Chapter 8
Heather groaned at the sight of her brother’s phone number on Dale’s phone, but the message had nothing to do with the ring on her finger. “There was someone watching us in the woods.”
“Smoking,” Dale added. “He said the trail went cold at the service road.”
“Yeah.” She’d just read that line too. “But no one was smoking when we were out there. I never would have missed that.”
“Me neither.”
“So they wanted us to know they were there.” She jumped a little when his phone chimed and shivered in her palm. “J.C. sent a picture.”
“Hand-rolled cigarette?”
She swiped the picture to enlarge it. “Looks that way. Who is dumb enough to leave behind a sign like this?”
“More cocky than dumb is my bet.”
“You know something about it.” She watched his hands flex on the wheel and experienced a ridiculous rush imagining his hands on her. “Do you want me to respond for you?”
“No.” Long fingers stretched and gripped again. “There was a fire alarm at the office on Christmas Day. During the evacuation, someone went through my files, but the security video didn’t give us much to work with.”
“That’s pretty bold, walking into an FBI office.”
“I agree. Lester has been bold throughout his criminal career.”
She rested Dale’s phone in the console and let him drive, let his mind work as he merged onto the interstate heading back to Columbia. She had her own thoughts and adjustments to make. It had not been a reasonable expectation that her family would be happy to hear she got engaged to a man they didn’t know.
Cutting herself some slack, she’d never expected they would find out about the ring on her finger. In light of that cigarette, she was glad they’d stayed in character as a couple at the shelter and out near Terry’s body.
Even if her family was having conniptions over it now. Oh, well. Someday she’d be able to tell them the truth and they would all laugh about it. She didn’t hold out much hope that they’d ever praise her courage to follow her instincts on this, but that went with being the baby of the family.
“We found a hand rolled cigarette near the FBI office after that fire alarm.”
“Did they use the smoke to set off the alarm?”
“No.”
He didn’t elaborate, so she tried another approach. “Do you think it was the same person at the office and out near the shelter?”
He nodded and then frowned as he checked his mirrors. “Smokers are picky about their brands and very few people roll their own.”
“True.”
She remembered the fire alarm that had evacuated his office on Christmas Day. She’d been late to see her nephews because she’d driven into Columbia to ask him to look into the dogfighting circuit. Twisting around in her seat, she caught the strap of her camera bag and pulled it to her lap.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking on something.” She pulled out her camera and flipped open the case that held her SD cards.
“I told you I had a camera.”
“Always good to have an extra.” She swapped out the empty SD card for the full one in the case and started skimming through pictures.
“Will your camera even work in low light?”
She didn’t bother to dignify that with a reply. Wouldn’t he be surprised if she’d caught their mystery smoker loitering outside of the Columbia FBI office?
“Don’t worry about my equipment,” she said, clicking past a series of shots of deer. “Do you have something in mind for us today as the celebratory couple?”
“We could do a museum.”
“It’s an option.” But it didn’t sound all that romantic to her.
“Whatever we choose, we have to be convincing about being engaged.”
“You keep saying that.” It worried her how easily she thought she might fall into the role of doting fiancée. Despite a few of Dale’s annoying traits, she liked him. “Based on J.C.’s reaction, we’re doing just fine.”
Despite her grumpy reply, she’d recognized his sincerity when he’d offered to help explain this to her family when they were done. Gruff and aloof, he had good intentions, but she doubted he would say the right thing if she took him up on the assist. Whatever family situation he’d come from had probably been the polar opposite of her upbringing. Part of her wanted him to open up about it—as a friend—while another part of her feared the emotional cost of a deeper connection with him.
Because she genuinely liked him. She definitely liked kissing him.
No. No repeat performances allowed, she thought, forcing her attention back to the slide show on her camera before the memory could distract her again.
He would probably toss this case out the window and run away screaming if she admitted her feelings out loud. He didn’t act like a typical commitment-phobe, and she’d met her share. No, he acted like a man who’d been burned. Badly.
Life hadn’t been a walk in the park for her either. Everyone thought they knew why, but the obvious reasons weren’t always the root cause of the problem. Losing her dad to cancer had been horrible, no question, but learning to move on and live without him had been the biggest struggle. Heart and soul, she’d been all too willing to linger in that frozen emotional wasteland of grief.
“Heather?”
Pulled out of her reverie and back to the present, she noticed they were nearly to the city. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked what you were looking for.”
She hesitated, knowing the admission would reflect poorly on her, but she said it anyway. “I was in Columbia for a little while on Christmas Day.” And she’d known he would be at the office, because he’d said as much when he’d joined her family for dinner the night before.
“Why?”
“A few reasons.” Dogfighting and state parks were the top two on the list. Right after Dale himself.
“You came to see me.”
“Yes. And I left when the building was evacuated.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to approach you on the street and the excuses I’d given my family about being late wouldn’t hold up long enough to see how the evacuation sorted out.”
“I left during that mess anyway.”
“I noticed.”
“There was a… Nevermind.” He slid a look her way as he took the exit ramp. “Why does you noticing my departure scare me more than a little?”
She shrugged as she scrolled through the pictures on her small camera screen. “No idea. You have something against stalkers?”
“Not funny.” He pointed to the camera in her lap. “You took pictures that day.”
“Yes I did.”
“Do I want to know why?”
“Probably not,” she said on a short chuckle. Then her breath caught as she found a series of pictures that might be helpful. “I didn’t have any criminal intentions.”
“And yet you tracked me down in Hilton Head.”
“You weren’t there to hide.”
“I’m thinking I should request a restraining order.”
“That would only make tonight more challenging,” she said.
“Fair point.”
“Besides, you came to me yesterday. And Sheriff Cochran would make an excellent character witness.”
“For me,” he said with a rusty laugh.
She couldn’t believe he was teasing her. This lighter side of him was actually good company. “Seriously, though. I may have a candid of your smoker.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s worth taking a closer look.”
“We can make that happen.” He slowed down as he entered his neighborhood and turned into the drive. “We are being watched,” he said as he pulled into the garage. “The house is probably bugged by now.”
She slumped into the seat, her mood plummeting from the high of finding the smoker to the low of being out-maneuvered. “I played right into their plans when I insisted on going to Haleswood.”
“We’ll talk about it later.” He put his index finger to his lips. “Understand?”
She nodded.
He pressed a few buttons on his phone. “Reviewing the security system activity. Doors were opened, but no one crossed in front of the one camera I have.”
“You didn’t arm it when we left?”
“No.”
“On purpose?” What was he thinking? And when did he plan on explaining his thought process to her?
He nodded once. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She figured the phrase applied to several decisions he’d made recently. She ran her thumb around the band of the engagement ring. “You’re hoping someone managed to incriminate themselves.”
“It would be a bonus.”
She shivered. If Lester’s crew was bold enough to walk through an FBI agent’s house, it surely drastically reduced their chances for success tonight. “They must know we’re closing in on them.” Of course they knew that. They’d attacked the shelter, murdered Terry. Somehow, they knew everything. She felt like a mouse pinned in a trap. Panic clawed at her throat and the idea of more injured and dead dogs made her queasy. “What if they bugged the car while we were at the shelter?”
“Doubtful.”
She lacked his confidence. At the shelter, people had been coming and going, in various uniforms from several agencies. From her perspective it seemed likely that someone could have planted a GPS tracking device on the car at the very least. “Explain.”
“It’s more likely they wanted something from the house.”
Her frustration mounted. “It seems excessive to invade the shelter, traumatize dogs, and kill a man just to get a look at something inside your house.”
“Excessive is Lester’s MO. Besides if they’d tagged the car, they could have easily intercepted us at the hunting lodge or on the highway. Instead, someone is parked outside waiting for—”
“Us,” she finished with him. “Great. What’s the plan now?”
“Let’s go in, get the overnight bags and head for the airport.”
“With the system armed or open?”
“I just reset the doors to chime on my phone.”
“You think they’ll attack us here,” she whispered. The garage was dim and the potential danger taunted her from every shadow.
“I think it’s possible, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because crime bosses like the money and the power that comes with their carefully constructed illusion of legitimacy.” His warm palm rubbed soft circles on her shoulder. “If something happens, just let me handle it.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.
Of course he would try. And while she believed he could do just that, she wasn’t helpless. Silently, she vowed to return the favor. She’d gotten him into this after all and the small missteps were starting to add up for both of them.
“Leave your other things here.”
“All right.” She turned off the camera and tucked it into the bag, zipping it shut. She had no idea what good it would do them or the case to go to the airport.
“Follow my lead.” He pointed to his ear and his eye.
She nodded, afraid to say anything that would bring more risk down on them.
He got out of the car, pocketed the key and came around to open her door. He’d drawn his gun and offered his other hand to her. She put her hand in his warm palm and willed her knees to stop knocking as they entered his house through the mud room.
“I think our best bet is to just go out to the airport and see what they can do,” he said, holding the gun low behind his back.
She tried to smile as she played along. “It will cost a fortune to change the ticket last minute like this.”
“Maybe.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But you’re worth it.”
Her heart did a silly spin in her chest. This was an act. A performance. She needed to do her part. “You make me feel worth it,” she murmured, her fingers laced with his, tension resonating between them as they walked toward the bedroom to maintain the pretense.
She went through a mental checklist, wondering if Lester’s men found it odd that there wasn’t a single feminine item outside of her overnight bag.
The blow to her back came out of nowhere, with no more warning than a soft creak of a floorboard behind them. She’d turned at the sound, her curiosity saving her from taking a solid hit to the kidneys. But the glancing blow tossed her into Dale and she hit the floor hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. Her ribs ached, but without air she couldn’t even cry out when she saw Dale’s gun sliding across the carpet.
“Stay down,” Dale snapped.
As if she had an option. She scooted toward the shelter of the wall, watching in horror as Dale danced back, dodging the wild swing of a crowbar. The tool was an ugly weapon in the hands of a man with a nasty, twisted sneer on his face.
“You wanna play?” Sneer made slow, looping circles with the long piece of iron. “That works for me. I didn’t expect to have any fun on this job.”
“Fun is overrated,” Dale said. “Heather, get the gun in the nightstand.”
Sneer’s laugh was as dark and horrid as the black iron in his hand. “This gun?”
Dale swore and Heather agreed with him.
“Go ahead and take your shot, girl.” Sneer tossed it at Heather and her hope of being underestimated evaporated when she saw he’d emptied the clip and cleared the chamber.
She aimed it at Sneer anyway, pretending she didn’t know any better.
The thug ignored Dale, laughing at her. “Oh, yeah. You’re gonna be all kinds of fun.”
She refused to panic. Dale didn’t have a weapon of his own and Sneer’s crow bar would break bone with every strike. But he was former Special Forces, she reminded herself. He’d been trained by the Army and the FBI.
And he had her for back up.
Too stubborn to give in, she tried to distract the intruder. “Who sent you?” Dale might not understand her, but she wasn’t some weak civilian he had to protect.
Sneer looked her way, his gaze darting between Dale and Heather. “Me and you will talk later.”
The room that had seemed so expansive last night felt tiny and cramped now. Sneer was obviously enjoying his advantage. Heather refused to show the fright his words caused, refused to let his intimidation take root. As the baby of the family, she’d been fighting dirty and taunting older siblings all her life.
“You and me,” she corrected his grammar just as he raised the crowbar and cut off the angle, advancing on Dale again. It was a lame distraction, but it proved to be enough. Sneer hesitated and Dale rushed forward, putting his shoulder into the man’s ribcage and driving him into the tall oak dresser. The oak didn’t give. Sneer’s arms and midsection curled around Dale, but he couldn’t get an angle to make the crowbar effective.
Dale slammed Sneer between his body and the dresser twice more until the crowbar fell to the floor.
Heather dropped the useless gun and snatched up the crowbar. When Sneer managed to toss Dale away, she took a home-run swing at Sneer’s knees.
The man howled in pain. She hit him again and was ready to strike Sneer’s ribs when Dale stopped her.
“Ease up, Heather. I’ve got him covered.”
She turned, awed by the view. Dale stood tall, weight balanced equally on his feet, gun at the ready. “Call the FBI office.”
“H-he was waiting f-for us,” she stammered.
“Looks like it.”
On the floor, Sneer groaned and cried, managing to call her foul names in between. “Can I kick him?”
“Lightly.”
She kicked him in the gut, forcing the air out of Sneer’s lungs. They could debate the accurate definition of “lightly” when they were out of here. Sneer clearly had plans to kill or maim Dale and take her as a bonus. The momentary quiet was helpful as she reported the intruder in Special Agent Nichols’s home.
“They’re on their way,” she said as she ended the call.
“Good. Are you hurt?”
“Nothing permanent.” She’d be sore, but that wasn’t relevant and she didn’t want to give Sneer an ounce of satisfaction.
Dale nodded, as if understanding her unspoken meaning. “Check my nightstand for handcuffs.”
She arched her eyebrows, feigning shock. “Mr. FBI has a kinky side,” she teased.
“You know that better than anyone,” he replied, his gaze locked on Sneer.
Oh, right. They were supposed to be engaged. In fact, they were supposed to be out of town. “Shouldn’t you question him?”
“He won’t answer me anyway.” Dale’s shoulder hitched in a careless shrug. “He’s likely more afraid of what his boss would do if he talked. Besides, I’m off the clock.”
It didn’t look that way to her. He embodied everything strong, capable, and absolutely on duty. She wondered if he realized he wasn’t favoring his leg as he moved around, keeping Sneer in his sight while Heather approached their attacker.
“On your stomach,” Dale ordered. “Hands behind your head.”
Giving in, Sneer complied.
With a complete lack of finesse, Heather wrenched the intruder’s hands behind his back.
“Impressive,” Dale said, watching her loop the cuffs through Sneer’s belt.
“Something I picked up along the way.” She got to her feet, leaving Sneer face down on the floor. “What now?”
“Go ahead and pack. We’re leaving town just as soon as possible. This afternoon, in fact.”
That did surprise her. Almost as much as the proposal. “Are you sure, I mean it’s a crime scene now. We can celebrate another weekend.”
“Pack,” he urged, frowning at her.
She crossed the room to the overnight bag Dale had provided, wondering what the frown was about. She’d been playing the role of supportive fiancée correctly and he could hardly blame her for helping out when it had worked so well. Those concerns evaporated as she realized her bag had been rifled, but nothing was missing. She zipped it shut and set it on the edge of the bed.
“Sweetheart,” she stepped closer to his side and watched Sneer with him. “Postponing really is okay. I know your career comes first.”
He snorted. “Hard to avoid the career when it comes right into our home.”
Our home? Her mouth went dry at the very idea of making a home with this man. It was outrageous. Impossible. It had the potential to be a dream come true.
Some part of her sighed quietly. Loving someone and creating a home was exactly what she wanted. Someday. But not today. As much as she liked him, she wasn’t sure Dale was the man who could give it to her. He couldn’t wrap his head around Happy Thought theory and that was a deal-breaker.
Not that they were at the point of making any real deals here.
She was saved from having to come up with a reply when sirens sounded in the street and loud voices announced their presence as FBI agents at the front door.
“Back here,” Dale called out, keeping his weapon trained on Sneer. “Intruder is down.”
Heather wondered if everyone from the local office had shown up as three men and two women, all in subdued business suits, filed into the bedroom. Somehow this was far more intimidating than Sneer wielding a crowbar.
“Does anyone need medical attention?” The woman who’d voiced the question had a phone at her ear and looked from Sneer to Heather and Dale in turn.
“Only him,” Dale said.
A man with thick salt and pepper hair and sharp blue eyes snapped orders to the others and waited while Sneer was hauled away before turning to Dale. “What happened?”
Dale lowered his gun only after Sneer was out of sight. “Heather Morris, my boss, Special Agent in Charge Bingham,” Dale said. “Sir, this is my fiancée.”
She smiled, imagining a heart full of happiness would trump a home invasion as Agent Bingham did a double take. He recovered quickly, reaching to shake Heather’s hand. “A pleasure. Although I wish it could be under better circumstances.”
“Likewise,” Heather replied.
“I thought you were out of town this weekend, Nichols.”
“That was the plan, sir.”
“To expedite matters, Miss Morris, you can give your statement to—”
“I’d rather she stay with me, sir.”
Bingham arched an eyebrow. “You know that’s not how it’s done. If you give individual statements we’ll get you out of here faster. I don’t want to delay your plans.”
“Call me clingy,” Dale said, pulling Heather close to his side. “My fiancée was attacked and I’m not ready to let her out of my sight.”
Bingham took a deep breath and approved with a single dip of his chin. “Fine. Take me through it. You first, Miss Morris.”