Slow Burn (23 page)

Had that creep really slipped inside her loft
and bugged it? The idea gave her the willies. It made her feel
exposed and vulnerable, invaded. Had he listened to the
conversations she’d had around the house and over the phone in the
last several weeks? Listened to their lovemaking earlier? No, she
was jumping ahead of herself. There was probably nothing, just Ron
being overly cautious. But what if he wasn’t?

She shifted gears and starting thinking about
someone other than herself, the people who were at Carlyle House
the night of the fire. With Kirkland in the hospital and Hogan
missing, that left Ron’s mother. Ron’s mother could be in danger
and must be warned. She hoped Ron talked to her and…oh, Lord, she
was forgetting Nguyen. If Dunn was really that no-good scumbag
biker, the deliveryman might be lying somewhere injured and needing
help.

Ashley fished out her cell phone from her bag
and dialed the restaurant.

“Your friend called us a few minutes ago, Ms.
Fitzgerald,” the manager told her. “Mr. Ron Noble. We told him
Nguyen left with your order almost an hour ago.”

That was bad. “Have you called the
police?”

“Yes. I know they’ll want to talk to you,
too. Your friend said you’ll both be home.”

“Yes, we will.” Nguyen had been delivering
food in her area for almost six months now and the two of them
often chatted whenever he dropped off her order. She’d like to
think they had some kind of a relationship. “I hope Nguyen is
okay.”

“So do we,” the woman said, then hung up.

Ashley put the phone down, crossed her arms
and hugged herself, a chill skidding under her skin. She wished she
could call Eddie, again, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. It had
been okay to call him when she needed validation, but a
full-fledged investigation must be handled by the local precinct.
Why didn’t the thought fill her with comfort?

CHAPTER 12

Ashley sat on a counter stool, her fingers
rapping a tune on the granite counter, a sketching book opened a
few inches away. For once, she couldn’t use her art to rid herself
of nerve-racking tension. The waiting was getting to her.

The officer who interrogated her had been
very courteous. Lieutenant Sanchez listened, asked questions when
appropriate and even put up with Ron’s overbearing attitude. Ron
meant well, she knew that, and she understood where he was coming
from. If the police had taken him seriously when he first
approached them with the letters and reopened the investigation
into the Carlyle House fire, Dunn and whomever he worked for
wouldn’t be running around hurting people.

By the time Sanchez left her loft, the
officer was more than willing to cooperate with them. Ashley wasn’t
surprised to receive a call later about Nguyen. They found the
delivery boy bruised and battered, and left in the trunk of his
car, barely alive. Unfortunately, Sanchez was on her way back to
discuss something she refused to divulge over the phone. Ashley had
no idea what that was about, which only added to her frustration.
Ron volunteered to go downstairs to waylay the officer and keep her
out of the way until his friend Kenny Lambert was done debugging
her place.

Ashley turned her head so she could openly
study the private detective as he moved about the room, checking
under and around one object after another. What had he called it? A
visual and physical search. He’d already completed an electronic
one—radio frequency, wire and conductor searches.

The way Ron talked about Kenny Lambert, she’d
expected the man to be an easy-going, average man with easily
forgotten features—your typical P.I. But everything about Kenny was
striking—piercing green eyes, hard, chiseled face and body. His
slanted eyes and black hair hinted at Asiatic heritage, and the way
he glided when he walked, one didn’t hear him move until he was
right beside you. In all-black attire, he reminded her of a
panther—great physical form, hard, edgy, deadly.

As though he was aware of her scrutiny, he
glanced her way and smiled. The smile softened the hard planes of
his face and dimples winked at her from his cheeks.

“Almost done,” he said and then walked to the
bookshelves at the corner of the main floor of her loft.

Too worked up to be appeased by his composed
expression and reassuring smile, she kept tabs on him. There was no
place in her home he hadn’t checked, including her bedroom drawers
and closets. Her face had heated with embarrassment. Heck, her neck
was warming up just thinking about it.

She jumped up and skirted the kitchen
counter, her hand reaching for the coffee pot. She’d been drowning
in the dark brew in the last couple of hours. Too bad it didn’t
pack its usual punch, but it was all she’d promised to touch until
she talked with Officer Sanchez.

Ashley was busy sipping the drink and trying
hard not to think of her present predicament when Kenny appeared by
her side. The smile she gave him was uncertain. “Done?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He placed the smaller
suitcase on the counter and left the larger one n the floor by his
feet.

“Want some coffee?” He’d declined the offer
when he first arrived.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said with
a solemn expression. “I take it black.”

Pouring him the drink gave her something to
do while she mentally steeled herself against the answers he had
for her. She knew he found a few bugs, some right under where she
looked earlier. Ashley placed the mug in front of him before
speaking. “How many did you find?”

He hesitated and glanced at the door. Ashley
rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm and took a deep breath.
With the Dunn situation, her uncle in ICU and Officer Sanchez’s
request to have a chat with her, she was in no mood to be strung
along by anyone.

“Please. Whatever it is, however damaging, I
can handle it, Kenny. Believe me. I don’t need Ron to hold my
hand.”

A grin crossed his face. “I didn’t think you
did. I found five RF transmitters—the phone upstairs, your dresser,
the downstairs phone, the paint cabinet and the base of the
Nefertiti bust.” He pointed at the bookshelf at the corner of the
room. “There was a spyware on your computer to monitor and record
internet activities. They used some pretty jazzed-up system, but it
wasn’t hard to detect.” He flipped open the briefcase on the
counter and pulled out a plastic bag from it. In it were six
gadgets of different shapes and a disk, which he picked up. “I
copied whatever I could. I’ll try to find out more about it once I
get back to my office.”

Ashley closed her eyes and shuddered. She was
an artist, not a techno wiz. Spyware, radio frequency transmitters,
she was so out of her element it wasn’t funny.

“You okay?”

Ashley opened her eyes and attempted a casual
smile. She knew she failed when Kenny paused in the process of
drinking his coffee and his eyes narrowed.

“All this is just a little overwhelming, but
I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking. Will you call me once you know
more about it?” She pointed at the disk in his hand.

“Sure.” He dropped the disk back in the case.
“But I’ll need to borrow your computer.”

She stared at the machine and fought
revulsion.

He misunderstood her hesitation. “I’ll try
and return it as soon as—”

“Take it and anything else you might need.
And once you’re done with it, just…just get rid of it.” She
couldn’t stand looking at it now, let alone using it. Besides,
there wasn’t anything in it she hadn’t backed up. Next time she’d
buy a laptop. No more leaving her system around for some psycho to
bug. “Is it, uh, possible to know how long these bugs have been in
my home?”

Kenny drained his coffee, then set the mug
down. “Only the spyware. About three weeks.”

“What? I just bought it.”

“When?”

“Two months ago.” Her heart dropped to the
bottom of her feet at the implication. Ron came to see her about a
week and a half ago. If Dunn bugged her home, it happened way
before Ron came to see her, right after her agent contacted Nina’s
about Carlyle House, which only meant one thing. The scum-bag biker
was after her, not Ron. “How do you know…I mean, how can you
tell?”

“The program stores up all the keys you
strike every time you use your keyboard and all your web activities
in a text file, which is sent to an FTP site. Whoever planted it
accesses that site from a remote location. I checked the dates the
data was transmitted.”

She fought to stop conjuring ugly images of a
stranger sneaking into her apartment. “Thanks, Kenny.” Her voice
came out a little wobbly and she had to swallow before continuing.
“How much do I owe—?”

He dismissed her question with a wave and
scowl. “Don’t worry about it, Ashley. I’m happy I could help.”

“Thanks.” She walked him to the door, thanked
him, again, and locked up. She wrapped her arms around herself and
glanced furtively around her home, feeling unsafe even with the
alarm on. Someone was out to get her. How the hell was she supposed
to deal with that?

***

When the doorbell rang later, Ashley jerked
nervously. Lord, she knew she was a mess, emotionally and mentally.
She needed to get a grip quick and come up with a plan. She hurried
to check the peek hole, confirming it was Ron and Lieutenant
Sanchez.

She flung the door open and stepped back, her
gaze locking on Ron. Having him around made her feel a whole lot
safer, but in the back of her mind she knew she must let him go.
Whoever was after her might hurt him to get to her. The thought of
anything happening to him, like Kirkland or Hogan, left her
lightheaded with fear.

He reached for her hand, cutting off her
thoughts and making her wonder if her feelings were written on her
face. She glanced at Sanchez. “What did you want to talk
about?”

“Let’s sit down first,” Ron said, shutting
the door with his foot and guiding them toward the counter. He had
them seated around the counter in a matter of seconds.

“I talked to my captain about your situation,
Ms. Fitzgerald,” the officer started.

“My situation?”

“Dunn is after you, Ms. Fitzgerald. That’s a
fact. After seriously hurting that delivery man and your uncle and
being the main suspect in the death of Mr. Hogan in Idaho, we’re
taking that threat seriously.”

Ashley’s eyes widened, then her gaze shifted
to Ron.

“Hogan’s dead?” Her voice came out in a
screech.

Ron nodded, gripping her hand. “Officer
Sanchez just got the news through her precinct.”

“They found his car in a lake,” the officer
added. “The cops up there believe he lost control of his car,
crashed through an embankment and into the lake, but after I talked
with Mr. Noble, I believe this was no accident. Mr. Noble’s theory
about the fire at Carlyle House is worth looking into. It’s the
only incident connecting you, Hogan and Kirkland. We plan to reopen
the case as soon as we nab Dunn.”

“Why after you catch him?” Ron asked just as
Ashley said, “Why wait?”

“My captain needs more evidence,” Sanchez
said. “Right now, everything appears circumstantial. Besides, we’re
really backed up case-wise.”

Ron cursed under his breath, his eyes filling
with rage. “Will another dead body be enough evidence?” He let go
of Ashley’s hand and got to his feet. He paced the floor, scrubbing
his face and occasionally stopping to glare at the officer. “This
is bullshit, you hear?” he snarled.

The officer gave him a sympathetic look. “I
understand how you feel, Mr. Noble. I promise you, we won’t let
anything happen to Ms. Fitzgerald. We plan to keep her under
surveillance.”

Ashley sat up. “Excuse me?”

“At least that’s something,” Ron said as
though she hadn’t spoken. “When will you start?”

“Tonight. We have a stakeout team outside
even as we speak.”

Ashley couldn’t believe what she was hearing,
or that they were planning things without consulting her. “Hey.”
The two turned to look at her. She ignored Ron and locked her gaze
on Sanchez. “Surveillance? Me?”

“This is what I meant to discuss with you,
Ms. Fitzgerald. As a possible target, we must do whatever it takes
to keep you safe. First thing tomorrow, I plan to have our tech
people install motion-activated visual and audio transmitters
outside your door, the main floor of your loft, your windows…what
is it?”

“No. No gismos or gadgets anywhere near me or
my home.” Her voice rose toward the end of the sentence. Ashley
shook her head so hard she felt a ringing in her ears. No way was
she letting her privacy be invaded, again. “No unmarked cars
tailing me, no—”

Ron reached for her arm. “Ashley.”

She cringed and got to her feet, moving away
from him. She was hanging by a thread, barely functioning because
of what Kenny had found. And now they want her to consent to more
hidden cameras and whatnots?

“No, Ron. I can’t do it.”

“Damn it, Ashley.”

“Ms. Fitzgerald—”

“No.” She crossed her arms and stared
defiantly at them. Obviously Ron had discussed this surveillance
thing with Sanchez without consulting her. Such arrogance. Her
anger shot up.

“I can’t allow it.” Her tone implied ‘won’t’
but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be pushed into doing something
while she felt so helpless and vulnerable. She needed time to think
things through, strategize. Right now it hurt too much to breathe,
let alone come up with a coherent thought.

As though she understood her misgivings,
Officer Sanchez said, “At least allow an officer to stay with you.
I promise she won’t be intrusive. You’ll hardly know she’s
there.”

Yeah right. She’d stick out like a sore
thumb. She could feel Ron’s heated gaze on her, but she ignored
him. Sanchez’s frustration was apparent, too. She probably thought
Ashley was an idiot. Better a fool with some control of her life,
than a nervous wreck jumping at every shadow.