Dana Marton - Broslin Creek 05 - Broslin Bride (12 page)

But whatever she had or hadn’t done the night in question, he wished she’d just trust him and come right out with it already. He couldn’t help if he didn’t know exactly how much trouble she was in.

She sucked in her bottom lip and raked her teeth over it, drawing his attention to the crease again. He seriously had to get over that.

“I don’t remember anything.” She held his gaze, her eyes holding desperation he didn’t think could be faked.

Okay, she was telling the truth about that. His fist clenched as he finally accepted the idea that she’d been drugged. He wasn’t a violent man, but he sincerely wanted to punch something, preferably Gregory’s face.

“Maybe I hit Earl under the influence,” she said, biting her lip now, the small gesture sending heat to his loins. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

Chase considered her words for a second. “So you were under the influence but remembered what time Earl went home at night and what route he followed, you planned how, when, and where to run him over, executed the hit without clipping the garbage containers, then drove home and parked nicely by the curb, let yourself in? I’m not buying it.” A couple of new ideas readily presented themselves. He rather liked them. “Maybe you weren’t driving.”

“Who was?”

“My best guess is Gregory. The guy who gave you a roofie is usually the last guy you remember offering you a drink.”

“Why would Gregory want to kill Earl?”

“Could have been an accident. He put you in your car, drove you to the back alley to have some fun. Maybe he was paying you so much attention, he didn’t see Earl in the dark. Or maybe Earl saw him doing something to you, so Gregory ran Earl over, not wanting a witness.”

“And then he drove me home?”

“It’s not half-bad as a frame for a murder. Worked so far. You’ve been charged.” He was going to get the bastard. Luanne wasn’t going down for this.

“How would he even know where I live? I just met him.”

“You keep your registration and car insurance papers in your glove compartment? Have your driver’s license with you?”

She braced her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, her golden hair sliding forward, hiding her from him. “I feel so stupid.” Her voice came out muffled.

All he felt was mad. “Don’t,” he told her. “Somebody set you up for rape, and then he set you up as a murderer.”

She drew big gulps of air, as if trying to stave off hyperventilating. He got up and filled a glass with water, set it on the table in front of her, placed a hand on her shoulder for support.

A shoulder that felt too slim under his hand. “How about if I stay for a while and we strategize a little? Would you mind if I ordered some food again? I’m starving.”

When she shook her head, he ordered pizza and breadsticks, enough for the two of them and the girls. Then he sat back down across from her.

She looked up. “So Gregory killed Earl for some reason, framing me. But why come after me now?
If
he’s behind the accidents.”
 

Chase thought for a few seconds. “Have you been asking questions about him?”

She nodded, suddenly pale. “I’ve been showing the police sketch around.”

“Me too. Nothing so far.” He folded his hands on the table. “So maybe he was counting on you not remembering, that you’d assume you hit Earl drunk, then drove home. The police would have plenty for an arrest. The court would have enough for a conviction. He didn’t count on you figuring things out. He needs to silence you before you finger him.”

Her gaze filled with a whole new level of desperation. “Can the girls and I get some kind of police protection?”

“I’ll talk to the captain. Protection won’t be easy to justify. We have pretty severe budget restrictions. I believe you, but other than your say-so, we have nothing to corroborate your three accidents. Even if I can get you protection, first round’s twenty-four-hour surveillance. If nothing suspicious happens, the captain has to call it off. Budgets these days don’t spring to longtime protection unless there’s proven, imminent danger.”

She nodded, casting a worried glance toward the twins in the living room. Her entire heart was in her eyes, the love she felt toward those little girls practically radiating out of her. She took very good care of them. But who took care of Luanne?

He followed her gaze. “I can hang out in my car outside your house and keep an eye on things. If somebody comes to do you harm, I
will
catch him.”
 

“You can’t put your entire life on hold for me.”

He made some noncommittal noises. He could and would make sure that nothing happened to Luanne and the twins. Damn right, he would. He was going to keep them safe. And she was going to trust him, and not do anything else stupid like hitting the hydrant to destroy evidence.

They were going to have to address that at some point, but not now, not when she’d just realized that someone was trying to kill her. She had enough stress for today.

She linked her fingers together on her lap. He wanted to take her hand. He wanted to take more than her hand.
Hell.
He pushed to his feet. “How is your security? I’ll walk around and make sure the locks on the windows and the doors are up to snuff.”
 

He had to get moving before he pulled her into his arms or did something equally idiotic.

* * *

Chase wasn’t halfway to his car when Luanne began packing.

If she’d learned one thing over the years, it was that she could count on nobody to save her but herself. She’d never been able to count on her father. Her mother had been flighty at best. No family had ever been there for her. She was used to having to solve her own problems.

She rushed for the giant cloth grocery bags they used to avoid plastic, and started filling the first with what food she had in the cupboard: bread, peanut butter, animal cookies.

Gregory had killed already. And had almost gotten away with it. Obviously, whoever he was, he was good at this. For all she knew, he was some serial killer, rapist.

Maybe the police could protect her. But for how long?
A day
, Chase had said. And he couldn’t sit outside her house forever. For one, if he was on duty and got a call, he’d have to leave.
 

She did trust him, she realized. She’d told him everything she knew about the night of Earl’s death. But trusting him with her life, and the twins’ lives, trusting him to save them…

Keeping her sisters safe was her job, nobody else’s. She had to do whatever it took. Bottom line—she couldn’t keep them safe here.

At least she had her severance money.

She closed her eyes against the feeling of impending doom that threated to drown her. Was she really so desperate that she was considering skipping out of town?

Yes, she was, she decided. Better to disappear than to be killed.

* * *

The blue Ford pickup Luanne had on loaner wasn’t in front of the house. Chase walked up to the front door anyway and knocked. No response. He walked over to the window and looked in, saw one of the couch pillows on the floor, a couple of kitchen cabinets open in the back.

He dialed her cell phone. He’d missed Bing at the station, and he wanted to talk to him in person about setting up protection. So while he was waiting for Leila to let him know that Bing had returned, he’d come back to convince Luanne to move to his place with the girls for the time being.

He had better locks, for starters. His windows actually locked all the way. And he had a security system. Plus, nobody would think to look for her at his place. She’d be safer there. He wanted her and the twins safe.

He held his phone to his ear, but the call didn’t even ring out. Luanne’s phone was out of service.

If he didn’t know that someone was after her, he wouldn’t have thought much of her absence and her house being out of order, her not picking up the phone. But as it was, he looked for a key, found it under the second flower pot he tried, and let himself in.

“Luanne?” The open kitchen cabinets stood empty. Unease crept up his spine.

Either she was even lower on groceries than he’d thought, or someone had taken food. None of the kitchen chairs were turned over. Nothing spilled. No sign of struggle.

He tried to keep that in the forefront of his mind as he headed back to the bedrooms. He walked around slowly, examining everything carefully. The girls’ room was about as spacious as a bunk bed on a submarine; even the scant furniture filled it to the brim. The dresser drawers stood open. The basket of clean clothes he’d seen earlier when he’d walked around to check windows was now missing. So were the dolls and horses from the bed.

His neck muscles tightened. He didn’t think a kidnapper would pack toys.

Dammit, Luanne.

His concern switched to anger and disappointment in a millisecond. She’d run.

Did she plan on skipping bail? If she didn’t show for her scheduled court appearance, she’d be in bigger trouble than ever. Didn’t she understand how much worse she was making her situation? Why in hell couldn’t she just trust him?

He called the station, got Leila on the phone. “Hey, I’m going to need a cell phone triangulated for location.” He rattled off Luanne’s number, then repeated it. “Call me as soon as you have something. Thanks.”

He left the house and drove down the road to Jen’s place.

She answered on the first knock. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Luanne?”

The smile slid off Jen’s face. “No. I’m not watching the girls every day now. Just when she goes to clean the library. Isn’t she home?”

“No. Where could she go?”

“Grocery store? Playground?

Chase watched her for any sign of lying, covering up for Luanne. Didn’t see any tells. “Where would she go long-term?”

Jen’s eyes widened. “You think she ran?”

“I need to find her. Anything you could think of would be helpful.”

“Let me try her cell.” She pulled a phone from her back pocket and dialed, concern drawing her brows together.

Chase waited. Luanne might not be taking his calls, but maybe she’d take Jen’s. But a few seconds later, with her phone to her ear, Jen shook her head. “The subscriber can’t be reached at this time.”

She shoved the phone into her back pocket, her body language clipped, her voice tight as she said, “Why would she run? How could she even think that going on the run with the girls would be a good idea?”

Chase could understand the anger. Watching a friend mess up big-time was no fun when you cared about them. “Family?”

As far as he knew, Luanne had none, at least not around town.

“Her mom died,” Jen said. “Well, you know that. She doesn’t know where her father is.”

“You think he got back in touch?”

Jen shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so. He was…” She gave a pained shrug. “You know.”

Yeah. An abusive alcoholic. Chase thought for a second. “How about the library job? Any close friends?”

“She cleans after hours. Nobody’s there but her. You can’t run a vacuum cleaner in the library when it’s open. It’s supposed to be quiet.”

“You think she might be there now?”

“She only cleans on Saturdays.”

Dammit, Luanne.
“Call me if she gets in touch with you. It’s pretty important to get her back here before things get out of control.” She had to show up for her court date.
 

“Of course I will. I’ll keep calling.” Jen pressed her lips together. She clearly thought Luanne was making a mistake.

Chase couldn’t agree more.

He was halfway to his car when Jen called after him. “Wait! She has a great-aunt.” She stepped out onto the front stoop. “Aunt Hilda or Tilda or something like that. She lives somewhere near Richmond, Virginia.”

“You don’t know exactly?”

Jen bit her lips. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “They don’t have a relationship. Nothing beyond exchanging Christmas cards. That’s why I didn’t even remember it at first. Luanne never really talks about her.”

“Thanks.”

He went back to Luanne’s place and looked around one more time, hoping to find an old-fashioned address book that might hold information on the great-aunt, but he didn’t come across anything like that. He checked around for the Christmas card too, a slim chance having that still lying around in the middle of June. He searched anyway, but found no trace of that either.

He called Leila at the station. “Do you remember June Mayfair’s maiden name?” He knew about half the town. Leila knew at least three quarters.

“Luanne’s mother? Let me think.” A moment of silence. “June Desiree.”

“Thanks. I need an address for a Hilda or Tilda Desiree near Richmond, Virginia.”

“How near?”

“Don’t know.”

She grumbled something about the amount of work that was going to take.

“Or I could ask Robin to look into her crystal ball,” he suggested, tongue in cheek.

Robin was their part-time dispatcher, Leila’s nemesis, currently off at a psychic conference in Lily Dale, New York.

Leila promptly hung up on Chase at the mention of her name.

He drove to Jackie’s house next and asked for the blue Ford pickup’s license plate number, but he didn’t call in a three-state APB. For one, Luanne wasn’t officially wanted. She hadn’t skipped bail. Yet. Leaving the state didn’t look good, but maybe she’d come to her senses, call him, and explain herself.
 

He tried her phone again, got the number unavailable message, so he drove back to the station.

“Anything on Hilda Desiree?” he asked Leila as he walked in.

She looked up from her computer. “Not yet.” She picked up some printouts from the counter and held it out for him. “But we just got the report from the medical examiner.”

“Thanks.” He read it on his way to his desk, didn’t even sit down, turned around and strode straight to Bing’s office, stopped in the doorway. “The ME report is in. According to the coroner, the vehicle that hit Earl was going at least fifty miles an hour. That’s the speed that would be consistent with the external and internal damage to the body.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “Luanne was gunning for him?”