Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (43 page)

And she would. She'd been doing it her whole life.

She'd realized at age eight that her mom was powerless to protect either of them from her father's violent outbursts. Laney had been forced to take on that role. She'd learned to protect them both. This was no different. She needed to be ready. She needed to assess the situation herself. Plan her escape route should anything go wrong.

She eased out from behind the Dumpster, peering into the darkness. Nothing. The night seemed too still, the parking lot too dark. Dozens of cars were there, the streetlights off, the moon temporarily hidden by clouds.

A shadow moved at the edge of the lot, a deeper darkness in the gloom.

She jerked back, heart pounding wildly.

“Good choice,” someone whispered, and she jumped, spinning toward the voice.

Big mistake. Blood rushed from her head, and she swayed.

Firm hands cupped her waist, held her steady as she caught her balance.

She looked into Agent DeMarco's face. “Where did you come from?” she whispered.

“I was circling around to get a location on him. I also told you to stay out of sight.”

“I did.”

“You didn't.” His hands dropped away. “I had you in a position of cover. You walked out where anyone could see you.”

“It's dark.”

“Ever heard of night-vision goggles?” he asked. “Because someone who has money enough to run a kidnapping ring the size of the one we're dealing with has money for all kinds of things the average Joe might not have at his disposal.”

She hadn't thought about that, but she wasn't going to admit it.

“Did you see him?” she asked.

“He's headed in the other direction—toward the visitor's parking lot, but it won't take him long to figure out we're not there and double back.” He grabbed her arm, leading her toward the parking lot. “Come on. Let's not lose our head start.”

FIVE

T
he investigation had been compromised, and Grayson needed to find out who was responsible. But first, he needed to get Laney as far away from the gunman as possible.

He'd already called the local PD. Officers would be on the scene soon. They could deal with the gunmen. Grayson would deal with protecting Laney.

“You live in Davidsonville, right?” Grayson asked, laying his cell phone in the center console.

“Yes.” Laney glanced over at him. “The quickest way is Route 50 to the 424 exit—that road is a straight shot to my community.”

“I don't think we'll go the quickest route,” he said as he stopped at the darkened signal lights on Hospital Drive. He'd seen the gunman moving through the parking lot, could have taken a shot at him, but he had no idea how many others there might be, and he couldn't afford to take any chances.

“Why not? The sooner we get home, the happier I'll be,” Laney responded, leaning forward in her seat, scanning the darkness as if watching could keep trouble from coming.

“I don't want to risk anyone following us.” He turned left on the main road, heading away from her house.

She looked over her shoulder, eyeing the empty road. “I hadn't thought about that.”

“Then, it's good we're together,” he responded. “Because anyone who'd take a couple of shots at someone while she's with an FBI agent isn't going to hesitate to follow us.”

“He might not have known who you were.”

“Maybe not.” But Grayson thought the perp did. Whoever the kidnappers were, they seemed well connected. Somehow, some way, they'd found out that Laney was alive.

“But you think he did?” she asked.

“I don't know, but I'm not willing to take chances with your life.”

“What about Olivia's? If the kidnappers know I'm alive, they may move her now. If they're desperate enough, they may do worse.”

He'd had the same thought. He didn't like it any more than Laney seemed to. “She's a high-priced commodity. I doubt they'll do anything that will compromise their bottom line.”

“You doubt it, but you don't know,” Laney said with a sigh. “I should have—”

“You should have stayed behind the Dumpster when I left you there.” He cut her off, because he understood the regrets she had, the guilt. They wouldn't do Olivia any good. They wouldn't do Laney any good, either.

“We've covered this ground before,” she responded wearily.

“And now we'll cover it again. I need you to understand what we're dealing with. You have to listen to the precautions I suggest and take them seriously.”

“I understand...”

“I don't think you do. You're my only witness, Laney. The key to closing a case I've been pursuing for over a year.”

“Wow,” she said drily. “I feel so...special.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. After speaking with Andrews, he'd known Laney was a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't expected her to make him smile, though. “You should. I gave you my coat. I'm taking you for a moonlit drive.”

“You're saving my life,” she added quietly.

“You saved your own life. Or maybe Murphy did. You'll have to thank him.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing. No sign that they were being followed. He wasn't sure that meant anything. If the perps knew their witness was alive, they might also know her identity. He drove into a cul-de-sac, waited a few seconds, drove out again. Still no sign of a tail.

His phone vibrated, and he answered it quickly. “DeMarco here.”

“It's Kent Andrews. I'm at the hospital.”

“What'd you find?”

“No sign of either of the perps. The fire marshal is here assessing the damage from the electrical fire that caused the power outage. He's calling in the arson investigator. Looks like the wiring in the circuit panel was tampered with. Someone went through a lot of trouble to make it look like faulty wiring, but the fire chief isn't buying it. How's Laney doing?”

Grayson glanced at Laney.

She smiled, and something in his heart stirred to life, some gut-level, knee-jerk reaction that surprised him as much as his laughter had. “I'll let her answer,” he responded.

* * *

That was Laney's cue to speak, and it should have been easy enough to answer Kent's question. The problem was, she wasn't sure how she was doing.

“Laney?” Kent prodded.

“I'm fine,” she managed, and Kent let out a bark of laughter.

“You were shot in the head. You're not fine.”

“In a couple of days, I think I'll be good as new.”

“That's a relief,” he said, “You had us all worried. Murphy was beside himself, by the way. Wouldn't let anyone near you, even the patrolman who responded to the scene. Luckily he was wearing his MPD collar, so a K-9 handler was called in. He backed down on command.” Laney could hear the smile in Kent's voice. “He did real good tonight.”

“Yes, he did.” She smiled at the thought of the overly excitable dog, of the hours she'd spent working with him, determined to make him into the K-9 team member she thought he could be. She hadn't been sure it would work. Not every dog was capable of the focus required, and Murphy had already flunked out of the K-9 training program once. Now there was hope. All the hard work on both their parts was finally paying off. “Where is he now?”

“He's at headquarters being pampered. The guys bought him a huge steak and brought a dog bed into the office for him. He thinks he's a king or something. Never seen that dog look quite so proud of himself.”

Laney laughed. “Good for him.” Before tonight, you couldn't have paid a K-9 handler to work with Murphy. A couple more weeks and he'd be ready to enter the program again.

“We'll take good care of him until you're ready to have him back. Don't you worry.”

“You can bring him by tomorrow. I don't want any breaks in his training routine. He's almost there.”

“Are you sure? Wallace reported back the doctor's orders for you to take it easy for a few days.” The concern in Kent's voice was obvious. The guy was gruff and abrupt most of the time, but he had a heart of gold.

“I won't overdo it. Riley and Bria both work tomorrow, so I'll have plenty of help at the kennel.”

“You're not going there tomorrow,” Agent DeMarco said so abruptly, she nearly jumped out of her seat belt.

“Going where?”

“To the kennel.”

“Of course I am. It's my job.”

“You think your job is worth dying over?” DeMarco responded, and Laney frowned, all her fatigue washed away by a wave of irritation mixed with anxiety.

“Of course not, but I have to live my life.”

“Have your crew do the work at the kennel tomorrow,” Kent cut in. “That will be the safer. As a matter of fact, maybe you should be in a safe house until we find the guys who are after you. What do you think, DeMarco?”

A safe house?

Laney hadn't even given that scenario a thought. She'd agreed she wouldn't take unnecessary chances, but she wasn't sure she was willing to put her life on hold. After all, if the kidnappers knew who she was, they could have just waited for her to arrive home rather than cause an elaborate power outage at the hospital.

“I think we can wait on that,” Agent DeMarco responded. “If the kidnappers knew her identity, they would have waited at her place, taken her out there.” Hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud, imagining men skulking in the shadows of her house, made her blood go cold.

“Are you sure waiting is the best decision, DeMarco?” Kent asked.

“No. But I
am
sure there's a leak, and since I don't know if it's in my house or yours, I can't be certain Laney will be any more protected in a safe house than she would be at her own house, under guard.”

“Okay. I'll send an officer over. He'll be there when you arrive.

“Thanks, Andrews.”

“Laney's one of us. We'll do whatever's needed to keep her safe.”

“Understood. When do you think you'll be wrapping things up over there?”

“About an hour. We're waiting for copies of the surveillance video and questioning the security guard.”

“Did he see anyone in the area?”

“He says he didn't.” Laney could hear the hesitation in Kent's voice.

“But you're not buying it?” Grayson asked.

“It's just a gut feeling, but no.” Kent said. “We're going to make an excuse to get him down to the precinct for more thorough questioning.”

“I think I'll get someone to run a background check on the guy. Can you email me his information?” Grayson asked.

“Sure, but the hospital does a thorough background check before they hire someone. I think you'll find that his record's clean.”

“I'm more interested in the state of his bank account.”

“You think he was hired to set that fire—or look the other way?” Kent asked, his Boston accent thicker than usual. He'd transplanted from New England years ago, but Laney had noticed that the faster he talked and the more enthused he was about the subject, the thicker the accent became.

“I just want to be thorough,” Agent DeMarco replied.

“And yet, you didn't ask me about his work record.”

“I take it you checked?”

“Absolutely,” the chief said, sounding almost gleeful. “His logs check out, but he's been reprimanded previously for sleeping on the job. Ideally the surveillance videos will give us a good look at what really transpired while he was on duty tonight.”

“I like the way you think, Andrews,” DeMarco said as he veered onto Route 50. “Do you mind if I drop by the precinct while you're questioning the guard?”

“That's not a problem.”

“Then I'll head over after I get Laney settled.”

“See you then.” Kent disconnected, and Laney laid her head back against the seat, tempted to close her eyes just for a minute. She was that tired. So tired she didn't care that she might start snoring loudly while a good-looking FBI agent sat beside her.

“You still with me?” Agent DeMarco asked.

“Where else would I be?”

“Dreaming?”

“Good idea. I think I'll give it a try,” she responded, and then she did exactly what she'd been wanting to do, closed her eyes, the pain still pulsing through her head as DeMarco sped along the highway.

* * *

Grayson found Wynwood easily, driving into Laney's well-established, affluent neighborhood and glancing in his rearview mirror as he turned onto her street.

Nothing. The road was empty. Just the way he wanted it.

Laney groaned softly, asleep, but obviously not pain-free.

He didn't wake her. Just followed his GPS coordinates down the quiet street. Grand brick homes sat far back from the street, their large lots sporting well-manicured lawns and decorative plants. Nothing wild or unkempt about this place. People who lived here were affluent and not afraid to show it.

It was a nice community. Pretty. Well-planned.

Laney shifted in her seat, and he glanced her way. She'd pulled his jacket close, her hands barely peeking out of rolled cuffs. It reminded him of a spring evening long ago, the scent of rain in the air, the refreshing coolness. Reminded him of Andrea, her senior year of college, his jacket around her shoulders as they lay on a blanket watching the sunset. He'd proposed to her that day, and she'd had the tiny diamond ring, the best he could afford, on her finger.

“Our access road is on the right, just after that set of mailboxes,” Laney said, her voice rough with sleep. It jarred him from memories that he tried hard not to dwell on.

The past was what it was. He couldn't change it.

He could only move forward, do everything in his power to be the man God wanted him to be, do the work that had been set before him.

“Where?” He could see nothing but thick foliage that butted up against the narrowing road. This end of the neighborhood had fewer houses and was less polished, but there was beauty in the overgrown fields that stretched out on either side of the road.

“See those tall bushes?” She gestured to the left. “And the mailboxes? Just slow to a crawl. You'll see the access road when you're almost on top of it.”

He did as she suggested, barely coasting past the mailboxes until he spotted the road, a long gravel driveway lined with mature trees.

He drove nearly a quarter of a mile down the gravel road before the first house appeared. A quaint one-story cottage with white shutters and a wraparound porch, it was nothing like the other houses in the neighborhood. The moon had edged out from behind the clouds, its reflected light shimmering across a small pond set off to the left. Tall trees cast dark shadows across the gardens and neatly cut yard surrounding the building—perfect hiding places for an assailant. Despite his confidence that they'd not been followed from the hospital, Grayson wasn't comfortable with this setup at all.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, imagining all the ways someone could approach the house unnoticed.

“It really is,” Laney agreed. Apparently she hadn't heard the sarcasm in his voice. “My great-grandfather built it. At one time, he owned all the land in the neighborhood. When my grandfather sold a portion of the land, he kept the cottage and the main house. Aunt Rose lives in the cottage. I'm at the main house.”

“Which is where?” he asked. The location of the cottage wasn't ideal. Maybe the main house was in a less secluded spot.

“Just keep following the driveway. It veers past the cottage. The house is another quarter mile in.”

The headlights of the sedan flashed across thick woods and heavy foliage as Grayson drove past the cottage.

The “main house,” as Laney had called it, looked to be a slightly larger version of Rose's cottage. Same wooden shingles, same white shutters and a very similar porch. Its single-story layout meant that all rooms of the house could be easily accessed by an intruder. Worse, it sat in the middle of a clearing that looked to be approximately twenty acres in diameter and was surrounded by woods on three sides, making it a surveillance nightmare.