Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (48 page)

Easier said than done. She bit back a protest as he walked through the door. Patting her shoulder in understanding, Paul accompanied Jace into the room. Folding her arms, anchoring her cold hands in the warmth of her underarms, she rocked slightly back and forth as she stepped up to the window. And watched as Jace disappeared, and Lieutenant Tucker approached the table—a formidable ally, and an equally daunting opponent.

* * *

Jace could feel Melanie's stare boring into his back as he marched with authority to the table. He forced himself to focus 100 percent on the shaking woman before him and not think of the woman who was depending upon him to clear her name and quite possibly save her life.

“Miss Keith, another juror came forward and revealed that she had been threatened to cast a guilty vote. New evidence has been found that suggests that Miss Swanson was not guilty. Can you help us? Were you threatened, as well?”

Emily leaped from her chair.

“My family! They threatened to hurt my parents!”

Paul interjected, his voice commanding. “They? Do you have any idea who they might have been?”

“No! Please! My mom and dad. And my kid brother!” Emily grabbed on to Paul's arms, shaking him in her desperation. Paul calmly patted her hand, then removed himself from her grasp.

“No one is going to hurt your family, Miss Keith. They were all removed from their home by US marshals this morning. Even as we speak, they are in a safe location. They will be protected, and so will you, for as long as necessary.”

Emily, relieved of her fear for her family, answered their questions, her voice wavering every now and then. When the first threat had arrived in a letter, she had tried to resist it. She had listened at the trial and had even argued with a couple of jurors about what she had felt were inconsistencies in the case. When she had arrived home that evening, her beloved dog was lying dead on her doorstep. A letter was left that stated clearly that her own family would be next if she didn't comply. She folded. And the next day, she had meekly gone along with the other jurors.

Jace and Paul took turns questioning her, rephrasing the same questions, searching for clues, any hint to the identity of the person behind the threats. Finally satisfied that they had everything, Paul rose and went to the door, motioning to a tall man in a dark suit. The quintessential US marshal.

There was something else, though. As she got ready to leave, Emily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “How could I have forgotten?”

“What?” Jace and Paul said together.

“There was a man on the jury...Steve Scott.”

“Yes, we know. He was killed in a car accident two months ago,” Jace informed her. He wasn't trying to be cold, he was just getting impatient.

“Oh, no! I wondered why he had stopped emailing. We dated a few times after the trial.”

Jace was slightly amused by that. Only slightly.

Paul and Jace both motioned for Emily to continue. She blushed.

“About six months ago, Steve started hinting that he felt bad about the trial. I had been trying to forget about it, it was such a horrible experience. Anyway, one night...oh, about four months ago, we were talking on the phone, and I broke down and told him about the threats. He admitted that he had received a threat, too.”

That
got their attention.

“Why didn't you say that in the first place?”

Emily cringed from the anger in Jace's voice. Her voice was wobbly when she spoke again. “He said he didn't feel bad about going along with it because he thought she was guilty, anyways. The threat didn't change his mind. At the time. But later he started to have second thoughts. Felt like he needed to go to the police.”

“Well?” Paul demanded. “Did he? Did he go to the police?”

Emily lifted her hands. “I don't know. That was the last time I talked to him. I texted him about a month ago, and I guess I thought he was busy or no longer interested. It never occurred to me that something bad had happened to him.”

The woman dissolved into sobs. The marshal escorted her out to take her to her family. Paul flipped a switch so that anyone outside the room would not be able to hear their conversation.

“I didn't have a chance to tell you this earlier. I did some checking on that juror you couldn't find, Maggie Slade. Well, I think she is probably dead. She made an appointment to talk with a lieutenant. She wouldn't say what she wanted to talk about, just that it was about the trial.”

“Let me guess,” Jace picked up the conversation. “She never showed, did she?”

“You got it.”

“Who was she supposed to see?”

“Dan Willis.” Paul pursed his lips and raised his brows. “I think that's mighty interesting, don't you?”

Jace laughed. The sound was hollow. He threw his own bomb. “Melanie told me her ex approached her this morning. Said he thinks his old man pulled some strings to get the judge to rush through the trial before he came home from Europe. Old political buddies, or something like that.”

Paul whistled. “Man, this case just keeps getting more involved. The judge will be out of town until tomorrow afternoon. Means you won't have a warrant for the juror's house until then. Tomorrow I want you to go to Pittsburgh. See if you can't nose around and find out anything more about what happened to Steven Scott.”

“Yes, sir. I'll start at their police department...see what they have. I have my doubts that his car accident was truly an accident. Too coincidental.”

“I agree. Today, though, you need some downtime.” Paul held up one hand when Jace started to protest. “This is not open for debate, Lieutenant Tucker. Miss Swanson is about done in. She has held her own, but these past couple of days have been extremely stressful.”

Well, he couldn't argue with that. The more he considered it, the more he realized that Paul was right. The last thing he wanted was for Mel to collapse on him. Not that she would. That girl might appear frail, but he was beginning to understand that she had some steel in her soul.

They left the police station in silence. The day was unseasonably warm. Mel leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

“Hey, are you awake?”

She opened one eye and gave Jace a sleepy smile. “Sort of.”

Maneuvering the truck onto the interstate, Jace headed north toward Erie. He clicked the radio on low, and they listened as the sounds of Beethoven filled the cab.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Jace threw her a smile that barely lifted his lips. She was adorable, her voice sleepy and kind of husky. She had a large red mark on her forehead from sleeping against the window. “I need to stretch my legs. Why don't we head to the mall and just walk around inside?”

“Won't we be kinda out in the open there?”

He could hear the worry in her voice.

“No one knows that we're going. And there are tons of people there. Security cameras. It's not like we're going to be walking along a secluded trail. I have my gun and the chief's orders.”

She tilted her head and scrunched up her cute little nose. Why had he never noticed she had freckles? He could see her weighing the idea in her mind, so he threw in an extra incentive. “I'll buy you ice cream.”

Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I haven't had ice cream in four years. Yes, let's go.”

They spent the next hour at the mall. Jace hid a smile as Mel ate her chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. She ended up with a dot of ice cream on her nose. He pointed it out to her, and she wiped it off. He was almost sorry. She had reminded him of a kid.

Unfortunately, they eventually needed to leave to find her a hotel room. As he unlocked the truck's passenger door for her, she glanced around, her face regretful. He knew the feeling. For a short time, they were able to be two people enjoying a spring afternoon. Now, all the events of the past few days were rushing back, as well as all the reasons he needed to keep his distance from her. It was harder than it should be. She stepped up to the truck, brushing close to him as he opened the door for her. The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him.
Remember Ellie. Don't get too close
.

Jace realized that Mel was waiting for him to shut the door, her forehead scrunched as she watched him. Shutting the door with a shrug, he jogged around to his side of the truck. Within minutes, they were zipping up I-79. Whistling, he kept a constant vigil on his mirrors as he maneuvered through the light traffic. His eyebrows drew together and he stopped whistling midsong.

“The car behind us is too close,” Jace observed. He tried tapping his brakes to warn the driver off. No effect. “I didn't think it would be that easy.”

“What do you mean?” Mel questioned.

“I mean that whoever is behind us is driving too close on purpose.”

Experimentally, he maneuvered into the left lane and sped up. The car behind him followed suit. He pushed the pedal down even more and passed three cars, before pulling behind a semi. Sure enough, the SUV pulled in behind him.

Mel swiveled her head and looked out the back window. “Whoa. Jace, that guy is wearing a ski mask. Who wears ski masks in spring? Creepy.”

“Mel, grab my phone and hit two. That's the police station. Tell 'em we require backup.”

Mel snatched the phone made the call. The operator dispatched a unit to intercept them.

“Are you able to see the license plate number?” the operator asked.

Mel shook her head, then realized the woman couldn't see her. “No. We can only see the front of the car.”

Without warning, the driver swerved to the left lane. Jace hoped he was moving away. That thought disappeared when he whipped out a gun and pointed it toward them. Mel screamed when the first shot rang out. Jace evaded the bullet, but whoever was behind the wheel was a skilled driver. Added to the fact that the little sedan he was driving was faster and more maneuverable than Jace's beat-up pickup truck.

“Hang on!” Jace yelled. He shifted gears and attempted to escape, weaving back and forth so as not to give the shooter an easy target. But he kept up with them. Another shot rang out, and the truck started to go out of control. A bullet must have hit a back wheel. Another shot, and the windshield shattered. A third shot hit the front driver's side wheel, and the truck spun out. It careered off the road and landed in a ditch. The other car slowed as if it would stop, then sped up and raced away.

* * *

Jace lifted his head from the steering wheel with a groan. He was going to need to see a doctor. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. He slowly turned his head toward the passenger seat. Mel was leaning against the passenger door, clearly in pain. But alert. Gratitude filled his heart when he saw that she was mostly all right, just a little roughed up. His eyes sharpened on her right shoulder. Her shirt had torn, and her skin was bleeding. Probably from the glass that lay around her. But he could still see that the skin that should have been smooth was puckered in an angry-looking scar.

“Mel,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “What happened to your shoulder, honey?”

Mel looked down in confusion. When she saws the exposed scar, she grimaced. “It's an old injury. It happened when I was a kid. Nothing to worry about.”

Jace disagreed. He had been in the police force long enough to have seen a variety of wounds and the scars they leave, and he knew that was a stab wound.

TEN

I
t was almost an hour before Melanie was able to stop shaking. The memory of that man in the ski mask as he casually aimed a gun at them was sure to haunt her dreams for a long time.

The backup unit arrived to pick them up and bring them back to the station. Jace had filed his reports and they gave their statements. Now they were on their way out the door. Jace's truck was out of commission, so they got into his cruiser.

He sighed. When she raised her eyebrows, he shook his head slightly.

“I miss my truck.” Men.

Soon they were on their way. On their way where? Well, that was a question Jace had yet to answer.

He apparently had something else on his mind. She soon knew what.

“So, the stab wound? Wanna tell me about that?”

She wanted to shrug it off as nothing, but the stubborn set of his jaw told her that wasn't going to work. She sighed. Brushed her hair back from her face with an impatient gesture. She was stalling, and she knew it. When she cut her eyes in his direction, his raised eyebrow told her that he knew it, as well.

“Fine. When I was ten, my father got roaring drunk. I had set the table for dinner and had given him a knife that hadn't come completely clean in the dishwasher. He got angry with me.”

Jace looked appalled. “So he stabbed you? Didn't you go to the hospital?”

“Yeah, and he told them some tale about me being klutzy while handling the knife. He was such a charmer, such a well-known figure in the community, they never questioned him.” She tried to ignore the pity warring with disbelief on his face. “Anyway, not long after that he and my mom died, and I went to live with Aunt Sarah.”

Da da DUM.
A tri-tone bell-like noise issued from the console area. Mel glanced at it. Irene's name flashed on the display. Saved by the bell, she thought, more than ready to end this conversation. Jace pushed a button to put the call on speaker.

“Yeah, 'Rene. What's up?”

“Hey, buddy. You can bring Melanie back to Mom's house tonight.” Irene's voice, sounding distinctly smug, answered him.

“Umm, Irene,” Mel interjected, “I don't think that's a good idea. Did you see the back of your mom's house? She was pretty steamed.”

“Yes, of course I saw that. I heard about it, too. And she was angry. But then I overheard about you getting shot at over the police radio.”

“How?” Mel started to ask. Jace broke into the conversation.

“Irene's husband is a cop, too. You haven't met him yet because he's away at a training seminar. Irene, how did you convince Mom?”

Irene sighed. “It wasn't easy. But you know how she hates bullying. When it was clear Melanie is a target, she decided to give her another chance. Not to mention that Paul had someone come out to the house to install some state-of-the-art security system, on the police department's dime, I might add. Official police business, he said.”

Air whooshed out of Melanie's lungs, accompanied by a distinct wheeze.

“Where's your inhaler?” Jace immediately asked.

She fished around in her pocket and pulled it out and used it.

Within minutes Jace had changed course and was heading back toward his mother's house. It was with trepidation that Melanie stepped from the vehicle, unsure of what kind of welcome awaited her. Did Mrs. Tucker blame her for putting Jace in harm's way? Or had Irene somehow managed to convince her mother that Melanie wasn't the evil temptress she had been made out to be?

It was evening now—the sun had set an hour ago. A rumble from her stomach reminded Mel that they had yet to eat dinner.

She heaved herself from the car and felt as if she had concrete blocks tied to her feet as she walked beside Jace up to the house. She blinked as lights flooded the yard. Ah. The new security system. She tensed as Mrs. Tucker opened the inside door and waited for them. Once inside the house, Melanie stiffened her shoulders, knowing she had to meet the other woman's accusing eyes eventually.

She lifted her head.

And got a shock.

Instead of the hostile glare she had received only that morning, Jace's mother watched her with eyes filled with pity. Pity? Why would Mrs. Tucker pity her now?

Dread curdled in the pit of her stomach. She tamped down the urge to flee, to hide. Whatever had happened to make Mrs. Tucker look at her that way, she didn't want to know. Because whatever it was, it would probably devastate her.

She was right.

“Melanie,” Mrs. Tucker said in the gentlest voice Mel had ever heard from her. It was a voice reserved for frightened children and wounded animals. “Melanie, one of the officers watching your aunt at the hospital called twenty minutes ago. I'm sorry. Your aunt is gone.”

“Gone?” Mel repeated, her mind numb. “Gone,” she said again, tonelessly. Why were her ears ringing?

“Mel, maybe you should sit down.” Jace's voice was far away.

It was the final straw. Mel's mind had reached its limit. She swayed, feeling her ears buzz as she passed out.

* * *

Mel was sitting on the window seat in her room the next morning when someone knocked on her door. She was tempted to ignore it, let whoever was on the other side think she was sleeping, but she couldn't abide even that small deception. Besides, she had a feeling Jace at least might be concerned about her. After she had revived from her faint last night, she had allowed Irene to assist her as she got ready for bed. She had slept dreamlessly for almost twelve hours. Without turning her head now, she called out, “Come in.”

Irene walked over, a light breeze of perfume coming with her. She didn't say a word. Just leaned over and gave Melanie a hug. Then she sat down on the window seat beside her. Melanie allowed a few minutes to pass in companionable silence before she faced Irene. Jace's sister was watching her with compassion. But not pity. Mel was thankful for that. Pity was a hard emotion to deal with.

“I'm okay,” she assured Irene. “I'm even peaceful. Aunt Sarah is in Heaven, and she has perfect knowledge now. She knows the truth.”

Irene tilted her head, reminding Mel of a delicate bird. “That's good. I'm glad for you on that score. Still, it has to be difficult for you. You never even got a chance to be together again before all this happened.”

Feeling her throat tighten with emotion, Mel nodded.

“My mom had Jace make breakfast. Will you come down?”

“Jace cooked breakfast?” Melanie was entranced by the idea of him providing for his family in such a way. She wished she could have seen him as the teenager he had described to her, the one who stepped up to take care of his family after losing his father. Was he ever in trouble, or was he always determined to be a cop? She would ask him someday.

Irene scoffed at her question. “Of course he cooked breakfast. I wasn't here, and my mom is dangerous in the kitchen. If she had made breakfast, it would have been peanut butter toast. Not that she doesn't try. She does. She just can't seem to get the knack of it. I can't think of a single recipe she has made successfully.”

Melanie trailed along beside Irene, laughing softly. Jace turned at the sound, a relieved look on his face. She realized he'd been worried about her. Even Mrs. Tucker gave her a strained smile. That smile coming from a woman who had treated her with hostility recently almost undid her.

“He never even went to work this morning,” Irene muttered next to her ear. “He was so concerned. He called the office and requested permission to work from here. I think he was planning on waiting here all day until you came down.”

Melanie flashed the woman a warning look. The last thing she wanted to do was make jokes at Jace's expense. Not after all he had done for her. She pushed away the thought that there might be another reason she didn't want to make fun of him. Irene wasn't impressed. She smirked, then sauntered around to her chair.

Jace strode toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. His gaze searched her face as if trying to gauge her mental state.

“You hanging in there?” he queried, his voice pitched low so only she could hear.

Tears spurted to her eyes. Her throat ached as she held them back. Unable to speak around her grief, she answered him with a stiff nod.

Jace gave her one last squeeze, then gently shoved her toward a chair. She sat, not even giving him token resistance. She was far too spent for that. Her world had been tipped on its edge again, and she felt it was all she could do just to hang on. It was sheer reflex to hold the warm coffee mug Jace placed before her between her chilled palms. She inhaled the pungent aroma. Jace made coffee the way she liked it, strong. She sipped the bitter brew and felt herself settle. Jace set a plate with an omelet filled with veggies in front of her. Not in the mood to eat, she pushed her food around on the plate, only vaguely aware of the conversation around her. It wasn't until Irene and Mrs. Tucker finished eating and excused themselves that she spoke.

“I want to talk with that doctor from the hospital. The one we talked with last time. Dr. Ramirez, I think his name was.” The words popped out of her mouth. She grimaced. “Sorry. I didn't mean to be so abrupt.”

“No, that's okay. I was thinking the same thing.” Jace sipped his own coffee, his eyes deep in thought. “We can go right after you eat.”

“Oh, but I'm not really that hungry...”

Jace stopped her with a look.

“I know you don't feel like eating, Mel. Could you try? Maybe just a bite or two? Today's gonna be a hard day. You'll need your strength.”

Melanie scowled, but obliged him by taking a small bite of the spicy omelet. Whoa. It was delicious. Once she started eating, her appetite kicked in. She stared at her plate in dismay minutes later. She had wolfed down her breakfast with as much gusto as a teenage boy. Jace chuckled and tossed her a smug wink. Her stomach fluttered.

Mel was suddenly conscious of how much she had come to rely on him. How had she let her guard slip? He was a good man, but she had seen too many “good” men turn on a dime. Her father let alcohol and drugs change him. Seth let his father's opinion sway him. Well, she wasn't going to give Jace Tucker a chance to break her heart.

* * *

At the hospital, Jace leaned against the registration desk and flashed the young woman sitting there a pleasant smile. He could practically feel Mel's eyes shooting daggers at him. His smile threatened to become a grin. He wasn't flirting with the girl, just being polite. Well, okay, maybe he was flirting a little. He was regretting being so tender with Mel that morning. He couldn't let her get the idea that they could ever be anything other than friends. He didn't want to hurt her any more than she was already hurting. As soon as this case was closed, he needed to walk away from her. The thought should have brought him relief. Instead, it made his heart ache.

“Y-yes?” the brown-haired girl behind the desk stammered, her eyes wide. “May I help you?”

“I hope so—” his eyes flashed to her name tag “—Diana. I need to locate Dr. Ramirez. Is he in today?”

The girl cocked her head. Her eyes lost their starstruck look and became puzzled. “No-o,” she responded slowly.

Jace exchanged a glance with Mel.

“Do you expect him in later today?” Mel butted in to the conversation.

“I'm sorry, but there is no Dr. Ramirez here.”

“Not today?” Jace persisted, although his instinct told him that she meant more than that.

She confirmed it when she shook her head firmly.

“No, I mean not ever. There is no doctor by that name working here.”

“Then who was the doctor in charge of Sarah Swanson when Dr. Jensen was gone?” Not bothering to give the flustered receptionist time to respond, Mel whirled on Jace. “That man, the one in Aunt Sarah's room—”

Jace nodded at Mel, than turned back to the girl at the desk. “The room where Sarah Swanson was is now a crime scene. No unauthorized personnel are to enter. Have hospital security posted outside that door until backup arrives. Is that clear?” Jace used the radio on his shoulder to call in a team to do the forensics. Mel looked shell-shocked. He needed to discuss the situation with her, make sure she was coping.

Unwilling to hold this conversation in front of witnesses, Jace placed a firm hand at her elbow and started to steer Mel toward the waiting area. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked, stiff-backed, into the room. Jace frowned at the back of her head. The spacious room was empty, the only noise coming from the television set. Jace increased the volume, allowing the soap opera to act as a screen for their own conversation.

“Mel, I am really sorry about this, but we have to assume that your aunt fell prey to another attempt on her life. It would be fair to guess that the missing Dr. Ramirez had a part in that.”

“I hate this!” Fists clenched at her side, Melanie's body shook with frustration. Her jaw tightened, and he thought she was probably grinding her teeth. “I mean, I knew that was probably the case, but hearing you say it, to know such evil is so close—”

“I know, and I hate that I need to be so blunt, so cold about the whole thing, but you need to stay alert. A killer is on the loose. I need to get a team in here. Then I'll get you back to my mother's.”

He should have expected resistance, really. Mel lifted her pointed little chin and folded her arms across her chest. The daggers shooting from her eyes told him she needed answers as badly as he did, and she wasn't going to walk away without a fight. She opened her mouth to argue. He held up one hand to forestall her.

“Look, Mel, Paul needs me to go to Pittsburgh to check on the juror who died in a car wreck. You know, talk with the officer in charge of that investigation. I can't do that if you're around. I won't leave you unprotected. You know that.”

He waited until a security guard could come in and stay with Mel, then left. He returned to her twenty minutes later. She was subdued.