Chapter Eight

 

 

The next morning, on Saturday, Joe had to travel up to Orlando to consult on security issues at the happiest place on Earth. He was gone the entire weekend, coming back home late Sunday night.

Coming back home. That was how she thought of it now. That her home was his home. Their home.

Monday morning rolled around much too quickly. Bellamy started her work day by the players’ bench, keeping watch over Daryl while he and the other guys ran plays. Not for the first time, she was impressed with their dedication and hard work. But not too impressed because there were plenty of times when they all acted like a bunch of teenage boys, preening and showing off for the girl on the sidelines.

After a particularly thrilling touchdown pass, the running back tossed the ball down and did his victory dance, pointing at Bellamy the entire time.

She laughed, shaking her head at him but clapping for his victory. She heard a bang, like a backfire, immediately followed by a ping like metal striking metal. She looked around, seeing the players on the field doing the same. Just as she realized someone was shooting, another shot rang out and a bullet kicked up the turf near her left foot. “Everybody clear the field,” she yelled, pulling her weapon from the holster she wore on her belt. “Now!”

The men scattered, running for the safety of the tunnel leading to the locker room. Bellamy ducked behind a large plastic barrel that held water, and dug her phone out of her back pocket. She punched in Anderson’s number. It rang several times and went to voice mail. “Dammit,” she breathed. She dialed the lead security officer’s number, and he picked up on the first ring. “It’s Bellamy,” she told him. “I’m on the field with an active shooter. The guys all made it safely off the field,” she said, risking a peek around the barrel to make sure, “but he shot at me twice. I have cover for now, and I don’t know if he’s still here or if he’s gone. I need you to call 911 and round up the other officers. Converge on the stadium.”

“We’re on our way.”

As soon as he ended the call, she dialed Detective Rivera. She got his voice mail, so she left him a message explaining what was going on. The she slipped her phone back into her pocket and stayed crouched behind the barrel, listening. Hard.

She didn’t hear a thing.

After several minutes, while continuously looking over her shoulder to make sure the shooter hadn’t snuck up on her, she took a chance and slowly looked around the side of the barrel again, gaze darting up to the seats and around the sections she could see from her vantage point. Then she pulled back and glanced at the seats behind her, making sure again that he hadn’t crept up behind her. Just as she turned back toward the field, she heard one of her security officers call her name.

“We’re clear,” he called.

Still, she was cautious when she stood, keeping her gun drawn and her gaze busy. She looked at the lead officer and asked, “Daryl?”

“He’s safe. I left Weaver and Monahan with him.”

She nodded. “Sweep the stadium and the admin offices,” she instructed. She slid her gun back in the holster and pulled her phone out of her pocket, trying Anderson once more. Again, she got no answer. “Has anyone seen Paul?” she yelled.

She got a loud chorus of “No” from her staff.

Unusual. Anderson was normally in the thick of things, even when he shouldn’t be. Bellamy pushed that aside for the moment and with trembling fingers dialed Joe’s phone number.

“I’m on my way,” was his greeting. “Are you all right? You didn’t get hit?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “A little shaky, but I think that’s more the adrenaline crash than anything.”

“You should have called me.” His voice was quiet with a thread of something she couldn’t quite identify. Disappointment? Hurt? It wasn’t strong enough to be anger.

“I was a little busy.” She started walking toward the administrative offices. “How’d you find out, anyway?”

“Coach Carter called Ian from the locker room. Ian called Tyler, who called me.”

“Oh.” She punched the button for the elevator that would take her up to Ian’s office. “I’m on my way to Ian’s office right now.”

“I just pulled in the parking lot. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay. See you in a few.” Bellamy ended her call with Joe and tried Anderson again. This time, when she was directed to his voice mail, she left a message for him to call her as soon as possible. The elevator pinged on the administrative floor, and she left the car and strode down the hallway to Ian’s office, replacing her phone in her pocket.

After her perfunctory knock on his door, his deep voice called out “Enter.”

She walked in, leaving the door open behind her, and saw him on the phone. He held up one hand and she gave a nod, turning to study the various awards and accolades holding places of honor on his walls and bookshelves.

“Get that to me as soon as you can,” he said into the phone. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

Bellamy turned as he hung up the phone.

“Tyler’s on his way.” Ian stood and walked over to the window in his office that overlooked the stadium. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face her. “You’re okay?” he asked, concern darkening his eyes to indigo.

She gave a nod. “I’ve been shot at before,” she reminded him. “Just really didn’t expect it during practice on a football field.”

He grimaced. “What the fuck’s going on, Belle? If that was Keaton’s stalker, how’d she get past all of our security measures?”

“If it was his stalker, I don’t know. She shouldn’t have been able to.”

“You have doubts it was her?”

She sighed and eased into one of the arm chairs in front of his desk. “Look, Ian, I don’t say this to brag, but I’m damn good at my job. That’s why you hired me, after all. So, I’ll tell you in all confidence, a stranger would not have been able to get into the stadium to take pot shots at me.”

“Which means it’s probably someone who works here,” Joe said, coming in to the room. “And might be a different person than the stalker.”

Bellamy popped up out of her chair. Joe walked over to her and cupped her shoulder in one big, warm hand. “Hey,” he murmured. His gaze skittered over her face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hey,” her lead security officer greeted as he walked into the room.

“Monty,” Bellamy said. “What do we know?”

He held out his hand, in which lay a plastic baggie holding two shell casings. “Found these up in the nosebleed section on the southwest end of the stadium. They’re from a high-powered rifle. Probably with a scope. We’re still looking for the bullets down on the field.”

She tipped her head to one side. “If the shooter used a scope…” She glanced at Joe. “He shouldn’t have missed me,” she ended quietly.

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close for a quick hug before releasing her. “No, he shouldn’t,” he agreed.

Bellamy focused on Monty again. “Has anyone heard from Paul?” she asked, her concern growing. If Paul had stumbled upon the shooter, he might have been hurt—or worse!—in order to keep him quiet.

Monty blew out a breath. “He’s not answering his phone, and none of the guys spotted him during our sweep of the facilities.”

“Okay. Please keep looking for him, Monty.” She gave him a slight smile.

He raised his hand and touched index and middle fingers to his forehead, bringing them away from his face in a swooping salute.

As he left the room, Bellamy grabbed her phone and tried Anderson again. This time he answered the phone. “Paul!” she exclaimed, closing her eyes briefly, her shoulders slumping. “We were worried about you. Where are you?”

“I, uh, had to leave work for, uh, a family emergency.” A taut thread ran through his voice, carrying an emotion she couldn’t identify.

“When did you leave? Is everyone all right?” She hoped there wasn’t a problem with his wife or teenaged son. Since Paul was in danger of losing his job, she didn’t want to add that on top of personal issues. Not that any of that was her responsibility. He was responsible for his own successes and failures on the job.

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, that unidentifiable tone still present. “It was, uh, not anything too serious.”

Joe motioned to her to put the phone on speaker, which she thought was a grand idea. “Hang on a second, Paul.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the speaker icon. “Okay, you’re on speakerphone now. I’m in Ian’s office with him and JR Rutledge.”

“And Tyler Dare,” Tyler called out as he entered the room.

There was silence from the phone, then Anderson said, “Your voicemail said to contact you as soon as I got the message. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Someone took a couple of shots at Bellamy within the last half-hour,” Ian said. “Were you here?”

“No,” Anderson said quickly. “I’d already left. Was it Keaton’s stalker? It must’ve been her.”

“Possibly,” Bellamy said. “Listen, we’ll talk tomorrow morning when you get in, all right?”

“Sure.”

She ended the call. As she slid her phone back into her pocket, she blew out a breath. “Is it just me, or was he acting weird?”

“It’s not just you,” Tyler muttered.

“My vote is it was Anderson who shot at you,” Joe said.

Bellamy thought about that. She didn’t want to believe her second in command would have lost it to the point where he’d try to kill her, but she had to admit it was possible. She glanced from Tyler to Ian. “I don’t want to think it, but we can’t rule it out.”

“Find out.” Ian went back behind his desk and sat down. “If Anderson’s the shooter, you press charges. After you fire his ass.”

“Of course.” She looked at Joe. “I need to get out there with my guys, wrap up the investigation. Plus, I’m expecting Detective Rivera. I’ll see you at home later?”

He nodded. “I’ll get take out so neither one of us has to worry about cooking. And I’ll make sure to have something chocolate for dessert.”

Her heart fluttered. He was always looking out for her.

How’d she get so lucky?