Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  “Have my mother and brother been by to see me?”

  “The nurse in charge told me they’ve visited every day since the accident.” He gripped his thighs and inhaled. “However, once we figured out someone was trying to kill you, we…” He nailed her with a hard look.

  “You what?”

  “In order to keep you all safe, we told your mother and brother you had died. Your cremation was two days ago.”

  Every muscle locked. “Oh my God. My mom won’t be able to cope with another death. Alcohol and drugs became her two best friends after my dad passed away. She’s still in self-destructive mode.”

  “I’m sorry, but we needed the killer to believe you had died so he won’t come after you.”

  She swallowed hard to understand the scope of the disaster. “I guess that makes sense.” She shot her gaze around the room. She wasn’t as worried about herself, as she was about her mom and brother. Craig needed a lot of care. “Will you protect them in case the killer doesn’t believe I’m dead?”

  “We’ll send a cruiser by their house every day.”

  “I appreciate that.” She furrowed her brow. “All that matters is that my family stays safe.”

  He inhaled sharply. “I agree. To ensure their safety as well as your own, the FBI would like to move you temporarily somewhere safe. It’s not protocol, but given the high-profile case, we feel you need around-the-clock protection until we catch the killer.”

  Her back bristled. “I can serve my friend and the other jurors better if I stay here and help investigate. I’ll remain in hiding if that’s what I need to do.” Without someone looking over my shoulder.

  “Ain’t going to happen. I can get your Caravello case file for you and you can study it, but that’s about the extent of involvement we’ll allow.”

  She sat up and winced. Crap. “I owe it to my best friend and my family to help. So either I work with you or without you. Which will it be?”

  She thought she caught a quick upturn of his lip. “Together works for me, but you can’t remain in the area.”

  He actually expected her to leave home, desert her mom, and run away from her life. She took a few minutes to deliberate. “If justice will be better served, I’ll push aside my needs for now, but if I move out of DC I want assurance my mother and brother will be taken care of.” She wadded the blanket in her fist. When he didn’t answer, she searched for a win-win solution. “Craig is wheelchair-bound and I’ll need to hire a home healthcare worker to help him get around. I also will have to ask my coworkers to pick up the slack at work.”

  “That’s good. Think of everything you need to do, but remember, I’ll have to make the arrangements. To the rest of the world, you’re dead.”

  * * * *

  After two more days trying to get Susan released from the hospital, followed by an arduous drive to Florida, Stone finally pulled into the safe house complex. The journey had been tough. Listening to Susan talk about her father’s death and how she tried to make him proud made him remember all too well his childhood. He wanted to assure her all would be well, but he didn’t want to start off with a lie.

  “So how do you like your new digs?” He tried to put as much pep as possible into his tone as he pointed toward the new two-story brick building with the freshly planted landscaping. He mentally thanked the man in charge of placement. The town house was a lot nicer than he’d expected, but then again, this was a top priority case.

  Susan rolled down the window, and the sweet smell of cut grass rushed in. He sneezed. Damn allergies.

  “Bless you.” She looked out the side window. “This looks similar to where I grew up.”

  In rural Virginia, where they had a lot of horse farms. He’d studied her background, including her success at Georgetown Law and in the courtroom. She was a very impressive woman, but also one who was lonely. “I’m glad.”

  Instead of the smile he’d expected, she leaned her head back against the car seat and closed her eyes. If misery had a face, it would be hers.

  “Why did we have to drive all the way to Tampa?” Her pouty lips barely moved. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but couldn’t you have found a place in, say, North Carolina?”

  He’d wondered when she’d ask. He opened the driver’s side door to take advantage of the warm cross breeze and swiveled toward her. “I wish we could have placed you somewhere closer, but we figured the farther you are from DC, the safer you and your family will be.”

  She opened her eyes. “I guess the fact someone broke into my office two days ago and stole the Caravello file clinched the decision. They don’t believe I’m dead despite all your efforts. Do they?”

  “Can’t be sure.”

  He’d been in the business long enough to know unless they caught the killer first, the man wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

  “Agent Watson?”

  “Stone. Please. Until this case is solved, we can’t have neighbors hear you call me ‘agent.’ It raises questions.”

  “Stone, then. If my mother and brother believed I died, why didn’t the killer?”

  “We can’t be sure what he knows. One of your coworkers could have decided to do some research on your death and taken the file.”

  “I can see Brian wanting to help find out who killed me.”

  “Let’s not dismiss the possibility the killer could have been at your house when the car exploded. He would have seen Anne-Marie get into the car instead of you and realized he’d killed the wrong woman.” Being blunt might unsettle her, but she deserved to know the truth. “We want to err on the side of caution.”

  “Good point.” She tightened her fists.

  Not only a classic beauty but smart, too. This independent woman was nothing like the scared, desperate victims he normally protected. Her constant questions and challenges kept him alert. He liked that. Even under the toughest of circumstances, she fought to gain control while maintaining her dignity. No doubt about it, Susan Chapman was one tough woman. And sexy, too, with her slim waist and impossibly long legs.

  He cleared his throat, annoyed where his mind had drifted, and pulled the key from the ignition. “The sooner you’re settled, the less suspicion we’ll bring to our doorstep.” He jumped out.

  After he removed the luggage from the trunk, he followed her up the brick walkway to the front door, her head held high. He just wished she didn’t have to sway her hips in such an enticing manner. A man with less control would have her in bed in a DC minute.

  She turned around and caught his gaze for a moment before stepping inside. He couldn’t decide if she blamed him for her situation or was angry at the killer. Either way, her feisty attitude would help her adjust to the rough days ahead.

  She stopped in the middle of the foyer and surveyed the open kitchen and living room. She ran her uninjured hand on the shiny granite counter top, and her shoulders relaxed. The upscale place seemed to meet with her approval. Good. One less hurdle to jump.

  He placed the luggage in the foyer. Light from the large living room window filled the spacious area. The overstuffed chairs across from the leather sofa looked comfortable.

  “Wait here. I’m going to check out the upstairs.” The two-bedroom town house took all of five minutes to search. He jogged downstairs toward the entrance. “All clear.”

  She blew out a breath. “Thank God.”

  Susan shuffled over to the dark brown sofa and plopped down on the end cushion. She grabbed a blue pillow to her chest and drew her knees close. Much of her shoulder-length blonde hair had escaped the ponytail holder, and her coloring was too gray for his liking, but there was a definite challenge sparking in her eyes. He wanted to tell her things would get better, but the right words wouldn’t form.

  She raised a bandaged arm, winced, and lowered her hand to her lap. Her jaw tightened. Susan’s life would never be the same even after the criminal was brought to justice.

  She looked over at him. “I want to start rehab right away. I hate hurting ev
ery time I move.”

  He appreciated her aggressive, back-to-business attitude. “I’ll look into a center tomorrow. How does that sound?”

  “Good. So what do I do about money?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. Your hardest job is to remember you are no longer Susan Chapman. She’s dead. You are now—”

  She looked up. “I know. Taylor Daniels. A woman with a whole lot of problems who needs a really good plan. Right now, I have no family, no money, and no job.”

  He could tell her he knew all about growing up without a family and having no money, but now wasn’t the time to swap sad stories with her. “It comes with wanting to stay alive.”

  The usual platitude left a bitter taste in his mouth despite the statement’s truth. Having to rip people out of their lives headed his “this sucks” list. Yet he continued to do it time and again because in the end he helped keep people safe.

  He strode over to the comfy-looking beige chair and sat opposite her. The lines tightened around her focused blue eyes. If he knew of a way to soften the tension rippling across Susan’s face, he would. The way she drummed her fingers on the sofa’s arm and squeezed the life out of the pillow reminded him of his grandmother. Gram was all piss and vinegar at not being able to beat cancer. In the end, she lost the battle, but it wasn’t from lack of trying.

  During the Caravello trial, he’d watched a few of the proceedings and witnessed Susan’s tough prosecutor style. He hoped with her determination to find answers, she wouldn’t remember seeing him at that trial nor learn why he’d asked for this assignment. The resulting questions would definitely hurt his ability to protect her.

  His job was to make sure she stayed safe, but something inside lured him into wanting to make her recovery easier. “You want something to drink?” Or something to punch?

  Her eyes flew open. “No.” She swallowed hard as if she were trying to deal with the enormity of her situation. “But, thank you anyway.”

  To give her time to come to grips with her new life, he picked up a Tampa Bay magazine from the glass coffee table and flipped though the glossy pages, but he couldn’t focus on the contents. When he glanced up a moment later, her eyes were closed, her breath ragged.

  He got up to get a glass of water for himself. Halfway across the kitchen, his cell rang. The caller ID flashed Harrison Lowry’s name on the screen, and his muscles tensed. “Stone.”

  “We’ve had another incident,” his superior said.

  He steeled his body and walked over to the open bar, his back to Susan. He lowered his voice. “Hit me.”

  “Janet Starkey was found murdered this afternoon. That makes five dead jurors.”

  He slid onto one of the stools and shot a glance at Susan. She twisted toward him and pinned him with her probing stare.

  He dragged a hand down his unshaven chin. “Wasn’t she under our protection?”

  “Yup.”

  “Which means—”

  “No one’s safe anymore.”

  Chapter Two

  Stone stashed his phone in his hip pocket, filled his glass with water, and trudged back to his chair. Susan waited for him to tell her about the call. The way he stared off into space and flexed his hand set her on edge. “Is everything okay?”

  “That was my boss.” He chugged the water like a man who hadn’t had a drink in months.

  When he didn’t follow up, she pressed him. “Did something happen?”

  His jaw clenched. “Yes.” He set his glass down. “Janet Starkey, another juror, was murdered today.”

  She jerked. “Murdered?”

  The fact this monster wasn’t going to stop sharpened her nerve endings. Every crime scene photo of mutilated bodies she’d shown in court swirled in her mind, from the victim’s cold eyes to the ruthless manner of death. The blood shot to her core and her hands clenched. Would she be next?

  No. She wouldn’t let the bastard get to her no matter what it took.

  “Taylor?”

  She forced out an exhale. “I remember Janet. She was a high school teacher. Very intuitive.”

  But Janet was so much more. A woman, a mother, a caring citizen. This woman’s family and friends would be grieving for her as much as she was over Anne-Marie’s unnecessary death. The killings had to stop. Now.

  “Richard Thomason, the man in charge of relocation, moved her less than two days ago.” He straightened. “There shouldn’t have been any way to find her.”

  “How did she die?” She tried to ignore the hard pulses beating against her belly.

  His lips pressed together. “Hit and run. Janet was crossing the street when a car came out of nowhere.”

  Susan’s heart dropped to her stomach. “How horrible. Didn’t she have a bodyguard?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  She needed more information, more facts. “Perhaps this was a random accident. What did the police findings show?”

  “There were two witnesses who both said the man drove straight toward her.” He looked down at his steepled fingers. “Not only did he…” Stone glanced to the ceiling.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Not only did he what? Tell me.”

  He caught her gaze and held it as if deciding how much information to spill. “The man hit her once, then backed up and ran over her again.”

  That horrific image seared into her brain. She shot a glance at the front door and tightened her hold on the pillow. “How did the Caravello family find her?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  So he did believe someone in the mob boss’ family was involved. “Do we need to move again?” She hated how her voice wobbled, considering how she prided herself on being strong.

  Stone’s shoulders relaxed. “Not yet. As long as I’m around, you should be safe.”

  She didn’t like the “should be” part.

  “Remember, we’re not one hundred percent certain the killer knows you’re alive.” He jumped up. “Let’s look around and get you settled.”

  From his rigid body and hard, focused eyes, he had also been affected by the tragic news. While the avoidance tactic wouldn’t work on her, for now, she wouldn’t argue. As she reached up to slip off her bulky cardigan, her muscles rebelled. “Ouch.”

  Stone was at her side in an instant. “Let me help you.”

  “I can do it.” Damn body. She lifted the lapel and stopped to catch her breath.

  “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know.”

  Her father had taught her to rely only on herself, but given what she’d been through, she’d make an exception. “Thanks.” She turned her back and let him ease the sleeves down her arms. At his tender touch, an involuntary tingle shimmied up her spine. “I can take it from here.” She slowly stood and pasted on a smile, hoping the bandage across her cheek hid the heat in her face.

  He cleared his throat. “Pick a room and I’ll bring up your suitcase.”

  So he’d noticed the spark his touch had brought. “Sure.”

  Stone had told her one of the FBI female agents had purchased a few essentials for her. No telling what the woman had chosen, but Susan hoped the clothing would be the easy-on-easy-off type. Getting periodic help from the attractive bodyguard wouldn’t be so bad, except ever since her father’s death and her recent divorce, she’d felt a little angry toward men.

  She trudged up the wooden stairs to the second floor, and had to stop twice to catch her breath before she entered the first available room. It didn’t matter what the rest of the town house had to offer, a bedroom was a bedroom. The muted beige and green décor and coordinating ocean watercolor pictures above the white wrought iron bed gave off a spa-like atmosphere. The bowl of potpourri on top of the pine dresser helped reduce the smell of fresh paint. While the combined space was only half the size of her bedroom at home, the plush carpet, attached bath, and handpicked accessories eased the tension which came from being forced into this unwanted situation.

&
nbsp; Stone set down her suitcase. “Need anything else?”

  “Just some quiet time.”

  “You got it.”

  He disappeared, and her sense of security plummeted. Before she undressed, she locked the bedroom door and closed the drapes to the window that opened out to the wooded backyard. Not that her safeguards would stop anyone who was determined to kill her from succeeding, but the more caution she used, the better.

  She couldn’t wait to get clean, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to wash her hair when every time she raised her arms her chest throbbed. No way she’d ask the sexy bodyguard to help. Ah, no. That would only add more complications to her already out-of-control life.

  She hadn’t had a hot shower since the explosion. Her luck, the hotel they’d stayed at on the way south had a broken hot water heater. Examining her wounds when she was exhausted hadn’t made sense at the time, but she couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer and stepped into the bathroom. The reflection staring back startled her. She looked worse than she had in the hospital. She tore off the ponytail holder, but the effect was the same. Her strands hung in greasy clumps to her shoulders despite the nurse’s attempt to wash her hair. With hesitant fingers, she peeled away the bandage on her chest. She sucked in a breath at the large wound. Circles of red ringed the area, but the wound was neatly closed. Sucking up her courage, Susan lifted the bandage from across her cheek.

  “Dear God.”

  A wide gouge created an inflamed line from her eye to her mouth. Her personal protector was sexier than sin, and she looked like roadkill. Not that it mattered since she hadn’t come to Florida to find her soul mate, but still.

  Get clean. She turned on the shower to heat the water, then opened the medicine cabinet to see what the FBI had stocked. Next to the toothpaste, toothbrush, and Band-Aids sat a pair of six-inch scissors. Perfect. Her karate teacher always preached surprise was the best form of defense, so just in case the murderer caught Stone off guard, she brought the potential weapon into the shower.