Читать книгу Presumed Dead - Angela Strong Ruth - Страница 12

THREE

Holly stumbled up the beach, her body trembling and dripping from the swim. She didn’t want to talk to anybody. Especially not Caleb.

Preston’s return had hit her like the force of water from a fire hose. And his dismissal had left her feeling much like the crumbling remnants of the cabin. Not to mention the attempts on her life.

“Holly.” Caleb’s brand-new, colorful hiking boots slipped in the gravel as he rushed to her with a fireman’s blanket. “You’re alive. Do you know what happened here? I was scared to death. How’d you escape?”

Holly tensed at his attention. She wasn’t his to worry about anymore. “Calm down, Caleb. I’m fine.” Fine. Ha. Who was she kidding?

“That is such a relief.” He wrapped the scratchy blanket around her shivering shoulders, which would have been nice if he hadn’t kept his arm around her, as well. “I’m just thankful you weren’t in the cabin. Did you go swimming as soon as you got here?”

She shrugged out of his grip and ignored the question. But at least Caleb had been concerned for her welfare and was now acting thoughtful. She would have expected him to take off on their honeymoon with his new girlfriend.

“Thanks for the blanket.” Her teeth chattered. It may be June, but the lake temperature only varied eight degrees from winter to summer.

Caleb tried to wrap his arms around her again.

She shook him off. Not happening. “What are you doing here?”

“The neighbors called your parents when the cabin exploded, and they called me to see if I knew where you were.”

Holly eyed him. Mom must have been really worried about her if she’d asked Caleb for help. Though how had he gotten to her cabin so fast?

“I’m so thankful you weren’t injured. I never got the chance to tell you how horrible I feel about what happened between us, Holly. It was a mistake. And actually I was planning to stay on my boat in hopes you’d call me so I could drive over here, and we might work this out.” He gripped her hand. “Please.”

She grimaced at his touch. There was nothing to work out. Particularly not now that the first man she’d ever loved had shown up alive again. As dishonest as Preston’s death was, his presence reminded her how good they’d had it once upon a time. And Caleb was not once-upon-a-time material. She pulled away.

An officer with a receding hairline strode over. “You’re Holly Fontaine? This is your cabin?”

“My parents own it.” Good, a distraction. Except now she would have to answer a bunch of questions in a way that would somehow leave out Preston’s existence. Maybe she should be the one asking the questions. She’d take on her attorney persona. “What happened?”

“Ma’am, I’m glad to see you survived. My name is Officer Shaw, and I hate to tell you this, but a bomb went off in your cabin earlier today.”

“A bomb?” The idea still shook her.

“Yes, ma’am. Do you know of anyone who’d want to harm you?”

She looked at Caleb. Pretty convenient he just happened to be in the area. The bomber had been talking to someone on the phone. Could it have been him? No. It was more likely the other woman wanted her dead, now that Caleb seemed to want to make things work with Holly.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?” she asked.

Caleb reeled. “No. That’s ridiculous. She’s not my girlfriend. And she wouldn’t do this anyway.”

Officer Shaw pulled his sunglasses lower on his pockmarked face to look at the other man. “I will check her alibi. What’s her name?”

Caleb shifted his weight side to side. “Denise Amador. But make no mistake, she didn’t do this.”

Holly lifted her chin. “She obviously wasn’t above having photos taken of you two together and sending them to me.”

Caleb’s voice lowered. “You still think she did that?”

The officer chewed at the fingernail on his thumb. “I’m going to need to interview you both separately.”

Holly blew air into her cheeks. None of their old relationship stuff even mattered anymore now that Preston was in the picture. Because Preston was the only one who should have ever been in the picture—the old Preston anyway.

The old Preston never would have left her to talk to police by herself. The nickname “doll” came from the way his parents said he used to like to play with her as much as his little sister liked playing with her dolls. She smiled sadly at the memory. Preston had called her “doll” to get her on the Jet Ski, but not because he wanted to rekindle their friendship.

She focused on Shaw. “That’s fine, Officer. I’m not planning to talk to Caleb anymore anyway.”

“What? Why not?” Caleb held his hands out as a different cop motioned him away. “Is there another man in your life?”

No. Just the shadow of a man. “Goodbye, Caleb.” Preston or no Preston, her main regret with the lawyer was that she hadn’t said goodbye sooner.

Shaw led her toward the police car next to her totaled vehicle. Debris had smashed into it, and the heat had melted everything from her purse to her computer to her luggage. She’d need to go shopping, but could she even get money out of her bank without a license and debit card? Maybe Dad could wire her some cash for the rest of the weekend. She’d hole up at the lodge, waiting for Preston to show up again.

Or had she been knocked unconscious by the blast from the explosion and dreamed the whole Preston thing? That would actually make more sense than his sudden appearance after four years.

“What’s your relationship with Mr. Brooks?”

Blech. Holly didn’t want to even think about Caleb. Had he been cheating on her the whole time? “We were supposed to get married this weekend, but I found time-stamped pictures of him with someone else in my mailbox last week.”

Officer Shaw scribbled notes. “You don’t suspect Mr. Brooks set the bomb?”

She leaned back against the seat. “No. He obviously lacks morals, but he’s not stupid.”

The policeman gave her a hard look.

She shrugged. “We’re defense attorneys. If he’d planted a bomb, he would have made sure he had an alibi far away from here.”

Shaw scratched his head with the back of his pencil. “We will check out his alibi. You really think Ms. Amador would go to such lengths?”

Up until twelve days ago, Holly hadn’t even known the woman existed. “I don’t know.” She thought back to Preston’s suggestions that a former client might be after her. Would he have considered Denise a suspect had he known of Holly’s broken engagement? It didn’t matter now. The police were looking into it. She told Shaw about the blue Jeep before asking for a ride to Cedar Glen.

* * *

The resort had been remodeled since Preston’s last visit. It was a nice change, though it made him sad how easily life went on without him. Holly probably wouldn’t need him around for long, either. Hopefully, she’d kept her word and hadn’t mentioned him to authorities.

She arrived a couple hours later in khaki shorts and a ruffled, baby blue tank top, carrying a shopping bag. Her parents must have wired her some money.

He waited until she’d checked into Cottage 19 before scanning the surroundings and knocking on her door. It would have been safer for her to be in the main lodge, but the place always booked up months in advance.

“Who is it?”

“Preston.” Saying his own name sounded strange. He usually gave a different alias everywhere he went.

The door swung open. “So you are real. I thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.” Holly left him at the door and sat on the brown leather sofa in front of a stone fireplace. She clicked the television remote to turn down the volume of the local news, which was covering the bombing she’d just escaped.

Preston closed the door and looked from the on-screen reporter standing in front of the charred cabin remains to the woman whose great-grandparents had built it. “How are you doing?”

“Numb right now. My attorney brain is trying to make sense of all this, but the pieces don’t fit together.” She gave a wry smile. “Mom and Dad offered to drive up, but I told them you are taking good care of me.”

His shoulders sagged until he registered her small smile. “No, you didn’t.”

Her smile disappeared. “I wanted to. I hate secrets.”

“So do I.” His secret was what kept him from taking her to The Rustic Lounge to enjoy a good meal and talking until midnight, the way they used to. “How did it go with the cops?”

The corners of her mouth curved down. “I might as well tell you about my cancelled engagement.” She looked away. “My former fiancé—your old JAG friend Caleb Brooks—was at the cabin. Said he wanted to work it out with me. Police seemed to suspect him at first, but now they are looking into the other woman. I personally think she’s more likely.”

Preston clamped his jaw shut. He could get himself in trouble here if he wasn’t careful. “I’d like to look into other possibilities.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean like check into which of my former clients have been released from jail recently and that kind of thing?”

“Yes.” She’d be a good investigator with her experience in law and the research that went into it. Unfortunately, that was what gave her the idea she could help find his saboteur. He’d disappear before she ever got the chance to try.

She scooted over. “Are you going to sit down?”

He’d been planning to keep his distance. His mission was to find the person after her so she could return to her life safely. Nothing else. Which meant they had work to do.

“How about we go to the business office and use their computers for our research?”

She frowned. “You don’t have a computer or phone?”

He shook his head. “I go to the library for research since I can’t pay for internet or cellular service without a credit card.”

Holly blinked. “Of course.”

And hers would have been destroyed in the bomb blast. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Preston led her across the commons area with its picnic tables, fire pits and swimming pool, toward another small cottage structure that housed a few game tables in one room and computers in the other. Two kids swatted a Ping-Pong ball back and forth and didn’t even notice them as they entered the smaller interior room.

Holly sank into a chair and ran an internet search on Operation Desert Hope before he could stop her. The black-and-white image of a burning helicopter took his breath away. It came to life in his memory with the roar of fire, the heat of flames, the smell of sulfur and the taste of acid in his throat. Shouts. Sirens. The realization he’d let his team down. Not to mention the failed recovery of hostages whose families counted on him to bring them home safely. Then there was Sergeant Beatty warning Preston to lie low until he discovered exactly what had happened.

Preston had failed them all.

“Holly.” He pushed through the past to get back to the woman in the room with him. “We are investigating the bomb at your cabin, remember?”

She spun her chair to face him. “You’re not giving up on finding your saboteur, are you? Do you have any idea who it might be?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t do this now. “My first goal is to keep you alive. Please log in to your work files.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Police are probably arresting Denise Amador right now.”

Preston rubbed his temples. If she wanted to believe Denise was her only threat, how was he going to get her to help him figure out who the real enemy was?

Holly bit her lip. “Do you think Caleb will defend her? Nah. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him.”

She didn’t want to think about her situation at all. That must have been why she wanted to focus on him instead—why she was so adamant about investigating the helicopter crash.

“Holly, if you don’t need my help anymore, I’m not going to stick around.” He couldn’t relive his last day with SOAR over and over, letting her hope she’d find something he missed. He knew what it felt like to have your hopes dashed, and he wasn’t going to do that to her. If she refused to work with him to find out who was really after her, then he’d watch from a distance to make sure the police kept her safe and arrested the hit man and the person who’d hired him. That was probably the best thing for both of them.

She huffed but turned back toward the computer to log in to her files at work. “I’m going to look at this again later.”

“Fine. For now, let’s try to rule everyone else out before we focus on Denise,” he suggested. Planting a bomb was not the logical next step up from stealing a boyfriend. “What cases have you lost in your career?”

Holly scanned the digital files. “Just a few. Dante Scott. The basketball player accidentally hit a kid who was running out in the street to catch up with a bus. Guilty of manslaughter. The jury was just trying to make an example of him to all the other pro athletes who think they can get away with crimes.”

Preston knew that case well, as did the entire country. It said a lot about her success in law that she’d represented the professional athlete.

He lowered into the seat next to her. “He got out of prison early for good behavior, didn’t he? I’ll look him up.” The man’s alibi would be easy enough to check. He couldn’t go anywhere without the press following. “Next.”

Holly scrolled down the list on the screen. “Madeline Carpenter claimed her twin committed the robbery, but we couldn’t prove it. She’s still in prison. You think she could hire someone to kill me from prison?”

“Possibly. We can check the inmate calling records to know for sure. Next.”

“Taylor Everingham. He smuggled drugs over the border, but only because his wife’s life was being threatened by a drug lord. They still found him guilty.”

Preston leaned forward and gnawed on a fingernail. “Would he kill you if his wife’s life was in jeopardy?”

Holly twisted a wispy strand of hair at the base of her neck. “Possibly. But he’s still in jail, too.” She leaned against her seat back, rubbing her hands together. “That’s it. Do we go after Denise now?”

“We can. Or we can check out families of victims who were upset when you got a client off.” Nothing rang true for him so far. There had to be someone more familiar with explosives. Someone with more of a motive.

“If that’s what you want to research, we’re going to be here all night.” Holly tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Can we go pick up some dinner first?”

Preston looked down to avoid smiling in return. She did not ask him out. She was asking him to feed her. Which was a good thing. If she’d been asking him out, he would have had to say no. “I’ll call in an order of ribs.”

She rested her elbow on the countertop and her chin on her fist. “Remember that time Dad was grilling ribs and a bear showed up, so we all had to hide out in the cabin, and dinner was burned to a crisp?”

Then their parents had brought them to Cedar Glen Lodge instead. “I remember. Bear or not, your dad always burned the barbecue.”

Holly chuckled. “I think it’s because he liked having an excuse to go out to eat so he could get out of dish duty.”

Preston couldn’t keep from smiling at her this time. He picked up the lodge phone to order from room service, as well as to distract himself from continuing down the path to memory lane. It took a moment for him to snap out of the past and realize there was no dial tone.

He pressed the receiver button a couple times. Still nothing.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. While he’d been reminiscing, someone had cut the phone line.

The lights remained on. The internet stayed connected. But if someone wanted to hurt Holly, Preston needed to get her out of there. Back to her cottage so she could call the police.

“Holly,” he whispered as he rose. He motioned for her to follow him.

The game room stood empty now, which could be good or it could be bad. Good because he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Bad because being in a public place might have kept them from getting hurt.

He scanned the area for a bomb. But a bomb wouldn’t warrant cutting phone lines. If there was really someone trying to kill Holly, the goal would be to get to Holly before she could get help.

She joined him. “What—”

He held a finger to her lips.

She frowned at him, then scanned the empty room. “What are we doing?” she whispered this time.

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the fear his words would cause. He’d be better off keeping his eyes open for the enemy. “The phone lines are down. We’re going to get you back to your room, where you can call the police.” As long as her room line still worked.

Holly’s hands reached for his arm as she trailed after him. Fingernails dug through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You think someone still wants to kill me?”

That was what he’d been trying to tell her. Maybe now she would listen. He pressed her back into the wall beside the front door. He’d check their surroundings first, before they charged into the open.

She froze in place as he gripped the doorknob. Her fingers refused to let him go. That was fine. He wasn’t going far.

He cracked the door open, squinting as the sinking sun momentarily blinded him. It was a gorgeous and peaceful day. Maybe he was being paranoid.

Pop.

Wood splintered next to his face from a slug.

He slammed the door closed. Twisted the flimsy little lock.

“What happened? What are you doing?”

Thankfully, the thick, log walls would keep out any more bullets. But the windows wouldn’t. They couldn’t keep people out, either.

Preston pried Holly’s fingers off his arm. “Down. Crawl. Back to the computer room.”

“Why? I don’t under—”

Glass shattered from the window frame and tinkled to the tile floor.

Holly crouched and took off over the shards, toward the other side of the building. Preston followed.

The enemy wasn’t holding back. An enemy that wanted Holly dead so badly they were willing to take out Preston in the process. Hopefully, there was only one shooter. And hopefully, whoever it was hadn’t realized that the game room also included a computer room with internet access.

“Are those bullets? Are we being shot at?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Yes.” He slammed the door to the smaller room and barricaded it with a chair under the knob. “Get online and contact the police. I’m going to keep the shooter away from you.”

Holly logged in to the internet from a kneeling position. “I don’t think it’s Denise anymore,” she said, trying to use logic to make sense of a life-and-death situation.

No. This was not a crime of passion. This was a premeditated attack. “I don’t think so, either.”

“911. What is your emergency?” The voice echoed over computer speakers.

“We are being shot at.”

We? Did she just say “we”? Preston craned his neck around to send her a warning look.

Holly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Have you been shot?” the voice asked.

“No. No. The door is locked. I’m inside the computer room at Cedar Glen Lodge.”

“Police are on their way. Has anyone been shot?”

Preston splayed his hands as if he could feel the handcuffs. Unless Holly did some quick damage control, he’d soon be wearing them soon.

Or he’d be dead.

The door vibrated as a body slammed into the other side.