about her.”

  “Yes, there is. Do you know anything about that ‘something’?” “What do you mean?” Dakota looked perplexed.

  “Oh.” He knew nothing. “Get to know her before you fall in love with her.”

  “Now that’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” He quirked a half smile.

  Jamie reentered the room with three soda cans. “I hope you like diet.”

  “Diet’s fine.” Dakota took his.

  Samantha grabbed hers and headed for the door. “I just thought of something I need to check into. You guys have a nice visit and I’ll catch up with you later.” She caught Dakota’s eye and smiled at the twinkle. Yeah, yeah, he seemed to say, something to check into.

  She wiggled her fingers, nearly giggled at Jamie’s confused look, and headed to her car. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. She did want to call Jenna and see how she felt about returning to the church where she’d nearly been killed. The repair guys had been working nonstop and had the church nearly finished and ready to resume services.

  Just the thought of going back, knowing Andrew would never darken that door again, made her throat clog with tears. She hadn’t really known Andrew that well until they’d started working this case, but she’d talked to Angie quite a bit at church, had done a ladies Bible study with her, and enjoyed her company. And now she was a widow.

  As Sam shut off her thoughts, she pulled out her cell and dialed Connor’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, I finished searching those computers. All of them had the same IP address. I’m even more sure now that the guy who snatched these girls found a way to access their computers remotely. Have you gotten a location on that IP address yet?”

  As she pulled open her car door, Tom swung in the driveway beside her. Looking over the hood of her car, she watched as he got out of his vehicle and pocketed the keys. Samantha held up a finger to halt his progress. With a quizzical look, he stopped and leaned his forearms against the top of the passenger door of her car.

  Connor was saying, “Yes, I just got it. Want to meet me there in about thirty minutes? I’m at my mother’s house finishing up lunch. It’s a little café two blocks from the police station.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I know. Gall, huh?”

  “And then some. Yes, I can meet you there. See you in a little bit.”

  She hung up and turned to greet Tom. “Jamie said you were coming by, but she’s got company.”

  “Ah, the FBI guy?”

  “Yeah, I think he likes her.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  Sam looked a little closer. And shock zipped through her. Did Tom feel something more for Jamie than just friendship? Before she could decide on an answer or just flat out ask him, he tilted his head and asked, “Where are you off to?”

  A glance at her watch explained her growling
stomach. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat and meet Connor to do a little investigating. I found a common IP address on the girls’ computers, and it led back to this place near the police station. Wanna join me and we can discuss this case? It’s making me crazier by the hour.”

  “Um . . .” Tom looked at the house, then back at Sam. “I really wanted to talk to Jamie, but, sure.” He pulled his keys back out. “Come on and hop in, I’ll drive.”

  “I need to run a couple of errands too. Let me drive and you come keep me company. You can give me an update on what’s going on with your business. The missing senator’s kid and everything. I’ve been so focused on this missing teens case, we haven’t had a chance to catch up. So, climb in.”

  Hesitating, he heaved a sigh and glanced at the door to the house again. “I don’t know. She really likes him, doesn’t she?”

  Samantha bit her lip and didn’t answer.

  Tom shook his head. “Look, why don’t you just go on? I’ve got some stuff I need to work on. I’ll give Jamie a call and tell her to call me when Dakota’s gone and she can talk. I think I’ll just go on home and curl up with my computer.”

  Concerned at her friend’s despondency, she realized he did care for Jamie. And as more than a friend. Oh no. Not good. “Tom, get in the car. That’s an order from one of your best friends and partner. We need to talk and we can do that on the way. Plus, we could use your help. Please?”

  “Sam . . .” Another sigh. He shifted, touched the handle of the door, backed off, and looked at the house again. Gave another long-suffering sigh and said, “Oh, all right.”

  Tom pulled open her passenger door and settled himself on the seat, locking his seat belt into place.

  “Great.” Samantha slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  “Wait a minute. What was that?”

  “What was what?” she asked as she inserted the key into the ignition.

  “That clicking sound when you sat down.” He put a hand over hers. “Don’t crank it yet.”

  Sam paused. “Clicking sound? I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Is someone still out to get you?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then I don’t like the sound of what I just heard.”

  Sam gave a nervous laugh. “You’re being paranoid, Tom.”

  “Too bad Andrew wasn’t paranoid enough to wear his vest.”

  Hurt zinged. But the man had a point. “Okay, so what now?”

  “I suggest calling in reinforcements to make sure we’re not going to be blown to our eternal reward when you start the car or remove your weight from that seat.”

  Sweat beaded her forehead, slicked her palms. “All right. I guess paranoid for nothing is better than dead.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “What if my phone is the right frequency and sets off the bomb?”

  Tom blanched. “I would consider that the wrong frequency.” A pause. “I don’t see that we have any other choice. I think we have to try, don’t you?”

  “I could lay on the horn, get Jamie out here.”

  “What if it’s rigged to the horn?”

  She looked at him. “Phone?”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. “Well, I guess if we’re wrong, we’ll know in a minute. You got anyone on speed dial? Just press the redial button and hope for the best.”

  Connor hung up the phone, wiped the spaghetti sauce from his chin, and smiled at his mother. “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad I was able to get away and come over. How’s Dad feeling?”

  “Better. He’s moving a little easier, the new medication seems to be helping his arthritis.” She picked up the bowl of leftover meat sauce and walked it to the sink. “Connor, I had an ulterior motive for asking you to come over while Jenna was at school.”

  Dread consumed him. He’d wondered. “What is it?”

  “You’re absolutely going to have to do something about her.”

  “What’s she done now?” He lowered his napkin to his plate, defenses rising up.

  “She snuck out of the house last night. And I don’t think it’s the first time she’s done it.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did! You didn’t answer. I thought about calling 911, but . . .” She sighed. “I just didn’t want to do that to her . . . or you, and I know you’ve got that man watching her. I decided if she wasn’t home by 2:00, I’d call 911, but she slipped in around 1:30. You got here shortly after.”

  Great. Just what he needed. What was the point in staying at his parents’ house for Jenna’s safety when Jenna kept sneaking out? He had to push down the fear trampling him.

  “Doesn’t she realize there are girls going missing? That they’re turning up dead and I’m not having much luck catching the guy who’s doing this?” His voice built in volume so that by the last word, he was almost yelling.

  His mother just looked at him.

  He sighed, burying his face in his hands. What was he going to do? Send her away? The thought crept in. He pushed it away. It pushed back.

  No, he couldn’t do that. She’d never forgive him.

  So, what was one more thing Jenna could hold against him? She already blamed him for her mother’s death. At least if she was out of the city, she’d be safe.

  “Next time, Mom, call 911 the minute she sneaks out. I don’t have anyone on her at night. Just someone watching the house. If he didn’t call me, then Jenna gave him the slip.”

  Her face paled. “Oh, I didn’t realize, I thought he would be with her.”

  “I’m sorry.” He scratched his chin and sighed. “I should have been more clear on his duties. But next time . . .” He stopped. “Somehow I have to make sure there isn’t a next time,” he muttered.

  “What are you thinking about, Connor?”

  “About how to keep Jenna safe, Mom.”

  “By doing what?”

  “Something she’d probably not understand nor go along with willingly. Aunt Jasmine and Uncle Milton still live in Florida, don’t they?”

  “What? Of course. They’ve lived there forever.”

  “What if Jenna went to live with them for a while? Just until I catch this guy?”

  “No! Connor, where is your head? I cannot believe you would completely destroy your relationship with your daughter over a case!”

  Connor leaned back in shock. His mom hadn’t raised her voice at him since . . . since . . . he couldn’t remember since when. She went on, “You can’t avoid this, you can’t run away from it, and you can’t send it away. Jenna needs you and she needs you now. Your father and I have done all we can do, but she doesn’t respect us, she doesn’t listen, and there aren’t any real consequences for her behavior. Now do something before it’s too late!”

  She stormed from the kitchen, leaving Connor blinking, stunned . . . and thinking. Was he trying to avoid dealing with Jenna? Maybe, but his priority was to keep her safe, and this killer had made things personal. He’d killed Andrew. Who was to say he wouldn’t come after him or Jenna? Or the rest of his family?

  He went cold.

  No, it was best if Jenna were gone. And he’d ask his parents to take her. Then once he had this killer behind bars, he could take some leave from the department and try to put his family back together. Build his relationship back with Jenna. Because he wanted to. Needed to.

  Desperately.

  His phone rang and he sighed. A glance at caller ID made him smile and grimace at the same time. Samantha.

  “Hello?”

  Her frantic voice came through. “I need a bomb squad ASAP.”

  Sam sat in her sister’s driveway, not daring to move. If Tom was right and she’d planted herself on top of a bomb, they were all in big trouble. She’d been in tight spots before, some dangerous situations, but this one went straight to the top of the list for most dangerous.

  She didn’t like it.

  About four minutes later, she heard sirens coming toward he
r, growing louder with each second.

  Tom looked at her. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

  “That’s the plan, partner.” Sweat slicked her palms, ran down her back. She even thought she felt her feet sweating. Please, Jesus.

  Dare she reach under the seat and see if she could feel it? Right, Sam, brilliant idea. And flip the switch to detonate the thing. Actually, if it was the kind of bomb Tom thought it was, she’d already activated the switch, the initiator as it was called in bomb squad school. When she removed her weight, she’d trigger the explosion. And there was no way she could get out fast enough. She’d be blown right out of the seat.

  “What do we do, Tom? You’re the partner who went through the bomb squad training. I missed that class, remember?” She’d been sitting up nights with Jamie during one of her nightmare stints and had basically slept through the class. Somehow, she’d passed. Right now, she wished she could remember something from it. Anything.

  “Sit tight. Just don’t move, okay? Don’t shift your weight. Don’t. Do. Anything. Okay?”

  “What if I start hyperventilating?”

  “You’ll probably blow us up.”

  Samantha closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. And praying hard. She wasn’t afraid to die. She knew where she was going, but the crazy thought that kept going through her mind was that Connor would never be able to deal with it. He doesn’t know you yet, Lord. At least not like he needs to. If I die, I don’t think he’ll ever have anything to do with you again. Of course you know that better than I do, but . . . just please, get us out of this?

  And Tom . . . he wasn’t a believer either, even though he tolerated her talking about God with him.

  She opened her eyes and nearly screamed. Then realized the monster outside her window was a fully protected bomb squad member. He motioned for her to open her door.

  Slowly, painstakingly, she eased it open, pushing, pausing, pushing some more until it stood wide open. She breathed a sigh when nothing went kaboom. Absently, she registered Tom’s groan of relief.

  Looking up into the bomb guy’s alien eyes, she raised a brow. “Isn’t there a robot for this kind of thing?”