Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (13 page)

It would have to be enough for now.

THIRTEEN

T
hey were on the bay road when Blain noticed a car tailing them. He didn't say anything to Rikki but he watched the headlights dip and sway as they moved closer. This road wasn't heavily traveled, especially this late at night.

Five miles till they reached the Alvanetti estate.

He did not need another thing to happen today but it was early morning so technically it was tomorrow. The pursuers apparently didn't want to quit anytime soon. When the car behind them edged up behind his truck, he at least was relieved they hadn't been assaulted at the beach house.

Stupid, to take her there in the first place.

But he'd never forget their time there.

When he glanced in the rearview mirror again, she turned and looked over her shoulder. “Are we being followed?”

He knew better than to try and shield her. “I believe so.”

She sat straight up. “I'm really getting tired of this.”

“Me, too.”

“They must be watching my every move.”

“Or they have someone reporting back to them.”

She sent him a sharp stare at that comment but she didn't dispute his reasoning.

When the vehicle sped up and came a little too close for comfort, Blain had to decide if he should turn around and head back to town or get her inside the estate's gates as quickly as possible.

The automobile behind them was a dark sedan. The big car edged up to Blain's truck again. And this time, he felt the shudder of a bumper hitting chrome. “They're all in now.”

Rikki held onto the dash and glanced back. “I know a back way onto the property,” she said, a new determination sounding in her words.

“A back way?” That was a surprise. “Really now? Maybe these people know that same back way and maybe they've been coming and going whenever they please.” He studied the car behind them. “They haven't shot at us yet. I'm thinking they want me to stop and hand you over to them.”

She bobbed her head. “They're looking for something and they didn't find it at the warehouse.”

The vehicle advanced and nudged at the truck. With the wet roads and sheer drop-offs to the bay on the right, Blain didn't want to play chicken. “Tell me about the back way.”

She checked the rearview mirror on her side. “Not many people know about that road. It's practically buried in palmetto bushes and scrub oaks.”

“And how do you know about it?”

“I found it when I used to go horseback riding. I used it to sneak in and out so the guards wouldn't follow me.”

He could see her doing that. Reckless, rebellious and stubborn. Good traits at times and bad ones at other times.

“How do we get there from here?”

Rikki glanced back and then at the road ahead. “They'll try to run us off the road before we reach the gate to my house,” she said. “Probably on the curve since it juts out over the bay.”

“You're too good at figuring this stuff out,” he retorted. But she was right. “But if they want you alive, they might try to pull up and send us off into the bramble on the other side of the road. What do
you
suggest?”

“The hidden road is past the gates. If we speed up now, we can lose them on the curve and then turn off on the old road.”

Blain stared into the mirror. “Okay. Hold on.”

She gave him another gritty glance. “Got it.”

Blain gunned it and headed toward the curve. If he lost control, they could go over the edge. If that car caught up and happened to nudge the truck just a little bit, they could crash and flip right off into the water below. But he couldn't let whoever was chasing them make it through the gates of the estate and he sure wasn't going to get himself or Rikki killed.

So he held tight and watched the upcoming curve. He knew the curve so he thought he could swing into it and make it through as long as no other cars were nearby.

The vehicle following them moved closer.

“They're speeding up again,” Rikki said.

“I see that.”

Blain pushed on the gas pedal and watched the dark, narrow road ahead. “Give me a hint about this private road. What should I look for?”

Rikki checked the passenger-side mirror. “A palm tree that juts out over the road on the left side about a quarter of a mile past the gate. When you see the tree, you need to hit the brakes and turn left about ten feet past the tree.”

“Sure, I can do that while I'm trying to outrun these bozos and while I'm trying to keep us out of the bay.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you could.”

He watched the headlights behind them. The other driver was advancing at a reckless speed. Maybe their pursuers did want both of them dead. “Rikki, this could get ugly. Hang on.”

She didn't respond but she reached up for the grab-bar over the door. Blain could see the resolve in her expression.

They might be headed around a dangerous curve but he decided Rikki had also taken up a new direction. She wasn't going to back down anymore.

And that scared him about as much as the treacherous odds they were about to face.

* * *

Rikki watched the dark rain-slick road. She'd have to make sure she had the right palm tree and that she could warn Blain to turn left once they got past the tree.

What if the terrain had changed? What if the palm tree had been cut down? A thousand terrors rushed through her system but when she saw the curve coming up, she knew Blain would handle this. He was that kind of man. He'd take them through the woods if he had to.

“Okay, we're approaching the curve,” he said. “When we lose their headlights we have about ten seconds to get off this road.”

“I'll keep watch while you drive.”

He gunned it again and she felt the tug of the truck as it hugged the road and hovered near the steep drop-off into the bay. This part of Florida was hilly at times and flat at other times. This road followed a long bluff where houses were built into the countryside and looked as if they were clinging to the hills over the water. Santo had a home not far from here, but her father had built on the other side of the bay, which was more leveled out down toward the water.

“Blain, I don't see them anymore. Look for the palm tree.”

“Okay.” He kept his foot on the gas as they headed into the sharp turn in the road.

When the truck fishtailed, Rikki took in a deep breath and stared out at the dark water about twenty or so feet below the overgrowth. Blain let off the gas and straightened the truck but not before they skidded again.

“The tree,” she said as she caught the bent trunk of the ancient shaggy palm. “Now, Blain!”

They were almost there.

She glanced back just as he swerved the truck to the left and into the overgrown bushes and bramble. Headlights!

“They're coming,” she shouted.

Blain held the wheel as the truck hit the dirt and bounced, the heavy tires skidding and grinding in the mud. “Are you sure this is a road?” he said over the roar of the big engine and the truck plowing into the bramble.

“It used to be. The guards probably still use it sometimes to come and go.” Her head hit the top of the truck. Wincing, she held to the grab-bar.

Blain leveled the truck and slowed down. “I think we're on some sort of lane,” he called out. “Where are they?”

Rikki turned in the seat as he slowed the truck. “I don't see anything.”

Blain did a one-eighty spin on the old overgrown road and turned off the truck's headlights. “Rikki, I need you to stay here while I go up to the road.”

“What for?”

“I want to make sure they're not out there waiting.”

“Shouldn't you call for backup?”

“Yes, but I don't have time. And if you stay with the truck you can go for help if I don't come back.”

She bobbed her head and watched as he got out of the truck and hurried into the darkness. She didn't like that request. She wanted him to come back. Did she stay here or should she go after him?

Then she heard an engine roaring and what sounded like tires spinning. The other car must have tried to make the turn. Blain could be walking straight into a trap.

Rikki waited as the minutes seemed like hours and then she decided to get out and look for a weapon. She'd just put a booted foot down on a clump of dried vines when she heard a gunshot followed by running footsteps.

Where was Blain?

She stood at the back of the truck, crouched low, her breath caught against her rib cage. Afraid to move, she wished she'd gone with him. She could make it home from here but she wasn't going anywhere without Blain.

She lifted up to search for a limb or a rock. Maybe something in the back of the truck. When she spotted a tire iron in the truck bed, she grabbed it.

But before she could make a move toward the direction Blain had gone, someone grabbed her from behind and a strong hand went over her mouth. Rikki squirmed and kicked, the tire iron still in one hand.

“Shhh. It's me.”

Blain.

She relaxed against him. “You scared me!”

“I told you to stay in the truck.”

She whirled to face him and watched as he put away his gun. “I was worried. I heard a car and then a gunshot.”

“Yeah, they were up on the road trying to turn in here. I fired at them and they backed up and spun out.”

“Did they get away?”

“Yep, but not before I got a good look at the driver and saw a partial on the license plate. There was someone in the passenger side, too.”

“Did you call for help?”

“No,” he said, his tone grim. “I recognized one of them, Rikki. He works for the sheriff's department.”

Shock shot through her. “A police officer?”

He nodded. “A rookie deputy. He was at the warehouse earlier tonight.”

“What do we do now?”

He stared out into the darkness. “We aren't going to tell anyone about this. I don't think he knows I saw his face but he has to be worried right about now. If I don't turn him in, whoever sent him will certainly read him the riot act.”

“So this explains how they've been able to come after me no matter what we've tried to do.”

“Yep.” He did a quick glance around the woods and then opened the truck door. “And that also means that this particular officer is probably on someone's payroll.”

“Someone besides the local sheriff's office,” she added.

They got back in the truck and she showed him how to get her home. But they didn't talk. What was there to say? Rikki hoped her father wasn't the one calling the shots. How could he be if he'd been assaulted, too?

Or had that been a setup? Had someone mistaken him for someone else?

When they pulled up to the house, the guards came running with drawn guns. They must have heard the gunshots. Rikki got out and waved them away. “I'm okay.”

The burly men backed off but stayed nearby.

“I can see why you wanted to get away from here,” Blain said. “No privacy and shady characters everywhere.” He walked her to the door. “I hate to leave you.”

Rikki's heart clutched at that comment but the assumption that this place was still corrupt brought her back to reality. “I'll be all right. I just want a shower and sleep.”

He nodded then stared down at her, his eyes colored with a new urgency. “Do you trust all of these people who help out around here?”

She nodded. “I have to trust them, right?”

“I could move you to a safe house.”

“We agreed this is for the best.”

“And yet, you're still being chased and attacked and shot at.”

She poked a finger against the solid wall of his chest. “And yet, you've managed to protect me in spite of that.”

“I'm serious, Rikki.”

“So am I,” she said. “And starting tomorrow, I'm calling all of my clients and setting up the appointments I had to cancel. I'm tired of hiding.”

“You can't go back to work yet,” he said, shaking his head.

“I can and I will.” She stared him down. “Maybe if I go on with my life, someone will slip up and we can catch them.”

“Or they'll kill you.”

“They want something and they think I might have it. I get that and I sure know the danger. But I can't become a prisoner here, Blain. I'd gladly give them what they want if they'd leave my family alone.”

“Or they could just want
you
dead.” He touched a hand to her cheek. “Rest and we'll talk about our options tomorrow.”

She thought about their kiss. “Like we have any options.”

“There are always options.” He gave her a smile and then turned to get back in his truck.

Rikki stood there, flanked by two guards, and watched him leave. And she had to wonder, what options
were
left for her and Blain?

FOURTEEN

B
lain pulled his truck onto the driveway of his parents' house and stared up and down the quiet street. It was early morning. The homes along this street were small and age-worn but the people were hardworking and good. They watched out for each other.

Now he prayed his dad would help him. He needed honesty and clarity. He needed a break in this case. Being so embedded in all the Alvanetti drama and intrigue was beginning to weigh on him.

Being near Rikki and knowing they didn't have a future together was tearing him apart, mainly because he'd never in his wildest dreams wanted a future with the daughter of an alleged criminal. He hadn't slept much last night. Instead, he'd gone over the details of this case and he still didn't have any answers. Rikki was in danger but now, he had to wonder if the killer would take out her family members, one by one, until he or she had what they needed.

The front door of the brick Florida cracker house opened and his mom came out with a cup of coffee, her smile as serene as always. She wore her old chenille robe and flannel pajamas.

He'd have to remember to buy her a new robe for Christmas.

Getting out of the truck, he smiled. “Is that for me?”

His mom brought him the big blue mug. “Of course. Saw you sitting out here and since I had to get the paper, anyway...”

Blain reached down and retrieved the paper, memories of his own early morning paper route as a teen coming to the surface, and then took the mug full of steaming coffee. “Thanks, Mom. Is Dad up yet?”

“So that's why you're here.”

“Yeah. I need to talk to him.”

“He's watching the morning news.” She tugged her robe close. “Let's get inside and I'll make us some breakfast.”

Blain took a long sip of the coffee and followed his mom past the wooden white nativity scene by the boxwood shrubs. He didn't have much of an appetite but he'd eat his mother's cooking. Because this morning, he thanked God for being blessed with good parents.

Even if his dad had the one big flaw regarding the Alvanetti clan. But now Blain could drop some of his self-righteous judgments. Because lately, Blain seem to have acquired that same flaw.

He found Sam at the kitchen table, his gaze glued on the twenty-four-hour news channel's latest updates. “Hi, Dad,” Blain said before sitting down across from him.

Sam's eyes narrowed. “Morning. You're out bright and early.”

“Yeah, got to see the frost on the grass and everything.”

While Mom cooked eggs and bacon and browned toast, Blain and his dad caught up on the news and sports, neither of which they agreed on.

Then they ate their breakfast and made more small talk. Finally Mom got up and cleared the table. “I'm going to get dressed. I've got an altar committee meeting at church.”

She gave Blain a pat on the arm and then left with her second cup of coffee.

Sam drained his cup and then put his hands together on the poinsettia-themed plastic tablecloth. “What's up, son?”

“I need to tell you something in confidence,” Blain said, hoping he'd made the right decision. “And then I need to ask for your help.”

His dad cleared his throat and turned the television to mute. “I'm listening.”

Blain told him about what had happened on the bay road. “I saw the driver, Dad. It was Billy Rogers.”

Sam's silvery eyebrows shot up. “Billy Rogers? That hotshot rookie sheriff's deputy?”

“Yessir. It was dark but he was driving the car. He opened the door to check and see if they were bogged down. I saw him clear as day in the car's interior lights.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “It was rainy and dark. You said so yourself.”

Blain had expected some disputes on this. “I saw him. I've known him since we were kids. It was Billy.”

Sam stared out the window. Blain's mom, Catherine, had put a bird feeder out by the small patio. Two redbirds were perched on the bright stone, pecking away at their breakfast. A small yard flag swaying on an iron garden post showed a smiling Santa in a hammock and proclaimed “Christmas in Paradise.”

Cute, but all Blain could think about was murder in paradise.

After a couple of moments, Sam glanced over at Blain. “If you say it's him, I'll go with that.”

Blain didn't respond at first. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his dad continued. “So if the person you saw was Billy Rogers that means we've got a corrupt deputy in the department.”

Blain bent his head, relief washing over him. “Yessir.”

“What do you want me to do?” his dad asked, his dark eyes mirroring Blain's. “Just between you and me, I mean?”

“Watch,” Blain said. “Listen. Observe. Ask around. You still have some pull and you can come and go without anyone wondering why you're hanging around.”

“Good old-fashioned police work,” Sam said. “I think I can handle that.”

Blain stood up. “Do you think I'm doing the right thing here, Dad? You know how I feel about the Alvanetti family.”

Sam stood, too. “You're doing your job. You're the lead detective and Regina Alvanetti seems to trust you.”

“I'm the only available detective,” Blain pointed out. “She has to trust me.”

Sam chuckled as they walked toward the front door. “When it comes to the Alvanetti family, trust does not come easily.”

One day when this was all over, Blain would ask his dad about that. He needed to hear more about what had happened with his dad and the Alvanettis. Because the more he learned about them, the more he realized he might have misjudged his father.

And maybe the Alvanettis, too. But he still needed more proof to give in to that assumption.

They made it to his truck and he showed his dad the dents and scratches the vehicle had received last night. “I've got someone running the partial on the license plates. I should have that when I get to the station.”

“I'd like to know that myself,” Sam said, his eyes scanning the neighborhood with a cop's habitual awareness.

Blain opened the truck door. “What do you know about Santo Alvanetti, Dad?”

Sam shook his head. “Not much. He took over the business at about the time I retired. He lives not far from his parents in a big modern house. On the bay side, I think.”

Blain processed that tidbit. “I might ride out there and have a look around. He told us yesterday that his wife left him.”

“You don't say? I heard he married a woman from Miami. Rumor has it she came from a very influential family.”

“Just one more rabbit hole to go down,” Blain said. “Somebody is after something but I can't figure out what it might be.”

Sam braced one foot on the truck's bumper. “There is a lot of ‘somethings' in that family. Big house, barns, the warehouse. Lots of places to hide things and keep secrets.”

Surprised yet again at this change in his dad, Blain asked, “What are you saying, Dad?”

“I'm saying somebody might be after something that is valuable. Highly valuable.”

“Okay, we've established that but why come after Rikki?”

“Think about it, son. She travels in circles where everything is valuable and expensive. Her clients are wealthy and some of them have questionable work ethics. She's in their homes and she orders all kinds of furniture and, you know, those artsy pieces rich people like. No telling what she might see moving through. Or what she might be hiding.”

“So is that what this is about?” Blain asked. “Shift the suspicion back to Regina and take it off the rest of the clan?”

His dad shook his head. “That is not what I meant at all. If Regina, or Rikki as you like to call her, found an important artifact that could have been stolen or possibly misplaced, she might try to hide it until she could do right by reporting it.”

“And yet she hasn't done that—at least not with me.”

Now he was doubting Rikki again.

“I'm looking at all the angles. You know to do that,” Sam said.

Blain remembered Rikki saying she was going to call some of her local clients and get back to work. “We went through a long list of people she planned to meet with. She still wants to do that but I've cautioned her against it.” He shrugged. “Maybe I should let her follow through as long as I'm around to protect her.”

“It might get the ball rolling,” Sam said. “Especially if there is something hidden in a shipment to her or to one of the houses she's decorating.”

Blain nodded. “I'll dig a little deeper in that area.”

“Maybe you can tie a couple of things together.”

“I hope so. We've at least ruled out the victim's boyfriend and brother.” Blain left, his mind whirling with so many scenarios he felt a headache coming on.

When he passed the Millbrook Lake Church, he saw Preacher's car parked there. Maybe he needed to consult with one other person on all of this. Just for good measure.

* * *

Rikki sat by her mother's bed, her mind full of turmoil. Santo had promised to check on their father at the hospital. She hoped he'd do that soon since news of Franco Alvanetti being attacked at the warehouse had been all over the local airwaves.

Now the whole state would know what was going on.

She didn't have to be a cop to know that would put her family in even more danger.

When Sonia moaned and opened her eyes, Rikki leaned close and took her mother's hand. “Hi, Mama. How are you this morning?”

“Tired,” Sonia replied. “Did Victor come home last night?”

Victor? Rikki rubbed her mother's cold hand. “Victor is in Europe, remember? He's not here, Mama.”

“He knows. He knows,” Sonia said, agitation in each word. “Can't help it. Can't.”

“Mama, it's okay,” Rikki said. “Victor's not here and everything is okay. Are you in pain?”

Sonia opened her eyes and looked up at Rikki. “For you, darlin'. I did it for you. Always.”

Daphne came in with Sonia's breakfast and a medicine tray. “Good morning,” she said to Rikki.

Rikki nodded at the nurse. “She's not making sense,” she said under her breath. “She's worried about Victor.”

Daphne's brown eyed gaze moved from Rikki to Sonia. “The medication can make her disoriented. If we could get her outside in the sunshine, she might rally around more.”

Rikki glanced out the big doors of the bedroom. “I wonder if I sat with her on the private patio. Do you think it's too chilly out today?”

Daphne stared out at the sun-dappled courtyard. “Not out there. The temperature is supposed to be in the high sixties today and with that sunshine, I'd think you'd be okay. We can bundle her.”

Rikki checked her mother again. “Mama, Daphne's brought your breakfast. Time to sit up and take a few bites.”

Sonia lifted her head and smiled at Daphne. “You've changed your hair.”

Daphne gave Rikki a strained smile. “I got it cut.”

Rikki couldn't remember anything about Daphne's hair changing recently. Maybe she'd worn it longer before Rikki arrived here. “It's cute,” she said for her mother's benefit.

“I like it,” Sonia replied. “Do I smell bacon?”

Rikki and Daphne both smiled. “Yes, you do,” Rikki said.

Soon they had Sonia sitting up in bed, laughing and talking. When Rikki suggested they sit out in the small, enclosed courtyard by the bedroom, Sonia clapped her hands in glee. “I love my garden. Tomorrow we'll weed the rose garden and prune the camellia bushes.”

“Yes, tomorrow,” Rikki said.

She and Daphne helped Sonia into her wheelchair and bundled her in a robe and shawls and a heavy blanket. Then Rikki put a hat over Sonia's white-blond hair.

The sun did feel good out in the courtyard. Normally this space was surrounded by elephant ear and banana tree plants but they'd died back so the gardener had trimmed them for the winter. But a few hearty palm trees and camellia bushes gave the space a cozy feel.

After a few minutes of small talk, Sonia turned to Rikki and smiled. “You know, that family Bible is important to me. Don't lose it.”

“Which Bible, Mama?” Rikki asked. She really needed to go over her mother's medication list and consult with Sonia's doctors. Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe the medicine was contributing to her mother's incoherent mumblings.

“That big one,” Sonia said. Then she looked past Rikki, back toward the open bedroom doors. “Well, hello, good-looking.”

Rikki whirled to find Blain standing there, staring at them with a definite frown of disapproval.

“Hello, Mrs. Alvanetti,” he said, his eyes on Rikki. “Nice day to sit in the garden, isn't it?”

Sonia nodded and smiled. “Yes, it is. Do I know you?”

“I'm Blain Kent,” he said as he walked out onto the brick-covered patio. “I work for the Millbrook Police Department.”

“You know Alec, don't you?”

Surprise swept over Blain's face. “Yes, ma'am, I do.”

“And that adorable Preacher Rory, right?”

“He's one of my best friends. In fact, I just left seeing him.”

“He prays for me,” Sonia said on a chuckle. “We all need that.”

“Yes, we do,” Blain said. “How do you know I'm friends with Alec and Preacher, Mrs. Alvanetti?”

“Alec bragged about you when he attended your cousin Beatrice's wedding here last spring.”

Rikki gave Blain a shocked stare. “You remember that, Mama?”

Sonia pulled a face. “Of course I do. I gave Alec a big check for his foundation. The Caldwell Canines Service Dog Association.”

“That's right,” Blain said, shrugging toward Rikki. “I'm sure he appreciated it.”

“You were here that day, Rikki,” Sonia said. “Remember the key, darlin'?”

Rikki shook her head. “No, Mama. I left early. I'm not sure what you're talking about.”