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

  After she finished washing, she toweled dry and combed her hair. Now she needed something suitable to put on. A heavy shirt and a pair of boring gray sweatpants seemed the only option since she was unable to hook a bra, and once again, Stone would be of no help.

  Facing the full-length mirror in the bedroom, she sighed. Could she look any worse? If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she would have laughed at her frumpy attire. In DC, she never went out without makeup or with her hair uncombed.

  After she pulled on her comfortable sneakers, she pawed through her luggage for the bandages the hospital had provided—twice, in fact, but came up empty. She figured she’d left the package in the car and headed downstairs to search.

  When she reached the bottom step, Stone’s full lips spread into a slow smile. He dragged his gaze from her wet hair to her clunky sneakers. “You look a lot better.”

  The man was blind. She quickly covered the stitches on her cheek. “I feel better, but I need to find my bandages. I can’t go out in public looking like Frankenstein. I’ll scare people.”

  * * * *

  He winked at her and some of the tension drained from her face. “You’re anything but a monster.” His cell rang and he held up a finger. The pretty lady might think she’s a sight, but to him, she was hot. “Watson.”

  “It’s me. Peter.”

  “Christ.” He lowered his voice. “I gotta keep it short. We can’t chance a trace.”

  His gaze shot automatically to Susan. She didn’t need to hear this conversation. She’d never understand why a Caravello would contact him.

  “I’ll be right back to help with the bandages,” he told her as he headed outside. The crisp, clean Florida air was a nice change from Virginia’s bitter cold. He sat on the stoop, his back to the front door, peering down the empty road.

  “I need your help.” The roar of background traffic on the other end made it difficult to hear Peter’s voice.

  “What’s going on?”

  Peter Caravello was the last person he expected to call, especially given the circumstances. Retract that. Peter’s older brother, James, who took over the family’s illegal business would have been the absolute last person to make contact.

  “The fucking FBI, no offense to you, came to my house. Good thing I wasn’t home. My housekeeper answered, and they said they were looking for me. In fact, they had a goddamn search warrant. She said they mentioned the name Janet Starkey.”

  “Shit.” Stone unclenched his jaw. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool February breeze. “Juror number five.”

  “Who?”

  “Four of the twelve people on your father’s jury were recently found dead. Janet would be number five.” He probably shouldn’t have released that information, but if Peter were guilty, he’d already know those facts.

  “Holy shit. And they think I had something to do with the murders?”

  “You tell me.”

  “You know I run a clean business. I’m not my father or my brother. You gotta help me.”

  A car slowed in front of the town house, and a man stared hard at him before moving on. Stone tensed. They were supposed to be one of the first to stay in the newly built complex. As a precaution, he noted the Georgia license plate number.

  “I can make some phone calls, but that’s all,” Stone said. “If the Bureau ever learns I even know you, I’d get canned.”

  He’d asked for this assignment because he understood Peter’s brother better than anyone, and knowing the killer’s mindset gave him the edge in protecting Susan. If he hadn’t had such good intel, his boss would have assigned a female officer to the case, and Stone wasn’t sure she could have gotten the job done.

  “They won’t hear it from me,” Peter promised. “Can you dig around to see what they have on me?” A car horn blasted in the background. “Look, I gotta go. I think someone’s tailing me. I need to lose ’em.”

  Before Stone had a chance to ask more questions, Peter disconnected just as the front door creaked open.

  “Who was that?” Susan asked.

  He tossed her a look of what he hoped was steely confidence. “No one you need to be concerned with.”

  She shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare. “I just made some tea. Want some?”

  “Sure.” The less the neighbors saw of her, the better. He hopped up from the stoop and followed her into the kitchen.

  She poured the hot brew into a mug. “Here.” She dumped four packets of sugar into her drink.

  “Try putting some tea with that sugar.”

  She scrunched up nose. “So who called?”

  From her rigid stance, the bulldog prosecutor just wouldn’t let go. If he told her Peter had phoned, she’d really get scared, be royally pissed, or both. “A friend.”

  Her shoulders softened a little. “Not your boss telling you another juror had died?”

  So that’s what was worrying her. Understandable. “No.”

  “Then why did you have to go outside to talk?”

  Perceptive. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Her blue eyes darkened. “I didn’t get to be where I am by letting someone stonewall me. Who really called?” She ran her fingers along the hem of her sweatshirt.

  She would never trust him if he spilled the beans, but lying wasn’t his style. He shoved off the stool and strode to the refrigerator. “I’m famished. What do you say I make us a bite to eat?” He pulled open the fridge door and tried to act as if the luncheon meats were some gourmet treat.

  “Like I’m going to fall for your stall tactics?”

  He closed the refrigerator door and slid next to her. “Stop worrying. No one died.”

  She pinched her mouth tight. “Yet.”

  “You’re perfectly safe with an FBI agent watching over you.” He touched her arm, sending heat to all the wrong places.

  She pulled out of his grasp. “Try telling that to Janet Starkey’s family. Someone got to her, which means someone could get to me.” She gulped down her tea and puckered her mouth.

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  She pulled her lips back. “I have a lot of information about this case, and you agreed we’d work together.”

  He couldn’t argue with her logic, but he wasn’t sure she could handle the truth about Peter. However, he respected her intellect, and just maybe, she could make sense of the situation.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter Three

  “So who was it?” Susan leaned closer. Why did the man have to smell so good?

  His jaw tightened. “Peter Caravello.”

  Her elbow slipped off the counter. “That scum sucker called you?” Her pulse jumped, and her mind shot to a dark place.

  “That’s why I didn’t want you to know. You’d draw the wrong conclusion.”

  “Do you even realize what this means?” Her blood rushed through her veins at warp speed at the betrayal.

  “Calm down.” He reached over to take her arm, but she jerked it away.

  “Easy for you to say. You get a call from a guy whose father was executed for murder, and I’m supposed to calm down? What if he’s the one killing these jurors? What if he’s the one out to kill me?” She waved a hand. “Caravello probably knows exactly where to find me now.”

  “Peter has no idea where you are. In fact, he doesn’t even know I’m protecting you.”

  “Right.” She could have sworn he puffed out his already massive chest.

  “I don’t know what to say to make you believe I’m telling the truth.” He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Peter is not like his father.”

  Was this guy for real? “Like I haven’t heard that argument a hundred times before in court.”

  Being near Stone disoriented her. She needed time to think, so she shoved off the stool. The wooden chair clattered to the tile floor. Tough. In the living room, she sat on the far end of the couch and drew the protective blue pillow to her chest, looking away from the ki
tchen area, away from Stone. She’d have run outside and banged on a neighbor’s door if she believed she could escape.

  He followed her into the living room. Great. His mere presence caused her to lose focus, to doubt her facts.

  “You don’t understand.” His tone came out colder than the Virginia winter.

  Why couldn’t he take a hint and leave her alone? “You keep saying that.” She finally faced him. “So explain it to me. You must be chummy with Peter if you know so much about him.”

  He took the seat across from her, the lines around his mouth softening. “The Bureau is looking at Peter for the murder of Janet Starkey.” He held up a palm. “Their evidence is thin.”

  Her pulse pounded. Could this nightmare be almost over? She dropped the pillow to her lap. “I knew it! The FBI would not go after Peter Caravello unless they had the facts.”

  “It’s possible the Fed’s interest is based solely on his genetics.” The muscles in his forehead and jaw relaxed. “It makes sense. His dad was executed. The Bureau must have concluded no one else would want revenge except for the family.”

  Her dad had been murdered, yet she was no killer. She’d concede the point.

  Susan debated going upstairs to get away from him, but she needed to learn what he knew. Reaching her position at the State Prosecutor’s office before the age of thirty had required a lot of fact searching and character judging. “Who else could it be if not Peter Caravello?”

  He held her gaze. “I don’t know, but it’s possible someone’s framing him.”

  “I repeat…You have no idea how many times I’ve heard a criminal say that.”

  “I’m sure, but in this case, I believe someone might be after Peter.”

  His gaze might be steady and his hands relaxed on his thigh, but the man was hiding something. “Because?” Let him wiggle out of this one.

  “The man isn’t capable of hurting anyone.”

  Proof he had no facts. She inhaled a deep breath and forced herself to relax. “Why exactly did he call?”

  “He wants me to help him.”

  What was wrong with this picture? “A murderer is asking for FBI help?”

  “Not the FBI. For my help. And he’s not a murderer.” He dragged a hand down his stubbled jaw. She usually liked her men clean shaven, but on Stone, the added growth made him more manly, more of a threat.

  “How do you know he’s not guilty?” Did he know the identity of the real killer, or could Stone have assisted someone else in these murders? A shiver raced through her body.

  “Shouldn’t a lawyer presume a man’s innocent until proven guilty? I know you’ve been through a lot, but don’t forget the rules of the judicial system.”

  Her blood pressure rose. “The facts imply a Caravello killed my best friend.” She fisted her hands against the cushion.

  His brows pinched. “Most people we go after are guilty but not in this case.”

  “Well someone in his family killed Anne-Marie and four, no five, jurors. You want to help that kind of man?”

  “His family might be guilty, but Peter’s not.” He narrowed his eyes. “Besides, it’s hardly aiding and abetting to ask a few questions. It’s not like I’m leaving you here so I can investigate.” He stood, probably just to be able to look down at her.

  A small smile lifted her lips. “If you help Peter Caravello, I’m sure your boss would consider your activity a conflict of interest.” Her courtroom calm resurfaced, pumping her full of adrenaline. “I’m surprised he let you on the case.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “No one knows I know Peter.”

  “Oh, really.” Stone hid secrets from his own boss. Interesting. “Are you going to fess up and call your boss to tell him a Caravello made contact?” She’d believe Stone might be on the up-and-up if he did.

  “No.”

  His defense of Peter ate away at the earlier trust she’d placed in him. Dear Lord, he was going to help someone escape the law. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. “Then I am.” It was her civic duty to do so.

  She walked to the wall phone as calmly as her pounding heart allowed, surprised he didn’t sprint after her. This might be her only opportunity to make contact with anyone. She pulled the receiver off the cradle and dialed 9-1-1.

  Damn. The phone was dead. Everything else about the place worked. Why not the phone? She slammed the handset back in its holder and swung around.

  “Phone doesn’t work?” Stone cocked his brow.

  “Apparently not.”

  “We can’t do anything that would allow anyone to find us or learn you’re alive.”

  “Funny. Peter Caravello found you pretty easily.”

  He shrugged. “He has my number.” No apology, just a cold, hard statement.

  “And now you’re going to lead him right to me.” Susan blew out a breath as fear drilled in her temple.

  He straightened. She didn’t know anything about Stone, but she did have a lot of experience dealing with criminals who looked good enough to con the habit off a nun. She doubted Stone was the exception.

  If her dad had known he was a target, what would he have done?

  Run.

  Her gaze shot to the door, but Stone’s large muscular frame blocked her escape route.

  Instead of attempting to leave right now, she swiveled back towards the stairs, took a few steps and faced him again. “Do you give your number to all the criminals?” She kept her tone even.

  His expression remained unreadable. “Only four people have my cell. My boss, Richard Thomason, a college friend who works at the Bureau and Peter.”

  She appreciated his honesty, but clearly he was hiding some vital piece of information. She stepped toward him. “I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

  He cocked a brow. “Peter is not a threat to you. Let’s leave it at that.”

  She turned her mind back to the courtroom, trying to recall who had come to support the mob boss. John Caravello had a younger brother and two sons. If she wanted to be fair, one of them could be guilty.

  “What reason did he give for calling you? Aren’t you the enemy, so to speak? The FBI testimony was what got his father executed.” He’d never answered her question about whether or not they were good friends, though the fact Stone reserved a space on his cell for Peter’s number spoke volumes.

  He lowered his arms to his side, palms up. “Peter and I grew up together. During college, I worked at his firm, helping him with inventory, sales and some of the financials. The man is the most honest businessperson I know.”

  She digested the facts. “Peter Caravello might be a Better Business Bureau star, but that doesn’t necessarily make him a good person.”

  Stone ran a hand down his jaw. “Fine. I was no more than ten, Peter closer to fifteen when his uncle gave us both black Labs one Christmas. We decided it would be cool to check out the Maryland coast during a violent storm the following September. Dumb. But kids aren’t the smartest animals. Dunchy, my dog, ran into the water and a wave washed over him. He couldn’t get back to the shore with the intense wind, so I jumped in after him.”

  “And Peter let you?” She’d been on the sea a number of times during a storm and understood how treacherous the winds could be. While fifteen wasn’t old, Peter should have watched out for the younger Stone.

  “Peter shouted after me, but I wouldn’t listen. When I went under, he dove in and saved both me and Dunchy.”

  “Okay, he was a hero that day, but teenagers can go from good to bad in a heartbeat, especially with a father in the mob.”

  “I’ve got plenty more incidents that illustrate Peter’s integrity if you still need convincing.”

  “I didn’t get where I am by buying into testimonials. A lot could have happened in the remaining years to throw Peter off the path to righteousness.”

  She admitted Stone could be right about his childhood friend, but could she afford to put her life on the line if he wasn’t?

  He steppe
d toward her, and she edged backwards, her feet bumping the bottom stair step. He might be an FBI agent, and really good looking to boot, but his allegiance seemed to have swung toward the Caravello family. “I’m tired. I’ll be in my room.” Away from you.

  With as much poise as she could muster, she climbed the stairs and winced as the stitches pulled in her chest.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Stay calm. Heart pumping hard, she reached for her bedroom doorknob.

  He stepped next to her and opened the door before she got the chance. “I found something you need.”

  Too close for comfort, she stepped back and looked up at him, his brown eyes close to black. His gaze locked onto hers. Her pulse skipped a beat. She cut the connection and stared at his gun wedged beneath his shoulder. “What?” Blood pounded in her ears. A bullet to the head?

  “Go see.”

  She wasn’t sure of his game, but if she didn’t go along, who knew what he might do. “Okay.”

  Susan swept past him and stopped in the middle of the room, not seeing anything different from when she left a while ago. “I give. What is it?”

  “Your bandages.” He nodded toward the dresser.

  She hadn’t placed the box there. “Where did you find those?” They were the ones the nurse had given her.

  “In your suitcase.”

  She slapped a hand on her hip. Enough was enough. “You looked through my stuff?” Okay, technically, it wasn’t really her stuff since every item was purchased by the FBI, but once she was in possession of the suitcase, she considered the clothes hers.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

  His chest expanded. “I had to search your bags to make sure you hadn’t hidden a cell phone. It’s protocol.”

  She clenched her fists. “Protocol or not, you should have asked my permission.” Though she doubted any such procedure actually existed.

  He chuckled, but the sound held no cheer. “If you’d had a phone, would you have told me?”

  “No, but if you think about it, the only way I could have a cell phone would be if that female FBI agent had purchased one for me.”