CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thursday morning dawned hot and humid. Brandon picked Sonya up at eight o’clock sharp. He’d missed her after he’d dropped her off yesterday. Missed her a lot. He’d thought about her off and on all afternoon, her face appearing in his thoughts at odd moments even as he met with Erica and Jordan to discuss the other ongoing cases. He caught them up on Sonya and her case, then went home to rest. He hated to admit it, but his shoulder had been killing him.
Jordan followed him home and had spent the day playing bodyguard while Brandon grabbed some much-needed sleep. Max had taken the afternoon off to watch over Sonya and Missy.
Nothing happened during the night, and Brandon almost questioned whether he was just being paranoid in keeping such close tabs on Sonya now that the shooter was dead.
And yet, something niggled at him. He wasn’t quite ready to believe that it was that easy. He felt in his gut that someone had hired that man to go after Sonya. And until that person was behind bars, Sonya was still in danger.
She stepped out onto the porch and he caught his breath. Which made him squirm. No woman had affected him like this. Not even his ex-fiancée.
She slid into the passenger seat and shot him a smile. “You’ve become quite adept at playing chauffeur over the past few days, haven’t you?”
“I don’t mind. I’m sorry it’s necessary, but I don’t mind.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Spending time with you is always the highlight of my day.”
She shivered at his touch then blinked as though his straightforward bluntness had caught her off guard. He had to admit, it surprised him, too. “You’re a very confusing man sometimes.”
He felt his lips tilt higher. “Trust me, I’m not nearly as confusing as you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re a woman. Women have the market on confusing.”
She gaped at him. “I can’t believe you said that. Are you stereotyping me?”
He swooped in and captured her lips with his for a brief moment. “Never,” he whispered.
Her eyes locked on his. “Well. Good. I’m glad you cleared that up.”
He leaned back. “But you’re a client.” Even as the words left his lips, he wanted to recall them.
“Yes. I am.”
“And I don’t get involved with clients.”
She flushed and raised a brow, a tinge of anger darkening her already dark eyes. “Really? So you just kiss them.”
He sighed and clasped her fingers in his. “No, I’m sorry. Not for kissing you,” he clarified quickly. “But you’re right. I’m—attracted to you, Sonya, and it’s sending my heart spinning. Frankly, I’m not sure what to do about it.”
She blinked. “Oh. The fact that you’re laying this out here is really out of character for you, isn’t it?” she murmured.
He gave a low laugh. “Tell me about it. But—” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed “—I know life is short, but these last few days of eluding death have really hit home. I want you to know that I don’t go around kissing clients—or any woman, for that matter. I want you to know I’m not playing games with your heart.”
“But you’re going to table your feelings until all of this is resolved.”
“Yes. I think I have to. I need to focus on making sure that you’re safe.”
She nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you have to do.”
“But when this is over—”
“I get it, Brandon.”
He tilted her chin toward him. “I hope so. I really do.” Then he let her go and pulled away from the curb.
Well, if Brandon’s heart was spinning, Sonya decided hers was playing copycat. The man had her emotions all over the place. And yet, she appreciated his honesty.
She also had to admit she’d let her imagination swing toward shopping for white dresses and pretty flowers. Every once in a while and when she’d needed a distraction from the crazy danger. But he was right. This wasn’t the time in their lives to be thinking about that. Worrying about staying alive should be priority.
But later, when all of this was over…
The drive to Rebecca Gold’s house took a little over an hour with Brandon watching the mirrors the whole time.
She and Brandon made small talk the rest of the way, dancing around the topic of relationships and kissing. That was fine with her. She needed her emotions to settle down.
When he pulled into the drive, she took in the residence. A brick ranch house in a nice middle-class area with a beautifully manicured yard. A white Toyota Camry sat in the single carport.
“Did you call her and tell her we were coming?” Sonya asked.
“No. I didn’t want to give her a heads-up. If she was involved in the kidnapping in any way, I was afraid she’d run.”
“What makes you think she was actually involved?”
“I don’t. Just speculation. But in thinking that it was someone close to the family, after the parents, she’s the next logical suspect.”
“I wondered if she might have been involved. For the same reasons.” Sonya opened the door and climbed from the vehicle. She shivered in spite of the hot sun blazing down on her. She walked around to Brandon’s side.
“Let’s try the front door.”
Sonya walked up the steps and knocked. Brandon stood at her back, turned away from her, watching the street. She knocked again.
Nothing.
“She’s not here, I guess,” Sonya said.
“Her car is in the carport.”
“Maybe she’s taking a walk.”
“Maybe.” He looked doubtful. “Let’s go around to the back.”
Sonya followed him around the side of the house. The grass was sod, making a smooth green path to the back. Carefully tended flowers bloomed along the edges, and she could clearly see someone enjoyed her yard work.
A small patio led to a back door. Brandon started to knock, then paused. Sonya stepped closer. “What is it?”
“The door’s open.”
“And look at those flowers.” She pointed to the other side of the porch. “They’re crushed like someone stepped on them.”
He stooped, resting one knee against the top step. “There’s blood on the porch.”
She looked to see what he was talking about. A brown patch marred the surface, then another one and another. “Are you sure it’s blood?” she asked.
“Looks like it. Dried blood looks the same in just about every situation. And this one looks to be in the form of a shoe print.”
She could think of a number of reasons for the open door and crushed flowers, but the blood worried her. With the way things had been going lately, she decided being on guard now might save them some trouble later.
Brandon must have felt the same. He pulled his weapon. “Stay behind me.”
Sonya didn’t argue. Brandon used his elbow to nudge the door open farther.
Just as he did, something slammed into it, causing wood fragments to fly everywhere. Brandon cried out and went down. Sonya hit the floor of the porch, terror racing, survival instincts kicking in.
She felt Brandon snag her arm and roll her into the house. He slammed the damaged door behind them and pulled out his phone. He pressed it into her hand. “Call 911.”
Blood dripped from his forehead. He had a gash on his cheek. Sonya realized his face had protected hers.
She froze for a split second, then dialed the number.
The operator came on the line. “What’s your emergency?”
Sonya sat up. “Someone just shot at us. They’re outside in the trees, shooting at the house.” She rattled off the address. She turned to find Brandon at the window, pressed to one side, the curtain parted. Her gaze landed on the couch and she bit back a scream. Her muffled whimper caught his attention. She nodded to the couch and he blinked. Into the phone, Sonya said, “There’s a woman who needs help. Actually, I think she may be dead.”
Brandon left the window and went to the woman, felt for a pulse, looked up and shook his head.
Sonya approached the body and dropped to her knees. She handed Brandon the phone and mimicked his actions in feeling for a pulse even though she knew she wouldn’t find one. The blood on the woman’s torso said she’d met a violent death. Sonya looked into the open, staring eyes of the victim and felt her throat tighten. “Someone shot her,” she whispered.
“And not too long ago,” Brandon said. “The blood isn’t dry.”
Brandon identified himself to the 911 operator and requested the necessary personnel for the crime scene. He handed the phone back to Sonya and let his eyes roam the house. Tension quivered through him and he went back to the window and held his weapon ready.
Sonya shivered and swallowed hard, the hair on her neck spiking. Goose bumps pebbled her skin.
He moved the curtain one more time. “I don’t see anyone, but I didn’t hear or see a car drive away.”
“Whoever shot at us may have just run or had a car parked somewhere else.”
“Yes.” Brandon stepped toward the kitchen and rounded the corner in a smooth move. Then checked the pantry.
All the while Sonya could see him keeping an eye on her, too. “What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We don’t dare go out yet, but I don’t want any surprises in here, either.”
“Surprises?”
“There are two glasses on the counter and a water bottle. The glasses could belong to Ms. Gold and her killer, and she could have poured the water from the bottle. Or the bottle could belong to a third person.” He glanced around again. “If the shooter left someone behind…”
“Oh.”
Sonya watched as he moved from the kitchen to stand to the side of the entrance to the hallway. She knew if she hadn’t been there, he would have probably gone into the back rooms, but because of her presence he was waiting for backup.
That was fine with her. She rose and snagged her purse from where she’d dropped it when they’d tumbled into the house. It took only a moment to locate the small first-aid kit she carried. Packed with only the bare necessities, it still had a good-sized bandage. “Let me stop the bleeding on your head.”
He swiped the bottom of his shirt across the wound. “Not yet.”
He still wasn’t convinced they were the only ones in the house.
She glanced back at the victim and felt sorrow squeeze her heart. Ms. Gold was in her early sixties. A woman who might have held some answers to Sonya’s kidnapping. Answers that seemed to be lost forever now. But it wasn’t just that. Ms. Gold probably had had quite a few good years left, and someone had stolen those from her. It wasn’t fair.
“How long do you think she’s been dead?” Brandon asked.
Sonya swallowed hard. “I don’t want to touch anything or destroy any evidence, but…” She crouched down beside the dead woman and lifted her arm. It moved easily. “She’s not in rigor. I’d say she’s just recently been killed.” She swallowed. “Like, in the past hour or so.”
“Or past ten minutes,” he muttered.
“I’m not a medical examiner, so it’s just an educated guess, but rigor usually sets in within four hours of death.”
“The fact that someone just shot at us tells me that if we’d gotten here a few minutes earlier, we might have interrupted the killer.”
“And saved this poor woman’s life.” Tears squeezed her throat. She blinked and coughed to get rid of the knot. It didn’t help much.
“I don’t think her killer surprised her,” Brandon said. Again, his gaze moved around the room.
Sonya saw what he did. “No sign of a struggle or forced entry.”
He shot her a surprised look and she shrugged. She’d picked up a few things by hanging around him.
He nodded. “Exactly. I’m guessing she let the person in and was shot before she could think about what was happening.” He aimed his weapon at the hallway. “This place needs to be dusted for prints. My guess is, if Ms. Gold knew the person she opened the door to, the person wasn’t necessarily wearing gloves.”
“So the killer might have touched something.”
“Yes.”
A sound from the back made her jump. A muscle in Brandon’s jaw spasmed. Never taking his weapon away from the hallway, he pointed to Sonya and motioned her to the kitchen door.
Sonya heard the 911 operator on the phone requesting her attention. She lifted a brow, stood and moved in the direction Brandon indicated. She put the phone to her ear. Brandon backed toward her. Fear swirled in her stomach as she realized he thought someone else was still in the house.