Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (44 page)

Grayson pulled up to Laney's darkened home and turned off the engine. “What's in the back of the house?”

“The kennels, agility course and covered training pavilion.” Laney tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head out?” she asked.

“I'll pass on the coffee, but let me take a quick look around the property while I wait for the officer to arrive.”

“Sure. I'll turn on the outside lights for you.”

“Hold on,” he said, but she was already opening the door and stepping out of the car.

By the time Grayson had grabbed his flashlight from the glove box and exited his vehicle, Laney was halfway up the stone walkway to her house. For someone who'd nearly died, she moved fast, making her way up the porch stairs. He wasn't sure how long it would take her to realize she didn't have the bag her aunt had packed for her. Rose had said the keys were in it, so he grabbed it, heading up the porch steps after her.

She was patting the pocket of his jacket as he reached her side. The hood had fallen off her head, and her auburn hair looked glossy black in the darkness, her face a pale oval. “I hope I didn't leave my keys at the hospital,” she said, plucking at the fuzzy sweater as if the keys might be hiding in there.

“Didn't Rose mention she'd put your spare set in the bag?” He held it out, and she took it, offering a smile that made her look young and a little vulnerable.

“Oh, that's right. Thanks.” She dug the keys out, said good-night and walked inside. Seconds later, the porch light went on, casting a soft white glow across most of the yard. He saw the front curtains part slightly and wondered if it was Rose or Laney who peeked out.

He waved to whoever it was, then turned toward the yard. A large sign sat to the left of the driveway. He flashed his light across it, reading Wagging Tails Boarding and Training Facility. Flower beds around the sign and in front of the house were similar to those surrounding Rose's cottage. A cool breeze carried the faint scent of pine and honeysuckle. Above the sound of the rustling wind, Grayson detected the crunching of leaves and underbrush in the woods to the left of the house. He turned the corner of the house just in time to see the last of a small herd of deer returning to the safety of the woods.

He trained his flashlight back toward the house, inspecting the grass and mulch beds for signs of disturbance.

Nothing.

The window screens were all in place. Floodlights shimmered over the expanse of yard between the house and the kennels. He was impressed by the setup. There was a very large agility course with tunnels, beams, ladders, hoops, cones and platforms at various heights connected by tight netting. The kennel looked as if it could accommodate twenty dogs, with each dog having its own inside space and an exterior fenced-in run. The dogs were in for the night. One or two barked as he walked around the structure, checking doors. Everything was locked.

Next to the kennel, the covered pavilion was also fenced in. He walked around the training facilities, shining his flashlight into the darker corners of the yard and toward the woods. All was quiet. Peaceful. Almost idyllic.

Satisfied that there was no one lurking in the shadows, Grayson turned back toward the house. Laney was safe, at least for the moment. Yet he felt uneasy at the thought of leaving her alone, even for a quick trip to the precinct. He tried to shrug it off. She wasn't in protective custody. At this point, there were limits to what he could do to keep her safe. But Grayson was used to pushing the boundaries, and he knew that if he wanted to solve this case, bring the kids home, and keep Laney safe, he was going to have to think outside the box to do it.

He wasn't sure what that would mean, what it would look like, but he knew one thing for sure—he would do anything necessary to protect his only witness.

SIX

A
gent DeMarco was still outside. Laney could see his light bouncing along the tree line near the kennels.

Jax, her six-year-old Australian shepherd, and Brody, her ten-year-old Belgian Malinois, were too happy to see her to notice the stranger out in the yard. Both followed her through the kitchen, tails wagging as they waited patiently for her to acknowledge them. She took off Agent DeMarco's jacket, tossed it over the back of a wooden chair and called the dogs over. They sat in front of her, tails thumping as she scratched behind their ears, murmured a few words of praise. Both barked as a car pulled into the drive. Must be the officer Kent had sent over. That would mean that Agent DeMarco would be heading out soon.

Good. There was something about him that made her...uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the way he studied her, as if she were the secret to some great mystery he had to solve.

She almost laughed at the thought, because that's probably exactly what she was to him.

The only witness to Olivia's kidnapping, the one person who could identify the kidnappers and potentially help put them behind bars.

She tugged at the itchy sweater as she headed toward her bedroom. She needed to take off this getup. Now. Not only because it looked ridiculous but also because it was probably the most uncomfortable outfit she'd ever owned. There was definitely wool in the sweater. Perhaps if she threw it in the washer and then put it through the dryer on high, it would shrink so badly it that wouldn't be fit for anything but the Goodwill bag. She smiled at the thought, but who was she kidding? Even the homeless wouldn't grab this outfit off the rack. The dogs followed her down the hall toward her bedroom.

The door to the guest room at the end of the hall opened, and Aunt Rose popped her head out. “Oh, you're home, dear. Don't you look nice.”

Laney ignored the compliment. Aunt Rose meant well, but she had questionable taste at times. “It's after eleven, Aunt Rose. You didn't have to wait up for me.”

“I was just catching up on my devotional,” Rose said. “Let me grab my slippers and robe and I'll be right out.”

“There's really no need...” But Rose shut the guest room door before Laney could get her sentence out. She sighed, hurrying into her room before Rose could reappear. She immediately peeled off the offending tights and sweater, letting them drop to a heap on the floor, then changed into some comfortable yoga pants and her old University of Colorado sweatshirt. A glance in the mirror showed she still had a few faint streaks of blood on one side of her face, and the bruise on her jaw was starting to turn from red to blue. She carefully peeled back the bandage. A thin line of five staples started at her temple, disappearing into the hairline. Only about a half inch of the scar would be visible when healed. The rest would be concealed by her hair.

A shadow passed outside her bedroom room window, and Brody growled deep in his throat. Laney's pulse quickened—then she shook her head, chastising herself for being so jumpy. Agent DeMarco had probably decided to take another look around. She pulled back the curtain, peering out the window. There was no sign of him. Or anyone else.

“It's okay, boy.” Brody had always had a protective streak in him—surprising since he had failed his temperament test for the Secret Service as a puppy. Too laid back, they'd said.

She'd been under contract with the company that supplied the puppies and had been given first choice for adoption. She'd seen the potential in him and had turned him into a top-notch search dog, cross-trained in both air scent and human remains detection. He was her first partner. In the years they'd worked together, they'd logged more than a hundred searches in the Colorado wilderness and had twenty-eight live finds to their credit. His hips forced him into early retirement at the age of six. By then, Jax was already trained and operational as an air scent dog. She'd worked exclusively with Jax then, only retiring him after the accident—and before he was able to complete his human-remains detection training.

She knew both dogs missed the work, so she regularly ran training exercises on the weekends with the neighborhood children. That training was all the “action” any of them saw these days. She hadn't been on a real search since that last find. The one that left three teammates dead.

Shaking off the thought, she went into her bathroom, ran a comb through her hair and scrubbed traces of blood from her face.

The doorbell rang, and she hurried to the foyer. Both dogs barked three times and remained at her heel—their signal for a visitor. Laney pointed to the cushions in the corner of the family room, as customary when visitors arrived, and gave the command “place.” The dogs immediately sat, eyes trained on Laney, waiting for the next command. She peered out the peephole, saw Agent DeMarco standing on the porch and opened the door. “I take it everything's clear?” she asked.

He nodded, his eyes scanning the room before his gaze settled on her. “You changed.” He smiled, and she was drawn to the dimple at the corner of his mouth. “That look suits you.” Her face warmed under his scrutiny. For once, a quick comeback failed her.

“Don't you have a security system out here?”

Laney gestured toward the dogs. “There's my security system.”

“Dogs are a great deterrent, but I'd feel a whole lot better if you had a top-notch alarm.” He turned, inspecting the deadbolt on the front door.

“It would be a waste of money, Agent DeMarco. Aside from some recent vandalism and petty theft in Wynwood, we've never had much crime out here. It's a long walk down that access road in the dark, and we'd hear a car coming up the gravel drive before it could reach us.”

“A walk down the gravel driveway in the dark versus announcing their presence and a lifetime in prison? How do you think a criminal would weigh that?”

“Point taken.”

Grayson turned his attention back to her. “I see the bandage is gone.”

He closed the small gap between them.

“Do you mind if I look?” he asked, gesturing to her temple.

She shook her head, and then he was in her space, and she was breathing the fresh scent of the outdoors mixed with something dark and undeniably masculine. “Go ahead,” she responded, her voice just a little rougher than she wanted it to be.

He gently lifted her hair, his warm fingers lightly brushing her forehead. Laney's cheeks heated as he studied the wound.

Finally, he let her hair drop back into place. “The scar shouldn't be very noticeable once it heals.”

“I'm not worried about it. I'm alive. That's way better than the alternative.”

“Agreed.” He smiled, absently fingering the scar on his left brow.

Had he received it in the line of duty, or was it a battle scar from some childhood antic? She didn't know him well enough to ask, but neither scenario would surprise her. He seemed determined and relentless. Those traits were likely to get a kid into all kinds of trouble.

“But I've found that women can be a little more self-conscious about scars on their faces than most of the men I know,” he said.

She shrugged. “We all have scars. Some just run deeper or are more visible than others.”

She took a seat on the overstuffed, well-worn leather reclining chair that still smelled of her grandfather's cherry tobacco. She breathed in the scent. Felt herself calming at the memories of him. This home, and her grandfather, had often been her refuge as a child, avoiding her father's drunken rages and her mother's frequent bouts of depression. In her teens, she'd spent more time at her granddad's house, helping him with the kennels and the dog training, than she'd spent in her own home. His passing last year had left a void no one could fill.

Laney looked at the dogs, who were eyeing Agent DeMarco with interest. “The dogs want to say hello. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I love dogs.”

Laney gave a quick hand signal with the word “break.” At her command, both dogs bounded off their pillows and headed over to Agent DeMarco, tails wagging. He smiled, rubbing them behind the ears.

“The Aussie is Jax, and the Mal is Brody.”

“They're great.”

“Thanks.” Laney smiled. “They love attention—they'll sit there all night as long as they're getting petted. Do you have a dog?”

“No.” Agent DeMarco smiled. “I've thought about getting one, but the truth is, I work too much. It wouldn't be fair to leave it home alone all the time.”

“Dogs do need companionship.”

“Laney!” Rose called. “Is someone here?”

She had to know someone was. Despite her age, she had perfect hearing. “Yes. We're in the living room.”

“Who is it?” Rose asked, sashaying into the room wearing a fuzzy teal robe and a muted pink granny nightgown. Laney might have believed that she'd just rolled out of bed and hurried down the hall, but every hair on Rose's head was in place. She had powder on her cheeks and pink lipstick on her lips. She smiled sweetly as she spotted Agent DeMarco. “Oh, I didn't know you were here, Gray.”

“I was looking around outside and decided I'd check in before I left.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. I'll be heading out in a minute.”

“Maybe you could give Aunt Rose a ride back to her place?” All Laney wanted to do was get in bed and fall asleep. She definitely did not need Aunt Rose flitting about, making herself “useful.” As much as she loved Aunt Rose, the woman had more energy than three people combined, and Laney wasn't sure she could handle that tonight.

“What?” Rose responded with a frown. “I'm staying here tonight, remember?”

“There's no need. I don't plan on doing anything but sleeping. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in your own bed.”

“Well, that's a thought, but it's not going to happen,” Rose said, grabbing the bag from the foyer floor as she entered the family room. “You heard what the doctor said—you shouldn't be alone for a few days.”

“The doctor was speaking out of an abundance of caution.”

“She was speaking out of genuine concern for your well-being!”

“I agree with Rose,” Agent DeMarco interjected.

“And that's supposed to make me concede?” Laney asked, shooting him a sideways look.

“I once knew a man who got knocked in the head by a piece of shrapnel,” Agent DeMarco said. “He thought he was fine until he wasn't.”

“If you're going to tell me he keeled over and died, I'm not going to believe you.”

“I was going to tell you that he ended up in the hospital in a coma for two weeks, but your version is a lot more compelling.”

If she hadn't been so tired, if her head hadn't been aching so badly, she might have smiled at that.

“That's settled, then,” Rose stated matter-of-factly. “There is no way I'm leaving you here and having you fall into a coma. You look a little flushed. Have you taken your painkiller yet?”

“No, I haven't had a chance. I'll take some in a minute.”

“You'll take some now.” Rose rifled through the bag, pulling out the bottle of pills. “I'll get a glass of water. Stay put.” She hurried off.

Which left Laney and Agent DeMarco alone in the family room.

That should have been fine. She was used to being around male law enforcement officers.

But it felt odd having him there, eyeing her somberly.

“What?” she finally asked.

“I got word that the sketch artist flies in at one-fifteen tomorrow. I'll have her here between two and three, depending on traffic.”

“That seems a long time to wait...”

“She's worth the wait. The best in the nation.” Agent DeMarco studied her. She felt her face flush under his scrutiny. “Are you sure you're going to be up to working with her?”

“I'd work with her now if I could.”

“Just take care of yourself between now and then.”

“You've got to make sure your key witness stays healthy, huh?” she joked. Only Agent DeMarco didn't look like he thought it was funny.

“I need to make sure
you
stay healthy,” he responded. “You're important to my case, but you're also a civilian, and it's my job to make sure you stay safe.”

“It's not—”

He held up a hand. “It's late. You need to rest, and I've got to meet Andrews at the precinct. Stay inside. Don't leave the house for any reason—not to walk the dogs, not to run to the grocery store, not to check the mail. Not for anything.”

Having never been one who liked to be told what to do, Laney tried to control her annoyance at his demanding tone. She'd been making her own decisions since she was eight and was accustomed to weighing her options and deciding the best course of action for herself. In the end, she was the one who had to deal with the consequences of her choices. “Agent DeMarco, I appreciate your concern, but...”

“Call me Grayson, or Gray. Your aunt already took the liberty, so it only seems fitting that you do as well.”

“Fine, Grayson. I appreciate your concern, but let's not forget there's an officer parked right outside.”

“Don't be lulled into a false sense of security. Remember, if someone manages to get to you, they'll get to your aunt, too.”

He had a point, and she'd be foolish not to consider it. If something happened to Laney, if she was shot or wounded or attacked, Aunt Rose would run out to help. “Okay. I'll stay close to home.” She had a few board-and-trains in the kennel, but that was a short walk from the house.

“Glad to hear it.” His gaze jumped to a point beyond her shoulder, and he smiled. “You're just in time, Rose. I've got to head out of here.”

“I found your jacket hanging over a chair in the kitchen.” Rose handed it over. “And Laney's business card is in the pocket. Just in case you need to reach her.”