Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (29 page)

Will, Claire and her little sister came up to the loft. “Marissa, this is Miss Sara,” Will introduced.

“You look like Mommy,” Marissa said matter-of-factly.

“She does not,” Claire argued.

“Girls,” Will said. “Show Miss Sara what we brought her.”

Claire shook her head disapprovingly at her little sister, then placed a box on the desk. She opened it slowly, reverently, as if she was showing off the crown jewels instead of creatively designed pastries. “These are Maple Bars, these are Chocolate Chipmunk Bars and these are Penelope's Pink Pansies.”

Marissa leaned over the box, her green eyes widening. She looked a lot like her father. “Pansies are my favorite.”

“I'm guessing these didn't come from Healthy Eats,” Sara said.

“You'd guess right.” Will smiled.

“We only get these on special occasions,” Claire explained.

“Yeah, special occasions,” Marissa echoed.

Was that what this was, a special occasion? Sara was in deeper trouble than she thought.

“Wow, how do I rate?” she asked Will.

“Thought it might help your aches and pains. Here.” He pulled napkins out of his pocket and put them on the desk. “We're calling this first breakfast.”

“Yeah, because Papa likes to eat breakfast out so we'll have second breakfast with him,” Marissa said, licking the frosting off her Pink Pansy pastry.

For a brief second, Sara enjoyed the warmth of family, of children. In that moment, she shoved aside all thoughts of LaRouche and Harrington.

She reminded herself that this, the smiles of little girls licking frosting off their lips, was only an illusion, one that would evaporate soon enough.

Claire lifted a doughnut out of the box and raised it to her lips, eyes rounding with delight.

“It's terrifying, isn't it?” Will said.

Sara looked at him. “What?”

“The expression on her face when she's about to eat copious amounts of sugar and fat.”

“If you think that's terrifying, how about this?” Sara grabbed a Maple Bar, took a bite and rolled her eyes from side to side, and up and down.

The girls giggled.

“You look crazy,” little Marissa said.

“She looks happy,” Claire countered.

“Happy doesn't look like this.” Marissa imitated Sara. “It looks like this.” Marissa cracked a broad grin, exposing frosting on her teeth.

“Gross. You are so immature,” Claire said.

“I'm not manure.”

“I didn't say...” Claire sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Will and Sara shared a smile.

“Tell Miss Sara where you're going today,” Will said, plucking a chocolate doughnut for himself.

“A doll museum,” Claire said with awe in her voice. “They have dolls from all over the world. Even Russia.”

“Is that far away?” Marissa said.

“Of course it is,” Claire countered.

“How do you know? Have you been there?”

“You know I haven't been there.”

“Then, how do you know it's far away?”

“I learned it in school, silly.”

“Oh.” Marissa thought for a second, then looked at Sara. “Do you draw?”

“No, not really.”

Marissa looked at her sister. “Mommy said—”

“Miss Sara hasn't learned yet,” Claire explained.

“Let's teach her.” Marissa scrambled off her chair and rushed to the other side of the room. She grabbed a sketch pad and dashed back to her sister.

“Pencils?” Claire said.

Again, Marissa raced across the room, went to a shelf and snatched a few pencils.

“Good.” Claire cracked her knuckles.

This was quite the operation, Sara mused.

Claire nodded at the doughnut in Sara's hand. “You'll have to put down the doughnut.”

“Right.” Sara laid it on a napkin and brushed off her hands.

“Hold the pencil between your fingers like this.” Claire demonstrated. “Watch me.”

Marissa studied her sister and mimicked her every move.

Sara caught Will's expression, a mixture of pride and sadness, punctuated with a thoughtful smile. Drawing obviously reminded him of his wife.

“Then you draw a
t
in the middle of the page.”

“Why are you drawing a
t
?” Sara said.

“It's how you draw a face. You connect the corners.” Claire nibbled her lower lip. Marissa imitated the motion of drawing a circle. “And there you have the outline of the lady's head.” Claire held up the sketchpad.

“Why are you drawing a lady?” Marissa asked.

“Men are boring. Ladies have hair and makeup and fun stuff like that,” she answered her sister. She pointed to her drawing. “Then you'll draw the eyes here.” Claire pointed. “See, the eyes are above the cross line, like on a real face. You try.” Claire handed Sara a pencil.

Sara made a
t
and drew an oval shape by connecting the tips of the letter.

“That's good, now make the eyes,” Claire said.

Will's phone buzzed.

“Whoops, that's Nanny and Papa. They're wondering where you are. Let's go, girls.”

The girls grabbed their doughnuts and headed for the stairs. Claire turned to Sara. “Don't eat all the Pink Pansies or you'll get a tummy ache.”

“Okay, I won't.” Sara smiled.

“I'll be back in twenty,” Will said.

“I'll be here, practicing my drawing.”

Marissa ran up and hugged Sara's legs. “Don't worry. You'll be able to draw someday.”

So stunned by the display of affection, Sara didn't immediately return the hug. Her heart sank. She never realized what she'd been missing. Just as she wrapped her arms around the little girl, Marissa sprung free and skipped up to her dad and sister.

“Dolls, dolls, dolls!” Marissa chanted.

Will cast one last smile at Sara and led the girls downstairs. Sara went to the window. She watched them get into Will's Jeep and pull away.

An ache permeated her chest. They were such a lovely family: a protective, gentle father and two sweet, albeit precocious little girls. Will's family seemed so perfect, so...

She turned back to the room. How could they be so grounded and at peace after having lost a mother, a wife?

Sara wandered to the table where they had practiced drawing. A day hadn't gone by since her father's murder that Sara hadn't felt the burn of anger.

The Rankin family had suffered a great loss, but didn't seem to let the grief shadow their conversations.

Their every thought.

All of Sara's decisions since Dad's death had been motivated by anger and the need for justice. Get a criminal justice degree, work her way into a job with the FBI and hunt down bad guys and put them behind bars.

Make them pay.

Because her dad's killer was never caught, never served his time.

Now, in her thirties, Sara was all about her career. She had no personal life, no boyfriend or even close friends for that matter. She never had time to nurture those kinds of relationships.

Being with Will and his girls, seeing how the community rallied around him and protected him, triggered an ache in Sara's chest for that which she would never have.

“One more reason you need to get out of here.” She grabbed her backpack and considered her options. If Officer McBride wouldn't allow her to leave until she spoke with Nate, perhaps she could talk him into taking her to the police station to wait this out. One thing was for sure—staying here, in Will's deceased wife's studio, was messing with Sara's head. Big-time.

She glanced around the loft to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Her gaze landed on a photo of Will's wife with an arm around each of her little girls. Sara had a photo a lot like that one, of Sara, her dad and little brother, Kenny. It was taken at the beach. They were happy, laughing.

A perfect moment lost in the chaos of murder.

You and your brother hide in the closet. Do not come out until I say it's okay.

The slamming of a car door outside ripped her out of the memory. Time to distance herself from Will and his girls. It was stirring up too many memories and buried grief.

Grief she'd been able to neutralize with determination to get justice.

She headed downstairs, deciding she'd sleep in a cell if she had to. She'd be safe at the police station, and a lot safer emotionally than if she continued to stay here.

As she headed for the patrol car, she saw Detective Walsh talking on his phone. He didn't look happy. Then he shot her a look, and she slowed her step. Something was very wrong.

“I understand. Text me the coordinates and I'll pass them along to SAR. We'll send a team. Once they're down I'll want to interview each of them individually....Yes, I have her in custody.”

In custody? Sara dug her fingers into the strap of her backpack.

Nate ended the call and turned to Sara. “Mr. LaRouche and Mr. Harrington finally called in. They said David Price disappeared after he got into an argument with you.”

NINE

“W
hat?” Sara said in disbelief.

“They claim the last time they saw Mr. Price, you two were arguing over money.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

“Is it true? You were arguing about money and, what, he fell?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just the same, I need you to come with me to the station.”

Her heartbeat sped up. “Are you arresting me?”

“I'm bringing you in for questioning.”

“They're lying. I don't care about money,” she ground out. “I only care about...”

Don't say it
.
Not yet
.

“Ma'am?” Detective Walsh prompted.

“Forget it.” Of course they'd pin the murder on her. It was an easy solution to fix their problems. And they'd get away with it. They'd discredit Sara and make her a viable suspect.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Nate asked.

She clenched her jaw, wanting to tell the detective who she really was. Sara feared losing traction with this case if word got out and LaRouche and Harrington discovered she was FBI.

She noticed Will's Jeep heading toward them. Perfect. This would drive him away, Will and his adorable girls, girls who didn't need to be exposed to the ugliness of Sara's life.

“Do what you have to do,” she said to Nate.

Nate studied her with creased eyebrows. “Let's go.” He motioned for her to get into his unmarked squad car.

Will pulled up beside them and hopped out. “Hey, what's going on?”

“I've been accused of murder,” Sara said. “Okay? I'm dangerous. Stay away from me.”

She climbed into the car and Nate shut the door. She couldn't hear what they were saying because they'd stepped away from the car, but she could tell Will argued fiercely with the detective.

Finally, Nate shook his head in frustration and got into the car.

She stared at the headrest of the seat in front of her, trying to block out Will's presence. He tapped on her window and she glanced out at his confused face. He looked as if he wanted answers.

As if he deserved answers.

She ripped her gaze from his emerald eyes. “Are we going or what?”

As Nate pulled away, Sara's eyes watered.
Goodbye, Will.

She felt utterly alone. She wasn't working in an official capacity for the FBI, her supervisor hadn't returned her calls and now she'd pushed away the one person who truly wanted to help her.

“He deserves the truth.”

She snapped her eyes to the back of Nate's head. “Meaning what?”

“Will saved your life and put himself at risk by protecting you. Don't you think that deserves complete honesty?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Oh, yes, ma'am, it does. Will Rankin is one of the most honorable men I know. For some strange reason he's decided you're worthy of his protection. He's usually got good instincts about people.”

She gazed out the window as they passed a park filled with children.

“So? Were his instincts right about you?” Nate pushed.

She sighed. If LaRouche and Harrington were going to frame her, she'd better get ahead of this thing and confide in the local police.

“Yes, his instincts are good.”

“And?”

“I'm FBI.”

“Really,” he said, disbelief in his voice.

“Yes.”

“And you didn't bother to tell me or Will that before now because...?”

“I'm undercover.”

“Then, you should have brought me into your investigation.” Nate got a call and answered his radio. “Detective Walsh, go ahead, over.”

“Someone saw Petrellis at the Super Shopper, about half an hour ago, over.”

“He's still in town?” Nate muttered to himself, then responded into the radio, “Send a unit to check it out. If the officer sees Petrellis, he needs to call for backup. Do not approach him alone, over.”

“Ten-four.”

He clicked off the radio and eyed her in the rearview. “We'll finish our discussion at the station.”

Nate focused on driving, visibly frustrated by the call.

“You think he should have left town?” she said.

“Wouldn't you? I mean, we suspect that he drugged Spike, and was following you around all day for some nefarious reason.”

“What happened with Spike, exactly?”

“Petrellis saw him outside the hospital and approached him, acting as though they're buddies. He congratulated Spike on the new job with Echo Mountain PD and slapped him on the shoulder. Hard. Spike says he thought he felt a pinch, like a bee sting. That's pretty much all he remembers.” Nate shook his head. “What is happening to my town?”

Sara gazed out the window, feeling even guiltier that she brought trouble to the community of Echo Mountain.

* * *

Within minutes Will was on the phone calling Royce Burnside, the best lawyer in Echo County. Will had done search engine optimization marketing work for Royce's law firm and knew of their stellar reputation.

As a favor to Will, Royce said he'd meet him at the police station right after lunch. Will stopped himself from marching into the station alone, all fired up. He worked on marketing projects for the next few hours in his home office. Unfortunately, the image of a bruised and fragile Sara being aggressively interrogated kept seeping into his thoughts, distracting him.

Will leaned back in his chair and pulled his fingers off the keyboard. What was Nate thinking? Sara wasn't a criminal or a violent woman. She'd gone into shock after shooting a man, and had experienced traumatic flashbacks.

Although he sensed that Sara wanted to go this alone, the more she pushed Will away, the more determined he was to help. Sure, he knew once this case was resolved and she was given her freedom, she'd probably leave town and he'd never see her again. It didn't matter. She needed help and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

He warmed up butternut-squash soup from Healthy Eats for lunch, hoping Nate at least had the decency to feed Sara. Maybe Will would bring some soup just in case. He had plenty.

Minutes stretched like hours as he waited for one o'clock.

“This is ridiculous.” Although it was only twelve fifteen, he packed up a container of soup, grabbed a small bag of crackers and headed for the station. He brought his laptop as well, figuring he'd get some work done while waiting for Royce.

Will wasn't even sure Sara needed an attorney, but it wouldn't hurt to have one in her corner.

He parked in the lot, pulled out his laptop and moved his seat back so he could open it up and work. The whole work thing lasted about five minutes. Glancing at the building and knowing she was inside being questioned about a murder she didn't commit drove Will nuts.

Some folks would call him nuts for believing in a complete stranger.

But they weren't strangers. She'd exposed herself to him in a way he suspected she hadn't with many, if anyone. When she'd hidden under the bed, clutching the blanket to her chest, she'd seemed like a child, fearing for her life.

Something terrible had happened to Sara in her past, and it had all come rushing back after the shooting.

Will tucked the laptop into his backpack and grabbed the soup bag. He didn't care if he was early. He'd text Royce to meet him inside.

As he headed for the building, he spotted a familiar car parked across the street from the police station.

Officer Petrellis's unmarked sedan.

Surprised and concerned, Will glanced away, so as not to be obvious. He pulled out his phone and texted Nate about the car. They were looking for the retired officer to question him about yesterday, about drugging Spike and stalking Sara.

“Hello, Mr. Rankin.”

Will glanced up. Petrellis was heading toward him.

“Officer,” Will greeted, then hit Send on the text to Nate.

“What brings you to the station?” Petrellis said.

“Visiting my friend Nate.”

“And what about your other friend Sara? How is she doing?”

“I wouldn't know. I've been busy with work.”

“How well do you know her, if you don't mind my asking?”

“I don't know her at all, actually. I helped rescue her after a nasty fall. That's it.” He glanced at his watch. “Whoa, I'm late. Excuse me.”

Will turned to walk away, to put distance between him and the retired officer with questionable motivations.

Something stabbed Will in the arm and he instinctively jerked back. “Hey!”

“You need to come with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to ask you some questions.”

“I don't have time. I've got to get inside and...and...” Ringing started in his ears, and his surroundings went in and out of focus.

“Here, let me help you.” A firm hand gripped Will's arm and led him away from the police station, away from Sara.

“No.” Will yanked his arm away. “I have to talk to her.”

“Her? You mean Sara?”

A part of Will knew he'd said too much. His brain was floating on some kind of wave, pulling him away from the shoreline of reality.

They found Spike wandering the highway
, Nate had told Will.

That must be what was happening to Will.

“Relax,” Petrellis said as they approached his car. “It will be over soon.”

Over? As in...

Was Petrellis going to kill him? Leaving the girls with no parents, and judgmental grandparents to raise them?

“No!” Will shouldered Petrellis against the car and fired off punches.

“Will!” Nate called from across the street.

Petrellis yanked Will forward, kneed him in the gut and cast him aside. Will collapsed on the pavement and watched Petrellis's car speed off.

“No,” Will croaked, wanting Petrellis to come back, to tell them why he was after Sara.

Sara. The beautiful woman with the big blue eyes.

“Will.” It was Sara's voice.

He looked up, into her worried eyes.

“No, I want all patrols to be on the lookout,” Nate's voice said from behind her. “He's headed south on Main Street toward the interstate, over.”

“Will?” Nate said.

All Will could see were Sara's blue eyes.

“Nate didn't arrest you, did he?” Will asked her.

“No.” She placed a comforting hand on his chest. “What happened?”

“Dispatch, I need an ambulance,” Nate's voice said.

“No,” Will said. “No ambulance.”

“Will, you're hurt,” Nate argued.

“Drugged like Spike. Felt him stick my arm.”

“Then, an ambulance can take you to the hospital.”

“Everyone will know. My in-laws—”

“This wasn't your fault,” Sara said.

“Stop worrying about them, Will,” Nate said. “The ambulance will be here shortly.”

“Have to get home... The girls.”

“They're not coming home until seven, remember?” Sara offered. “It's only twelve-thirty.”

“Oh, yeah.” He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” She frowned. “I'm worried about you.”

“What's going on?” Royce said, joining them.

“Who are you?” Sara said.

“Your attorney,” Royce said. “Will hired me.”

“Ambulance is here,” Nate said.

Will stood, Sara holding onto one arm for support, while Nate gripped the other. He flopped down onto a stretcher, but wouldn't let go of Sara's hand.

“I need to—”

“Go find Petrellis,” Sara interrupted Nate. “I'll ride with Will.”

As Will was being examined by medical staff, he worried what his in-laws would think, what they would say. This would be the second time he'd been examined by doctors at the hospital in the past few days. In Mary's and Ed's minds, he probably threw himself onto the path of danger yet again by interacting with a suspected...what? What was Officer Petrellis, exactly? Will still didn't know.

Once they reached the hospital, Will was given a medication to counteract the drug. His brain fog began to clear and he was able to focus again. Sara said she'd be in the waiting room speaking with Royce, who had followed them from the police station.

Will puzzled over Nate's sudden turnaround from almost arresting her to letting her accompany Will to the hospital.

“How's your vision?” the nurse asked.

“Good, excellent,” Will answered.

“Are you nauseous or dizzy?”

“No, ma'am. I'm much better now, thanks. Can I go?”

“Where's the fire?” Dr. Kyle Spencer, a member of SAR asked, coming into the ER. “Hey, buddy, I heard you were brought in.”

“Hey, Spence,” Will said.

“How's the head?”

“Fine.”

“No headache?”

“No.”

“Blurred vision?”

“Not now.”

“So...when?” Spence studied him with concern.

“After I got stuck with the drug.”

Spence pulled out a penlight and checked Will's eyes. “Did you fall and hit your head again?”

“Not that I know of.”

Spence was referring to an altercation in the mountains last year. That injury had left Will with temporary, selective amnesia. At the time Will didn't remember that Megan had passed away. Once his memory returned, reliving that grief had left him gutted, as if she'd just died.

“The medical team identified elements of the drug we found in Spike's system and were able to give him, and now you, something to counteract the effects,” Spence said.

“Yeah, so they told me.”

“It wouldn't hurt to rest this afternoon.”

“Okay, doc.” Will shifted off the gurney and planted his feet on the floor.

Spence studied him. “A-OK?”

“Solid as a rock, thanks.”

“Excellent.” They shook hands. “Until our next mission, then.”