Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (7 page)

SEVEN

B
lain went back over the list Rikki had emailed him late yesterday. She had several high-profile clients in the area, including one of Blain's best friends, Alec Caldwell.

Deciding to be completely transparent with Alec, Blain dialed Alec's number and waited. When Alec came on the line, Blain went right into action. “Hey, man. Listen, I'm going over a client list for Regina Alvanetti and I noticed you're on it.”

Alec chuckled. “And how are you today, Detective Kent?”

“Sorry,” Blain said, rubbing the throbbing nerve in his forehead. “I can't talk much about it but I guess you're familiar with this case I'm working on, right?”

“Oh, yes. Aunt Hattie and her friends are all concerned they'll be next. They read the papers and listen to the news on a constant basis. Should I be worried?”

“I don't think so. This appears to be more of a calculated hit than a random robbery. But that is not for public knowledge, especially not for Aunt-Hattie-type public knowledge. But please reassure your aunt that she and her friends certainly need to be alert and cautious but to go about their regular activities.”

“Got it,” Alec replied. “I'm sorry about the woman who was murdered. And to answer your question, yes, Aunt Hattie and I consulted with Rikki when we were redoing some of the rooms at Caldwell House and Marla and I asked her to help with some sketches for our wedding décor. She sent her ideas free of charge and let our wedding planner take over from there since she wasn't sure she could make it back for the wedding. She's good at her job.”

“This isn't about her job but more about anyone she's worked with,” Blain said. “I'm going down a list of her clients, calling people to see if anyone might be upset with her.”

“I can't answer to that but I can vouch for Rikki,” Alec said. “She's a good person, Blain. She tries to keep her nose clean and she only comes back here to see her mother every so often. You probably know this already but Sonia has been ill for months now.” He paused and then added, “By the way, maybe Rikki will be at the wedding. If she's up to it after what she's been through.”

Blain glanced at the calendar. “You're getting married in two weeks. Wow, that's soon.”

Alec went silent and then asked, “Uh...you will be there, right?”

Blain had to smile at Alec being a nervous groom. “I'm your best man, so yes, I'm planning on being there.”

Although if Rikki Alvanetti came to the wedding, he'd be nervous, too. For all of them.

“Just checking,” Alec replied. “I know how it works with you detective types.”

“I'll be there,” Blain said again, making a big red reminder on his calendar. “Got measured for my fancy suit and everything. Might even get my hair trimmed. And we have your bachelor party out at the camp next week. I'll surely be there.”

“Nothing fancy,” Alec replied. “And no tricks.”

“Don't worry. Preacher will keep us on the straight and narrow.”

“Always.”

Blain went over his notes. “So can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Rikki? Did you know her friend Tessa?”

“I didn't know Tessa,” Alec said. “But I do know that Rikki's family has made some enemies over the years. But most of those people tend to undercut business deals or take away clients. I can't imagine any of them killing an innocent young woman.”

“But if the hit man thought that woman was Regina Alvanetti?”

That's a whole 'nother matter,” Alec said. “And a hard case to crack.”

“Tell me about it,” Blain retorted. “Thanks, Alec. I'll talk to you soon. Tell Marla I said hello.”

He hung up and called a few more of the names on the list. Most of the clients only had good things to say about her so no one stood out.

But any one of these people could put on a good act for a stranger asking questions. She'd said she had a few appointments while she was here. He'd need to go over that schedule, too. She might need to cancel those meetings. Or he could go with her to all of them and observe. And protect her while he was at it.

He'd also do background checks on as many clients as he could. Even wealthy people could turn out to be criminals. Happened all the time.

He probably needed to talk to her neighbors again. People around that complex had to have heard something or seen something. He'd send one of the uniformed officers out again since Blain liked to keep a low profile.

But this was Millbrook, after all. Everyone knew everyone else. And that could hinder this case.

Deciding to call and check on Rikki, Blain walked outside to get some fresh air. He'd had the slashed tire replaced and he'd asked a couple of the patrolmen to watch the parking lot. Could be a random thing—kids out for a dare or maybe someone else who had a beef with him.

But Blain's gut told him that tire had been slashed deliberately. Was the killer still hanging around?

He gazed around the parking lot while he waited for Rikki to pick up.

“Hello.”

Her low, husky voice took away some of the December chill. “Hi. It's Blain Kent. Just checking in. How are things going today?”

“My mother is awake,” she said. “A good sign but she's still disoriented. Everything else is okay.”

She didn't sound okay. “Are you sure?”

When she didn't speak, he let out a breath. “Rikki, I need you to be honest with me. I can't protect you if you keep hiding things from me.”

“I'm not hiding anything,” she said. “Tessa's boyfriend, Harry, called me this morning. I planned on telling you but I've been fielding client calls all morning, too.”

“And you took the call from Harry?”

“Yes. I thought it was one of my client's numbers. He just needed to talk.” She went silent and then said, “He sounded sincerely upset but he told me he was out with clients the night she died. I believe him. He wants to bring her body back to Tallahassee for burial.”

“We can work that out later,” Blain said. “Did he happen to mention dear ol' Chad?”

“No. And neither did I.”

“I'm coming out there,” Blain said, deciding he might need to set up a monitor on her phone calls. Someone could have a GPS tracker on her phone. “I'm at the station but I'll be there in a few minutes.”

“You don't need to do that,” she said. “I'm okay, really. I didn't talk to him for long.”

“I'm still coming out there.” He hung up and got in his car. He didn't really need to see her face-to-face but he wanted to see her. Face-to-face.

Wishing he had more willpower, Blain wondered why this particular woman had to be the one who'd finally gotten to him. He'd rather deal with a deranged junkie than an Alvanetti, but this particular Alvanetti wasn't so horrible to be around.

Who was he to question? Preacher always said things happened in God's own time. Blain hit the gas pedal once he was outside the city limits and wondered why God had chosen to test him by forcing him to protect an Alvanetti from a killer.

A lot of irony in that.

Preacher also said God had a good sense of humor at times.

* * *

He found her in the stables.

“What are you doing?”

Rikki turned from saddling a gleaming black horse that had to be worth more than he'd made in five years. She wore tall brown leather boots and riding pants with a silvery-colored down vest over a black turtleneck.

“I needed to get some air,” she said. “I have two guards with me.” She motioned to the shadows where two hulking figures stood.

Blain studied the two suits. “And they'll follow you on foot? Or do they have tricycles?”

She shook her head and smiled. “They have a golf cart.”

And big guns.

He stared down the stalls. “Do you have an extra horse around here?”

She glanced over at him. “Why?”

“I'm riding with you.”

“I don't think—”

“I said I'm riding with you and we're staying near the corral.”

She motioned again and a groom materialized from yet another shadowy corner. After asking the young man to saddle Rambo, she turned back to Blain. “I hope you know
how
to ride, Detective.”

“I do.”

It had been a while but it had to be like riding a bike. Only a horse named Rambo couldn't be docile.

Blain pushed away his trepidations and studied the stables. “It's too dark in here. Don't come out here at night even with your two buddies.”

“I won't.”

She checked her horse, cooing. “Daisy, this is Detective Blain Kent. He can be intimidating and grumpy but don't let that fool you. He's actually a nice person.”

The black mare shook her mane and eyed Blain with a feminine regard.

He was getting more and more nervous by the minute. And he didn't do nervous. But she was deliberately putting herself in danger by going out into the open. Even iron gates and strong fences couldn't stop a bullet. Which is why he'd have to be on alert while she took some air.

When the young groom came around the corner with a giant red roan stallion, Blain stood back to stare. “Really?”

“Really,” she said with a grin. “He's as tame as a kitten.”

“Right.” He wagged a finger at her. “If I get thrown—”

“We'll load you onto the golf cart.”

Blain wouldn't cower. She'd like that. If getting on this giant beast meant he could watch out for her then he'd do it.

He just hoped they'd be safe. If anything happened to her on his watch, her father would have Blain shot on the spot.

* * *

Rikki glanced back at the man riding Rambo.

Maybe she shouldn't have saddled Blain on her brother's favorite stallion but she figured the detective needed a horse to match his own dominating personality. And he did look good sitting there with a certain ease that probably belied his initial concerns.

“How you doing?” she called, aware of the golf cart keeping a discreet distance behind them. Although they were circling the enclosed pasture near the stables, at least she was out getting some fresh air.

Blain nudged Rambo along beside her. “I'm fine. Never better. That wind off the water is cold and I'm sure I'll be so sore tomorrow I won't be able to walk. Plus, I'm trying to see through the trees past that elaborate fence, just in case someone might be out there waiting to shoot at you.”

Rikki's heart did that little lurch. The pang of horror and fear that hit her each time she thought about Tessa settled over her like a fog. “I thought getting out of the house might help but...it's always there. The image of my friend laying there, the blood, the vacant stare in her eyes.” She pulled Daisy up underneath a towering live oak and dismounted. “You sure are a buzzkill, Detective.”

He followed her and tied the horses on a low hanging branch of the big tree. “I'm sorry but I have to keep reminding you that this isn't over.”

Rikki turned away from him. Out here away from the shoreline, the wind whipped against the trees in a mournful wail that only reminded her of how close to that edge of hysteria she'd been over the last few days. She should have stayed inside with her mother but Franco was home and roaming around like a lost puppy. She didn't know what to say to her father.

“I understand but I'm not comfortable in this house.”

“Hey.” Blain turned her around, his eyes like a dark ocean. “I don't want the same thing to happen to you. I believe you don't know who killed Tessa but we don't know why someone came after you that same night. So, yes...you're still in danger.”

Rikki glanced back to where the golf cart had stopped by a patch of scrub oaks near the back of the big barn. “I know and I feel guilty, trying to do normal things. I think I'm still in shock.” She glanced up at Blain. He stood a foot or so away but his expression seemed so intimate and close. Too intimate. Too close.

Rikki wanted to run into his arms and let his warmth surround her. Instead, she stared out over the pasture. “I love riding. I was pretty good in the junior rodeo competition when I was younger.”

Blain's dark expression softened. “You...a rodeo star?”

“Me,” she said, those good memories clouding out the sad ones. “I won the barrel-racing competition three years in a row and I finaled in calf and goat roping.”

“Goat roping?” His smile warmed her to her toes. “Wow, you're just full of surprises.”

Rikki wondered if that had been meant as a compliment or a condemnation. “But you don't like surprises, right?”

He gave her a steady blue-eyed stare. “I like good surprises. What I don't like is duplicity and...insincerity.”

“Wow, you're just full of gloom.”

“I am,” he said. “You know, I'm marine all the way. I was an MP toward the end of my last deployment. So call me a skeptic but I've seen the worst of people.”

She should have known he was a warrior. He carried himself in that way, all gung ho and tough, never willing to back down. “Do you ever look for the best first?”

“No,” he said. “Or at least, I never did before.”

Rikki watched him. He didn't keep his gaze fixed on any one thing. He was always checking, always scanning the horizon as if he were still in warrior mode. But the way he'd said that gave her hope that he might be slowly coming around on things. That he might be able to look past her name and see her heart.

“So you're a hero,” she said, thinking the layers beneath that dark gaze were deep. She'd love to explore those layers, maybe peel back a few barriers.

“Some might say that.” He turned and glanced back at the two guards. “But not every soldier is a hero.”

Rikki moved to block him and force him to look at her. “And not every Alvanetti is a criminal.”

“Duly noted,” he said. Then he leaned close. “You certainly don't look like a criminal to me.”