Chapter Sixteen
Cilla was inside resting under Rosa’s eagle eye.
Cal had called her—and backup—on his way here, and she’d arrived shortly after.
After examining the wound, Rosa had bullied Cilla into the car and taken her to the hospital.
Alex had wanted to object, but it wasn’t his place to tend to her.
She wasn’t his wife or girlfriend. Those words were paltry in comparison to the emotions beating at him.
Cilla was…everything.
He’d paced like a caged animal until the women had returned.
Considering his reason for being in Redemption in the first place, it was better Rosa had stepped in to help.
It was impossible to know what would be viewed as interference, and he was already being punished for getting involved with Cilla without adding to his transgressions.
When he’d heard her scream, his only thought had been to get to her. He’d raced down the stairs at breakneck speed. His assignment, his future—none of it had even registered in his brain.
The situation was becoming impossible. He was working blind without guidelines or a time limit. How much longer could this continue before he made a fatal error, interfered in some way that would land him in exile…or worse?
If his father didn’t want him to become involved with Cilla, he shouldn’t have forced him to stay in such close proximity. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the old man wanted him to fail.
Cal and an on-duty officer had examined the area and taped it off, but there hadn’t been much they could do until daylight without the risk of destroying evidence.
Both had their doubts it was a crime, but not Alex.
Fortunately, the sky had finally lightened enough for them to begin their investigation.
By then Chief Johnson had arrived and sent the on-duty officer home.
“You sure about the stairs?” It was the third time the chief had asked him. Alex didn’t take offense.
“Positive. Some of the treads were loose. I nailed them down yesterday afternoon and tested each one. They were sound. I’m a hell of a lot heavier than Cilla. If anyone was going to fall through them, it should have been me.”
With gloves on, Cal removed the broken pieces of the step in question.
He’d already photographed the entire area from every angle and removed the dead squirrel from the walkway.
The animal had looked as though it had been mauled by a larger predator.
Coincidence or a lure to get Cilla to walk on the stairs?
There was no way to tell. Alex couldn’t fault the small-town police department’s actions. They were taking this seriously.
Holding both pieces of wood, Cal examined them closely. “It was cut. Not all the way through, but enough that too much weight would cause it to break.”
Alex’s gut clenched. He’d been afraid of that.
“Did you hear anything?” the chief asked.
He shook his head. “My room is upstairs.” He pointed to the far end of the house.
Not that he’d been asleep. He’d been too wound up wondering if Cilla was still awake.
Even without his preternatural hearing, he should have heard something.
That he hadn’t weighed on him. There was no telling if he’d missed it or if the sound had been blocked on purpose to keep him from intervening.
He would have investigated any noise. It would have been he who checked outside and likely gone through the step, not Cilla.
Fate was a fickle bitch. Certain events had to occur for others to unfold as they should.
“You worked on them yesterday, you said.” Hands on his hips, Chief Johnson studied him.
The implication was a fist to the gut. Alex stiffened, but forced himself to remain calm. “What exactly are you implying?”
“Not a thing. Interesting timing is all. You and your brother sure have an uncanny way of being in the middle of trouble.”
“Are we done?” He was sick of standing around outside and didn’t like the turn in the conversation. He should have expected the chief’s suspicions. It was only natural. But he’d been too worried about Cilla to consider he’d be a prime suspect.
Chief Johnson removed his hat, scratched his head, and popped his hat back on, all while staring at Alex. “Yeah, we’re done.”
After giving both men a nod, he went inside and headed for the kitchen. He needed coffee, but what he really needed was to see Cilla. As he’d hoped, she was seated on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Rosa was busy taking a pan out of the oven. All eyes turned to him.
“Well?” Cilla demanded. “What’s going on?”
To give himself time to get a handle on his frustration, he poured himself a coffee. “You should speak with the chief.”
“Then I will.” She spun around and was partway off the stool before he caught her around the waist and settled her back on it. She slapped at his hand. “Let go of me. I cut my leg. I’m not an invalid, although you’d never know it the way you two are acting. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
“You’re right.” He sat beside her and swiveled the stool around to face her. “The board was partially cut.” And contrary to what the chief might think, Alex hadn’t had a thing to do with it.
She nodded, as if he’d confirmed what she’d suspected. “Because of the work you did yesterday, we’re certain it’s sabotage. Otherwise, I’d have written it off as an accident. We also have a time frame for when it was done.”
Chief Johnson and Cal joined them, having caught most of what she’d said. It was the best thing to an alibi Alex could get, and both men knew it. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be keeping an eye on him.
“How you doing, Cilla?” the chief asked.
Alex gave her credit for not rolling her eyes at being asked the question yet again.
“It’s a bad cut but not serious. It had almost stopped bleeding by the time Rosa got me to the hospital.
It didn’t need stitches. I didn’t twist my ankle or break anything.
I appreciate you all coming out here last night. ”
“I’m only a phone call away.” Cal brushed a kiss over the top of Cilla’s head before rounding the kitchen island to give his sister a hug. “What smells so good?”
The only thing keeping Alex from slamming his fist into Cal’s face was the brotherly nature of the affectionate caress, and the fact he’d come as soon as Cilla had called. Alex wanted to be the one to kiss and comfort her, but he didn’t have the right.
Bone-tired and frustrated to the depths of his soul, he gulped his coffee.
His only course of action was to do nothing.
He wanted to pound his fists into the wall until they were bloody.
He hated the path he was on. Like a trapped beast, he wanted to fight, but short of signing the warrant for his own exile, possibly even death, there were no options.
Pain wrapped around his skull, adding to the fatigue dragging at him. Being human—or the next best thing—sucked. It gave him an entirely new respect for them. Considering their limitations, what they accomplished and how fearlessly they lived was truly incredible.
“You’re always thinking about your stomach,” Rosa teased her brother.
“She made blueberry scones,” Cilla interjected. “Can I offer you one and some coffee, Chief?”
“Thanks, but I need to get to the station. You coming?” he asked Cal.
“I’ll be right behind you. Soon as I get a scone.”
“I’ll wrap some up for you. I’ll add one for you, Chief. Make sure my brother gives it to you.” Rosa got busy.
Chief Johnson squeezed Cilla’s shoulder. “You watch out for yourself. There’s no way to know who’s responsible for this. All we have is speculation.” He gave Alex a nod and a warning stare. “Blackwell.” Then he was gone.
“You should go home, Rosa.” Cilla rose and slowly walked to stand beside her friend. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You think I’m afraid?” Crossing her arms, Rosa glared.
“I am.” Those two quiet words gutted Alex, and Cilla wasn’t done. “If you or anyone”—she glanced in his direction—“were hurt because of my issues, I couldn’t live with myself.”
“We don’t know who’s responsible,” Rosa insisted.
Cilla shook her head. “There are only two likely suspects—Richard or Christopher. It has to be connected to my refusal to sell. There’s no other logical explanation.”
The police might have their doubts, but not her. There’d been no hint that she thought for one second he had anything to do with the sabotage. Her belief in him made him hate what he was going to allow to happen to her all the more. She deserved better.
He’d seen her sad and mad and frightened, but he’d never seen Cilla defeated. A huge fist squeezed his heart, threatening to crush it. Under normal circumstances, he could end all of this with a single phone call.
Blackwell Enterprises was huge enough to swallow any competitor whole.
Alex rarely got involved in the real estate development side of the business beyond his garages, but he was a full partner.
One call and not a single developer would dare touch Ivy House or any land in Redemption.
Hell, he could buy the property and force the men to have to deal with him.
Except in his current situation, he was cut off from his money and the powerful reach of Blackwell Enterprises.
And even if he had access to both, it was pointless.
No matter what financial moves he made, he couldn’t stop Cilla’s death.
Only the Fates could change a person’s destiny, and it was done so rarely it was the stuff of legends when it happened.
An ordinary human woman like Cilla meant nothing to them.
They wouldn’t view her as someone special and precious, as he did.
There was so much he wanted to say, but he forced himself to stay out of the conversation. Observe and reap—those were his mandates.
“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me, Rosa.” Cilla wrapped her arms around her friend. “You’re my sister. I have to protect you.”