Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 (49 page)

He gave her hand a squeeze. “There's one more thing. I need your promise that you won't run, no matter what happens.”

As long as she stayed, he and the other Cedar Key officers had a chance of keeping her safe. She was no match for Edmund's power and brutality. Whatever happened, he had to keep her on Cedar Key.

Because now that he knew her story, he was more determined than ever to protect her.

FOUR

E
verything on Meagan Berry's front porch was white—white siding, white front door, white railing and white deck boards. Even the Adirondack chair and matching side table were painted white.

But when Hunter eased to a stop in the driveway, a new object had been added. A shiny blue tin sat atop the small table, a spot of bright color in the midst of none.

He nodded in that direction. “Is that yours?”

Meagan followed his gaze. “It wasn't there when Darci picked me up this morning. But if I had to guess, I'd say Mrs. Tackett has been busy in the kitchen again. She's always baking or cooking something and sharing it.”

He followed Meagan onto the porch and watched her remove the card taped to the lid.

“Just what I thought.” She angled the note toward him. “
Thanks for being so sweet. I hope you like no-bake brownies.
And she signed it
Margaret Tackett.
” Meagan picked up the tin and unlocked the front door.

He frowned. More than a week had passed since the attempt on her life. But that didn't mean the person had given up. Maybe he was just waiting for her to let down her guard. “Has Mrs. Tackett ever made brownies for you before?”

“Brownies, cookies, cake, homemade vegetable soup, you name it.” Meagan gave him a teasing smile. “Somehow, I don't think she's much of a threat.”

He followed her inside, where she placed the tin on the counter and removed the lid. “Mmm, they look good.”

He leaned forward and took a long sniff. Peanut butter, cocoa, nuts and...something else he couldn't quite place.

Meagan started to reach for one, but he held up a hand. “Wait. I'd feel better if we talked to Mrs. Tackett first.”

“What, are you going to ask her if she poisoned my brownies?”

“No, I'm going to ask her if she
left
the brownies.”

Meagan's eyes widened. “You think they might have come from someone else?”

“Probably not. But there's already been one attempt on your life. I'm not willing to risk the possibility that someone slipped poison into these and put your neighbor's name on the card. If Mrs. Tackett says she made them, fine. I'll even have one with you.”

Meagan pressed the lid back on. “All right. Let's go visit my neighbor.”

When Mrs. Tackett answered their knock, an enticing aroma wafted out the door. Hunter's stomach rumbled in response. The next item on his agenda would be dinner. Nothing nearly as enticing as whatever Mrs. Tackett had made. More like leftovers. Unless he wanted to go out. Maybe he could convince Meagan to go with him.

She stepped forward to greet the older woman, then got right to the point. “This is going to sound strange, but did you leave a tin of no-bake brownies on my porch today?”

Mrs. Tackett's brows lifted, deepening the lines running across her forehead. “No, they weren't from me. Did you check with Sydney Tanner? She likes to bake.”

“No, I—I haven't.” Meagan's voice was weak and held a slight quiver. “Maybe I'll do that.”

She made her way toward the sidewalk. Her eyes were round, and her face had lost three shades of color.

He touched a hand to the small of her back. “Are you okay?”

“The brownies came from whoever is trying to kill me. If you hadn't been with me...” She let the thought trail off, apparently unwilling to voice the likely outcome. He didn't want to think about it, either.

“We need to call the police.”

She gave him a weak smile. “You
are
the police.”

“We need a policeman who's on duty. They'll take the tin and turn it over to Levy County. Then it'll go to a lab for the contents to be tested. I'm guessing they'll find an ingredient the recipe doesn't call for.” One intended to kill her.

His chest tightened. She was right. If he hadn't been there, she wouldn't have given it a second thought. She would have eaten one of the brownies immediately. Maybe two or three.

He called 911, then pocketed his phone. “How about letting me take you to dinner once the police report is done?”

She stepped onto her porch and unlocked the front door. “I don't think I can eat. For some reason, I've lost my appetite.”

That sense of protectiveness that had filled him earlier surged up again, stronger than ever. “I don't want to leave you alone.”

“You'll have to at some point.”

“Not if I can help it.” He followed her inside. “Any chance Edmund is behind all this?”

She looked at him askance. “Making poisoned no-bake brownies? No way.”

“Based on everything you've told me, I would tend to agree. So what else can you tell me about him, besides that he's big and tough?”

“That's not Edmund.”

“What?”

She sat on the couch, and Hunter settled in next to her.

“Edmund is tall and slender. Very cultured. But as cold as ice.”

“So who is the big, tough guy who's been looking for you?”

“Lou. He works for Edmund. Lou will keep looking till he finds me. Then he'll give Edmund my whereabouts, and Edmund will come after me himself. He wouldn't give that pleasure up to anyone.”

That made sense. But there was still one piece Hunter hadn't been able to fit into the puzzle. Before he could voice the question, the doorbell rang. It was Gary, another of his colleagues.

Once Gary had finished his investigation and left with the suspicious blue tin, Hunter turned to Meagan. “I never got a definitive answer on dinner.”

“That's because I'm undecided.”

“Come on, it beats sitting here alone. As long as you're with me, you'll have your own personal bodyguard.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “You can't imagine how appealing that is.”

“I know
I'd
rest easier.”

He followed her out the door, then helped her into his truck. After starting the engine, he let it idle. “There's one thing I don't understand. Supposedly the attempts on your life are in retaliation for you killing someone.”

“I've been trying to figure that out myself. I can't see those accusations coming from Edmund. He never once insinuated that I had anything to do with Charlie's murder.”

Hunter shifted into reverse and backed into the street. “What about Charlie's family? Maybe a girlfriend or wife?”

“Charlie wasn't married. I don't think he had a girlfriend, either.”

“How well did you know him?”

“Pretty well. He lived in a cottage on Edmund's property. He wasn't highly educated, but he had a tender side and loved poetry.” She released a wistful sigh. “We used to trade books back and forth. He had one that we both loved—an old volume of classic poetry. A few hours after I discovered his body, I found it in the atrium, about twenty feet from where he was killed. I think he was leaving it for me.”

Hunter eased to a stop, then made a right on D Street. He would head toward Dock, where several restaurants overlooked the water.

“Did anyone question the fact that Charlie had been killed inside the house late at night, when he had his own place on the property?”

“Not really. Charlie was responsible for maintaining all the plants in the atrium. So he was in and out all the time, had a key and everything. It was a little odd, though, for him to have come in late at night, after I had gone to bed. At the time, I just figured he'd forgotten something. So I didn't really question it. When he turned up dead, I thought he couldn't pay his debt in cash, so they'd made him pay with his life. Then I found the blackmail note.”

“So Charlie was desperate for money and figured he'd get it the easy way. He tried blackmailing Edmund and it backfired.”

She nodded. “He should have known better than to—”

Just ahead of them a beat-up red Camaro flew right though the stop sign at Third. Hunter jammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left, barely missing the rear bumper of the old sports car. A familiar figure sat at the wheel. No, he couldn't let this go. The kid was going to kill someone.

“I know I'm not on duty, but I've got to go after him before someone gets hurt.”

Meagan's eyes were wide. The close call had shaken her as badly as it had him. “Do you know him?”

He did a one-eighty and took off after the Camaro. “Donny Blanchard. He used to be one of the kids in my Sunday school class. About three years ago he dropped out of church and has been getting into trouble ever since. Nothing serious. Just mischief.”

Hunter followed the car through several turns until it made a left onto Airport Road. Since it led nowhere but the airport, they were the only two vehicles on the road. Which gave him the perfect conditions for what he needed to do.

He accelerated to ease up next to the other car and was met with Donny's grinning face. The kid wasn't speeding. If he hadn't just run a stop sign, Hunter wouldn't even have gone after him.

When Donny showed no signs of stopping, Hunter pointed to the side of the road. When that didn't work, he crept closer, until Meagan could have reached over and wrapped her fingers around the kid's throat. Except she was too busy maintaining a death grip on the door handle.

Finally, Donny jammed on the brakes and pulled over. Hunter stopped in front of him and walked back to the car. Donny stared through the driver's side window, still holding on to that cocky grin.

Hunter knocked twice. “Roll down the window.”

Finally, Donny complied, but the cockiness remained. “You can't give me a ticket. You're not on duty.”

The words almost didn't register. The odor did. Alcohol. Heavy. The kid was drinking and driving.

Hunter swallowed hard. Fire started deep in his gut, searing a path upward and exploding through his mind. He grabbed the kid by the shirt collar and jerked him toward the window.

“Hey, man, let go of me.”

The cockiness so obvious moments earlier had fled without a trace. But Hunter wasn't finished yet. Not by a long shot. Red-hot fury pumped through his veins. The kid was drunk. At age eighteen, that in itself was illegal. But he had also just endangered the lives of everyone in Cedar Key.

Hunter gave him a firm shake. “You're driving drunk.” His voice was several decibels louder than normal. “You could have killed someone.”

“I'm not drunk.” Fear had replaced the cockiness in his eyes. “I had a few beers. That's all. No hard stuff.”

“You're impaired. You ran a stop sign and almost hit us. There could have been someone walking, crossing the road. Or someone in a small car.” A Honda Civic. Broad-sided. Pushed sideways thirty feet from the force of the impact and pinned against a tree.

He tried to erase the image from his mind, but it wouldn't leave, wouldn't even fade. Every detail was as crisp and clear as it had been four years ago. The fury pounded harder.

He gave the kid another yank. His head was now halfway through the window opening. Hunter would have punched him if he could get away with it. “You shouldn't drink. Period.” He shouted the words, even though the kid's face was inches from his own. “But if you do, don't
ever
be stupid enough to get behind the wheel of a car. Do you hear me?”

Donny didn't answer, just stared with wide, fear-filled eyes.

Hunter gave him another shake. “Do you hear me?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Don't
ever
do that again.”

“N-no, sir. I won't. Ever. I promise.”

Hunter released his grip on the kid's collar one finger at a time as the tidal wave subsided. He needed to call 911, get Gary back out. Someone had to get Donny off the street before he killed someone.

When Hunter glanced back at his truck, Meagan was watching him through the rear window. As soon as his eyes met hers, she turned away. Uneasiness darkened the edges of his mind.

A few minutes later, he left Donny in Gary's capable hands and walked back to the truck. After sliding into the driver's seat, he glanced over at Meagan. The same fear he had seen on Donny's face was reflected in her eyes. The uneasiness intensified.

“He was drinking and driving. He could have killed someone. I'm just trying to keep him from ruining his life.”

She nodded, but didn't speak. A wall had gone up, and she was retreating behind it.

He had to make her understand. “Kids like that don't respond to namby-pamby pleas to do the right thing. You've got to be tough on them.”

She nodded again and swallowed hard. “I think I'd rather go home. I'm really not hungry.”

His heart sank. Everything between them had changed. She was now afraid of him. Or at the least, guarded around him. Given her past, he could understand why. He had to make her see that he wasn't like Edmund. Or any other abusive man she had known.

“Donny used to be a good kid. I'm worried about him. I'm trying to get him back on the right track.”

“It's okay.” She tried to force a smile. At least that was what he thought it was. One side of her mouth quivered but didn't manage to really lift. She gave up on the attempt. “I just want to go home. It's been a long day.”

He heaved a sigh. “All right. I'll take you home.” He had no choice. He would make sure the house was secure and pray like crazy that she would be safe till morning.

As he began moving back down Airport Road, regret bore down on him, guilt over the way he had handled the situation with Donny. Yes, kids like that needed firmness. Someone who cared enough to come down hard on them when necessary. Tough love. But that wasn't what he had given.

Because standing next to the runway back there, he hadn't been looking at an eighteen-year-old kid. He'd been seeing a forty-year-old man arguing with cops, obstinate and without remorse, while rescue workers struggled to free a young woman who lay pinned and dying in a mass of mangled metal.