Читать книгу A Time to Die - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

DEKE SLOWED his pace to accommodate Lexie’s hindered gait. She hated that anyone who walked with her was forced to regulate their normal speed to hers. Before a crossfire bullet had hit her spine and partially paralyzed her, she had been reasonably athletic: jogging, swimming, playing softball and dancing. Now, she was doing well to walk and swim. But she was one of the lucky ones whose spinal cord had not been severed, causing irreversible damage. If there hadn’t been a delay in starting steroids shortly after her injury, she might have recovered more quickly. But what was done was done, and even though she could never forget what had happened to her, she tried not to dwell on it.

So why was she thinking about it now?

Because Deke Bronson’s presence in her life made her feel helpless, and helplessness was something she had struggled with for the past ten years. She might have a handicap, but she was strong, independent and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Except when her life was in danger from an unknown assailant.

Deke stepped in front of Lexie and opened the back door, then held it for her as she emerged from the apartment building into the sunny warmth of a beautiful autumn day. The distant sounds of a small city’s hustle and bustle on a Thursday morning greeted them, as did the bright sunshine and clear blue sky. They were the only ones in the parking lot, although Lexie noticed a couple of people in the adjacent lot used by the tenants of a neighboring building.

“Stay here, please,” Deke said as he visually scanned the area, taking special note of the four vehicles parked alongside Lexie’s. “I need to check your car.”

“Check my car for what?” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she realized what he’d meant. “For a bomb?”

He nodded. “Keep your back to the door and stay right here, no matter what happens. Understand?”

She nodded.

“I need a verbal acknowledgment from you,” he told her.

“Yes, I understand.”

Lexie pushed her back and hips up against the closed door and watched while Deke walked toward her Subaru. Suddenly, a loud explosion shook the ground. The Lincoln Navigator parked at the end of the row of four vehicles exploded, shooting fire and smoke, and scattering debris as if it were raining metal and plastic fragments. Deke spun around and ran from the blast, heading straight for Lexie. Reacting instantly, she dropped the sack containing her sausage biscuit and coffee. The bag hit the concrete walkway, but the splattering sound was masked by her startled, frightened scream.

Trembling, gasping, but no longer screaming, Lexie reached out to Deke, but before he could get to her, a second explosion rocked the parking lot. The sleek, red Mustang parked beside the Navigator went up in flames.

Oh, God! Why would someone destroy her neighbor’s vehicles?

Deke barreled straight into Lexie, grabbing her and pushing her toward the back door. Just as Deke grabbed the door handle with one hand and wrapped his arm around Lexie’s shoulders, another explosion erupted. They both glanced back and saw that Lexie’s SUV had died the same violent death as the Navigator and the Mustang.

When Deke opened the door and shoved her inside, she stumbled and lost her grip on her cane, which caught in the door, holding it partially open. Deke slid his arm around her waist, yanked her to his side and swung her around so that his body protected her, as he simultaneously kicked her cane across the concrete floor of the back hallway. The door slammed shut with a resounding wham.

Looking through the row of shattered windows across the back wall, Lexie saw the fourth vehicle, a white Mercedes, explode. Scared out of her mind, she clung to Deke. Involuntarily shivering as if half frozen and gasping for air, she realized she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Take some deep breaths. Calm down. You’re safe. Deke’s safe. No one was hurt. Cars can be replaced.

Deke hurried her away from the windows and toward the elevator, which opened to reveal several residents, some in their robes and house slippers.

Roy and Betsy Morrison, a middle-aged couple who owned the Mercedes, emerged first, followed by Susan McKelvey, whose red Mustang was now smoldering outside in the parking lot.

“What happened?” Roy Morrison asked. “We were eating breakfast and heard the most godawful explosions.”

“I looked out the window and saw fire and smoke coming from the Wilsons’ Navigator,” Susan said.

“Y’all need to go back into the elevator and return to your apartments,” Deke told them. “I’m calling the police.” He leaned down, picked up Lexie’s cane and handed it to her, then yanked his cell phone off his belt and flipped it open. “All four vehicles in the parking lot have exploded.”

Susan and Betsy gasped.

“Somebody deliberately bombed our cars?” A perplexed expression flashed across Roy’s round, ruddy face.

Deke herded everyone into the elevator, then made his call. He spoke quietly, and with the Morrisons and Susan jabbering nonstop, Lexie couldn’t make out everything he said, but she heard enough to know he was talking to Geoff Monday and not the police. The Morrisons departed on the second floor, then Susan on the third. Deke remained on the phone as they ascended to her loft.

“Yeah, lieutenant, she’s safe. We’re almost back up to her apartment.”

Undoubtedly Bain was already at the Bedell home, she realized, and after speaking to Geoff Monday, Deke was now talking to Bain.

The elevator doors slid open. Deke motioned for her to get out, which she did, as he continued his conversation with Bain, mostly listening and occasionally replying in succinct sentences.

Once inside the apartment, he flipped his phone closed and hung it back on its belt hook, then turned to her. “You might want to sit down. You look pretty shaky.”

He didn’t need to make the suggestion twice. She went directly into the living room and all but fell into her favorite chair, letting her cane slip from her hand and onto the floor.

Deke came over and sat down on the sofa, straight across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Other than being terrified?” she said. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just feel like I might throw up.”

“You’ll be all right. Your reaction is normal. If you need to throw up, do it. Whatever it takes to settle your nerves.”

“The cars exploding…” She took a deep breath. “It’s connected to what happened at Helping Hands yesterday, right? It’s the same person, and I’m his target.”

“Probably.”

“But why harm innocent people? Why blow up all four cars instead of just mine?”

“My guess is that he’s making a statement. He wants to put the fear of God into you, Lexie. And I’d say he’s succeeding.”

She glared at Deke as what he’d said sunk in and she realized he was right.

“I’d be a fool not to be frightened.”

“Yes, you would. It’s how you handle your fear that matters. You have to protect yourself without giving in to fear.”

“Who would do this? As far as I know, I don’t have any real enemies, no one who wants to hurt me.”

“He may be someone you don’t know,” Deke said. “A stalker or a secret admirer, or someone who, for whatever reason, doesn’t approve of you and your work at Helping Hands. Or he could be someone from your past, someone who, for his own sick reasons, focused his hatred on you.”

The salty bile that had risen into her throat traveled back down her esophagus, leaving a burning trail that went all the way to her stomach. “I need some water.” She started to get up.

Deke motioned her back down. “I’ll get it for you.”

“I keep bottled water in the refrigerator.”

As he walked toward the kitchen, he told her, “Lieutenant Desmond is on his way over here. He called in a report, and a couple of squad cars should arrive any minute.” Deke opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. “The bomb squad and CSI will be here soon to work the scene. It’s possible there are more bombs.”

Lexie’s muscles tightened and her stomach churned. “Here in the building?”

Deke shook his head. “That’s highly unlikely, but not impossible. If this guy had wanted to kill you yesterday, he would have placed the bomb in your office or a part of the building where he knew you would be. Same goes for the car bombs. If he’d wanted to kill you, he could have waited for you to get in your car before detonating the bomb.”

Lexie heaved a sigh of relief.

Deke handed her the bottled water. “Ms. Bedell and Geoff are coming over, too.”

Lexie twisted off the cap, lifted the bottle to her lips and took a hefty swig of the natural spring water. The moment the cool liquid hit her stomach, she moaned quietly. “The water was a bad idea.” She reached down, picked up her cane and then stood.

“Need any help?” he asked.

She hurried as quickly as possible in the direction of the half bath that was located beside the dining room. “Oh, mercy. I’m not sure I can make it.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Deke rushed to her, swept her up into his arms and carried her into the powder room. He tossed back the commode lid and seat, situated Lexie in front of the bowl and propped her on her feet by keeping his arm firmly around her waist. She dropped her cane, which she’d been clutching against her side. When she bent over and heaved, Deke slipped in behind her, still supporting her securely.

After she threw up her morning coffee and some viscid stomach fluids, she lifted her head, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced over her shoulder at Deke. She hated for him to see her like this. After spending helpless months in hospitals and undergoing years of physical therapy that had required her to put her well-being in other people’s hands, she had come to pride herself on being totally self-reliant over the past five years.

“Sorry.” She whispered the one-word apology.

“Hey, I’ve seen grown men toss their cookies for less reason.”

When she tried to stand up, she staggered. Thank goodness he hadn’t released his hold. Standing perfectly still for a few minutes, she breathed deeply. Once the nausea and dizziness subsided, she pulled away from Deke.

“I’ll be fine.” She held on to the edge of the decorative, free-standing sink. “I need to wash my face and rinse out my mouth. You can leave me alone now.” When he remained behind her, as if he were waiting to catch her if she wavered, she looked back at him and said, “Really. I’m all right.”

He gave her a stern, concerned look, then walked out of the powder room and closed the door behind him.

Lexie gripped the sink’s rim with white-knuckled strength. It wasn’t like her to fall apart in a crisis, so why now? Maybe it was because in the past ten years, all her crises had been non-life-threatening. Not since that horrible day in Gadi all those years ago had she been faced with the possibility of dying or of her actually being the cause of someone else’s death. She still blamed herself for Marty Bearn getting killed. No one else blamed her, not even Marty’s widow or his daughter. But no matter how many people had exonerated her for the crime, she knew she was guilty. She’d been the overeager reporter who had told her young cameraman to keep filming when the assassination squad attacked and President’s Tum’s guard fired back.

If she and Marty had taken cover as soon as they’d realized what was happening, neither of them would have been shot. Marty would still be alive and she wouldn’t—

“Lexie, are you sure you’re all right?” Deke called through the closed door.

“I’m fine.” Even to her own ears, she didn’t sound convincing. “I just need a couple more minutes.”

The first time she had been marked for death, it had been the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. To the man who had shot her, it had been nothing personal. He hadn’t meant for his bullet to hit her; she had simply been caught in the crossfire. This time, danger had come to her, spoken her name and claimed her. To the man who had threatened her and Cara and Helping Hands, it was personal.

DEKE HAD LEFT LEXIE alone in the powder room for the past twenty minutes, checking on her twice and being told both times that she was fine. He knew better. She wasn’t fine. Although she probably hadn’t vomited again, she was sick. Sick with worry. And, no doubt, memories from a long-ago day, half a world away, were plaguing her. Was she reliving the moment her cameraman went down? Or the moment she took a bullet in the back? A bullet from his Colt M4A1 carbine. Was she asking herself why this was happening to her now, after she had finally put her life back together and was happy?

Or was she happy? Really happy?

Okay, so maybe it was chauvinistic of him, but he couldn’t help what he was thinking, could he? Lexie Murrough was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and yet at thirty-four, she didn’t have a man in her life. Unless you counted Bain Desmond, whom she said was only a friend. Yes, a woman could have a successful, satisfying life without being in a long-term relationship, but…

The doorbell rang, jerking Deke out of his thoughts. He trekked across the room, paused in front of the door and peered through the peephole, then unlocked the door and opened it to allow Lieutenant Desmond, Cara Bedell and Geoff Monday entrance.

“How’s Lexie?” Desmond and Cara asked simultaneously.

“A little shaken up but okay.”

“Where is she?” Cara charged into the loft, searching for her friend.

The powder-room door opened and Lexie emerged, her face pale, her makeup partially washed off and her shoulders bravely squared. “Y’all made it here in record time,” she said.

Cara ran to Lexie and grabbed her by the arms, then looked her over from head to toe. “Thank God you’re all in one piece.” She glanced back at the detective. “Geoff and I followed Bain the whole way. People get out of the way for a policemen’s flashing light.”

Desmond came up behind Cara, reached around her and took Lexie’s free hand. He gave it a squeeze. “I need to go downstairs and play ringleader to the circus out there. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, and I’ll need you to answer a few questions.”

“Go. Do what you need to do,” Lexie told him. “Deke will take care of things here.”

Desmond glanced at Deke. “Actually, I need Mr. Bronson to go with me and fill me in on what he saw. But Mr. Monday will stay here with you and Cara.”

Cara pulled Lexie toward the sofa. The two women sat side by side and began talking softly, almost whispering.

When Desmond left the apartment, Deke went with him. As they waited at the elevator, Desmond asked, “Were there any people in those cars that blew up out back?”