Chapter 20
TWENTY
Sometimes, I forgot how tall Lock really was. Though Roy Dennison had three inches on him, Lock managed to take up the space between them.
“You don’t have cameras here? It isn’t just Mina. Every judge in the county parks here.”
It felt like he got here in less than a minute. Had he been here already? A tsunami of alpha-male protectiveness, Lock charged Roy, demanding answers.
“Lock,” I said. “This isn’t Roy’s fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Lock boomed. “The Sheriff’s Department is in charge of courthouse and county security. There should be deputies patrolling this parking structure as long as county employees are in these buildings.”
“You have to let us do our job, Lock,” Roy said. Lock bristled. He and Roy had met a few times, but they weren’t on a first-name basis by any means.
Lock put an arm around me. He was all coiled strength, and rigid muscles. He looked ready to punch a fist through the concrete wall. A trait that always made me feel safe. Protected. But what would it be like to be on the receiving end of it?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lock asked. “You never saw anyone?”
I’d given my statement to Roy while Lock stood by. He stayed quiet until I finished, then erupted.
“No one,” I reiterated. “There was nobody out here when I walked to my car. I didn’t hear anything.”
“What about the north elevators?” Roy asked. “Did you hear them open or close?”
“No,” I said. “I came from the south ones. I came down directly from the conference room.”
“And you hadn’t been to your car since you parked here this morning?”
“I was in court all day until I came down for the tail end of your witness interview. That’s it.”
Roy’s eyes darted from Lock to me. I knew he didn’t want to do this in front of Lock. But I recognized my husband’s mood. He was not going to leave my side. He was running through a million scenarios where I could have gotten hurt had I walked up on whoever vandalized my car.
“You haven’t gotten any threats lately?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said, seeing Lock’s jaw tighten as he listened. “No death threats or anything like that. But you know how this goes. There are any number of people who might not be my fans.”
“You’ve convicted a lot of felons,” Roy agreed.
“But there’s nobody who stands out?” There was a hidden question in his eyes.
He could read Lock’s agitation. I knew Roy would want to ask me in private about this.
He’d want to know if there was anything I didn’t want to say in front of my husband.
Yes. There was plenty. And yet, I wasn’t sure whether I could say any of it to Roy either.
“Nobody,” I said. “But I’ll have Ashley email you a list of my recent convictions.”
“You tried a murder case just a few months ago,” Lock said. “What was that scumbag’s name? The one who killed his wife?”
“Michael Raphael,” I said. “But he’s behind bars and not getting out. He didn’t have a fan club.”
“I’ve got all I need for now,” Roy said. “I’ll wait around until the crime lab people get here. We’ll take some photos. Take some samples of whatever that substance is.”
“It smells like blood,” Lock said through gritted teeth. He was right. Although the chemical smell of paint was strong, the substance used to scrawl the letters across my rear window was different. Thinner. It smelled metallic. I shuddered to think someone had actually used blood.
“I’ll take her home now?” Lock said. His tone sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Of course,” Roy said.
“You know how to get ahold of me,” I said. “Thanks, Roy, for handling this personally. I know it’s well below your normal caseload.”
Roy didn’t handle property crimes. He was strictly assigned to violent crimes like assault, murder, rape. But this was different. It was me.
I handed my keys to Roy. He’d drive it to their impound lot while the crime scene cops did their thing.
Lock kept a vice grip around my shoulders as he led me to his car, parked just a few spaces away. He opened the door for me and reached over to grab my seat belt.
I put a hand up. “Lock, please. I’m not injured. I’m fine.”
Lock filled with quiet rage as he drove home. When we got there, he walked into the house ahead of me and went straight for the wine fridge in the kitchen. He poured two glasses of white and then downed his while he handed me one.
“I don’t want you going back in for a while,” he said. “Work from home. Until Roy figures out who wants to hurt you, I don’t want you out of my sight, Mina.”
“That’s not realistic. We don’t even know if this vandalism was directed at me personally. It could have just been some random, mentally ill person who went after the first car he or she saw.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I want you to be safe. Maybe I’d better cancel my business trip next week. Or take you with me. I cannot stand the idea of how close you came to getting hurt today.”
“I didn’t,” I said, putting a light hand on his arm. “No. Don’t cancel your trip to New York. I’ll be fine here without you. This is going to turn out to be nothing. Just some bored kids.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that. Complicit. It seemed like such a sinister word. An accusation. Complicit in what? This could have been about any case I had worked on, but something deep inside me knew what it was about.
“Maybe you should step away from TRACE if this is the kind of thing you’re exposed to now.”
Step away? He wanted me off the case? The word became a drumbeat in my head. Complicit. Complicit. Complicit.
“Why do you think this has anything to do with TRACE?” I asked.
“When will you be able to tell me what’s been happening with that? I know something’s going down. I ran into Mark yesterday. He was walking on air. Chomping at the bit to tell me about some big news that was going to hit later this week.”
I kept my face neutral. “Mark should learn how to keep his mouth shut.” I’d long suspected Gilchrist was the source of leaks from our office during major cases.
We still didn’t want to go public on Palicki until the body under his floorboards was identified. DNA wasn’t back on everything they’d collected from the house. But Manchester was a small town, and Palicki’s neighbors wouldn’t keep their mouths shut for long.
Lock pulled me into an embrace. “I can’t handle the thought of losing you. Or of anyone hurting you.”
“I’m fine. Promise. Can we just forget about it for the rest of the weekend?
Let’s focus on your stuff. There was no need for you to be involved.
I pulled you away from the office. The gala is tomorrow night.
You have a million things to do between now and then, including packing for your trip.
There’s no reason to change your plans. You’re getting on that flight the morning after if I have to drag you to the airport. ”
He fixed his laser stare on me. “There is nothing more important to me than you. I can postpone my trip. I can cancel this funder in a heartbeat. And I don’t want you going now.”
“No,” I said. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to let some two-bit vandal ruin this weekend for you. Or for me. I’m proud of what you’re doing. It’s a big night.”
He would be like this all evening. When something scared him, it was like he couldn’t stand even a second without my touch. As if he had to convince himself that I was real. That I wasn’t like Bennett. That he wasn’t in danger of losing me.
I led him to the living room. We sat on the couch overlooking the largest windows facing west. From here, we could watch the sunset over Lake Michigan.
I knew what he needed. The only thing that might calm him. He sat beside me. I pulled him toward me. Slowly, he leaned sideways until his head rested on my lap. I traced slow circles around his temple. Gradually, I felt his pulse grow steady. His breathing relaxed. He was calm.
Lock didn’t make it until sunset. He started to snore.
I couldn’t help it. It made me smile. His great-grandfather knew what he was about when he built the house in this exact spot.
The breathtaking sky blazed orange and purple.
The kind of beauty that made you want to stay here forever. In paradise.
As Lock settled, I felt my own pulse quicken. I’d spoken half-truths to him. I was scared of what had happened today. And I didn’t believe this was some random teenage vandal. Someone was trying to send me a message.
Complicit.
It was as if someone out there knew my deepest secrets. Or worse… the lies I told to myself.