Their eyes locked and they sat motionless. Lacey knew only one person who would show up at her house at three in the morning. And usually he didn’t knock; he walked right in, using his key. Oh, shit. This could be ugly. Jack’s accusations about Michael’s articles echoed in her brain. She slipped off her stool, but Jack gripped her forearm.
“Don’t answer that.”
“You think somebody who wants to hurt me is going to knock on my front door?”
Lacey headed for the door again, but he hung on. She turned to him and was surprised to see the overprotectiveness on his face. Caveman.
“Don’t.”
She shook off his arm. “I know who it is.” He really had appointed himself her protector. How much of this could she put up with?
He tailed her to the door, nearly stepping on her heels. “Who? Who’re you expecting?”
“I’m not expecting anyone. But I know only one person who shows up on my doorstep anytime he likes. It’s gotta be him.”
“Him? Him who?”
Was that jealousy she heard? Or just the caveman speaking again?
Peeking through the peephole, she flipped the bolt and opened the door. “Jack Harper, I don’t believe you’ve personally met your buddy, Michael Brody.”
There on the porch with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets stood a brooding Michael. He dragged his pissed-off gaze from Jack’s truck in the driveway to Jack. Obviously, he’d known she wasn’t alone. And he’d probably known who was in her home. Silence settled among the three.
Lacey’s gaze bounced from one man to the other as they stared each other down.
They both were tall and well built, but Michael had a lean, whipcord look. Jack was simply solid everywhere. Protectiveness and possessiveness were high on each personality list, but Michael tended to clam up when he was annoyed, and she’d quickly learned that Jack pushed a subject to the edge. Jack projected cop-like confidence and assertiveness while Michael was more of a sly I-can-kick-your-butt-with-karate type.
Without a word, Jack turned around and strode back to the kitchen. Still at the door, Michael scanned Lacey’s face, touching her cheek with a gentle hand. “You OK?”
She nodded.
“What happened last night? I had to hear from a police source that you were nearly assaulted.” Michael guided her into the kitchen.
Jack had slipped back onto his barstool, relaxed, and sipped his coffee, letting Michael know he’d been there first. Michael ignored him and strode to the fridge, pulled out the orange juice, and drank directly from the carton. Jack stiffened.
Michael proceeded to open a cupboard, grab a mug, and help himself to the coffee.
Startled from her absorption of studying the two men, Lacey blinked at him. “Oh. Frank. You know...being his usual self.”
“He cornered her alone at the dental school, threatened her, and nearly gave her a black eye.” Jack filled in the important parts.
“I knew it. That asshole.” Michael looked at Jack even though he was obviously speaking of Frank. He wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled sour milk. “Did he want money again? I’ve told you to keep away from him.”
“I was staying away. He came after me. And I didn’t get a chance to find out what he wanted.” Lacey’s words trailed off as she noticed Jack’s frozen expression. She followed his gaze. He’d just seen Michael’s coffee mug, which read “Michael.”
“You’ve told me to stay away from lots of people, Michael.” She tilted her head a tiny notch toward Jack.
“Yeah, you’re great at taking suggestions.”
Jack snorted in his coffee, and Michael glared at him. “You don’t agree?”
“She doesn’t listen to anybody. She does whatever she pleases, not thinking about what’s safest for her.”
Now both men turned to glower at her. They’d found a common ground and had united in worrying about her safety.
She looked at Michael and changed the subject. “I thought you were going to Mount Junction.”
“I’m headed to the airport in a couple of hours. I just wanted to be sure you were OK first.” Michael drained his cup and set it on the counter, his name deliberately facing Jack.
“Did you tell him about the video?” Jack scowled at the mug.
Lacey inhaled her mouthful of coffee and briefly choked. She’d actually forgotten the video in the events of last night.
“What video?”
Lacey told him the details, thankful she’d left the DVD at the police station. She knew Michael was going to demand to see it. She didn’t think she could stomach watching it again.
“Where is it? Do you still have it?”
Did she know this man or what?
“I left it with—”
“I’ve got a copy on disc,” Jack spoke up.
Lacey stared at Jack. When did he copy it? He shrugged at her. “Detective Lusco had made copies before we even watched it. I asked for one.”
“I want to see it,” Michael asserted.
Jack hopped up and headed for the TV in the adjacent family room.
Oh, God. Lacey dragged her feet, following him. She couldn’t watch again.
Jack popped the disc in her DVD player as she slowly sat on the couch. Michael planted himself beside her and sat with his arms resting on his thighs, concentrating on the screen. Jack sat on her other side in the exact same posture.
“Wait.” Jack put a hand on her arm. “You sure you want to see this again?”
Lacey shot off the couch. “No, actually I don’t want to see it. I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
She busied herself in the kitchen, putting coffee cups away and wiping down counters that didn’t need it. Anything to keep her mind from picturing what was on that disc.
“Jesus Christ.”
She flinched at Michael’s curse from the living room. An image of Suzanne’s pregnant stomach flooded her and tears started to burn. She sniffed, rubbing at an invisible spot on her stove. What had Suzanne gone through back then? Horrors, she knew. Horrors she didn’t want to picture.
“Oh, give me a fucking break.”
What? Why was Michael...
Footsteps pounded toward her front door, and Lacey stepped into the living room just in time to see Michael step outside. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes grim. “Stay safe, Lace.” And closed the door behind him.
Jack sat on the couch, still watching the disc. On the TV screen, she saw Jack slam her truck door.
Aha. Michael had seen the kiss.
She marched over to Jack, hands on her hips, glaring. He had no idea what kind of friendship she had with Michael.
“You are such a jerk.” She stated the words firmly in Jack’s face.
“I didn’t know he was going to react like that,” Jack said. “But I’m not upset he saw it.”
He really did look sincere, but Lacey shook her head at him and dashed after Michael.
By 8:00 a.m., Detective Callahan had been hard at work for two hours. He slammed down the receiver at his desk, another dead end. The man he’d been trying to locate had died in a hunting accident two years ago, and Mason had just upset the widow by asking to speak to him. He scowled at his list. He needed to run his list of contacts through some sort of death records before he made calls. It would be the polite thing to do. If he could figure out how to do it. Computers and he didn’t mesh well together.
Mason was checking every cellmate or close associate DeCosta had in and outside prison, trying to find out whom DeCosta possibly had confided in. Maybe he’d revealed his hunting or killing techniques, or hinted at someone who would be willing to avenge his life sentences. Anything that would point them in the direction of another killer. So far, Mason was striking out. Ray was in charge of finding DeCosta’s family; hopefully, he was having more luck.
He rubbed his eyes, tired of staring at the list. What a bunch of losers. The majority of the men were serving time. Several had been released from prison only to end up back in within a year. Each phone conversation had gone like this:
“You’re a cop? Why the fuck do you think I’d tell you anything?”