Haunting Rachel (11 page)

Before Adam could reply to that, a plainclothes cop approached them, notebook in hand. “Miss Grant? If you’re up to it, I’d like to ask you a few questions now.”

He had talked to Adam before, while Rachel was being checked out in the paramedics’ van.

“I’m fine,” she said, but she was grateful for Adam’s quick hand helping her out of the van, and glad he kept an arm around her shoulders. She felt more than a little shaky, and she would undoubtedly be stiff and sore tomorrow
from all the bruises, since she and Adam had been thrown to the pavement by the force of the explosion.

Fire department personnel were still milling around, but the explosion had been so ferocious that there had actually been little fire. There was also little left of the store, except for a few yards of the side walls and a very large heap of rubble from the collapsed roof.

“I have Mr. Delafield’s statement,” Detective James said. “It’s pretty clear. Did you see or hear anything unusual, Miss Grant? Before the explosion?”

“No.”

“Did you notice anyone lurking around the store, or walking away quickly?”

“No.” She frowned, the idea occurring to her for the first time with a sharp chill. “You don’t think it was an accident?”

The detective shrugged. “Well, Miss Grant, we’ve had some arson in this area, and several times the target was a vacant store. That’s the most likely answer. We think a valve was opened, and that doesn’t happen by accident.”

“What about the spark?”

“There are some fairly easy tricks to set up a delayed spark, and most arsonists know them all. We’ll find enough evidence to be sure of just how he did it.” He shook his head. “Bad luck that you two happened to be looking at the store today.”

“Yes.” Her voice was hollow. “Very bad luck.”

Adam’s arm tightened around her.

“I’m going to give you one of my cards,” Detective James said, “so you can call me if you think of anything else. You might have seen something you don’t remember right now—a person or thing out of place, something like that. Give me a call if you do.”

She accepted the card. “I will.”

Adam asked, “May we go now?”

“Sure. I have your numbers if I need to get in touch.”

Rachel took one last glance at the smoldering ruin, then walked with Adam back to her car, which had narrowly escaped getting a huge dent when a chunk of concrete had fallen near it. She didn’t object when Adam took her to the passenger side, and even managed a smile when he spoke.

“This time I’ll drive.”

He turned the heater on when he got in, land Rachel realized only then that she was shivering.

“I’m all right,” she said.

“You’re in shock.” Adam’s tone was quite pleasant, but there was a note underneath that sounded almost savage.

She glanced at him, hearing the latter and wondering at it. “Accidents happen. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Yeah—but this was no accident. Some sorry bastard took the idea of playing with matches way too far. A few more seconds …”

“We got out,” she reminded him. “Whole and pretty much unharmed.”

“Yeah.” But he was obviously unconvinced of that. He drove only a couple of blocks, pulling over to the curb in front of a coffee shop. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Rachel watched him get out and shut the door, then turned her gaze forward and her attention to the worried questions in her mind.

Obviously, the explosion had been no accident. But there was no reason for her to assume she had been the target. People committed arson with depressing frequency, and that cop had even said it had happened several times in the area recently.

So it
was
just bad luck that she had stopped by that day to look at the store.

Nothing more than that.

Besides, how could she have been a target? No one had known where she would be today except the Realtor, and since that very nice lady had pulled the addresses out of her file only that morning, there had hardly been time for lethal plans—even if she had been so inclined.

Which was, of course, ridiculous.

Still, Rachel was uneasy. The cut brake line loomed much larger now with this second “accident” following so soon after it.

She didn’t know what to think. Or what to believe. All she really knew was that she was very glad Adam had been with her. She doubted she would have reacted so quickly to the gas if she’d been alone. And though it had all happened too fast for her to be sure, she had the hazy idea that he had shielded her as they’d fallen, his thick leather jacket withstanding some flying debris that would have easily torn through her linen blazer.

He had probably saved her life.

And since he had been with her every minute from the time she’d gotten the addresses, he had certainly not been the one to rig the explosion.

The relief of that was overwhelming.

Adam returned to the car just then and handed her a steaming cup. “Tea. Hot and sweet. Drink it, Rachel.”

“Good thing I like tea,” she murmured, sipping.

He smiled suddenly. “Am I being high-handed? Sorry. I’m not usually a bully, I promise you. Just worried at the moment.”

“I’m fine. Really.” She did her best to sound convincing despite her awareness that only her death grip on the cup was keeping her hands from shaking visibly.

He looked at her steadily for a moment, then nodded and put the car in gear. “Okay. But I don’t want you driving today, so I’ll take you home.”

“Your car—”

“I’ll call a cab to take me back to the real estate office, and I’ll turn the keys in. It’s no problem, Rachel.”

She decided not to argue with him. For one thing, she was pretty sure he’d made up his mind. For another, it was pleasant to let herself drift while someone else made the decisions for a while.

She drank her tea.

They were almost at her house, when Adam spoke abruptly. “I get the feeling something’s worrying you about that explosion. Am I wrong?”

Rachel hesitated, but reminded herself that he couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with the explosion. “That car accident I had last week. The mechanic thinks the brake line was cut.”

Adam shot her a quick, hard look. “Are you saying somebody’s trying to hurt you?”

“I don’t know. Hurt me, scare me. Maybe. I just can’t think of a reason why anybody would want to do either.”

“Scare you? You could have been killed today, Rachel.”

She flinched a little, and stared at her half-finished tea. “You heard that cop. There’s been arson in the area. Besides, nobody could have known I’d be there just then. Nobody.”

“That makes sense,” he said slowly. “Not even the Realtor could have known for sure which store we’d check out first. It took some time for the gas to build up, time to set up some gadget to cause a spark. We were inside no more than a couple of minutes before we smelled the gas.”

“So—it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said.

“In this case, you’ll have to. It can’t be anything else.” She was arguing with herself as well as him.

“Maybe. Just promise me you’ll be careful from now on, Rachel. Very careful.”

“You bet,” she said lightly, and watched the tea slosh around inside her cup.

“I’d like to know why the hell I had to hear about this from the police, Rachel.” Graham was definitely upset, and didn’t try to hide it.

Rachel sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh. She’d just been about to go soak in a hot tub in a hopeful attempt to ward off soreness tomorrow, having finally escaped the anxious attention of Fiona and Cam. Adam had remained just long enough for his cab to arrive.

“I’m sorry, Graham. I would have called as soon as I had a chance to catch my breath. But why did the police call you?”

“They always call me whenever anything happens involving the Grant family. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She was getting tired of saying it, especially since it wasn’t true. “Although, if it hadn’t been for Adam, I wouldn’t be.”

“So he was Johnny on the spot again.”

“He probably saved my life, Graham. I wouldn’t have moved fast enough to get out of there, not without him.”

“I don’t trust him, Rachel. And I sure as hell don’t like this explosion coming barely a week after your car’s brake lines were cut.”

“It was just a bizarre accident. No one could have known I’d be at that particular store at that particular moment.” She kept repeating that fact like a mantra.

“Delafield was always with you? He didn’t excuse himself for a few minutes at any point?” “No.”

Graham was silent for a moment, then repeated, “I don’t trust him.”

“You checked him out, didn’t you? Like you said you would?” She rubbed her forehead slowly and thought longingly of a bath and peace.

Again, Graham hesitated. “I did. The company exists. Delafield Design. It was founded about five years ago. It
appears
to be successful.”

“Then he told me the truth.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he just told you some of the truth. His background information is too damned sketchy for my taste. I’m going to keep digging.”

Rachel sighed. “Fine. You do that. In the meantime, I’m going to go soak a few bruises away. Good-bye, Graham.” She hung up without waiting for a response.

She was accustomed to Graham’s caution, knew it came from affection and concern, and sincerely valued his opinions—but this time he was taking things too far. She could trust Adam.

He’d saved her life, hadn’t he?

Mercy hung up the phone and gazed across the kitchen at Nicholas, who was clearing up the remains of the Chinese takeout they’d had for dinner. “You heard?”

“Your half of the conversation, yeah. So Rachel’s all right?”

“I think so. What do you know about this Adam Delafield she says probably saved her life?”

Nicholas dumped several empty cartons in the trash
and turned to look at her. “We knew each other a long time ago.”

“That’s what Rachel said. That you two were old friends.” She left it there, but watched him steadily from her stool at the breakfast bar.

Nicholas came to the bar and poured fresh wine for both of them. “It isn’t a long story, love. About ten years ago Adam worked for a design firm I did some business with.”

“Had you known him before that?”

Nicholas shrugged massive shoulders. “As a matter of fact, I had. We first met about fifteen years ago. He was in college. We had some mutual interests, and a mutual friend introduced us.”

Mercy smiled wryly. “You’d think I’d learn.”

“Learn what?”

“Not to ask questions about your past.”

His brows rose in surprise, carving deep furrows in his forehead. “There’s just nothing to say that would interest you, love.”

“I have my doubts about that, but never mind. What do you think about this explosion?”

“That they’re damned lucky they got out in time.”

“Don’t you think there’s something strange going on? I mean, a week ago Rachel practically wraps her car around a tree, and today she’s nearly blown to smithereens. She went twenty-nine years without so much as a sprained ankle—and now this? Am I the only one who thinks this is something more than just a bad week?”

Nicholas sipped his wine for a moment, studying her with one of his more enigmatic gazes. “What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know.” Mercy shrugged helplessly. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Rachel, can you?”

“No.”

“Nick, something’s going on.”

“Two violent accidents in one week is a bizarre coincidence, I admit. But how could it be more than that?”

Mercy hesitated, then said, “Rachel wrecked her car because the brake lines had been cut. Deliberately.”

“How do you know that?” Nicholas was intent, but not frowning.

“Rachel told me. Graham’s gone all suspicious of your pal Adam, but so far he isn’t convincing Rachel, especially after today. But somebody cut that brake line. Somebody wanted to hurt Rachel. Or scare her.”

“Scare her? What would be the point?”

“To make her go back to New York, maybe. How should I know?”

Nicholas shook his head. “The explosion might have been arson, but it doesn’t appear to have been aimed at anyone in particular. Rachel and Adam were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for the cut brake lines— even the best mechanic can make a mistake, and brake lines have been known to fail without helping hands. There’s no solid evidence either occurrence was anything more than an accident, love.”

Mercy knew when she’d lost an argument, especially with this man. She sighed. “Okay, okay. But I’m worried.”

“You told Rachel to be careful. What else can you do?”

“Worry.” She smiled.

He came around the bar and lifted her easily off the stool. “I can think of a few better things to occupy your attention.”

As always, she felt engulfed in his embrace, blissfully wrapped in warmth and strength. “I’m certainly open to
suggestion,” she murmured, tilting her head back to smile up at him.

“Good.” He lifted her completely off her feet with an ease that never failed to astonish her, and carried her through the sparsely furnished apartment toward his bedroom.

Mercy spared a passing moment to consider the bland color scheme and minimalist decor, and sighed. “You’ve got to get more furniture.”

“Why?”

He had a point. He never entertained here that she knew of, and there were enough chairs—and a big enough bed—for two, so what did it matter?

“Never mind,” she said. “The next time I’m out shopping I’ll find you a plant or two, and maybe a rug….”

When the phone on his nightstand rang a couple of hours later, Nicholas reached over so quickly that he got the receiver in hand before the first ring finished. “Yeah?”

Half asleep, Mercy heard only his side of the brief conversation, but it was enough to bring her fully awake.

“You fucked up,” Nicholas said. His voice was low. It was also unpleasant. He listened for a moment, then added, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” And replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“Trouble?” She made sure her voice was drowsy.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Tomorrow.” Nicholas shifted slightly and put a hand under her chin to tilt her face up. “Are you going to sleep all evening?”