Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (27 page)

“What was that about?” Sara said.

“What?”

“She seemed awfully—”

“Judgmental? Critical? Close-minded?”

“Something like that.” Sara smiled again.

The tension in his shoulders uncoiled. He shrugged. “It's complicated.”

Catherine approached their table with soup. Good timing. He didn't want to get into the ugly story about how his in-laws had grown resentful of Will after Megan lost her battle with cancer, and how they questioned his abilities as a father.

“This is amazing,” Sara said, spooning a second taste of soup.

They spent the next hour enjoying delicious food and natural conversation. He wasn't sure how that was possible, since he'd only known her for a day, yet he felt comfortable chatting about whatever topic drifted into their discussion.

He wondered if she also enjoyed their companionship. Then she offered to pay for his lunch and he wondered if this was her way of thanking him for saving her in the mountains, nothing more.

He called Lucy at The White Dove Inn and was able to secure Sara the room reserved for Lucy's daughter.

They finished their meal and he drove her across town to the inn, pointing out highlights of Echo Mountain, including the Christmas tree in the town square.

“We'll light it next weekend at the Town Lights Festival, not to be confused with the Echo Mountain Resort Festival,” he said.

“Wow, there's a lot of celebrating going on for such a small town.”

“There's a lot to celebrate this time of year,” he offered.

She turned to look out the side window, as if she wasn't so sure. In that moment, he pictured himself showing her how beautiful Christmas could be: drinking hot cider in the town square amongst friends and neighbors, attending Christmas church services and singing songs praising the Lord.

But Sara seemed lost in a dark memory, one he wished he could replace with new ones.

A few minutes later he pulled up in front of The White Dove Inn and Sara's eyes rounded with appreciation. “It's lovely.”

He reached for his door.

“Don't.”

He turned to her.

“Your journey ends here,” she said.

“I'm confused. Did I somehow offend you?”

“No, nothing like that.” She hesitated. “Let's face it, Will, it's in your best interest to steer clear of me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I saw the way your mother-in-law looked at me, at this—” She motioned at the space between them. “I mean, I really appreciate everything you've done.”

“But?”

“I need to ask you not to seek me out anymore.”

“Seek you out? You make me sound like a stalker. I thought I was helping a friend.”

“We don't know each other well enough to be friends. Maybe we could have been, if the situation were different.”

“This has something to do with the call you made earlier, doesn't it?”

She didn't answer, glancing at him with sadness in her eyes. “You're a good man, Will. I wish you all the best.” She leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek.

He couldn't breathe for a second, stunned by the kiss. She quickly grabbed her bag of supplies and hopped out of the Jeep, slamming the door and hurrying up the steps to the B and B.

She hesitated as she reached the door.

Turn around. Come on, change your mind, turn around and let me help you.

She didn't. She knocked on the door and a moment later it swung open. Lucy waved at Will over Sara's shoulder. He offered a halfhearted wave and Lucy shut the door.

Will glanced through his front windshield at the neighboring houses decorated in green, red and gold lights. Sara was right, of course, yet it still stung.

At first he thought he was drawn to her because she needed him, needed someone to take care of her, which was dysfunctional on so many levels. As he sat in his Jeep after being told to keep his distance, he realized it was something else that made him want to stay close.

He had connected with this stranger on a level he hadn't experienced with another woman since Megan. How was that possible?

“You're sleep deprived,” he muttered, and pulled away from the curb.

He'd better catch up on his sleep if he wanted to be fresh and energized for the girls tomorrow. As he drove away from the B and B, he spotted the unmarked police car across the street. Officer Petrellis was on the phone, and nodded at Will as he passed.

Will was grateful that Nate had changed his mind about offering Sara protection, and decided to call him using his hands-free device.

“Will,” Nate answered. “Was about to call you. Turns out the man Sara shot and killed had a rap sheet for assault and battery, and attempted murder, which he skated on thanks to high-priced attorneys he couldn't afford.”

“You think LaRouche and Harrington paid the bill?”

“That'd be my guess. The DA doesn't see any reason to press charges against Sara for killing him in self-defense.”

“That's great news. Listen, I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting protective surveillance on Sara.”

“Yeah, Spike's been sending me text updates all day.”

“Spike? You mean Officer Petrellis.”

“What are you talking about? Officer Petrellis took early retirement last spring.”

SEVEN

A
chill shot across Will's shoulders. “Petrellis said you sent him to protect Sara.”

“No, Spike offered to give her a ride from the hospital to make up for messing up last night.”

“I've gotta get back to Sara.” Will spun the Jeep around. “I just dropped her off at The White Dove Inn.”

“I'm on my way.”

“How long will it take you to get there?”

“Five, maybe ten minutes.”

“Hurry.”

“Will, wait for me.”

“I'll see you when you get there.” Will ended the call, unable to agree to wait for Nate. It wasn't in Will's DNA to sit by and do nothing while someone stalked her.

He pulled up to the inn, a safe distance behind the unmarked cruiser. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, he peered into Officer Petrellis's car.

His empty car.

Will gripped the steering wheel with unusual force. Five minutes—he tried talking himself into waiting five minutes for Nate to arrive. He scanned the inn, studying every window for signs of trouble, then realized he wouldn't be able to see Sara from here since her room was by the dining room.

In the back where it was dark, where an intruder could easily sneak in unnoticed.

He was driving himself crazy sitting here, waiting for something to happen.

Worrying about what could happen.

Worrying about being too late.

He whipped open his door and took off toward the house. Would Petrellis harm Sara in front of an inn full of guests? No, he wouldn't be that bold. Besides, Will doubted the cop had been hired to hurt Sara. More likely he'd been ordered to get information and report back to the men who were after her.

Will decided to bypass the front entrance and enter through the back. As he walked along the dark side of the house, he saw a shadow up ahead, lit by a floodlight.

“Hey!” he called out.

The person turned around...

It was Lucy, owner of the inn.

“Hi, Will. What are you doing back here?”

“I wanted to check on Sara.”

Lucy, in her late thirties, with short dark hair, planted her hands on her hips. “And you decided not to use the front door?”

“Sorry, I heard someone back here and thought I'd check it out.”

“Just me, composting dinner scraps.”

“Did a police officer stop by?”

“No, why? Am I in trouble?” she teased.

“Did you see anyone else out here tonight?”

“No, but then I wasn't looking.” Her smile faded. “What's going on?”

“Let's go inside.” He motioned her toward the house, hoping that Sara was okay.

As Will and Lucy climbed the back stairs, he scanned the property one last time before they went inside.

What if Petrellis had sneaked inside while Lucy was disposing of the dinner scraps?

“Maybe I should go in first,” he offered.

Without argument, Lucy stepped aside and let him enter the kitchen. Pots and pans were stacked in the sink, and plates were lined up on the countertop.

No sign of Officer Petrellis.

“Sara's room is where?” he asked.

“Over here.” Lucy led him through the dining room to a door off a small hallway.

He took a deep breath and tapped on her door. “Sara?”

No response.

“She said she was exhausted,” Lucy offered.

He looked down at the soft glow reflecting from beneath the door.

Tapping harder, he called out, “Sara, it's Will. Are you all right?”

Again, silence.

“Please open the door,” he said to Lucy.

“I don't feel right going into a guest's room while she's inside.”

If she was still inside.

“It's an emergency,” Will said. “I think she's in danger. While you were out back, someone could have made his way into her room.”

The front doorbell rang repeatedly.

“That's probably Detective Walsh,” Will said. “Go ahead and let him in. He'll explain the urgency.”

With a worried nod, she went to greet Nate. Will continued to tap on the door. Maybe there was a simple explanation. Yeah, like she didn't want to talk to him. She'd said as much when she'd left his Jeep, right?

“Sara, please open the door,” Will said.

Nate marched up to Will. “I told you to wait for me.”

“Officer Petrellis wasn't in his car,” Will said. “I couldn't wait, and now Sara's not answering her door.”

Nate nodded at Lucy. “Please open it.”

She pulled a master key out of her pocket. “Sara? We're sorry to intrude.” She opened the door.

The room was empty.

Will noticed open French doors leading outside. “He took her.”

Nate went to the doors, and turned to Lucy. “Where does this lead?”

“The driveway.”

Nate checked the door. “Someone messed with the lock.” Nate went outside to investigate.

Will couldn't move. The walls seemed to close in around him. His fault; this was his fault.

“Lucy, are you down here?” a guest called from the living room.

Lucy placed her hand on Will's shoulder. “I have to take care of my guest.”

Maybe Will nodded, maybe he didn't. He couldn't be sure of anything right now, except for the fact he'd failed Sara.

As he struggled to calm his panicked thoughts, he noticed the backpack she'd bought at the Super Shopper beside the bed, plus the sneakers she'd worn out of the store. She'd been so happy to get out of the stiff, dirt-covered boots and into a pair of comfortable shoes.

She'd taken them off, and wore what out of here? The uncomfortable boots again? No, he didn't see that happening. Will snapped his attention to the armoire. He approached it and tapped gently with his knuckles.

“Sara, you in there?”

There was no response. He held his breath and cracked one of the doors open.

It was empty except for wood hangers and an ironing board.

“No one's outside.” Nate came back into the room and shut the doors behind him. “And the sedan you described is gone. Spike's not answering my texts. I have to assume he wasn't sending the messages. Petrellis must have somehow gotten his phone. Hope Spike's okay.” Nate patted Will's shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy. We'll find her.”

“Okay.” Will's mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

Nate hesitated before stepping out of the room. “This was not your fault, Will.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it.” Nate left the room, his voice echoing across the first floor of the inn. “Base, this is Detective Walsh. I need you to ping Officer Spike Duggins's cruiser and get me that location. Also, send an officer to Stuart Petrellis's house, over.”

As Will shut the doors to the armoire, he considered what could have happened. If Petrellis had broken into her room she wouldn't have gone willingly with him, and Will hadn't been gone that long, maybe five minutes, tops. He surely would have heard her protests.

Her cries for help.

His gaze drifted to her newly bought sneakers. Convinced she was still in the house, he went into the living area. Voices drifted from the kitchen, Lucy's voice, and another woman's—not Sara's.

Sara was hiding. He could feel it.

As he wandered through the living room, he noticed a door built into the wall beneath the stairs. His girls would definitely consider that the perfect hiding spot. Could Sara be in there? Or was he kidding himself, denying the reality of the situation?

The possibility that she'd been taken, and might be dead by morning.

Will went to the door and tapped gently.

“What are you doing?” Nate said, gripping his radio.

Will knocked again. “Sara, it's Will. You okay in there?”

A few tense moments of silence passed.

Please, Lord, give her the courage to open the door.

“I'm brewing tea,” Lucy said from the kitchen doorway. “And warming scones.”

“I needed a snack,” her female guest said from the kitchen.

“Tea and scones, how about it, Sara?” Will tried again.

Either she was scared and hiding, or Will was making a complete fool of himself.

“Nate's here. You're safe,” Will encouraged.

With a soft click, the closet door opened. Will offered his hand and Sara took it. As she stepped out, she glanced at Nate then at Lucy.

“Sorry,” Sara said. She slipped her hand out of Will's and went to her room. Will and Nate followed.

“I'm so embarrassed,” she said.

“What happened, and why were you in the closet?” Nate asked.

“I thought I saw a man outside my window. I was being paranoid.”

“No, you're being careful,” Will said. “And that's a good thing, right, Nate?”

“Yes. Especially given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Sara said, worry coloring her blue eyes.

“We'll explain on the way,” Nate said.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“We need to find you another safe house. Better yet, we've got an open cell at the station.”

“No, you're not locking her up,” Will said.

“For her own good,” Nate argued.

“I've got a better idea.”

* * *

It felt wrong on so many levels, Sara thought as she looked out the loft window to the parking area below. Will and Nate were outside having a heated discussion, probably about Sara, and why Will needed to stop helping her. Nate had been clear—Sara could remain free as long as she promised to stay in Echo Mountain until they finished investigating the stranger's death, and the supposed death of David Price.

Supposed, right.

To think that without Will's help Sara would be locked in a cell right now. Her gaze roamed the loft that his deceased wife had used as her art studio. It had a peaked ceiling with wood support beams, and lace curtains covering the rectangular windows. It was a peaceful place, a place where one could dream, imagine and create.

The loft wasn't meant to be used as a fortress.

It felt wrong to be here, not only because of the danger Sara brought with her, but also because of the lie she had to hide behind. Would Will see her differently if he knew the truth, that she was an FBI agent who'd failed miserably as she'd watched a man being murdered?

She didn't like lying to Will or the local authorities, but she wasn't ready to go public, not until she spoke with her supervisor. Unfortunately Bonner wasn't answering her calls. She wondered if it was a tough love thing, that he thought if he ignored her she'd get back to relaxing on a beach somewhere. Then she realized he wouldn't recognize the new phone number. She'd been hesitant to leave a message regarding the situation, she wasn't sure why. So she decided to keep trying until he picked up.

The last thing she wanted was to blow her cover and expose herself as FBI to LaRouche and Harrington. They'd surely destroy evidence that could be used to build a case against them.

Evidence. She felt in her pocket for her broken phone. She had to get it to a tech person and retrieve the recorded murder of David Price.

“How do I find one of those?” she whispered to herself.

Maybe she'd ask Will, since he seemed to know most everyone in town. Yes, she'd tell him she wanted to retrieve photos from her ruined phone.

She sighed, eyeing Will's commanding presence through the window as he spoke with Nate. She wanted to stop lying to Will, to the man who had continually offered support and encouragement. No man, besides her uncle, had ever done that for her. Most of the men she'd dated had seemed too self-absorbed, and the male agents at work were focused solely on their careers.

There was no room in the FBI for weakness. She thought she'd covered hers pretty well with sheer grit and determination to nail criminals. Instead, Bonner criticized her for her tenacity, saying it had gotten her into trouble, that she saw crimes where there were none. He even insinuated she was overcompensating for something, like her small stature or even...

A past failure.

That seemed like a low blow, considering Bonner knew about her father's death.

She stepped away from the window and unzipped her backpack, still frustrated with herself for hiding when she felt the threat looming outside her room at the inn. She should have stood up for herself and taken the guy down. Any other FBI agent would have detained him for questioning.

“Yeah, with bruised ribs and a sprained wrist?”

The sound of footsteps echoed against the stairs. Putting distance between her and Will was getting more and more difficult, especially since she was staying in his wife's art studio.

That's not the only reason, Sara.

She felt herself opening up to him, allowing herself to be vulnerable for the first time since...

Had she ever really been vulnerable to a man before?

“It's not a five-star hotel, but it's pretty nice, huh?” Will said, stepping up to the top floor.

“It's charming.” She glanced at him. “But I don't like putting you or your family in danger.”

“You aren't. This place is a few blocks from my house, and isn't in my name, so no one will be able to make the connection between us.”

“Who owns it?”

“A couple that travels ten months out of the year. I'd agreed to maintain things around here in exchange for Megan's use of the loft. I kept doing it, you know, as a favor.”

Sara suspected it was more than that. She suspected he liked being around his wife's former space.

“The daybed isn't bad,” he said. “Megan spent her share of nights here.” He looked away, as if he hadn't meant to admit that.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

He frowned. “Why?”

“You two were having trouble?”

“No, it wasn't that...well, not initially. It was the cancer. She wanted to spend the last few months here with the caregiver so I could get used to raising the girls alone. At least that's what she said.”