Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (26 page)

Griffin's windows were too dark to see through and there were enough automobiles parked on the street that one more wouldn't be obvious.

Water ran along the curb and into the street. Hughes's porch light glowed in the chilly night like a frosty halo. Other front house lights burned in the darkness.

Griffin glanced at her. “Doin' okay over there?”

“Yes.”

As it had been since their arrival, the pastor's garage door was closed. Earlier Griffin had slipped out of the SUV and up to the reverend's house to make sure that the man was indeed inside. So far there had been no activity.

A car crept past, heading out of the cul-de-sac as it splashed down the middle of the street. Griffin watched in the rearview mirror.

“Ghost sent me the prison's security footage of Arrico's lawyer.” He passed his cell phone to her and pushed a button, bringing up a screen. “The guy has a similar build and height to the jerk who attacked you in the ladies' room.”

Laura cupped a hand around the screen so only she could see the light from the video. Tension stretched across her shoulders as she viewed the footage. “You're right. Do you think it could really be him?”

“I'll have a better idea after I observe him tomorrow.”

She returned his phone. “Do you really think an attorney would try to kill me?”

“I don't know why not. Our other suspects are a preacher and a nurse.”

“Good point.”

“Besides, Ghost has gone through the security footage from the prison and Arrico's attorney wasn't at McAlester during the time of your attack. So far his whereabouts yesterday are unknown.”

Comprehension drew her up short. “So he could very well be the one who tried to strangle me at the hospital.”

Griffin nodded.

She blew out a shaky breath. “Vin really hates me for putting him in prison.”

“Your turning him in and testifying may not be the only reason he's after you.” Griffin rested his left wrist on the steering wheel.

“What do you mean?”

“When his father got pneumonia and died, Arrico wasn't allowed to say goodbye or attend the funeral. It's possible he blames you for being denied the chance to pay his last respects.”

“I had no idea his father had died. It makes sense he would blame me. He's vengeful. He showed that trait more than once. Can I pick 'em or what?” she muttered, then sipped her hot chocolate.

Thank goodness she'd finally realized what a mistake she'd made with her ex. A mistake she had paid for by losing all ties to her former life.

“You shouldn't beat yourself up.” Griffin took another drink of coffee. “We've all misjudged someone.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Glancing over, she found him staring out the windshield. She turned slightly toward him, drawing in his clean scent. “Was it someone you had to walk away from, the way I did?”

After a moment, he said, “She walked away from me.”

“She?”

“My fiancée.”

Laura started, her cocoa sloshing in the insulated cup. “You were engaged!”

“Don't sound so surprised,” he said wryly.

“I'm not— Okay, I
am
surprised.”

He shot her a look.

“What happened?

A sudden tension sprang up between them, but she couldn't let it go. Not yet.

“You don't have to answer, but you know everything about me, especially concerning my horrid judgment in men. Seems like I should know
something
about you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She found someone else while I was deployed, although she didn't tell me that until a month after I had returned.”

Laura was surprised, both at his words and the fact that he'd answered. “How long had she been seeing that someone else? Since you were first called up?”

He shook his head. “Since right before I came home.”

He'd been wounded when he had returned. What kind of woman left a man who was injured? A man who had so far shown himself to be steady and loyal. He was definitely loyal to Laura's aunt and his coworkers.

Laura doubted she would ever know the whole story, but the thought of someone doing him wrong irritated her. And she understood the kind of anger he must've felt, toward not only his ex but also God.

He'd been betrayed by someone he loved and so had Laura.

Without thinking, she reached over and laid a hand on his flannel-clad arm. It felt like rock beneath her fingers. “I'm sorry that happened.”

Griffin's eyes widened at her touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his gaze met hers.

There was something in the blue-green depths. Interest. The realization had her heart thudding hard. She slowly pulled her hand away, shocked to admit that she was attracted to him. More so than she had been to any other man, including Vin.

Griffin cleared his throat and moved his attention to the window and the hazy night. Laura did the same on her side of the truck.

She'd been so wrong about Vin, made such a horrible mistake with him. Because of that, she reminded herself, she listened to her head now, not her heart.

More than likely she was mistaken about her emotions. She'd spent and would continue to spend a lot of time with Griffin Devaney. He'd saved her life twice. It only made sense she would feel something for him, but it wasn't a romantic thing. Was it?

It didn't matter. Whatever she felt about him would lead nowhere. She was leaving in a few days and would probably never see him again. She pushed away the disappointment that bit at her.

The silence in the vehicle grew heavy. “So,” she said. “What do you do when you're on a stakeout alone?”

“Watch and wait and try to stay awake. It can be pretty boring.”

Laura looked up and down the street. Aside from the one car they'd seen earlier, no one else had ventured out into the frigid weather.

“You probably had to watch plenty when you were a SEAL, right?”

She felt more than saw him tense. Just as she started to back off the question, he said, “There was a lot of waiting, too.”

As long as he was willing to talk, Laura wanted to know everything she could. Laying her head back against the seat, she kept her voice casual. “I remember you saying that you once rescued a woman. Did you also guard people like you're doing for me?”

“Sometimes.”

The warmth from his body wrapped around her, giving her a sense of security. “Didn't you say that you were hurt on your last mission? That my aunt volunteered at the hospital where you recovered?”

He nodded. “Your aunt is a special lady. She has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. Well, until you.”

Laura blinked, her pulse scrambling.

“I just mean about forgiveness and...that kind of stuff.” He shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable. “Uh, maybe the pastor isn't planning to go anywhere tonight. Or to have any visitors.”

Clearly, Griffin was ready to change the subject, but Laura had more questions. For a moment, neither spoke.

“Where are you from?” she ventured.

He slid her a look, his eyes guarded. “A little town in southeastern Oklahoma called Idabel. You've probably never heard of it.”

“I have! My college roommate was from there. I visited her a few times. We went to a lake—”

“Broken Bow Lake,” he finished.

“Yes. It's gorgeous.”

“I spent a lot of time there.” There was a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“Do you ever go back?”

“No.”

Laura tried to picture him as a boy or even a young man, but she couldn't. All she could imagine was the quietly handsome man with the tortured eyes, as if he'd seen and lived through things she would never understand.

“Why did you choose the military?”

“It was a way out.”

“Of Idabel?”

“Of foster homes.”

“Oh.” She couldn't contain her surprise. “What happened to your parents?”

“My mother died when I was born. I don't know who my father is. I'm not sure she did, either.”

“You have no other family?”

“No.”

Laura saw no reason to dwell on that sadness. “Was the military what you hoped?”

“I didn't know what to expect.” He shrugged. “I wasn't disappointed, I guess.”

“And that's where you met your teammates?” She half expected him to shut down the way he had that day at his house when she had asked him about the picture.

“We were all in the same BUD/S class.”

“BUD/S?”

“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training.” He dragged a hand down his face. “What about you? Did you grow up in Oklahoma City?”

“Yes. Made all of my mistakes here, too, but you already know about those.”

Laura let him change the subject. He'd lost his teammates. She couldn't really blame him for not wanting to talk about it. Maybe she shouldn't have asked so many questions, but she liked him. And admired him.

The man had nearly been shot today and his matter-of-fact handling of the shooting, his purposeful decision making had calmed her. Laura wanted to know more because even though he'd answered her questions, he hadn't given any real detail.

Just as he started to take another sip of coffee, he paused. She followed his gaze out the windshield. The lights on either side of the pastor's garage came on and the garage door rattled as it began to go up. The rain had stopped altogether, leaving the driveway wet and glistening.

Laura's muscles tensed as she waited to see if there was a motorcycle inside. First she saw the tail end of a silver sedan, then— There it was! A motorcycle.

Griffin reached into the backseat for the camera and zoom lens he'd brought. “Well, well.”

No kidding, Laura thought. Rick Hughes wasn't who she had believed him to be at all and his deceit had anger spiking inside her.

Instead of mounting the bike or getting into the silver car, the pastor walked to the edge of the garage and stood just inside, as if he was waiting for someone.

Griffin snapped a couple of pictures.

Laura glanced over. “Whether he owns that motorcycle or not, he had access to one during the time someone shot at you.”

“Looks that way.”

In her mind, she'd already concluded the pastor's guilt, but not Griffin. He didn't seem ready to make assumptions the way she did.

The hum of an engine and the splash of water beneath tires had her looking over her shoulder to see a car approaching. Despite the jump in her pulse, the automobile might not be going to Hughes's house.

She and Griffin waited in silence, their breath curling into the chill air. The car passed—a taxicab—then pulled into the pastor's driveway. She and Griffin leaned forward at the same time to get a better look.

A slender man about six feet tall stepped out of the cab. A motorcycle helmet was tucked under his left arm. After paying the driver, the stranger walked up to Hughes, who still stood in the garage doorway.

Griffin took several pictures. As the stranger gave something to Hughes, Hughes passed something to the man.

The two shook hands and the visitor walked over to the bike. He kicked up the stand and settled himself on the seat. After starting the engine and letting it warm up for a minute, he pulled on his helmet, revved the engine and drove out of the garage.

As Griffin turned in his seat to take a photo of the license plate, Laura watched the taillight disappear into the frozen night. “Do you think that cycle belongs to Hughes? Maybe he's loaning it out?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he's storing it for that guy.” Griffin reached into the side pocket of his door and pulled out a small notebook. “Either way, Hughes had possession of it this afternoon.”

“He could've been the shooter,” Laura said faintly.

“Or it could've been the other guy. Even Arrico's attorney.”

She nodded, trying to reconcile the possibility of the pastor trying to kill Griffin. And her. Impatience jabbed at her. So far all they had were suspicions.

Beside her Griffin scribbled in the notepad.

The pastor's garage door slid down and in a moment, his shadow passed in front of a window next to the front door. Laura blew out a frustrated breath. She and Griffin were no closer to learning the identity of the person who'd shot at him or the person who had tried to stab her with a syringe or attacked her in the ladies' room.

Just as frustrating was the fact that she felt as if she knew more about who might be posing the threats than she did about the man who was protecting her.

SIX

L
aura should've been an interrogator. She'd gotten things out of Griffin last night that he'd never shared with anyone.

He still wasn't sure why he'd told her about Emily. The only people he'd ever told about his former fiancée were his dead teammates. They'd known all about her, but that was before she walked away from Griffin because of his PTSD. PTSD brought on by the ambush that had killed his friends. He hadn't shared that with Laura and wouldn't.

Deep down he felt a grudging admiration that she hadn't stopped trying to get answers out of him. Answers he wasn't going to give her, but he did admire the effort. He admired
her
. Too much.

It was one reason he was glad to be away from her for a little while. He had a job to do and thinking about Laura, becoming friends with her, interfered with that. Already she was chipping away at the boundaries he usually had no trouble maintaining.

Admittedly, this case was unlike any he'd worked before and she was unlike any client. Those things were more than enough reason to keep things between them professional.

Two hours after breakfast with Laura, Griffin was in north Oklahoma City to surveil Vin Arrico's attorney. Harlan Thompson's legal firm was on the fourth floor of a towering twenty-story glass building.

The sky was overcast and gray, but the sleet had stopped. The streets were clear though there was ice on some bridges and overpasses. Griffin had originally parked in the far corner of the lot and had seen Thompson arrive alone about forty minutes ago. After he'd gone inside, Griffin sat watching for a space to open up near the man's blue Cadillac sedan. When it did, he backed in so he would have a direct view of his subject.

Under the guise of getting something out of the back of his SUV, Griffin opened the hatch. He stayed low to the ground, slipped over two cars and punctured a hole in Thompson's right rear tire using the combat knife he still carried. By the time the lawyer returned, the tire would be flat.

His face abraded by the harsh wind, Griffin returned to his SUV and slammed the hatch shut. He made himself comfortable in the driver's seat and settled in to wait. Until Thompson showed himself, Griffin would keep himself busy.

He called Boone, then Morales to follow up on information he'd requested from both men last night. At noon he called Laura to touch base with her. He'd given her the burner phone she should use.

“Hello.” Her smoky voice put an unexpected kick in his heart.

Surprised at his reaction, Griffin needed a second to catch up. Even Emily had never affected him that way. His job was to check on Laura. That was all he was doing. “Is everything going okay?”

“Yes. Joy and Sydney just arrived at the hospital and I've already texted with Dad. Sydney let him use her burner cell phone to contact me since Aunt Joy couldn't seem to locate hers.”

“How is Nolan today?”

“The chemo's making him feel pretty lousy.”

Griffin had learned that all of Nolan's cells had to be killed before he could accept Laura's bone marrow.

“But he's a trouper,” Laura continued.

“Are things getting easier between you two?”

“I think so. How is your morning going?”

“Not bad so far. I've found out a few things.” She had the same inviting way about her as her aunt. Even though he had no intention of sharing anything personal, he felt comfortable talking to her. About most things. “Before I forget to tell you, Boone should be there soon to take you to the clinic for your second injection.”

“What did he learn last night about the nurse?”

“Nothing,” Griffin said. “She didn't leave her house all night.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in Laura's voice tugged at him. “But I got some info from Ghost.”

“About the motorcycle rider we saw leaving the pastor's house last night?”

“Yeah. Ghost found the registration on the motorcycle and pulled up a mug shot of the owner. His build doesn't resemble the guy who shot at me and neither did the build of the guy we saw last night.”

“So, now what?”

“I'll pay the owner a visit.”

“Why?”

“To see if he's the guy we observed last night. Someone could've switched out his license plates.”

“Like put on someone else's tag before the drive-by?” she asked.

“Yes. The tag could've been stolen or borrowed. After the shooting, the correct tag could've been put back on.”

“Are you going to ask if he let Pastor Hughes borrow his bike?”

“That's one question I have. Ghost is also going to do a thorough search to see if he turns up any connection between the bike owner and Arrico. And also look further into the connection between the bike owner and the preacher.”

“Will that take long?”

“Probably not, but I don't know.” Griffin knew she had to be impatient for answers. “And I may be here for a while. Arrico's attorney hasn't left his office building since he arrived.”

“All right.”

“If you want Joy to come back to the house after your injection, just let her know. Sydney can bring her.”

“She wants to spend time with Dad and I feel better knowing she's with him. At least one of us can be there.”

He nodded, scanning the faces of people walking through the lot to their vehicles. “Boone will let me know when he drops you back at the house, but you might text me, too.”

“Will do.”

Her voice was subdued and she sounded disheartened. Even though Griffin was doing his job, he felt as if he should do more. Reassure her or something.

Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't here to hold her hand, although that was what he wanted to do.

Shifting his focus back to the job, he said, “Next time we talk, I'll be able to tell you if Arrico's lawyer has a tattoo or some kind of mark on his left wrist.”

“Then we'll at least know if he's the one who tried to strangle me.”

“
If
I can place him at the hospital. And bust any alibi he might have.”

“Oh. Right. I hope you find something concrete on the attorney today, one way or the other.”

“I know waiting for answers is frustrating, but we'll get some.”

“Yes, but when? I don't mean to sound unappreciative. It's just—”

“Your time is limited. I know.”

“I appreciate your help. I really do.”

Her gratitude caused a warmth to spread through his chest.

“I know you're doing everything you can. I just feel like I'm doing nothing sitting here.”

“You're donating bone marrow.”

“Until then, I feel useless. I can't visit my father. My aunt has to shoulder the entire load of caring for him. This just isn't right.”

“No, it isn't.”

“I may never see Dad again. It feels like I'm serving a harsher sentence than Vin. He may be in prison, but he can still see his friends and whatever family he has left. I was forced to give up everything and everyone in my life. Yes, I made bad choices and I paid for them, but I feel as if I'll be paying until the end of my life. Or Vin's.”

She exhaled, sounding embarrassed at her mini rant. “None of this is your fault. I'm sorry.”

“No.” Griffin stopped her quietly. “You're due a good gripe. You were ripped out of your world and thrown into a new one. Now it's about to happen again.”

“Still, I don't want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate everything you've done for me and my family.”

“I know that.” He wanted to reach through the phone and take her hand. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat. “I can't make any promises, but I'm going to do everything I can to tie these murder attempts to Arrico. If that happens, you might have a chance to return home with your own name.”

“If anyone can get the job done, I know it's you, Griffin.”

She sounded completely certain. Did she know how much her belief in him meant? Not only because they hadn't known each other long, but also because he hadn't been able to get the job done in Afghanistan.

Those men had believed in him, too, and they had all died. Humbled by her words, he said quietly, “Thanks for that.”

“You're welcome.”

“Have you already spoken to Yates today?” Griffin asked.

“Yes. He's working on my next identity. I guess that's what set me off.”

“That's understandable.”

“Thanks for letting me complain,” she said quietly.

“Not a problem. By the way, did you say your aunt's phone is missing? Could you check her room and also the blazer she wore yesterday?”

“Yes, I'll do it now.”

“Thanks.” Several seconds later, after she'd had time to reach her aunt's room, he heard drawers open and close.

Laura came back on the phone. “I've looked everywhere, but I can't find the phone. Now I'm worried. What if it was stolen?”

“We'll find it.” Griffin deliberately kept his tone nonchalant. It very well could've been stolen. If it had been taken at the hospital, either the nurse or the pastor could've taken it. But Griffin didn't want to add to Laura's other concerns. “It's probably in the bottom of that giant purse she carries. There could be a truck hidden in there for all we know.”

Laura laughed, which was what Griffin wanted.

He smiled.

“Ah,” she said. “Boone is driving up right now.”

“All right. I'll talk to you later.”

They disconnected and Griffin stared out at the bank building, its glass glittering in the winter sunshine. She'd said she was fine. She'd sounded fine. But his need to want to confirm that for himself was exactly why he needed distance from her.

He'd been a little surprised by Laura's anger toward Arrico. Not that she felt it. Griffin got that. She truly had given up a lot more than her criminal ex.

But for the first time, Griffin had seen past her poise, seen the fury she must have battled, especially at the beginning of her stint in protected custody. Despite all that he knew about her, he felt as if he'd seen a part of her few people ever did.

Griffin was amazed that it had taken this long for her resentment to surface. Even though afterward she had apologized for complaining.

Was that what having faith did for a person? Helped them handle the bad things in life with a touch more patience or understanding?

Catching a movement from the corner of his eye, he looked up to see Harlan Thompson weaving his way across the parking lot, headed this way. Griffin didn't move, but every muscle tensed as he waited for the man who might have hurt Laura.

In build and height, the attorney resembled the man who had attacked Laura in the ladies' room. Was he also the man Griffin had seen going toward the hospital elevator yesterday with Nurse Inhofe? He hadn't been able to see that guy's face.

Through the window, Griffin heard Thompson curse. He looked over to see the lawyer open the driver's-side door of his sedan and toss in a briefcase. He slammed the door and marched to the slowly opening trunk, where he removed his spare tire along with a jack and wheel wrench.

Griffin pulled a baseball cap low on his head and flipped up his collar. He got out of his vehicle, then walked past the next car and around the hood of the blue Cadillac to the passenger side. That way he would be able to get a quick and easy look at the man's left wrist without being obvious.

Hunching his shoulders against the frigid wind gusting across the parking lot, he asked, “Need any help?”

Thompson barely looked at him. “No, thanks. I've got it.”

The attorney fitted the wrench onto one of the lower lug nuts and twisted to loosen the bolt and remove it. He moved on to the next one, then the next, affording Griffin a look at the man's left hand.

There was something there, but it wasn't a tattoo. It appeared to be a birthmark. It was dark and could easily have been mistaken as ink. It also spread to the back of the lawyer's hand. That could easily have been what Laura saw the day she was attacked.

Jacking up his car, Thompson glanced up. “I appreciate the offer.”

“You're welcome.” Griffin didn't know for sure that Thompson was the person who'd tried to strangle Laura, but he might be. His hands curled into fists and he fought the urge to lay the guy out flat.

Fighting his temper, he turned to walk away. “Hopefully, your day will get better.”

“Yeah,” Thompson grunted.

Griffin had to force himself to keep going,
make
himself get back into his SUV.

Thompson was now officially a suspect. It didn't mean the attorney was the assailant. It didn't mean he wasn't. Griffin had to prove it one way or the other.

He pulled out of the parking space and drove toward the exit. By the time he left the lot, he had Morales on the phone.

When his friend answered, Griffin bit out, “Can you find out if Harlan Thompson had a court appearance scheduled two mornings ago?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“If he didn't, I need you to hack his cell phone records and track his whereabouts using the GPS coordinates. Actually, I want everything you can get on him. Anything.”

“No problem. What's going on?”

“What do you mean?” Anger rode him even though he'd tried to slough it off.

“You sound...mad.”

Griffin
was
mad. So what?

“I don't think I've ever heard you this angry,” Ghost mused. “You usually don't get so invested in a client.”

His friend's statement drew Griffin up short. Morales was right. Griffin didn't become involved to this extent in his cases.

Slightly stunned, he said nothing because there was nothing to say. He was furious and it was on Laura's behalf.

The admission cooled him off a bit. He knew this had slowly become personal, but when had she begun to matter so much?