Chapter 4 #2
It wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t fix that issue for her now. Tomorrow morning would have to be soon enough. After adding the socks to the cart, he loaded up on breakfast food, including coffee and creamer for Bryn, along with sandwich items and a couple of frozen pizzas for dinner.
The total wasn’t as bad as he expected, and soon they were back outside in the SUV.
The rental house was only a few miles away.
Upon reaching the property, he drove past, scanning the neighboring homes for anything unusual.
Despite being a Friday night in spring, the area appeared quiet.
Granted, at ten thirty at night, he assumed couples with small children were tucked in for the night. Elderly people too.
If there were teenagers in the area, they weren’t hanging around outside.
After driving around the block, he pulled into the driveway. There was an attached two-car garage, so he left the motor running as he shifted into park and pushed open his driver’s side door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Bryn nodded without saying a word. He headed up to the door and entered the key code to get inside.
From there, he walked through the house, flicking lights on as he went, until he reached the door leading to the attached garage.
He pressed the automatic opener, watching as the large garage door lumbered open.
A few minutes later, he pulled the SUV inside the garage and killed the engine.
Bryn moved slowly as she joined him. He grabbed their grocery items, then closed the garage door to hide the car from the street. After setting the groceries on the counter, he began putting things away, watching with concern as Bryn gingerly walked through the open-concept kitchen and living room.
“I’ll look at your feet in a moment.” He set the package of bandages he’d purchased off to the side. “Just sit and rest, okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked despondent as she sank into the plush living room chair. “This is a nice place.”
He’d barely noticed but now realized she was right. Rex had done good. He needed to call his boss, but he wanted to examine Bryn’s feet first.
He put the last of the groceries away, then filled a bowl with warm water. He found a washcloth and towel in the bathroom, then carried everything into the living room, setting them on the table beside her.
“Let’s take a look.” He knelt before her, carefully removing her shoes and socks.
“I can do that,” she protested.
“Let me.” He glanced up at her, searching her gaze for a moment. Then he winced when he saw the bloody blisters. “Wow. These must hurt like crazy.”
“They sting. Stupid shoes weren’t made for running,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry.” He wished he could have done something different to avoid the injuries. “Looks like you have two blisters on each foot. One on each big toe and another along the back of your heels.”
“I see that.” She sighed. “I guess it could be worse.”
Remembering Lori’s dead body, he had to admit that was true. Bloody blisters were better than being shot in the chest. Yet he still didn’t like seeing her hurt. Especially over something that wasn’t her fault.
After washing the blood away, he wrapped the towel around her feet to dry them. When that was done, he applied antibiotic ointment to her blisters before carefully bandaging them. He wished now that he’d have purchased two boxes of bandages, but he hadn’t realized she had multiple blisters.
“Let me get the new socks.” He rose and carried the blood-tinged water to the sink. He brought the socks back, knelt at her side, and carefully slipped them on over the bandages.
“T-thank you.” Her voice hitched.
Alarmed, he looked up to see she was crying again. “Bryn, don’t. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” Her voice was a strangled whisper as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Micah couldn’t stand it, so he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms. To his surprise, she buried her face in his chest.
“It’s okay.” He stroked his hand down her back as her tears soaked his shirt. “I promise we’ll find a way to get through this.”
“Will we?” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I’ve been trying to have faith in God’s plan, but it’s not easy . . .”
He wasn’t convinced her suffering was part of God’s plan, but he didn’t want to say anything to make her even more upset.
He knew Grady McFarland and his new wife, Lauren, were believers.
His own past, being knocked around by his old man when he was drunk, then being left by his mother, wasn’t exactly conducive to attending church or believing in God.
“All we can do is pray that we’ll uncover the truth. Very soon.” He wondered if he should call Grady to get a quick tutorial in faith. “Please try to hang in there. The most important thing is that we’re safe.”
“Okay.” Her voice hitched again, but then she sniffled loudly. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.” He held her for another long moment, until she lifted her head and looked up at him. He stared into her brown eyes, noting there was a hint of gold that rimmed her pupils. The urge to lean in and kiss her was strong. Micah did his best to ignore it.
Bryn didn’t need him to make a move on her. Not at a time like this.
“I appreciate your help,” she murmured. “I would probably be dead by now if not for you.”
“You’re stronger than you think.” He managed a smile. “Let’s find some tissues.”
Before he could stand, she brushed a chaste kiss against his cheek. He was humbled by her gesture, then reminded himself that she probably viewed him as her older brother. Tommy wasn’t here, so Micah was stepping into his shoes.
Which meant kissing was off the table. Now and forever.
Clearing his throat, he pushed himself to his feet and carried the bandages, washcloth, and towel to the bathroom. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could swear the skin on his cheek still tingled from her kiss.
Knock it off, he silently chided himself. Bryn needed a helping hand. A shoulder to cry on. A strong arm to lean on. That’s all.
The fact that he cared about her more than he should was his problem. Not hers. He would rather cut off his fingers than make her feel uncomfortable.
Time to focus on the case. He fished out his phone and called Rex. His boss didn’t answer, so he left a quick message. “Hey, I know it’s late but call me if you can. There’s new information you need to hear.”
“Was that Rex?” Bryn padded into the kitchen. She wasn’t limping anymore, which was a relief. As long as they didn’t have to go on the run again anytime soon, her blisters should heal in a few days.
“Yeah. I left him a message.” He pulled out a kitchen chair. “Please sit. Better yet, find the master suite. You should get some rest, Bryn.”
“Not sure I’ll be able to sleep.” She sank into the chair. “What are you going to do?”
He hesitated, then gestured to the door leading to the garage.
“I have a laptop in my car.” Without waiting for her to respond, he headed out to grab the device.
He returned, setting it on the kitchen table.
“If you have a minute, I’d like you to show me pictures of Damien and Richard, the owners of the company. ”
“Sure, but how does that help?”
“It might not, but I’d like to know who we’re dealing with.” He opened the laptop and logged in. Then he used a common search engine to type in the name Damien Rochester and Digital Creative Express.
“That’s him,” Bryn said, when a picture bloomed on the screen. The smiling face of a dark-haired man wearing an expensive suit stared back at him. The guy’s dark hair was artfully styled, a far cry from Micah’s military cut.
Not that he cared if Bryn found this guy attractive. Okay, he did care, but that wasn’t important right now.
“If you go to the company website, you’ll see Richard’s photograph there too.” Bryn’s comment shook him from his thoughts.
“Got it.” He clicked on the link. Both men’s photographs were on the same page, Freeman’s was listed first, with Damien’s underneath. Richard also had dark hair and wore glasses, giving him a more studious look. “Why is he listed first? Did Richard own more of the company than Damien?”
“I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “They didn’t talk much about that. Richard handled more of the marketing and branding side of things. Damien used to work on those accounts, too, but recently branched off into doing public relations stuff.”
He glanced at her. “Do any of Damien’s accounts seem suspicious? Maybe Damien got caught up in something he shouldn’t have.”
“It’s public relations, not government secrets.” She waved a hand at the screen. “Most of the stuff they do is boring.”
“You need to think about the most recent accounts,” he pressed. “Maybe what looks boring on the outside isn’t routine at all.”
“I’ll try.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, but before she could say anything, his phone rang.
“This is Rex.” He picked up the device. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Yeah, I’ve been on the phone with the feds and the Madison police.” Rex got straight to the point. “Are you with Bryn?”
“Yes, she’s sitting beside me.” A niggle of concern snaked down his spine. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, you could say that. I knew about the fire before I listened to your message. Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Rex asked. “Any other information you’ve stumbled across?”
“No, why? What’s going on? Should I put this call on speaker so Bryn can hear?”
Rex sighed. “Sure. It’s not good, though, so be prepared.”
He wasn’t sure how things could possibly get worse, but he trusted his boss. He’d have rather had this conversation in private, but that wasn’t fair to Bryn.
Not that any of this was fair to Bryn.
“You’re on speaker, Rex. Tell us what’s going on.”
“Okay. The fire at Bryn’s house wasn’t an accident. It’s officially been ruled as arson.”
That much he’d already anticipated, so he relaxed. “Yeah, we expected that. Any idea when the fire was started?”
“They estimate it burned for thirty to forty minutes before the call came in,” Rex said. “They’re still working on the exact timeline. But the biggest problem is that the house wasn’t empty at the time of the blaze.”
Color leeched from Bryn’s face, and Micah was glad she was sitting down. “What do you mean? Bryn lives alone.”
“Yeah, well, they found a deceased adult male, approximately six feet tall and one-eighty pounds lying on the floor in the main bedroom.”
Bryn gasped and put a hand over her mouth. He knew what she was thinking. “Any idea on the victim?”
“No ID yet, the face is too badly burned, and there was no wallet found at the scene. The fire didn’t kill him, though. He died of a gunshot wound to the back of his head.”
“Gunshot wound?” He thought about the gunfire that sent Bryn running. “Not self inflicted?”
“Nope. The entry wound is low on the back of the skull. The death is being investigated as a homicide. There’s no ID on the body yet, they’ll send the DNA for testing, but they found a set of gold cufflinks at the scene engraved with the initials DR.”
Bryn’s stricken expression confirmed his fears. The cuff links belonged to Damien Rochester.