Chapter Seven
Gracie hadn’t stopped shaking since she’d hung up the phone. How had Jeremy gotten her number? It was under her new name, which he shouldn’t have known, and it also was unpublished and unlisted. She’d made sure her carrier knew it wasn’t to be posted anywhere it could be accessed by the public. It was a small measure, but it was the best she could do to keep from being found.
She’d disconnected the call the second she’d heard his voice and fought back the nausea pooling in her stomach. The shakes had given way to pacing, back and forth across her tiny living room and kitchen. Her hands trembled to the point she’d dropped her cell phone twice since she gotten the call. Shoving her phone into her jeans pocket, she continued her pacing across her small apartment.
Somehow, some way, he’d found her. After Alvarez’s call to Rafe earlier that morning, she knew Jeremy was being considered for parole, but to hear his voice, feel the panic roiling deep inside? The need to run, as far and as fast as she could to get away from, him boiled up within her. She took an instinctive step toward her bedroom, ready to grab her go-bag, which she kept under her bed. The one she kept packed and ready in case she needed to leave in an instant. Because that’s what she wanted to do. Run and never look back.
“No,” she forced her feet to keep from taking another step. “Stop being an idiot. No more running. No more hiding. He’s still in prison, he can’t hurt me. There’s no reason to panic. Yet.” She added the last word at an almost whisper.
Remembering her promise to the ladies before they left, she flung herself on the sofa, leaning all the way back until her head rested against its pillowy softness, rubbing the heels of her hands against her burning eyes. She’d sworn to call the Boudreaus if Jeremy or someone who worked with him contacted her, though she’d never considered what she’d do if Jeremy contacted her himself. At the moment, she wanted to gut him like a fresh-caught fish.
Now that she’d had a few moments to calm down, her brain processed the fact he was still in prison. He couldn’t show up on her doorstep, couldn’t intimidate her the way he used to, or control her. She was free of his manipulation and his machinations. Drawing in a ragged breath, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed. It was answered on the first ring.
“Rafe, it’s Gracie.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jeremy. He—he called me.”
“When? Never mind that. What did he want?”
She laughed softly. “I don’t know. I never gave him the chance to say. As soon as I heard his voice, I hung up.”
Rafe cursed softly, and Gracie’s eyes widened at some of the colorful words coming from her usually soft-spoken friend. He definitely had an extensive and fairly pithy vocabulary. Bet he didn’t use that language around his momma. “How did he get your number?”
“That’s what I want to know. Other than my parents and a few people like Joaquim Alvarez and the San Antonio district attorney, no one knows about the name change or where I live. Well, except you and Chance.”
“He didn’t get it from Alvarez, which means we either have a leak in the DAs office or somebody sweet talked your parents into giving them your number.”
She shook her head and then foolishly realized he couldn’t see her. “They’d never tell anybody. They are far too aware of the power of the Brewster family. Their political clout in San Antonio would make my parents’ lives a living nightmare.”
“Okay. I want you to hold tight. I’m on my way.”
“Wait, no. There’s no reason to come here. It was just a phone call. I got spooked, but the ladies made me promise to call you, so here’s me calling you.”
“Let me decide whether I need to come there or not. Wait…yep, I’m on my way.”
“You realize there’s nothing you can do from here that you can’t do from wherever you’re at. Tracing the call will simply tell you it came from the prison, probably from a burner. I’m sure Jeremy had somebody smuggle one in so he could talk with his parents.”
And me, she thought, though she didn’t add that little tidbit.
“Why, Miss Medeiros, are you trying to tell me how to do my job?” She could hear the teasing note in his voice, knew he was trying to ease her worries, bring a little humor into the situation to lighten any anxiety. Which actually helped, as she felt the muscles in her shoulders begin to unclench?
“Alright. I’ll be here.”
“See you in about an hour.” Without another word, Rafe disconnected the call. Gracie realized if he was an hour away, he was probably at the Big House, which made her feel even guiltier, pulling him away from time with his family.
Yet, in the tiny recesses of her heart, she was glad he was coming, because she was scared this time Jeremy might finish what he’d started.
Fulfil his promise to kill her.
Rafe slid thecell phone into his pocket, and looked at his parents. Simply from reading his posture, Nick knew something was wrong. He had already apprised Rafe and his parents about his conversation with Calvin, and the depressing lack of progress being made in finding the shooter. It felt like he was spinning his wheels, accomplishing nothing here in Shiloh Springs. He was sorely tempted to head back to Melbourne. Yet something, some sixth sense, told him he needed to stay put. Through the years, he’d learned to listen to his gut. His instincts had saved his bacon more than once out in the field.
“I’ve got to head back into town. Thanks for the grub, Momma.”
“I’m going with you.” Nick stood, daring Rafe to say no. Rafe stared at him for a second before nodding.
“Sure, we can talk along the way.”
Nick gave Ms. Patti a quick kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to Douglas, then followed Rafe out the front door and onto the porch. Not waiting to see if he followed, Rafe bounded down the steps, headed toward his truck. He didn’t have the county-provided cruiser he drove when on duty, but Rafe had told him he had the morning off, which was why they’d met up at the Big House, figuring it would be easier to update everyone at one time.
Climbing into the cab of the pickup, he waited long enough for Rafe to start the engine and pull onto the driveway before demanding answers.
“What’s happened to Gracie?”
Rafe turned his head and stared at him for a split second before focusing his glare through the windshield, hands wrapped around the steering wheel tight.
“She got a call from her ex, Jeremy Brewster.”
“The one who’s in prison?” Rafe nodded in response to Nick’s question. “I figured from your conversation with her earlier at her shop she had no contact with him. That she’d assumed a new identity to get away from him.”
“True. Chance has got feelers out trying to figure out how Brewster managed to get a shot at parole. Shouldn’t be happening this soon into his incarceration. Another issue is how he managed to find her. Gracie’s lived in Shiloh Springs almost two years. Upstanding citizen ever since she moved her. Runs her own business. Attends church. Has made friends.”
There was an undercurrent of something Rafe wasn’t saying, and it made Nick twitchy. Not that it was any of his business, per se, except he couldn’t seem to keep the pretty brunette out of his head. Guess he’d have to make it his business.
“Why do I get the feeling she wasn’t so squeaky clean before her arrival in Shiloh Springs?”
“She has a…colorful past. That’s her story to tell, if she wants you to know. Why this sudden interest in Gracie?”
“I don’t know. There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, but…” Nick’s voice trailed off. How do you tell somebody you haven’t seen in decades you’re obsessed with a woman he’s sworn to protect? Not that he’d harm a hair on Gracie’s head. Quite the opposite. If anybody tried hurting her—well, he might not be responsible for his quick temper.
“I knew it,” Rafe gloated. “I knew you liked her. Tessa spotted it too. Every time you’ve been within ten feet of her, you can’t take your eyes off her. Admit it, man, she’s got you spinning like a top.”
“Shut up. Wait, don’t stop talking. Tell me about this character, Brewster. What’s his deal?”
Rafe sighed. “Jeremy Brewster. Hails from a very influential family in San Antonio and Houston. Lots of old money there. Jeremy did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and the cops in San Antonio looked the other way. Rumors were he got in deep with one of the local gangs. Vicious, ugly rumors, though my guess is there’s a lot of truth to most of them. From what I’ve been able to dig up, sounds right up Brewster’s alley.”
“So how’d somebody like that get his hooks into Gracie? From what little I’ve seen, she seems sweet. A tough exterior, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who’d hang out with hoodlums.”
“Hoodlums? I haven’t heard anybody refer to street level thugs as hoodlums in forever.” Rafe chuckled. “Gracie has done everything to turn her life around. She made mistakes, but she was young. Just turned eighteen when she got involved with Brewster. Far too young and innocent to be involved with somebody who…like I said, it’s her story to tell. I will say that all Brewster’s mommy and daddy’s money and influence weren’t quite enough to keep their baby boy out of Huntsville. He got fifteen years for attempted murder, extortion, and arson. He’s served four years so far. How he’s up for parole now is anyone’s guess, but I suspect his parents have a lot to do with it.”
“Who’d he go after?”
“Deputy district attorney prosecuting his case. Pretty much an open and shut case, with all the evidence neatly tied up with a bow. He used a pretty girl to lure him into an ambush after leaving a restaurant. Three guesses who the pretty girl was.”
“Gracie.” There was an echoing finality in his tone. If she was a criminal—no, he wasn’t going there. She was well liked, well respected in Shiloh Springs and by the Boudreaus. If Ms. Patti and Douglas, not to mention the town’s sheriff, vouched for her, there had to be a heck of a lot more to the story.
He was a patient man. Waiting had become a way of life for him, something he’d learned working undercover for Calvin and the Australians. Patience paid dividends, and he would let her have her space. For now.
The rest of the drive from the Big House to Gracie’s apartment flew by, since Rafe sped down the lonely stretch of blacktop back to Shiloh Springs. Seeing that he exceeded the speed limit by twenty miles per hour, though he didn’t run lights and sirens, spoke volumes to Nick. Rafe was more worried than he was willing to admit.
When Rafe pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building not far from downtown, he looked around. It wasn’t a new or fancy place. Resembling a refurbished older motel, it had three stories with outside staircases leading to each floor. It looked well taken care of, freshly painted with a crisp white with blue accents. Not exactly the kind of place an attractive single woman should be living, but Gracie was a smart, independent woman who could chose wherever she wanted to live.
He matched Rafe stride for stride up the stairs and down the right to a blue door with the number two eleven in silver-coated numbers. Rafe knocked, the motion brisk and hard enough that it couldn’t be missed. Two doors down a skinny man in a wife-beater shirt and gray sweatpants stuck his head stuck his head outside, spotted Nick and Rafe, and quickly retreated into his apartment, his movements fast and jerky.
The front door opened and Grace stood there, her face pale, eyes red. He balled his hands into fists to keep from pushing Rafe out of the way, and pulling Gracie into his arms. This had to stop. The woman was practically a stranger, somebody he’d barely spoken more than a handful of words to, and yet there was an irresistible pull between them. He found himself hoping that it wasn’t just him feeling the attraction, though she hadn’t shown any indication she was attracted to him.
“Come in, Rafe.” A small tentative smile graced her lips and she added, “Nick.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” Rafe stepped through the door and pulled his cowboy had off, holding it at his side.
“Not a whole lot. I overreacted. I was distracted and forgot to look at the caller ID. I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize or aren’t in my contact list. When I answered, it was Jeremy.”
“Mind if I see the phone?”
She walked over and lifted it from the coffee table in front of the sofa, though it was so small it barely classified as one. Probably would only hold two people at the same time. Dark brown in color, it didn’t reflect anything of her personality, which he pegged as vivid and bright. That’s how the décor of the coffee shop looked, and this seemed…unfinished. Temporary. He wondered if she considered this home, or was it a stopgap between Shiloh Springs and wherever she chose to run next. Because in his gut, he had the feeling she was about to hightail it out of town without a goodbye. He recognized the look, having seen in so many times over the years from the women he’d helped rescue. How sad was it that she reminded him of those victims? But from what he gathered, she had been a victim of a vicious brute. Maybe not physical, but sometimes the mental and emotional toll far outweighed the bodily injury.
“What did Brewster say?” Rafe scrolled through the phone and waited for Gracie’s answer.
“Not a whole lot. I knew it was him because he called me Caroline.” Her voice cracked at the end, when she mentioned the name.
“That’s your real name, the one you used before you changed your identity?”
She nodded. “That’s how I knew it was him. Nobody calls me that. Not anymore. Alvarez, the district attorney, and my parents are the only ones who have ever used that name since I left San Antonio.”
“Nobody else? You’re sure?”
“Positive. I had to cut all ties when I left. Alvarez told me it was the only way I couldn’t be traced, or at least it would be harder to find me. Because of Jeremy, I lost my friends, my family. I lost my scholarship to Texas Tech. Now, after everything, somehow he’s found me.”
Rafe grabbed her by the shoulders gently. “We checked. He’s still in Huntsville, so he’s not coming to get you. The number is probably a burner, but I’ll have my guys check. Chances are good it’s already been destroyed, but we might be able to find something.”
She shook her head again. “You won’t. Jeremy’s smart and his parents have money. I’d be willing to bet he’s got access to whatever he wants, even in prison. We both know smuggling illegal stuff into prison is a big business, and things like cell phones wouldn’t even warrant a second glance by most of the guards, especially if money changes hands. I guarantee Jeremy has access to Mommy’s money somehow. Being locked up won’t stop him. I…I don’t think anything will ever stop him.” Looking at Nick, her gaze captured his, and he watched her swallow before speaking, her eyes never breaking contact. “I won’t go back to being the person I was before. She was weak and broken. Caroline allowed a monster to control her, make her do things…I’m not her anymore. I’m stronger now. I’ve learned that when you have people who love you, support you, even when you don’t deserve it, it changes you inside. I’ve done horrible, unforgivable things, yet I’ve found forgiveness and peace here. I won’t allow anyone to take it away from me. No one.”
The phone in his pocket vibrated, and he wished whoever it was to perdition. He’d put the phone on silence when he’d been at the Boudreau ranch and forgot to turn the ringer back on. As much as he wanted to ignore it, with the threat of danger hanging over his head, he had to answer.
Pulling the phone free, he looked at the caller ID and a tinge of guilt swept him. It was Antonio.
Heading for the front door, he answered. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I talked to Momma and Dad. They said you might have a couple of leads. Can you talk?”
Standing outside Gracie’s apartment, he glanced at her large front window, covered with sheer curtains. While they obscured a direct view inside, he was still able to make out the silhouettes of her and Rafe standing inside her living room.
“Grant Calvin is checking out a couple persons of interest who might hold a grudge against my part in putting them away. I’m waiting to hear back, but one name has my gut telling me it’s him.”
“What’s his name?” Antonio’s calm tone gave nothing away, but Nick knew if he was in the other man’s shoes, he’d be chomping at the bit to find out who’d put his name at the top of the hit list.
“Simon Norville. Man has reason to hold a grudge against me. He ended up in a wheelchair, paralyzed during his arrest. He’s a bona fide computer expert, though he’s supposed to be locked down from using any electronics. Still, we both know with enough money, even in prison, you can get pretty much anything you want.”
“You feel this is the guy?”
“Intellectually, my brain says yes. He’s not the one who followed me from Melbourne, but he could have hired somebody to take me out.”
“What are the odds he hired someone from Australia to come to the States to carry out his orders? If he’s as good with a computer as you say, he’d have access to the Dark Web and could hire a seasoned professional to take you out.”
Nick rubbed a hand over his face and leaned against the wall by Gracie’s front door. He was getting bloody tired of watching his back every minute of every day, waiting for a sniper to take him out. Except he felt like Norville was playing a long game. Baiting him like a cat with a mouse, toying with him and watching him squirm. If it was only him, he’d set a trap using himself as bait to draw the killer out and take care of the problem. But Ms. Patti and Douglas were involved. Norville had seen to that when the hitman followed him onto Boudreau property. His wasn’t the only back he had to protect, and it was making him twitchy.
“Checked the scene where the shooter took the shot and hit you; it was clean as a whistle. Nothing to show anybody had been there. Not even a shoeprint in the dirt. We know the bullet was meant for me. I’m just sorry you got hit instead.”
“Stop beating yourself up over it. I’m fine. Clean bill of health from the surgeon. I’ll get to go back to work. Officially, I can’t investigate this, because I’m directly involved, but I’ve got my boss, Derrick Williamson, unofficially looking into a couple of mercenaries who came onto the radar, flying into Texas.”
Nick straightened as the front door to Gracie’s apartment opened. “Send me those names, I’ll see if I recognize anybody. I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”
Rafe stepped outside. “You call me immediately if you hear from Brewster again, Gracie. And I’ll let you know what I find out about the phone. Sure you won’t let me have somebody posted outside, keeping an eye on the place?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rafe. I’ll be fine. Like you said, Jeremy is still in Huntsville. The warden is going to order extra surveillance on him. His parole hearing isn’t for a couple more weeks. I’ll call you, I promise, if he tries to get in touch again.”
Nick watched Rafe pull Gracie into a quick hug. “Lock up behind us.”
“Yes, sir, Sheriff Boudreau.” Her cheeky grin had the corners of Nick’s mouth ticking upward. At least she wasn’t trembling and scared, like she’d been when they got there.
And he’d make sure that nobody bothered her tonight. Rafe might not be able to put somebody outside her apartment, but there was nothing stopping him from keeping a friendly eye out, now was there?