[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 inside 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.

Was that why she’d awakened? Because of the pain in the dreams or the pain from her wound? Probably both. Before she’d fallen asleep, she’d texted Zeke and told him to be at the center at 4:00, even though she was unable to make it. Michelle had promised to put him to work coaching some of the younger kids in basketball.

She glanced at the clock. 9:07. Morning or night? The darkness outside her window said night. Which meant she’d dozed most of the day away. The nightmares lingered. She tried to blink the images away and forced her thoughts to happier things. Like the fact that she had amazing friends and coworkers.

Katie and Maddy had come by around five with food. She’d eaten, then plopped herself back into the recliner two hours later, full and sleepy once more. They’d left with promises to check on her again later and she’d drifted back into a healing sleep. At least until the latest nightmare had awakened her.

Haley glanced at her cell phone. Three missed calls and four texts. One from Michelle.

Michelle

Zeke did an amazing job with the boys. Where did you find him?

Then another text thirty minutes after that, also from Michelle.

We’re ready for this competition. We’ve got the bus lined up and our entry paid for. The kids are so excited.

She shot back an answer.

Sorry. Fell asleep. Found him in a dark alley. I’ll explain when I see you. Glad to hear he did well. Looking forward to cheering the kids on in the audition.

A restlessness stirred inside her and she pressed a hand to the wound as she stood. Ibuprofen would be a good thing. Or she could take one of the Toradol pills the doctor had sent home with her. She slid her phone back into its clip and moved gently, trying to remember where she’d tossed her purse. The kitchen counter? On the way to retrieve it, she stopped to look out the front window. A police cruiser still sat there and she could see the shadow of the officer’s outline, thanks to the partial moon.

A low creak from overhead made her pause. When the sound came again, her heart picked up speed. She lived in an older farmhouse in the Blythewood area just outside Columbia. She’d fallen in love with the place the moment she’d seen it, and the fact that it was a short sale hadn’t fazed her. After eight long months of patience, she’d finally signed the papers and now it was hers. Well, hers and the bank’s.

And now her upstairs floors were creaking.

But that was impossible, because the only thing that would make them creak would be someone walking on them.

And no one was up there. Right?

Being shot at twice in the last twelve hours had made her a tad antsy. She had her phone still in the clip on her belt and she palmed it. She shot a quick group text to Quinn, Steven, and the girls.

Think someone is in my house. Maybe. Could simply be paranoia. Stand by for confirmation. Might need backup. Don’t answer this text.

She silenced her ringer. No sense in having the phone give her away. She moved to the counter and snagged her weapon, the pain in her side suddenly rating low on her priority list. Gun in her right hand, phone in her left, Haley made her way to the stairs.

How would someone get in? And why? Could it be Richie—or one of his minions—had tracked her down?

She stepped lightly, moving up, effectively trapped between the wall and the banister. She paused. Maybe she should just wait downstairs and let him come to her. If there was a him.

Had she locked the door from the balcony to her bedroom? She couldn’t remember. She had an alarm system and used it most of the time, but knew they weren’t infallible. Even a high-grade, expensive one like hers.

Haley made her way to the top of the stairs. Her bedroom was to the left and part of the reason she’d chosen the house. She could sit out on the deck overlooking the pasture, where she kept three horses. But the deck had stairs. Someone could have come up the back way. But probably not. She was being paranoid, right? And who could blame her? The sound was . . . what?

She couldn’t come up with what it could be. Other than a person who shouldn’t be there.

Her heart pounded in time with the pain in her side. She moved on silent feet to the entrance of her bedroom. The door stood open and she easily spotted the figure beside her bed, thanks to the sliver of moonlight filtering through her blinds.

Haley sucked in a silent breath.

He raised a hand, pointed his weapon, complete with suppressor, and fired three quick shots into the lump that could have passed for her lying in the middle of the bed. She debated the wisdom of taking the guy down by herself. Physically, there was no way she could overpower him. She could simply shoot him. He’d just sent three bullets into her bedding, thinking it was her. She’d be completely justified in putting three in him from where she stood.

But she didn’t want him dead. Shoot to wound? Not in her condition. If she didn’t put him down, he could come after her and finish the job. She’d be better off staying out of sight and calling for backup. Only if she used her phone, the light might draw his attention. Then again, she’d sent the text. She had a feeling no one was going to wait for her to confirm she needed backup. Her friends were on the way. The thoughts flipped through her in a matter of seconds.

She finally settled on waiting to see what he’d do next.

Would he realize she wasn’t in the bed? That her blood wasn’t soaking through the sheets and heavy comforter?

Why was he just standing there?

Finally he moved.

He reached for that comforter and her heart stilled even as she lifted the weapon to shoot him when he’d realize she wasn’t there. If he came her way, he was dead.

Her front doorbell rang. Haley jerked and sucked in a quiet breath while she held her gun steady.

Her would-be killer spun on his heel and slipped out of her room as quietly as he’d entered.