Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (29 page)

“But how do I find out Melissa Eldon's back—”

“Chri-i-i-is!”

The phone went silent.

David heaved a sigh, and then said a prayer for safe delivery of this gift from God into the world. Would he ever have the opportunity to hold a child of his own?

Before Alicia's death, parenthood was the furthest thing from his desire. A kid would cramp his lifestyle. After the crisis had humbled him enough to invite the Lord into his heart, he'd seen the world differently, and a new life to nurture took on growing appeal.

Except for one insurmountable obstacle.

Even if he knew for sure he hadn't killed Alicia—which he didn't—he'd never ask a woman to marry a murder suspect and live under that shadow with him, much less subject an innocent child to his stigma. Could this new development change his whole future, or was he destined to live out his days as a man without a family?

SIX

F
rom the corner of her eye, Laurel studied her daughter. Caroline slouched in an easy chair in Janice's family room as far distant from her mother as possible. Beyond the curtains at the bay window, darkness gathered—an accurate reflection of the mood indoors.

Following an early supper, Janice had retired to her office, and Laurel and Caroline had listened to the radio news. Janice didn't care for televisions and didn't have one. Thankfully, there was no mention of the murder of Melissa Eldon or where her body was found. However, that circumstance would surely change sooner rather than later. Laurel had no clue how she would deal with the media.

At least they now had legal representation. She'd called the law firm David had recommended, and they'd assigned an attorney to the case. The first lawyer-client meeting wasn't until Monday, unless the police hassled them for more information between now and then.

A few minutes ago Janice had gone out for an evening house showing, leaving her guests to pretend absorption in their reading material of choice—a magazine for Caroline and a book for Laurel. So much ached to be said, but Laurel couldn't settle on an approach that would avoid the land mines strewn across the miles that stretched between her heart and her daughter's.

“Why can't we stay at our house?” Caroline suddenly spoke. “The police are done. They said we could go home. They even want us to take inventory and turn in a list of missing stuff.”

“We'll do the inventory tomorrow, honey, after a good night's sleep some place where the deck door isn't broken so that anyone can walk in.”

“Seems like they already did their worst. Why would they come back?”

“If I could answer that, I might know why someone vandalized our house in the first place.” Laurel refrained from reminding her daughter about the possible connection between the vandal and whoever put the body in their trunk. “I thought you like to stay overnight at Janice's.”

“I do, but tonight I wanted to sleep in my own bed. C'mon!”

“No can do, sweetie.”

Caroline pouted her lips but the light in her eyes was more resigned than militant.

“I don't blame you for wanting a familiar bed,” Laurel went on. “I do, too. But at least we were able to go in and get our clothes.” She waved a hand over the comfy but well-fitting jeans and T-shirt she now wore.

She gave silent thanks that whoever trashed the downstairs had left the upstairs alone. Only the police had rifled through the personal belongings, and that was bad enough.

A grin flickered on the teenager's face. “Yeah. Mr. Greene is a neat guy and all, and Janice is cool, but wearing their clothes got a little weird. Could I just run home quick and get the pillows off my bed?”

The sweet plea in Caroline's eyes softened Laurel's resistance. “No,
you
can't, but
we
can. While we're at it, I might grab mine, too.”

The girl jumped up, smacking her hands together. “All ri-i-ight!”

They threw on their jackets and went out into the chilly dusk. Caroline skipped ahead, bright head bobbing, all little girl for a sliver of time. Laurel smiled as she strode along, content to take up the rear. The streetlight on the corner lent plenty of illumination for the climb onto their front porch.

Laurel unlocked the door. Why she'd bothered to lock it after they collected their clothes this afternoon was a mystery, but the normal activity had made her feel better, so she'd gone with the impulse. She'd even armed the security system, even though the cardboard and Styrofoam over the broken pane of the deck door wouldn't keep a toddler out, and the security system would take no notice of the intrusion.

“If there's anything else you want, grab it now,” she told her daughter as they trooped inside. “We're not making another trip tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

Laurel flipped the light switch for the pitch-dark foyer, but nothing happened. “Oh, bother!”

She'd forgotten that their burglar cum vandal had apparently taken the same baseball bat he'd used on the television to the light fixtures on the ceilings. There were no bulbs anymore on the ground floor. At least not whole ones.

“No worries, Mom.” Caroline's voice coincided with her feet pounding up the stairs. “I'll get the light up here.”

“Be careful!”

Laurel's call was overshadowed by the ring of the house phone. She frowned. The cordless set in the living room sounded muffled, as if it was buried under upended furniture. A light switched on at the top of the stairs and spilled a glow into the foyer, but there wasn't enough illumination for her to try picking her way through debris to grab the kitchen extension.

“I'm on it,” Caroline chirped, and her footfalls faded down the hall toward her mother's bedroom.

Laurel hurried up the stairs. Her daughter was talking to someone as Laurel stepped into the master bedroom. Airy chintz curtains in pale blue print, warm maple furnishings and her down comforter swathing the bed conspired to welcome her home. Would it really be so foolish to spend the night in their beds? Caroline might have a point. Why would the burglar come back when he'd already done his worst?

“She's right here.” Caroline carried the cordless handset toward her mother.

“Who is it?” Laurel mouthed.

Caroline rippled her shoulders in a shrug. With the heel of her palm over the receiver, she leaned toward Laurel. “Must be somebody you know,” she whispered. “He knew my name. Real friendly, but I think he's got a bad cold.”

Laurel took the handset. Had someone from the office already caught wind of their troubles? She intended to call Howard Brown, the director of the foundation, tomorrow and get his advice on how best to handle the situation to protect SPC. It would be just like Howard to get the jump on the issue and call her at home after hours.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, there,” a masculine voice rasped. “Glad I caught you home.”

It could be Howard with a bad cold, like Caroline said, but it was hard to tell.

“I'm going to grab my pillows,” Caroline announced.

Laurel nodded, but her daughter was already out the door.

“Who is this?” she said into the receiver.

A scratchy chuckle answered. “We have a mutual acquaintance. Had one anyway. She went on to her just reward.”

Laurel's throat seized. Was this Melissa Eldon's killer? What did he want with them?

“Surprised?” the man went on. “You shouldn't be. I see what you're up to with that lowlife Greene. Maybe you think he can protect you. He can't. He needs protection
from
you.”

This guy was watching them? Where was he? In the house? Her pulse surged. Where was Caroline? On rubbery limbs, she staggered into the hall. Caroline's adolescent voice singing a current pop tune carried to her ears, along with the thud of opening and closing drawers.

Laurel stopped, gaze fixed on the stairs that loomed empty, ears tuned for a foreign sound anywhere in the house. Nothing but Caroline's singing.

“Who are you? Where are you?” She spoke the words in a fierce whisper.

“Look out your west window.”

Bile burning her throat, Laurel backpedaled into the master bedroom and parted the chintz curtains. No dark figure lurked in the shadows below. A few yards away, the downstairs of Janice's house glowed with comforting light. How foolish could she be? Why had she allowed them to leave that haven of locked windows and doors?

Abruptly the light in Janice's family room winked out. Laurel jerked as if struck. Her mind blanked, and then thoughts spun. A killer was in her friend's house, and it was her fault. She hadn't armed the security system or locked the door after them. What should she do? Would he come here next?

“Get out of Janice's house,” she said, breathless as if she'd run a mile. “Leave us alone!”

Silence answered. The phone connection had been broken. Was this cold-blooded murderer on his way over? Would their dead bodies be discovered among the debris in the morning?

“Caroline!” The word rang with hysteria.

Now wasn't the time to worry about shielding her daughter from unnecessary alarm. It was time to let fear help them do whatever was necessary to protect themselves and call for help.

* * *

The ring tone sounded on David's cell phone, and he trotted out of the bathroom, toweling his wet hair. Chris was getting back to him faster than David had anticipated. Hopefully, that meant the birth had gone well. Which of the pair got their wish of gender? He smiled, congratulations on the tip of his tongue.

He picked up his phone, and the smile faded. Not Chris. The number on the screen wasn't one he recognized.

“Hello?”

“David?” It was Laurel, but her voice squeaked as if her windpipe was pinched. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

“I just had a—” an audible swallow interrupted her words “—a threatening phone call.”

The hairs at the nape of David's neck stood to attention. “Who was it? Where are you?”

“I don't know who it was. He talked like he had a bad head cold. Maybe he was just disguising his voice. Caroline and I are barricaded in my bedroom at our house.”

“You're not at Janice's?”

“We came over to get some of our things, and then he called, and he was
there!
”

“At your house?” Every muscle went stiff. “Are you in danger?”

“No—well, maybe we're in danger. I don't know. What I meant to say was that he was at Janice's house. He told me to look out the window, and then he shut off the light in her family room—right where we'd been until we went next door. It's been a good ten minutes since then. Among the longest minutes of my life.” She released a bone-weary sigh. “But I think if he was coming after us, he'd be here by now.”

A muffled whimper sounded near at hand. “Tell Mr. Greene he needs to come right away.”

Caroline wanted him there. His heart soared. If only someone would invent a teleportation device for moments like this. So help him, whoever was terrorizing this kid and her mother was going to answer for it. A growl formed in the back of David's throat, but he bottled it.

“Tell her I'll be there right away.” He headed for the door, then froze and gazed down at himself. Every molecule screamed haste, but going out clad in nothing but a towel was certain to result in a detour to the nearest lockup.

“Don't worry about backtracking to our house,” Laurel said. “The police are on the way. I called you because this...this
creature
mentioned your name.”

“He knows me?” Frost touched his heart. Was Laurel and Caroline's connection to him putting them in greater danger?

“Everybody knows you, David. The point is, he's been watching us—Caroline and me—and he saw us with you. I figured if he'd left Janice's house and wasn't coming after
us,
he might be going after
you.
The card you gave me was in my pocket, so I called.”

“No sign of any crazed killers—not that I've noticed, at any rate. I don't know how he'd find me anyway.”

“You didn't go back to the cabin?”

“I'm at a hotel about five miles away. You can expect me on your doorstep as soon as I can get there. We need to talk face-to-face.”

“Okay.” The word sounded a little dazed and distant, as if she was listening to thoughts that were louder than his voice.

“The police are here.” The thin squeal came from Caroline, and the connection went dead.

A long breath exhaled between David's teeth. No goodbye, but the woman had a lot going on. He dressed with the speed of a fireman on a callout and left the hotel room.

What kind of person thought about someone else's safety when she and her dearest family member could be in mortal danger? A selfless one, that's what. A genuine, caring human being—too unfortunately rare in this world.

David pushed the speed limit on the drive to Laurel's neighborhood. Déjà vu smote him as he pulled up to find a police car parked in her driveway. He got out and strode up the walk. Laurel's front door stood open, the back of a uniformed officer blocking most of the entryway. The officer held a lighted flashlight that lent some illumination to the porch. Voices carried to him, but not the sense of what they were saying.

A high-pitched cry greeted him as he reached the steps, and a slight figure rocketed past the officer and straight into him. Reflexively he hugged the quivering teenager.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” He patted her on the back. “We're going to figure this out.”

She gazed up at him. Traces of wetness on her cheeks reflected the glimmer of the bubble light wheeling atop the squad car behind them. David's heart twisted.

She sniffed and rubbed at her face. “Maybe you can give Mom a hand with the cops. They went into Janice's house, guns drawn, all cop-show style, but didn't find anybody. One of them is trying to figure out why the light won't come on in the family room, while this guy—” she jerked her head in the officer's direction “—talks to Mom. With all the same questions asked twenty times different ways, she's about to tear her hair out. What happened to yours?”

“My what?”

“Your hair.”

David put a hand on the top of his head and found a damp rat's nest. He'd known there was something he forgot in his rush out the door. “Just showered and haven't run a comb through it.”

The officer at the door turned, tucking an electronic notebook into his pocket. “We'll file the report, ma'am.”

Laurel came out after him, arms hugging her jacket-clad body. “Will you at least do more frequent drive-bys tonight?”

“That'll be up to the captain, ma'am. I'll put in the request.”

The officer swiveled his head forward as he headed across the porch, then pulled himself to a halt nearly chest to chest with David. The policeman was stockier and about half a foot taller but he took a step back. David's jaw clenched. He seemed to have that effect on people.