8:33 A.M.
“How’re you doing this morning?” Tom asked Chloe as she set her bag down on her desk.
“I’m fine.” She gave him a small frown as she unwound her scarf and shrugged out of her coat.
“No nightmares?”
“No.”
“Did you have trouble sleeping?”
“No.”
“Any issues with coming to work this morning?”
“No, Tom.” She sounded exasperated.
“Did you make an appointment to see the department counselor?” he asked, undaunted by Chloe’s unwillingness to talk about what had happened yesterday.
“Yes, I did. Now, stop grilling me. It’s none of your business. I'm not your ex.”
“No, you're not,” he agreed calmly, refusing to be baited into a conversation about Hannah. “You're my partner. The person I have to trust to have my back. I'm not grilling you to annoy you. I'm grilling you because I care.”
He believed that Chloe had the potential to be an amazing agent. She was smart, and her attention to detail rivaled his own. She was also caring and compassionate, and she wanted to make a difference. He was looking forward to getting to know her better and to work with her.
But she also had the potential to get herself hurt. She wanted her sole focus to be the end game, but if she didn't pay attention to how she got there, she was a risk to herself and everyone around her. She couldn’t be reckless. She had to be smart—always.
Chloe’s annoyed face softened. “You’re right, I'm sorry. Thank you for caring. And you’re right, we do have to trust each other. Yesterday I did what I thought was right. Maybe I should have waited for you guys to talk him down. Maybe that was the safer option, I'm not sure, but I am sorry that it stressed you.”
Tom nodded. His partner didn't get how important it was to play things safe yet, but one day she would. This was only her second case. Everything was still new and fresh for her. And maybe he had overreacted a little yesterday. He was on edge the last few days because of seeing Hannah again, particularly under these circumstances.
He knew he had a reputation for paying obsessive attention to the details in everything he did, and he also knew that that reputation had developed after Hannah’s assault. That night had changed both of them. And maybe if he’d been paying better attention to things that night, it would never have happened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, but he also knew he couldn’t visit his issues on his partner.
“I just want you to be safe, Chloe. Particularly now that you have someone who’s counting on you.”
“I won't take unnecessary risks,” she assured him.
He hoped that was true. “You ready to interview Warren Maloney?”
Warren Maloney was the nineteen-year-old kid who’d held a gun to Chloe’s head yesterday afternoon. The other two men were his seventeen-year-old brother and an eighteen-year-old cousin. Yesterday, the kids had gone through the booking process and now they were able to interview the gang’s ringleader. Tom had been on pins and needles all night, anxious for confirmation that these three kids didn't hold up Hannah’s store.
“Yep,” Chloe nodded eagerly.
“We want information about the robberies,” he reminded her, “not about what happened yesterday.”
“I know,” she assured him.
Tom held back a small smile. Chloe’s passion and zeal were quite endearing. He just hoped she learned to channel them appropriately and use them to her advantage.
“Good morning, Mr. Maloney,” he said as they entered the interview room where Warren and his lawyer were waiting for them.
The young man just glared at them. Warren Maloney was an angry kid. Expelled from school at the age of fourteen after getting into several fights, he started stealing cars. At the age of fifteen, he did his first stint in a juvenile detention facility. When he came out, he went straight back to stealing cars, this time carjacking people at gunpoint. After the last prison stint, he had apparently decided to ditch cars and try robbing jewelry stores instead. Warren was tall and thin with a baby face that made him look no older than about thirteen. Until you looked into his eyes, which were ice blue and cold and weathered as though he’d lived a hundred years already.
“You’re facing serious charges, Mr. Maloney,” Tom continued. “Multiple counts of armed robbery, assault of a federal agent. There’s no denying the charges, claiming it wasn't you. No excuses. There are a dozen cops and agents who saw you do it.”
“I didn't hurt her,” Warren said sullenly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together.
“You held a gun to her head.”
“I ain’t going back to prison.” Warren’s blue eyes stared defiantly.
“You most certainly are.”
“Am not.” Warren turned to his public defender to seek support.
“They have you for this robbery and the assault on the agent.” The middle-aged lawyer flicked his hand in Chloe’s direction. “Getting off on any of those charges would be unlikely. The other robberies—they don’t really have anything to connect them to you.”
“Who said there were others?” Warren aimed for nonchalance but looked more nervous than anything else.
“We know there were others. Three men in clown masks, brandishing guns held up four other jewelry stores,” Chloe said. “We know that. That’s not what we want to talk to you about.”
“Your brother doesn’t have a criminal record.” Tom changed the subject.
“Did you have to talk him into committing the robberies with you?” Chloe asked.
“He’s a good kid. Had his whole life ahead of him. He was doing well in school. He could have gone to college and with hard work, been anything he wanted to be, done anything he wanted to do.”
“How did you convince him to throw it all away?”
“Your cousin is a drug addict, right? Is that how you convinced him to help you?”
“He probably agreed fairly readily. Anything to make a quick buck.”
“What did you do with the jewelry?”
“Did you pawn it?”
“Did you sell it online?”
“Did you sell it on the black market?”
“Between the two robberies you got away with, close to twenty-thousand-dollars’-worth of jewelry. Not bad for less than ten minutes’ work.”
“What was your long-term goal? Did you want the money to start over or to do something with, or did you just want to scare some people?”
“Who fired the shot that hit Jeff Shields?” Tom asked.
Warren Maloney’s head had been snapping backward and forward between them as they peppered him with questions. They had wanted to keep him unfocused and off his guard, so when they fired the question about the shooting at him, he was unprepared and his face would betray the truth before his brain had a chance to come up with a lie.
Now, Warren looked confused. “The shot?”
“Two days ago, at Sunkissed Jewels,” he replied.
“We never hit that place,” Warren said.
It was the confirmation he’d wanted, but he needed to be sure. “You, your brother, and your cousin have been robbing jewelry stores. The Sunkissed Jewels was robbed. Why should we believe it wasn't you?”
“Because we never did it.” Warren frowned irritably.
“You shot someone,” Chloe said.
“I ain’t shot nobody, ever,” Warren protested.
“You're saying someone else robbed that store?” Chloe asked.
Warren shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. Alls I know is we didn't do nothing there. And we didn't shoot nobody, either.”
Tom looked to his partner for confirmation she believed Warren was telling the truth. Chloe gave him a small nod. “If it wasn't you, could it have been just your brother and cousin who robbed the store without telling you?” He didn't think it was likely, but they were looking for only two people.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?” Chloe asked. “Maybe they didn't want to share things three ways. Maybe they decided for that one they'd leave you out.”
“They wouldn’t. It was all my idea. Zane didn't even wanna do it. And Kurt, all he cared about was getting high. Anyways, we couldn’t have done it. Two days ago, we was at our grandmother’s funeral,” Warren told them.
“In the evening?” Tom asked.
“Got home about eleven and went to bed.”
Tom believed him. Zane Maloney didn't have a police record and there was no evidence he had ever been violent. The cousin, Kurt, had some drug-related misdemeanors, but again, nothing violent. He didn't even think that Warren would have shot anyone. “Did anyone else know about what you were doing?”
“No.”
“No fourth person who was supposed to work with you but dropped out?”
“No.”
“Was the Sunkissed Jewels on your hit list?” Chloe asked.
“Didn't really have a hit list.”
“Do you know of anyone else who might also be robbing jewelry stores?”
“No.”
Warren didn't have anything useful to give them, but he’d already given them the one thing they needed. Now they had proof that these kids didn't rob Hannah’s store, they could move on to their next interview. One which would be infinitely harder.
Hannah.
* * * * *
9:25 A.M.
Had it worked?
He wasn't sure.
Had Hannah gotten his message?
Did she know why he did it?
Did she understand?
Did she know that he would never allow anything to hurt her?
Did she know that everything he did, he did in her best interest?
So many questions, and he had no way of knowing the answers.
The cops had caught the gang of masked men who had been robbing jewelry stores, so by now, they must know that those men hadn’t been the ones who robbed Hannah’s store.
But did they know who did?
Did they know it was all because of him?
Did they know that he had paid someone to do it?
Did they know why?
Were they looking for him?
This was so stressful. He hadn’t realized just how much work and anxiety would go into making his plan a reality. Now he lived in constant fear that someone would connect the robbery to him. But if this worked, then it would be worth it.
He did it all for Hannah.
He had wanted her for so long, but she didn't look at him that way. She was so self-sufficient, she just went about her life, so introverted, so scared to let anyone in, so determined to do it all by herself.
But if she would just look at him, then she would see that he was here for her no matter what. That he would do anything for her.
So, he had come up with an idea that would make Hannah see just how much she needed someone. That even though she was the strongest woman he’d ever met, she needed to have someone in her life that she could count on who would protect her and take care of her and make everything okay.
He had known that she would need a push to get the message.
And this seemed like the perfect option.
Put her in a situation where she was scared, where her life would be in danger, and she should come running straight to him so he could help her pick up the pieces.
It all seemed so foolproof.
What could go wrong?
At the time, he’d thought nothing. But now he was having second thoughts. If he was found out, he could go to prison. And Hannah was so tough. What if he hadn’t given her enough of a push? What if she didn't come running to him? What if she tried to deal with all of it on her own?
So far, she hadn’t come to him.
Did that mean he should push harder?
If the cops knew that Hannah was the target of the robbery and not the jewelry, then they would go through her life with a fine-tooth comb. They would circle around her, providing a protective shield that would be difficult for him to penetrate.
But he had to find a way to make it work.
He had to have Hannah for his very own.
He loved everything about her. She was so beautiful. He adored her long, dark auburn hair; the color reminded him of fall leaves. He loved her eyes, a gorgeous mix of green and blue and gray. He could stare into them forever. It was like staring into the bottomless depths of the ocean. He loved her milky white skin, and the light smattering of freckles across her nose. Stress and hard work made her a little too thin, but once she had him to take care of her, she would be able to relax.
Although her strength was an obstacle to getting to her, he admired it. Greatly. He knew what she had overcome, and it made him love her all the more. She was smart, and when she let her guard down and allowed herself to have a little fun, she had a marvelous sense of humor. She had a big heart and was always looking for opportunities to help others. She volunteered at a rape crisis center, she worked at a homeless shelter dishing out meals once a week, and she donated a percentage of her store’s monthly profits to help underprivileged children.
He wanted her so badly, it consumed him. He ached with the desire to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to make love to her, to be the center of her world.
He needed a way to find out if Hannah had gotten the message.
If she was scared enough that she sought solace with him.
And if she hadn’t, he would take things up a level.
He was going to do whatever it took to have her.
He wouldn’t stop until she was his.
* * * * *
9:36 A.M.
Tom was nervous as he stood at the door to the interview room where Hannah was waiting for them. When they’d first met, he’d never been nervous around her. Their relationship had seemed natural from the very beginning.
They’d met back in their first days of college. He’d been studying criminal justice, she’d been studying business management, and early one morning they had literally bumped into each other at the library.
The attraction had been instantaneous.
Maybe not love at first sight, but there was definitely a spark.
He’d asked her out that day, and Hannah had said yes. Their first date had been that night. And that was when he knew. He’d taken her to an amusement park and they’d stayed until closing, eating junk and riding the roller coaster over and over again. They’d had such a great time laughing and talking that he’d known that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.
Although, like any other couple, they had had their ups and downs, they always found a way to work through any issue that arose and remain together. He proposed a year after they met, at the library, right where they had bumped into each other. They’d married shortly after they graduated.
Everything had been going so well. He was happy in his job as an FBI agent. Hannah’s store was growing, they had talked about the possibility of starting a family, and their future had seemed so bright. And then that night had changed everything.
After that, he had started to feel nervous around Hannah. She’d been raped and traumatized. She’d had nightmares and jumped at every little noise. He’d wanted to take away her fears, but at the same time, he hadn’t known how to handle her. He had worried about failing her, about not saying or doing the right thing, about not giving her what she needed. Not because he thought she was weak but because he didn't know what his place was anymore. He was Hannah’s husband, and he wanted to be there to comfort and support her, but at every opportunity, she pushed him away. That left him feeling helpless, and as such, anxious around her because he didn't want to overstep his bounds.
Nine years of closeness had been wiped away in the three years since they’d divorced, and he was feeling even more unsure around her. More so than ever since they'd spoken yesterday, and she had accused him of throwing away their marriage because he was too stubborn to admit he had needed help.
As much as he didn't want to admit it, he thought Hannah might be right.
He had made her his priority back then because she had been the one who’d been so violently assaulted. But he had been there, too. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one who had needed time and help to deal with the trauma they’d been through.
Tom wasn't sure, and right now, he didn't have time to contemplate it.
“Can we hurry up and get this over with?” Hannah asked as soon as they opened the door. She looked nervous and edgy and didn't appear to be doing anything to hide it. She was wearing jeans, black, knee-high boots, and a pink sweater with sleeves that came right down over her hands—and was twisting them between her fingers as she paced the small room. He knew Hannah hated police stations after all the hours she’d spent in them recounting the story of her assault so many times.
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” he assured her, resisting the urge to take her elbow and guide her to the table. Instead, he went and sat. Chloe followed him, and after eyeing the door longingly, Hannah came and joined them.
“You found them, right? The men who robbed my store, who shot Jeff?”
Her hopeful, blue-green eyes cut him deeply. He was about to shatter that hope. “We found the men who robbed the other four stores,” he told her gently. “We arrested them yesterday afternoon attempting to rob another. We just finished interviewing one of them. They weren’t the ones who held up your store, Hannah.”
Disappointment filled her face. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure, Ms. Buffy,” Chloe replied.
“Then, who robbed my store?” Her eyes searched their faces seeking answers.
“We don’t know.”
“So, you were right.” Hannah turned to him. “What happened at my store wasn't related to the others.”
“I didn't want to be right, Hannah,” he told her.
She arched a brow at that. “How are you going to find them?”
“Through you. Through everything you can tell us,” he replied.
“We need a list of everything that was taken so we can try to track it,” Chloe said.
“I started making a list, but the store was a mess. It might take me a while to get you a complete list.”
“That’s fine,” he assured her. “I asked you before if you thought anyone might want to target you through your store and you said no. Now I need you to really think about it.”
“This could still just be a random robbery, right?” Hannah asked.
“Yes,” Chloe answered quickly. “It absolutely could. It probably is. But we want to be sure that it isn’t anything else.”
“Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?” Tom asked.
“No. I told you that already. I don’t know what you want from me. There’s no one who would want to hurt me. I'm sure this was just random. It’s Christmas. They probably wanted to make some quick money and thought my store was an easy mark. That’s it. Nothing more,” Hannah finished emphatically.
She was growing agitated. And the more agitated she got, the less likely they were to get any answers from her. “Tell us about the store,” he asked, redirecting her attention away from the robbery. “It’s not the one you had when we were together.”
“I needed a fresh start after we broke up. I met an elderly gentleman who owned a jewelry store. He was sick. Dying. He didn't have any children, but he wanted his business to continue after he died. He wanted to give it to me, but I couldn’t just take it, so I sold my store and bought his. We worked together for almost a year before he passed away. That was two years ago. After he died, I renamed the store Sunkissed Jewels.”
That she had chosen that particular name for her new store hadn’t escaped him. He also didn't know what to make of it. Sunkissed was a nickname he’d had for her when they were together. Why had she chosen that particular name? Did that mean something? Tom wanted to ask her, but he was almost afraid to know the answer. This was just a job, and when it was over and he knew for sure that Hannah was safe, he intended to move on.
Seeing as it had been two years since she made the store her own, it was unlikely that anyone would rob the store intending to target the man she’d bought it from. “What about people in your life? Friends, neighbors, colleagues, a boyfriend?” He had to force himself to get the word out. Although they were divorced, and he didn't intend to change that, he still didn't like the idea of Hannah dating.
“I don’t have a lot of friends. Most of the friends from before I kind of let go.”
She didn't have to specify what the before was that she was talking about. Both of them had lost a lot of friends following Hannah’s assault. It wasn't on purpose. It was just that both of them had withdrawn a lot from the world around them. And that meant a lot of friendships just sort of faded away until there was nothing left.
“You told us that your employee, Vincent, was the son of a friend. Which friend?” he asked.
“My next-door neighbor. Her husband died several months back. I had a young woman working with me up until about a month ago, then she moved to Australia with her fiancé. It was Christmas, and I really needed someone quickly. We were talking one evening, and she said her son needed a job for the holiday season. So, I hired Vincent on a temporary basis until I can interview for a new employee in the new year. Ellen Zimmerman and I are friends, but we’re not that close. She has no reason to want revenge on me for anything, and she got a big payout from her husband’s life insurance policy, so she doesn’t need the money.”
“Can we have the name of the woman who used to work for you?” Chloe asked.
Hannah frowned, but replied, “Amelia Topping.”
“What about other friends?” he prompted. He wanted her to tell him something that convinced him this was nothing more than a random robbery.
“I don’t have a lot. Work pretty much consumes my life. When I'm not there, I might have a quiet night in with a couple of old friends who are still around, but that’s about it. And you know all those people, Tom. None of them would want to hurt me. I really don’t think this has anything to do with me. I don’t know anyone who would want to target me or hurt me in any way.”
He really hoped that was true.
“What about a boyfriend?” Chloe asked.
“Don’t have one.”
Catching how uncomfortable Hannah looked, Chloe pressed her. “What about an ex?”
“There’s only one since Tom,” she replied reluctantly.
“What’s his name?” he asked tightly. His entire body stiffened at the knowledge that Hannah had been dating since they split up. It was ridiculous; he knew that. He had dated, too, over the last three years. But right or wrong, the thought of Hannah sharing another man’s bed had him seething with jealousy.
Just a job, he reminded himself.
Just. A. Job.
When this was over, they could both go their separate ways again.
“Garry Smith.”
“Would he hurt you?” he demanded, aware he sounded fiercely possessive.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” It came out as a growl.
Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “It’s none of your business who I have and haven't dated since we got divorced. Don’t go acting like a possessive jerk. I don’t see why Garry would want to hurt me.”
“Who ended the relationship. You or him?” Chloe asked.
“I did.”
Knowing that Hannah had been the one to end things made him feel marginally better.
“Why?” Chloe asked.
“It wasn't going anywhere, and it didn't seem fair to lead him on. I don’t want to get married again. I liked Garry, but I didn't love him. He was starting to get too clingy, too serious. He thought there was a future for us, but there wasn't. So, I told him it was over. He took it fine. He didn't seem angry or anything, just disappointed.”
Despite what Hannah thought, Garry was firmly on their list of people to check out. Just because she thought he had taken the breakup well didn't mean that he had.
“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you. There truly isn’t anyone who’s interested enough in me to rob my store. Look into Garry, if you want. Investigate all my friends. You’re not going to find anything. It was just a robbery. I understand, Tom, why you think it might be more, given our history. But maybe instead of inventing reasons to keep me as the victim, you could just get yourself some help so you can move on. Can I go now?” She addressed the question to Chloe, who nodded. “I’ll have the list of everything that was taken to you as soon as I can.”
With that, Hannah stood and breezed out of the room.
Leaving him staring after her.
Although Hannah was a victim, he had never thought of her as one. She was too strong, too determined to get over what had happened to her.
He couldn’t leave things like that.
Standing, he hurried after her.
* * * * *
10:10 A.M.
She was all but running through the police station, desperate to get out.
It felt like she was suffocating in here.
Hannah didn't even notice Tom until he was beside her, grabbing her arm and stopping her near frantic efforts to get back outside.
She would be happy if she never had to step foot inside a police station again in her life. She had spent so many hours in them three years ago, telling her story over and over again until the whole thing started to feel surreal, like nothing more than simply a story.
Of the six men who had assaulted her, three of them had been killed by the cops, another left in critical condition, and the other two had surrendered quietly. She had been grilled in minute detail about every aspect of the attack as they tried to ascertain whether the shootings had been justified.
They had.
The men had refused to comply with orders from the first officers on the scene to lower their weapons and surrender. Instead, they had threatened to shoot her, Tom, and the cops. The police had had no choice but to shoot them. And she was glad they did. She wished that all six men had been killed.
It would have been so much easier if they were all dead.
She hated knowing those men could get out of prison one day.
Hannah was surprised when a blast of cold air hit her face. While her mind had been stuck in the past, Tom had maneuvered her through the winding halls of the police precinct and outside. For once, she appreciated that he knew her well enough to know what she needed without her having to verbalize it.
She dragged in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the icy winter air and letting the wide open outdoors soothe her.
“Are you okay?” Tom’s light brown eyes were examining her closely.
“Yes,” she replied shortly, snatching her arm back and turning, intending to leave.
“Hannah, wait.” He grabbed her arm again, holding her in place.
She didn't want to deal with this now. She just wanted to get back to her store, get the list of missing items to her insurance company and the FBI, then get back to her life. “What do you want, Tom?”
“I'm not trying to make you a victim. I never did.” His face was so earnest.
Maybe he really didn't realize what he’d done. Maybe he’d been so caught up in his own pain that he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. Hannah had always known that he was suffering just as much as she was, but maybe Tom hadn’t. He didn't want to admit that he was struggling. He was an FBI agent; he was supposed to be strong and tough. But his desire to convey an air of strong and tough and treat her as a helpless victim who needed him to do everything for her had done more harm than good.
“How can we have lived the same events and yet we both have two completely different takes of what happened?” Tom looked sad now.
“Because you didn't want to see things from my point of view. You had already made up your mind. I was the victim, and it was your job to save me. It didn't matter what I wanted.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course, it was. It was true then, and it’s true now. You still want me to be the victim. You can't accept that this was just a robbery. Nothing more. No conspiracy. No hidden motives. No boogeyman hiding in the corner. Just a robbery.”
“Do you always have to be so stubborn?” he growled.
“I'm not being stubborn. Just realistic. You’re the one who’s seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Do you trust me?”
The question caught her by surprise, but she didn't hesitate to answer. “Yes.”
“Then trust me now. All I’m asking is that you be careful. Is that really too much?”
Hannah sighed. No matter what she said or did, Tom could never let go of the notion that she was a victim. “Why are you doing this? We’ve been divorced for three years, we’ve both moved on with our lives. It’s over between us, why can't you just let it go?”
“I'm doing my job. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“I'm not your responsibility anymore,” she reminded him.
“This is my case, so you most certainly are my responsibility.”
“No. You were working a string of armed robberies at jewelry stores. You closed that case. The robbery at my store wasn't related. That means the local police department can handle the case, and you and your partner can go back to the FBI.”
“I'm not walking away until this case is closed, and I'm convinced that you're safe.”
“Why do you care?” If Tom had really cared about her, he would never have walked away from her in the first place.
“How can you ask me that?” He looked hurt.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I know you see me as a victim, but this time I'm not. I wasn't hurt. There is no one after me. I am not in danger. Nothing is going to happen to me.” How many times was she going to have to tell him that before he got it through his thick head?
“You said you trusted me. Can't you for once just listen to me, let me help you? Why is that so hard for you to do? Why is it such a repulsive idea to you to let me help you?”
“You don’t want to help me; you want to save me. I get it. You feel like what happened was your fault. But it wasn't. I never blamed you, Tom. Ever. How could you have predicted what would happen? You couldn’t. I never once thought it was your fault. That was your issue. And you wouldn’t acknowledge it and get help. I'm not the one who’s stubborn; you are.”
Tom shook his head. “You're the stubborn one. I wanted to help you, and you acted like that was the worst thing ever.”
“I wanted to learn to be strong again. I have felt like a victim every day since it happened. And the more you treated me like a victim, the more I felt like one. You didn't want to be my husband anymore. You just wanted to take care of me. But we should have been taking care of each other. We could have been a team, helping each other, but you couldn’t accept that you were a victim, too.”
“No, I wasn't.” He looked horrified by the very suggestion.
“Yes, you were.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.” In the nine years they’d been together, they had never argued much, but ever since the home invasion, they had developed a tendency to argue constantly, like a couple of preschoolers. “They tied you to a chair, Tom, beat you, and made you watch them rape me. Whether you want to admit it or not, you were just as much a victim as I was. You could have gotten help. We could have helped each other. You could have looked at me as a survivor. Instead, you chose to make me the victim and make it your project to fix me. When that didn't work, you just left. That was your choice. I never said I wanted you to go. Wanting to do things for myself wasn't an invitation for you to leave, but you did. You just left me.”
“You never asked me to stay,” he said quietly.
He was right.
She had never asked him to stay.
She had wanted to, but she’d been too hurt that he left, and then she had been too determined to prove that she didn't need anyone. That she could be completely self-sufficient. That she could take the horror that she had suffered and use it to make herself stronger than she had been before. She had needed to know—for herself, not for anyone else—that she could survive.
And she had.
But that didn't change the fact that she still loved Tom, and if he hadn’t walked out the door, they would probably still be together today.
“If I had, would you have stayed?” she asked.
Hannah looked at the man who would always hold a big piece of her heart. His hands were on his hips. She remembered what it was like to feel those calloused fingertips tracing over her bare skin. His lips were pulled into a tight line, and as she looked at them, all she could think of was the spark of electricity she always felt when they pressed against hers. She had never felt safer than she had when she had been wrapped up in Tom’s arms. It had been like having steel bands around her; yet, at the same time, they were warm and comforting.
She should have asked him to stay. Begged him. Done whatever it took to convince him that her desire to be self-sufficient and do things for herself had nothing to do with him. It was all about not losing herself and becoming just another rape victim.
Maybe letting him walk out of her life had been the biggest mistake she’d ever made. She had survived. She had grown strong. She had thrived in her business life. But she wasn't really happy. There was a big gaping hole in her heart and her life that she wasn't sure she could ever fill.
Tears were building in her eyes, but when she looked at Tom’s, she found them all cop. He hadn’t answered her question, but she supposed that was her answer. Tom had left because he wanted to. Even if she had been able to swallow her pride and ask him to stay, he wouldn’t have.
Straightening her spine, she made her voice calm, cool, and collected. “There are no monsters after me, Tom. So you can go back to your life with a clear conscience.”
“I'm going to do my job, Hannah.”
“You always do. Just don’t make it any more than that.”
“Don’t worry, I won't. This is just another job.”
Just another job.
Well, at least she knew where she stood.
Maybe she had needed to hear him say it. To know that he was happy with his decision to end their marriage. To know he had no regrets. Maybe now she could finally properly move on with her life.
With a last look at Tom, Hannah turned and walked away.
* * * * *
10:38 A.M.
Would he have stayed if Hannah had asked him to?
Tom still couldn’t believe she had asked him that.
And he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t given her an answer.
What was wrong with him?
Would he have stayed if she had asked him to?
Yes.
Of course.
He had only left in the first place because it was what he thought she wanted. He had thought that she didn't want him around. That she wanted, or even needed, to deal with what had happened on her own. That time and space and isolation to process it all were what was going to help her recover.
So, he had given it to her.
Only now, he wasn't so sure it was what she had wanted.
When she’d asked him if he would have stayed with her if she had asked him to, it had looked like she hoped he would say yes.
Why hadn’t he?
“Tom.” Chloe appeared behind him.
Hannah had walked away, and he’d let her. He had to accept that it was over between them. Whether or not it would have changed things, if she’d asked him to stay was irrelevant now. She hadn’t, and he’d left. They were divorced. This was just a job. When it was finished, he would leave again.
Just a job.
Just a job.
Just a job.
Maybe if he kept saying that, it might make it true.
Because he knew it was no longer just a job. He wanted to keep Hannah safe because he still loved her. He wanted any excuse to keep seeing her again. And when this case was closed, he didn't want to walk away.
This wasn't just a job.
“Are you coming in?” Chloe asked.
He wanted to say no.
He wanted to go after Hannah.
He wanted to find a way to fix things with her.
But he didn't.
“Yeah.” He was a coward, so he may as well let Hannah go—again—and go and work on this case. At least he could find who had robbed Hannah’s store and make sure that no one ever hurt her again.
With his heart still pulling him in the opposite direction, he followed his partner back inside. At his desk, he attempted to not let himself get distracted by his complicated relationship with Hannah. That wasn't going to help her right now.
“I checked out Hannah’s old employee, Amelia Topping, while you were talking with Hannah,” Chloe told him. “I don’t think there’s any reason for her to be involved in the robbery. She hasn’t left Australia in the five weeks since she moved there. She’s busy planning her wedding and has already bought her own jewelry store in her new town. When I spoke to her, she was upset to hear about what had happened and concerned about Hannah and Jeff. I don’t think she’s involved.”
“We should look into the neighbor,” he said.
“Ellen Zimmerman. Hannah said they were friends but not that close. She also said that the woman received a sizeable life insurance payout when her husband died. I looked into her, and she also owns several rental properties, plus she sold her husband’s chain of shoe stores for a lot of money.”
“I agree, it doesn’t seem likely, but she was the one who suggested that her son go to work at Hannah’s store, and then a month later, the store is robbed. We can't discount it.”
“Might not be about money,” Chloe suggested. “Maybe Hannah and her husband had an affair, and it’s personal. She and the son decide to teach her a lesson and set up the robbery.”
Tom glared at Chloe, furious at the very suggestion Hannah would have an affair. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe it wasn't the husband. Maybe Hannah and the son were involved. And Ellen didn't like that, decided to teach Hannah a lesson.”
“She didn't mention dating nineteen-year-old Vincent,” he said tightly.
“No, she didn't. But she clearly wasn't comfortable being forthcoming about her love life with you in the room. Maybe I should talk to her again. Without you. See if she mentions anything else.”
“I don’t think she was lying when she said that she hadn’t dated much. Or too uncomfortable to say it in front of me.” He knew Hannah, and he knew what she’d been through. He’d had a front row seat. It made sense that after being gang raped by six men, she wasn't in a hurry to start dating again.
“It does make sense given her history,” Chloe agreed. “And she has clearly put a lot of time and effort into building up her business, but we have to look into everything. Maybe she’s been dating a lot but just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you.”
“Why would hurting my feelings be an issue? We’re divorced. She’s free to date whoever she wants.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “The tone of your voice and the look on your face when you say she’s free to date whoever she wants, make your feelings on her love life pretty clear.”
Tom said nothing. He had nothing to say to that. He hated the idea of Hannah with another man. “We have to talk to her ex.” He couldn’t deny that part of him was insanely curious about who Hannah had dated after their divorce, while at the same time, part of him didn't want to meet the man and acknowledge he was real and Hannah really had had a life after him.
“We’ll call Garry Smith and set up a meeting. Even though Hannah said the break up went smoothly, it doesn’t mean it did on Garry’s part. Maybe he doesn’t want to let her go. Maybe he thinks, if he can scare her badly enough, she’ll come running back to him. If nothing else, he might be able to give us some insight into anyone who might have a grudge against Hannah. I know she says there’s no one, but I think part of it is she doesn’t want to admit you could be right, so she might be missing something.”
It was a possibility, but Tom didn't think Hannah would take any risks with her own safety, even to prove him wrong. And the assault had made her vigilant. She would have noticed anyone acting suspiciously around her. If someone was targeting Hannah, then they were doing their best to remain inconspicuous. “There’s something bothering me about the robbery.”
“What?”
“They break in after hours. They know that most jewelry stores will have a silent alarm. They tried to get the codes to the safe, but on the way in, they smashed the glass cases and grabbed some stuff. Why bother? If what you wanted was the expensive stuff in the safe, then why waste the limited time you have to grab some of the small-time stuff?”
“Maybe they thought there was a chance they wouldn’t get the code in time.”
“Why would they think that? If Hannah didn't have a phobia of guns, she would have given them the code. So why bother with the cheap stuff? It’s almost like they wanted to make it look like a robbery, to look like the others.”
“Or they just wanted to get away with as much as they could,” Chloe countered.
“I guess.” His partner was being so logical. He didn't want to be logical right now. Even the possibility that Hannah could be in danger, left him so far out from logical he couldn’t even make contact with it right now.
“Hey, guys.”
Savannah Watson, a friend of Chloe’s who worked for the FBI’s Evidence Response Team Unit, was walking toward them. Savannah was a pretty blonde, with large blue eyes, who walked with a cane following a violent assault that had shattered her hip and ruined her dreams of becoming an FBI agent. She had, instead, transferred to the forensic unit.
“I brought gingerbread.” Savannah set a box down on Chloe’s desk. “And I have news for you two.” She dropped into his chair when he stood and indicated she should sit.
“You found something at Hannah’s store?” he asked hopefully, anxious for a direction to move in.
“Yes. I went back and re-swept her store since we know that the robbery there wasn't related to the others, and since there was some question over whether or not she was the real target.”
“Tom is the only one who thinks that,” Chloe inserted.
“I think he’s right,” Savannah said.
“What did you find?” His heart clenched. Up until Savannah said that, he hadn’t been sure if he really was just being wildly unobjective where his ex was concerned or if his gut feeling was right.
“An FM short-range listening device.”
“Someone bugged her store?” Tom couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“Yes. And recently. The battery life is about one hundred and twenty hours; it was ninety percent flat. The robbery was two days ago. That means it was put there not more than three days before,” Savannah explained.
“So, the robbers were in her store at some point in those couple of days before the robbery,” Chloe stated.
“Or whoever they were working with. Where was the listening device found?” he asked.
“Under Hannah’s desk. It’s a short-range device, so the robbers would have had to be close by to hear what was happening in there.”
“Which means they knew she was in there. If they’d just wanted to rob the store, they could have waited until it was empty. Instead, they made sure that she was going to be there.”
He’d been right.
This wasn't a random robbery.
Someone had deliberately decided to target Hannah and her store.
But why?
And who?
And how was he going to find out?
* * * * *
2:29 P.M.
Hannah was nervous.
She wanted to see Jeff, but she didn't.
She hadn’t spoken to him since the shooting, but she had been calling the hospital to ask for regular updates on how he was doing.
At least this was a good distraction from thinking about Tom. She wished she could forget about him. For good.
No, she corrected herself.
That wasn't true.
Even if she could wipe all traces of Tom from her past and her mind, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Before the home invasion, they had had a lot of good times together. They had been happy together. They would have spent the rest of their lives together.
But that night had changed everything.
She meant what she had said to Tom earlier. What had happened wasn't his fault, despite what he thought.
There was no way that he could have known what was going to happen. It had been one in the morning, and they’d woken to a sound outside. It had sounded like a crying dog. Tom had gone down to check it out, wondering if the puppy next door had gotten out of its yard.
It hadn’t.
When he opened their backdoor, he’d been ambushed by six armed men who had knocked him unconscious.
She had remained in bed and expected her husband to return, possibly with the puppy in tow. Instead, six men with guns had dragged her unconscious husband into their bedroom.
What transpired over the next several hours she had tried her best to block from her mind. That she really did wish she could forget about.
But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t.
It was there forever.
And it had cost her the one person she loved the most in the world.
The assault had gotten between her and Tom and grown and festered until it was too big for them to overcome. It had torn them apart instead of bringing them together. They had both been struggling to deal with their own feelings and emotions, let alone each other’s. Tom might have been the one who walked away, but the blame for their breakup could be placed equally on both their shoulders.
Now he was back in her life; at least, for the time being. But nothing seemed different. They still argued whenever they were together. They still couldn’t sit down and sort out their issues. There was still a huge gap between them that she didn't think could ever be bridged.
One thing she did know was that Tom would find the men who had robbed her store, who had held a gun to her head, who had shot her employee and friend.
Absently, Hannah touched her hand to her temple. The bruise had darkened over the last two days and was now a vivid mottled mix of black and blue and purple. It was tender to touch, and she still had a slight headache, but it was nothing compared to what Jeff had gone through.
At least he was going to be okay.
She had to keep reminding herself of that.
Like a mantra.
Jeff was okay. Jeff was okay. Jeff was okay.
She’d been reminding herself of that for the last forty-eight hours, trying to get it to sink in, but all she could do was feel guilt.
What if he blamed her?
She blamed herself, so she couldn’t hold it against him if he blamed her, too.
He should blame her.
It was her fault, after all.
She would work on her gun phobia. She owed that to Jeff at the very least. And she would do whatever else she could to try to make it up to him. Of course, she would pay him his full wage for however long he needed to take off to recover. Or, if he wanted to resign, she would pay him out to make sure he had plenty of money to last until he found another job. She would do anything she could to help him.
Hannah wasn't quite sure what to expect when she walked into his hospital room. She knew he’d been shot in the upper chest, near his right shoulder, and she knew that the doctors said he would make a full recovery. But was he awake, or did they have him sedated? Was he hooked up to machines, or had he progressed to the stage where he was stable and able to move about freely? Was he confined to the bed?
She couldn’t hover here in the corridor forever. She may as well get it over with. If he yelled at her, he yelled at her. She would stand there and take what she deserved.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Hannah opened the door to Jeff’s room and stepped inside, where she relaxed marginally. The bed was empty. Jeff was sitting in a chair by the window, a book perched awkwardly in his left hand. His right arm was in a sling to help protect his injured shoulder.
He looked all right.
Hannah sighed in relief.
As the door swung closed, Jeff turned in her direction. She expected to see anger in his brown eyes, but instead they were full of concern.
“Hannah!” He set the book down and stood, swaying only slightly, then hurried to her side. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, she was too choked up to speak. How could he be concerned about her when he was the one who had almost been killed? “I'm fine. How are you?”
“Be good as new in a couple of days,” he assured her. Jeff gave her a wide smile, his brown eyes twinkling just as brightly as they always did. His silvery brown hair was a tangled mess around his head, making him look more relaxed and casual than she was used to seeing him; but in the end, he looked like the Jeff she knew.
Searching his eyes to see if he was just placating her, she didn't see anything untoward and relaxed further. “I’m so sorry, Jeff.”
His eyes crinkled. “Sorry about what?”
“They shot you because I didn't give them the code. I wanted to, but I couldn’t talk. You came in to save me but they shot you instead. I'm so sorry.” She couldn’t stop a few tears from tumbling out and trickling slowly down her cheeks.
“They shot me because they chose to. That had nothing to do with you,” Jeff said firmly.
“But if I had just—”
“No,” Jeff cut her off. “I don’t want to hear any more about you blaming yourself. It was not your fault, Hannah. It was not your fault.”
She didn't believe that, but she didn't argue. “You should be sitting down. Are you really okay?”
“Doctors say I was lucky; the bullet didn't hit anything vital. I lost a bit of blood, but rest and some physical therapy and I’ll be fine in a few weeks,” he told her as they went and sat in the two chairs by the window. “Some FBI agents came by. Agents Drake and Luckman. They said our robbery wasn't related to the others.”
“I know.” She still couldn’t believe that this was about her. Who would want to hurt her? The list was short. Very short. There was no one. Not a single person. Maybe someone hadn’t known that she had taken over Reginald Thames’ store and they’d really been after him. Jeff had worked for Mr. Thames then stayed on when she took over. Maybe he knew something. “Could there be anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Thames?”
“No,” Jeff replied immediately. “You knew him. He was a sweet old man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. There’s no one who would have any reason to want to hurt him.”
He was right. Hannah knew that. “What about you? Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?”
“The agents asked me the same thing, but I told them there wasn't anyone who would have any reason to rob your store just to hurt me. And even if there was someone with a grudge against me, why would they target your store to get to me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered helplessly. None of this made sense.
“What about Vincent?”
“Vincent?”
“We don’t really know much about him. You never checked references or work history or anything with him.” Jeff’s tone was slightly reprimanding.
“He’s Ellen’s son.” She hadn’t seen a reason to look into Vincent’s references. He was the son of her neighbor and friend, and she had only intended for him to work for the month or two over Christmas and into the new year and then she would look for a permanent replacement for Amelia. “Do you think it could be Vincent they were really after?”
“No.”
She was surprised by the confidence in Jeff’s tone—maybe he knew the teenager better than she’d thought.
“I don’t think this was personal. We know it wasn't related to the other robberies, but that doesn’t mean they were targeting any of us. I think it was random. I don’t think you need to worry about anyone coming after you or me or Vincent. It was just random, Hannah, I'm sure of it.”
Hannah hoped Jeff was right.
She really did.
She’d dealt with enough crime in the last few years; she didn't want to have to deal with anything else.
* * * * *
9:18 P.M.
This was probably a stupid idea.
And she wasn't going to be pleased if she found out.
Yet Tom had no plans on leaving.
Hannah was never going to know he was here. And given that someone had bugged her office, he couldn’t stand the thought of her being home alone and unprotected in the event that whoever planted the listening device came after her here.
Was that likely?
Probably not.
But why take the chance?
He would much rather park his car across the street from Hannah’s house and sleep in it. Then, if anything happened, he’d be right here. He had failed Hannah once already. He wasn't going to do it again.
If only he had done things differently that night, then those men would never have gotten inside the house. A noise in the backyard in the middle of the night should have been more than enough warning that something was wrong. He should have taken his gun with him just to be safe.
But he hadn’t.
And Hannah had paid the price.
Those hours, sitting there, tied to the chair, watching those men rape his wife repeatedly and so roughly she’d been left badly bleeding while he was powerless to do anything about it, were the worst of his life.
They were pure hell.
He hadn’t expected to walk out of their bedroom alive.
By some miracle, they had survived.
Then the hard work of recovering had begun.
He and Hannah had both struggled, and those struggles had ended up tearing them apart. When his wife needed him the most, he had bailed. He had honestly believed it was because it was what she wanted and what was best for her.
But now, he wasn't so sure.
Hannah had called her store the nickname he’d given her, and today she’d asked him if he would have stayed if she’d asked. She was sending him all these mixed signals. Now he didn't know what to think.
The one thing Tom knew was that under no circumstances would he allow anyone to hurt Hannah ever again.