Lacey didn’t speak the whole way home. She knew Michael hadn’t thrown the first physical punch, but he’d definitely hurled the first verbal one. Her brain was still spinning.
Michael turned his Land Rover onto her street and she stiffened. If he thought he was coming in to her house to talk or apologize, she was going to set him straight. He was going home. She couldn’t handle any more testosterone tonight. She watched his headlights play over the other cars parked along her street and steeled her spine for a confrontation.
How dare they fight like boys! Men sometimes acted like idiots but tonight took the cake. She made a frustrated noise of indignation, and Michael turned his head to eye her questioningly.
He had to know she was furious. He better be scared, she seethed. She was ready to let him have it. Jack too, but he wasn’t here, so Michael was going to catch the brunt of her wrath.
He parked in her driveway and turned off the ignition. They both sat in silence.
“Lace...” He started hesitantly.
“Don’t say a word,” she snapped. “I watched two adult men act like little spoiled brats tonight. My hair is a mess and my new, very expensive dress is ripped.” She touched an earlobe. “And somewhere I’ve lost a two-and-a-half-carat diamond stud.” She was just getting warmed up. “I know this wasn’t all your fault, Michael, but you’re here and he’s sitting in a jail cell somewhere. If I wasn’t so damned tired, and needing to get my stuff packed to stay at Dad’s, I’d march down there and yell at him too. I thought you were trying to help me. I can’t be alone with that killer running around. How can you act like this?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, Lace. That guy brings out the worst in me. You know I’d never leave you alone. When I left the other night, he was still in your house and I knew he wouldn’t let you out of his sight.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I recognize something in him. It’s the same thing I feel. I guess you’d call it overprotectiveness. On one hand I hate that he feels that way about you, but on the other hand I respect it enough to leave town and feel certain you’ll be safe with him around.”
All the wind deflated out of her sails. “Then why did you insinuate that he had a hand in Amy’s death? That was horrible of you.”
“I just wanted to see his reaction.”
“Well, he definitely reacted. That wasn’t your smartest moment, Michael. Why did you press charges? He can’t be around when you’re gone if he’s in jail.”
“Why are you so damn logical?” he muttered. “I’ll drop the charges and get him out.”
“I’m logical because I’m not high on testosterone.”
She reached for the car handle and glanced toward the house.
What was that?
She froze and stared harder into the dark. There it was again. Somebody was definitely crouched in the shadows against the side of the house below her wraparound porch.
“Michael.” It was a whisper. “Look.” Keeping her hand below the dashboard, she pointed. “Can you see it? There’s somebody there.” Her voice wavered and she pressed the lock on her door.
“I see it.” He was instantly alert. “Stay here.” He reached in his console and slipped out of the vehicle before she could say another word.
She’d spotted the gun as he’d removed it from his console, and it’d shocked her into silence. What was he doing? He was licensed to carry concealed, but she’d never seen a gun in his hand outside the shooting range.
The person hiding next to her home couldn’t miss seeing Michael exit the truck and leave her behind. Michael casually jogged up her steps, yelling back at her. “I’ll go grab it for you and then we can leave!”
Her heart rate escalated. The shadow near the porch hadn’t moved. She watched Michael unlock her door with a key from his ring and dart inside, leaving her front door wide open.
She blinked. What would Jack think if he knew Michael had a key?
Her eyes widened as she spotted a new shadow on her porch, slinking along the house. Michael. He’d snuck out the back door and was creeping to position himself above the person hiding below.
Her jaw locked and every muscle contracted. Without looking, she dug in her evening bag for her cell and clutched it to her chest. She watched Michael silently move to the top of her porch rail and then drop directly onto the shadow crouching below. She squawked as the two shadows blended into one and rolled roughly onto the driveway.
With one eye on her phone and the other on the two men wrestling in the snow, Lacey dialed 911.
Mason had crawled out of a warm bed on an early Sunday morning to make a special trip to the city jail. It wasn’t necessary, but he simply had to see this in person. He drove into the sleeping city, still chuckling at the description the police officer had given of Jack Harper’s arrest.
Arrested for assault while fighting over a woman at some fancy shindig. The cop hadn’t mentioned the woman’s name, but when Mason heard Michael Brody was on the pressing end of the assault charges, he knew the woman had to be Dr. Campbell. Mason strode down the narrow hallway, exchanging greetings with uniforms he recognized, and stopped in front of a holding cell.
Ohhh. Priceless. The surly arrestee sat on a bench, dressed in a tux with a ripped lapel and something sticky dried in his hair. Mason stuck his hands in his pants pockets, rocked back on his boot heels, and soaked in the view. The furious glare directed his way didn’t faze Mason one bit. He gave Harper a toothy grin, wishing he had a cigar.
Damn, he forgot his camera.
Too bad Dr. Campbell’s ex, Frank Stevenson, wasn’t still locked up. Mason could have set him loose in Harper’s cell just to watch the fun. It’d be like dumping a lame chicken in a wolf’s den. Harper would eat him alive. Mason snickered at the image.
The wolf snapped at him. “What’s so fucking hilarious?”
Mason tipped his head, studied the angry man, and shared his analogy. The wolf softened and managed his own half grin.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a punching bag about now. Stevenson’s face would be perfect,” Harper muttered.
Mason twisted his lips. Harper impressed him more and more at each meeting. Cocky, but honest and direct. Passionate about good causes, and Dr. Campbell was a good cause in Mason’s book. Harper had probably been a good cop. Too bad about the shooting.
After Harper’s first interview, Mason had looked deeper into the incident. Harper had been shot while on the job. The department had said the shooting left Harper emotionally unstable and unable to perform his duties safely. Harper had done his time with the station shrink, but he’d finally left the Lakefield police force.
Harper was king of the hill when he was in his element. Like when Mason and Lusco had visited him at his office. Harper had staked out his territory and reigned supreme. In that job, the man was able to control his environment and the people around him, something nearly impossible to do as a cop. Mason had a feeling Harper rarely lost his temper with his employees. His contractors, maybe. Mason could see Harper taking a bite out of an ass or two that didn’t fulfill their end of a bargain.
Now Harper was once again out of his element with the headstrong dentist. Always trust a woman to throw a man for a loop. Like his ex-wife...Mason immediately put his ex out of his head, but it’d brought his son to mind. Mason hadn’t seen Jake since...Christmas? February was about to start and he hadn’t seen his son since the holidays. Phone calls with the kid, sure, but no face-to-face stuff. Kid was busy. A senior in high school this year. Basketball. Studying. All that crap.
“Callahan.”
Mason snapped out of his thoughts. Harper had stood and walked over to the bars. He was standing two feet from Mason and he hadn’t even noticed. “What?”
“I asked when I’m getting out of this shit hole. You know perfectly well there’s a woman I’m trying to keep an eye on.” Jack studied Mason’s face. “Not enough sleep last night? Sorry you had to get out of bed so early.” He smiled.
“No. I was just realizing I hadn’t seen my son since Christmas. Lives with his mom.” Embarrassment immediately flushed Mason’s face. He hadn’t meant to reveal personal facts to a guy he barely knew.
Harper’s grin vanished and his eyes shuttered. “That sucks.”
Right. Harper hadn’t truly seen his father in years. All that Alzheimer’s shit.
“I’ll find out when you can leave.” Still flushed, Mason headed down the hallway without a good-bye. He felt Harper’s eyes follow him.
“Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s someone outside my house!” Lacey rattled off the address. “And he’s fighting with Michael! They’re rolling on the...”
“Where are you, ma’am?”
“In the truck! But Michael’s got a gun and I’m afraid someone...”
“A gun? Has anyone been hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No! No one’s been shot! But I don’t know if the other guy is armed or not!”
“Police are on their way. Ma’am, you’d better stay in the vehicle. Are your doors locked?”
“No! I mean...” She hit the lock button. She’d forgotten to lock it again after Michael had got out. “They are now.” Why did the operator keep asking about her? It was Michael who was in trouble!
The figures on the ground stopped thrashing and Michael kneeled on the other man’s back, twisting his arms up behind him.
“He got ’em! He pinned him down.” She yelled into the phone.
“Don’t get out of the vehicle, ma’am.”
Lacey had already unlocked the door and was halfway down the drive, her phone to her ear. She tottered on the rough, icy surface in her heels, straining her eyes in the dim light for injuries on Michael. Two fights in one night! He was going to hurt in the morning.
“Ma’am. Don’t get out of the vehicle.”
“It’s OK. He’s not going anywhere.”
“I’ve informed the police there is a gun at the scene.”
“What!” Had she caused a bigger problem? “Michael! Where’s the gun?”
She spoke to the operator, “Tell the police no one is armed! I can see the gun in the snow. Don’t let them shoot! I’ll get it out of the way.”
“Don’t pick up the gun, ma’am.”
Lacey grit her teeth. This exceedingly polite operator was seriously starting to annoy her. “I’m kicking it out into the street. The police will probably drive right over it.”
She gently slid the gun a few feet toward Michael’s truck. She could hear the operator relaying her message in the background, but she knew it made no difference; the police would respond with escalated caution and readiness. They didn’t like being called to scenes involving a gun. It pumped up their stress level tenfold.
She turned back as Michael ground the man’s face into the gravel and snow. Michael didn’t look hurt, but his language made her eyebrows skyrocket. Somebody was pissed.
She squatted awkwardly at a safe distance to get a look at the stranger’s face, hoping he wouldn’t look directly at her. He’d get quite the view up her dress. Wailing sirens filled the night.
Panting hard, Michael grabbed the man by his hair and roughly yanked his head back, turning his face toward Lacey. “Know him?”
By the shock and then the embarrassment on the man’s face, he’d gotten a personal view up Lacey’s dress.
But her shock was greater.
Her voice cracked. “Sean? Is that Sean?”
Michael was kneeling on her janitorial hero.
Jack was collecting his wallet and change at the jail counter when Callahan reappeared. “You might want to stick around for a bit,” Callahan said.
“Why in hell would I want to do that?” Jack stated. He needed his bed.
“Some of your friends are on their way here.”
Jack gave Callahan his best who-gives-a-shit eyebrow cock.
“A dentist friend of yours.”
That got his attention. His hand stalled as he slid his wallet in his jacket pocket. “What? Lacey? Is she OK? She’s here?”
“And her boyfriend.” Callahan displayed all his teeth.
“That ass wants to keep me from leaving jail?” Jack’s chest had tied in knots at Callahan’s word choice.
“No. I guess the boyfriend caught an intruder on her property.”
Jack felt a hollow thump in his heart. “Was it him?”
Callahan didn’t ask who he meant; the detective knew. “I don’t know. They’re saying Dr. Campbell knows the guy. That it’s someone she works with.”
“But that doesn’t mean he isn’t the one.” Had the reporter stopped the killer before his next victim?
“I know.”
Dead silence filled the air as the two men studied each other.
“He leavin’ or not?” the cop behind the counter asked.
Callahan nodded his head at the cop and tugged at Jack’s sleeve, pulling him down the hall. “You want to clean up first?”
Jack tugged at his lapels and heard a stitch rip. He ran an inquiring hand over liquor-crisped hair and eyed his stained shirt. No tie. He checked his pockets. Still no tie.
“Don’t I look good?”
“Yeah. You smell real good too.”
Lacey’s angry voice carried down the hall to where he stood with Callahan. “No! You can’t arrest him! He didn’t know what he was doing! He...he doesn’t think like we do. I work with him and he doesn’t understand it was wrong!”
Jack couldn’t see her, but he knew she was livid. He relaxed a little. If Lacey was that fired up and steamed then she was just fine. He silently repeated what she’d said, trying to make sense of the words. Who could...was she talking about that janitor? The mentally disabled kid? The one who’d nailed a home run on Stevenson’s head with a broom handle?
He’d broken into her house?
Lacey looked out at the dark street from the drab lobby of the police station and crossed her arms on her chest. Michael and Jack were sitting as far apart as possible in the row of chairs along the wall, both of them carefully watching her, taking their guard duty very seriously. The two men wouldn’t look at or speak to each other, and Lacey figured that was for the best. She started to pace the room again, worrying about Sean. The boy had been petrified when the flashing police cars pulled up at her house and armed cops emerged, shouting at everyone. Michael had no longer needed to hold Sean down. He’d plastered himself to the ground and stretched out his arms and legs, refusing to move. It’d taken a lot of muscle power to get Sean off the ground and into a police car.
Lacey hadn’t been able to get a word out of him. Neither could the cops. They’d checked her house, decided Sean hadn’t been inside, and announced they were taking him downtown. She’d protested vigorously, but the cops had claimed they only wanted to talk to him, and she finally relented. Sean wouldn’t tell them where he lived or give a name of someone to pick him up. The lack of ID bothered the officers. They wanted to know exactly who he was and where he lived. Lacey couldn’t help; she knew only his name.
At the station, Sean had started cowering again. Then a scuffle had started between him and two officers as they tried to move him down the hall. Lacey and Michael had arrived in time to see tempers flare. She managed to calm Sean down and had convinced him to go with the officers. They’d led him to an interview room and closed the door in her face.
Detective Callahan had been a familiar face she was thankful to see. At her request, Callahan was sitting in on the interview with Sean, giving her a small measure of relief. She’d informed Michael and Jack that she wasn’t leaving until the police finished with Sean. Jack had refused to leave until she did and planted himself in a chair. Michael had taken one look at Jack’s stubborn face and plopped in the farthest chair. Both their expressions warned her not to argue.
The men looked like they’d been brawling all night. Which was nearly true. Michael had ripped his pants wrestling with Sean. His jacket was sloppily tossed on a chair, and he’d torn two buttons off his shirt. He’d rolled up his filthy sleeves and managed to look menacing as he watched her pace.
Jack looked just as scruffy and intimidating. They both still stunk of the alcohol she’d dumped on their heads. The smell of tequila filled the room and several officers gave the men sharp looks as they passed through the lobby.
Lacey’s gown was still split. There was nothing she could do without a needle and thread. She’d washed the smeared mascara off her tired face in the restroom and realized her hair clip was lost, leaving her hair hopeless. She’d finger-combed it and tucked it behind her ears.
They looked like refugees from an earthquake at a state dinner.
She sighed. Six in the morning on a Sunday. She should be in bed. She should be anywhere but here.
The three of them jumped as her cell rang from her evening bag under Michael’s coat. He didn’t meet her eyes as he handed her the bag.
The call was from Chris, Kelly’s husband.
“Have you talked to Kelly?” He was out of breath.
“No. Not since the day before when I saw both of you at the gym.” Concern raced through her; Chris sounded stressed. “What’s wrong?” Chris was never stressed.
“Kelly didn’t come home last night.”
“What? Where is she?” Lacey stopped pacing, dread swarming over her.
“I don’t know! She left after dinner to do some paperwork at the gym. When it got late, I tried to call her cell but it went straight to voice mail. I drove to the gym and her car wasn’t there. I checked the office and she’d done the paperwork, but now I can’t find her. Do you know where she might have gone?” All his sentences ran together.
“I don’t know, Chris, honestly. Did you check with her folks and sister?” Lacey’s mind whirled as her stomach tightened. Oh, dear Lord. Please, not Kelly.
“I called them late last night. I didn’t ask if Kelly was there. I didn’t want to worry them. I made up some excuse for calling. None of them mentioned anything about Kelly.”
“Did you call the police?”
The sound of boot steps coming down the hall grabbed her attention. Detective Callahan had his gaze locked on her, and he didn’t look happy.
“Hang on, Chris. I’m in the police station right now. I’m gonna get someone moving on this immediately.” She covered the phone with her hand and spoke to the detective. “My friend is missing. Her husband is on the phone. He’s frantic. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday evening.”
“Who? What friend?”
“Kelly. Kelly Cates. She’s the one I told you about who had a ring like mine.” Her voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed.
“The gymnast? The other girl who testified at DeCosta’s trial? Why the fuck did he wait this long to notify us?” He grabbed Lacey’s cell and started grilling Chris.
He’s got her. He’s got Kelly.
Lacey couldn’t breathe.