Читать книгу Secret Stalker - Lena Diaz - Страница 12
ОглавлениеMax leaned against a Destiny PD patrol car in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, in a circle with the five other officers who made up the SWAT team, all in full tactical gear except him. Since the danger was over, they were talking in detective mode, trying to figure out what had just happened.
There’d been no fatalities. The only people to get shot were two of the gunmen, courtesy of Max, and they were on their way to the hospital. The three other bad guys were on their way to the county lockup. But the grocery store and surrounding area were still bustling with firefighters and police officers and would be for quite a while as they sorted through the mess.
Chief Thornton, who’d been talking to the fire chief, shoved his way between team lead Dillon Gray and his best friend, second in command Chris Downing. The others—Donna Waters, Colby Vale and Randy Carter—widened the circle to make room.
Thornton looked at each of them, a ferocious frown on his brow. “Where’s the new guy?”
Max’s lips twitched at the shrugs and carefully blank looks on Dillon’s and Chris’s faces. The chief was having a heck of a time trying to force everyone to accept a new member onto their SWAT team and detective squad. Blake Sullivan was still learning the ropes of Destiny PD and no one was exactly rolling out a welcome mat for him.
The guy was former military and had been a detective in Knoxville before relocating here. He’d made it clear on his first day that he expected to step right into the action. It had been a bitter pill for him to realize he had to spend several months as a uniformed beat cop first—as they all had—to learn the station’s routine and his way around the county before becoming an active member of the team.
Thornton turned around, looking for his beleaguered new hire, then put his hands on his hips. He’d obviously spotted Blake, fifty yards away, looking bored as he leaned against the ambulance where Bex was being examined by an EMT.
“Why isn’t he wearing tactical gear like the rest of you?” Thornton demanded, directing his question at Dillon.
“When Max’s call came in, we had to hustle,” Dillon said. “Didn’t have time to coddle a newbie and bring him in on the assault.”
The chief narrowed his eyes. “This would have been a perfect opportunity to show him the ropes. Next time the team is activated, you had better include him. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir. I hear you.”
Max grinned. He wouldn’t bet a plug nickel that Blake would be included on their next callout. At this point, it was a matter of principle. Blake would have to show some humility before Dillon would back down. And judging by how distant and arrogant the new guy seemed most of the time, that moment of acceptance wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“Colby, go get Blake.” The chief jerked his head toward the ambulance.
Colby sighed and jogged across the parking lot.
“And you, Max, stop grinning like the village idiot and tell me if you recognize any of the gunmen. Chris snapped their pictures as they were brought out, minus the ski masks and sunglasses some of them were wearing.” The chief motioned for Chris to pass his phone to Max.
Max flipped through the images on the screen, then shook his head and returned the phone to Chris.
“None of them look familiar. I don’t think they’re local.”
“He’s right,” Dillon said, not even glancing Blake’s way as Colby ushered him into their circle. “We all grew up here. I may not know everyone in town by name, but I know most of them by sight. I’ve never seen any of those men before.”
“Let me have a look.” Blake held out his hand.
Chris arched a brow.
Max shoved him. “Give him a break. What could it hurt?”
Chris shoved him back but handed his phone over.
Blake’s jaw tightened. One of these days the guy would probably explode like a spring that had been wound too tight. Max wasn’t sure he wanted to be there when that happened.
“Well?” the chief asked, impatience heavy in his tone as Blake carefully examined each picture.
He handed the phone to Chris. “The second one and the last one are gangbangers from my hometown. I don’t know their names. But they have the same tattoos on their forearms as other gangbangers I’ve arrested.”
“They’re gang members from Knoxville?” the chief asked.
Blake nodded. “Those two for sure. Can’t speak for the other three. I can call my old squad, send them the photos to help us get IDs. Maybe the other ones just don’t have their tats yet. They have to earn them. But we can assume they’re all in the same gang.”
“We don’t assume anything around here,” Dillon said. “We deal in facts.”
Blake’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
Colby asked, “Why would street thugs drive forty-five minutes to storm a small, rural grocery store with assault rifles? They could have made a much bigger haul in Knoxville.”
“They didn’t get a haul at all. Didn’t even try,” Max said. “As soon as they came in, they started firing wildly into the air—except the one who shot at me. They split up as if looking for something, leaving only two guys to control the customers up front. But they didn’t seem to have a clue what they were doing. I was able to signal the manager to hustle the employees and customers into the cooler while I drew the gunmen’s fire. If they were there for money, they’d have all stayed up front and forced the manager to open the safe.”
Dillon crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. “They came here looking for something.”
“Maybe they were looking for someone.” Max nodded toward the other end of the parking lot.
As one they all turned to see Bex, still sitting in the back of an ambulance.
The chief motioned to Chris. “Text those pictures to all of our phones. Max, show the pics to Miss Kane and ask her whether she recognizes any of them.”
Max straightened away from the cruiser. “Dillon’s the lead. He should question her.”
A look of surprise flashed across Dillon’s face, but he took a step toward Bex anyway.
The chief put his hand on Dillon’s shoulder to stop him. “No. Max is going to interview her. The rest of you can change out of your gear and get initial statements from the other witnesses. The EMTs should be done checking them out soon. One of our officers is putting them in the break room as their medical reviews are done, unless any of them need to be hospitalized. You know the routine. Get those statements.”
Colby clapped Max on the shoulder in a show of solidarity as he and the others headed to their vehicles to shed their gear. When only the chief remained, he faced Max with his hands on his hips.
“Go on, son. Spit it out. You look like you’re chewing on nails.”
“You, more than anyone, know my history. You hired me right out of high school, right after...everything. Dillon or one of the others should interview Miss Kane. Not me.”
“That it? That’s all you got to say?”
He wanted to say a whole lot more. But he respected his boss too much to let loose with a string of curses. “Yes, sir. That about sums it up.”
“Good. Glad we got that settled. Because you’re a professional and I’ve never had reason to say otherwise. Don’t give me a reason today. Miss Kane was clinging to you like a lifeline when you carried her out of the store and it took ten minutes of your sweet-talking to get her to let you go. You may not be comfortable, given your past. And I understand that, I really do. But this isn’t about you. This is about finding the truth, conducting an investigation. Right now, whether either of us likes it or not, you’re our best option for getting her to answer our questions. Now, I ain’t normally one to explain my decisions and don’t plan on doing this again anytime soon. So I suggest you get over there and do your job, Detective.”
Heat flushed up his neck. His face was probably beet red. Feeling like a high school kid who’d just been scolded by the principal for skipping class, Max gave his boss a curt nod and strode across the parking lot.
Before Max was even halfway there, he noticed an older gentleman in a dark gray suit working his way between the cars and fire trucks toward Bex’s ambulance. Max hesitated. The man was Augustus Leonard, one of only two lawyers in town. Why did a lawyer want to talk to Bex?
* * *
THE EMT, DON, steadied Bex’s left forearm on a raised metal board that he’d slid out from the wall of the ambulance. From the amount of bandages, antibiotic sprays and other first aid equipment lying around, Bex would have thought her arm had been severed. She was embarrassed at all the fuss he was making over such a small cut.
Pausing with a needle poised between what looked like tweezers, he said, “Ma’am, are you sure you won’t go to the hospital and have a doctor stitch you up? You may need X-rays. There might be other injuries you don’t even know about yet.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have anything more serious than this.”
“You’re one lucky woman. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
Bits of memories flashed through her mind—gunshots, crouching behind the T-shirt rack, her stomach clenching with dread as the gunman with the ski mask raised his arm, ready to shoot her. She shivered and considered the bandage on her arm. He was right. It could have been so much worse.
“You’re right. And I assure you I’m very grateful that I’m only getting stitches.”
“Stitches? What stitches?” a gravelly voice said from the open doors of the ambulance.
Bex looked over, smiling to see her lawyer looking all proper and perfect, his white hair neatly in place, his handlebar mustache sticking out on each side like skinny white toothpicks. She started to lean toward him to shake his hand, but Don frowned at her, holding her injured arm steady.
“Sorry, Don.” She waved at her lawyer. “Mr. Leonard, nice to see you. What are you doing here?”
He arched a bushy brow. “I might ask you the same thing, Miss Kane. Imagine my concern when I look out my office window and see a SWAT team racing into the grocery store. Even worse, a few minutes later, you’re carried out by Detective Remington and placed in this ambulance. And now I hear something about stitches. Do tell, please, what’s going on? How badly are you hurt?”
She nodded toward her left arm. “Not bad at all. Just about to get a couple of stitches, that’s all.”
“More than a couple,” the EMT murmured as he pricked her skin with the needle.
The shot he’d given her to numb her arm did its job, but she couldn’t help wincing and looking away.
“How did you get cut?” her lawyer asked.
“It happened when I crawled in between some shelves. Some gunmen held up the store and I had to hide. I really am okay. Thanks to Max—ah, Detective Remington.”
“Who else was hurt?” he asked. “I saw two men brought out on stretchers.”
“I have no idea. I haven’t heard about anyone else in the store, or the details about what happened. I hope those men will be okay.”
“They were the bad guys,” Don said without glancing up from his work. “Heard it over the radio. Two of the gunmen were shot and taken to Maryville. I don’t think any of the shoppers were injured.”
Bex turned her head again as he poked the needle into her skin.
“Hurts?” Augustus asked.
“No, I just...don’t like needles.”
“It’s a shame your mother refused to let you come see her in Destiny all these years and then your first time back you end up in the middle of a robbery.” He shook his head. “Dorothy shouldn’t have kept you from your own home all this time. It wasn’t right. For what it’s worth, I did try to talk some sense into her. But she was too worried about you, was determined to keep you away.”
“I just wish she would have agreed to move in with me. But she insisted on staying here,” Bex said.
“Destiny was her home. She had a lot of friends here, her volunteer work at the church. I doubt she’d have moved for anyone.”
“Well, I guess it all worked out. Mama enjoyed the trips to see me. She got a little thrill every time I had a limo pick her up.”
“You spoiled her.”
“She deserved it. I only wish I could have done more for her while she was alive. No matter how well my business did, she refused to let me buy her anything expensive. Half the gifts I mailed her were returned. I sent her a houseful of furniture once and she wouldn’t sign for it, wouldn’t even let the guys unload anything from the truck.”
He smiled. “That’s Dorothy for you.” He leaned forward and patted her good hand. “My condolences again. I know you loved her very much. Her heart attack was such a shock to us all.”
She blinked against the burn of unshed tears. “Thank you. No sense in dwelling on the past anymore, though. I need to wrap things up here and get back to my own home as soon as I can, make sure Allison isn’t ready to quit after being left in charge of the antique shop so long.”
“Allison?”
“My assistant. And friend. Once I pack up everything, when do you think I’ll be able to put the house up for sale?”
She risked a quick look at her injured arm. Four stitches in, probably a few more to go. She looked away before Don dipped the needle in again.
“Another few weeks at best, a month at the worst. Your mother’s will is fairly straightforward. But there are some tangles to unravel with the various properties she had around the county and ensuring there are no liens before I can get them transferred to you as the owner.”
“You’re referring to the farmland my daddy used to have? Aren’t those plots leased out to local farmers? The same ones who’ve been on that land since Daddy died years ago?”
“Yes, but it won’t take long to clear them out. Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s a standard eviction process.”
“I don’t want them cleared out. Just transfer the deeds to them.”
He blinked like an owl. “Pardon?”
“I don’t need the land, Mr. Leonard. And I’m doing well with my antique store. I’m not rich by any stretch. But I’ve got what I need. No reason to be greedy. Those men have worked that land for years. They’ve earned this. It’s the right thing to do. Mom and Dad would approve, I’m sure.”
He looked like he wanted to argue but he gave her a crisp nod. “Very well. It’s your land, your money. I’ll draw up some papers to make the transfer. It will take more time than originally planned, of course.”
“Thank you. I understand.”
Don jostled her arm as he leaned past her to put away the needle. But when she started to pull back, he stopped her.
“I need to bandage that before we’re done,” he said.
She sighed and relaxed her arm.
Don cleaned up the tabletop to prepare for bandaging her cut.
“If the paperwork takes much longer, can we plan on doing it through the mail? Including the sale of my mom’s house?”
He frowned. “Why would you want to do that? You’re here now. If a few more weeks is too long, I can try to put a rush on things.”
“I don’t want you to have to hurry on my account. But after, well, after today, I’m more inclined to finish packing up the house and just go. Can’t I sign some kind of power of attorney over to you?”
His brows raised again, making her think of snow-white caterpillars.
“You can, certainly. But most people prefer to give power of attorney to someone they know and trust rather than to their lawyer.”
“My mama trusted you. That’s good enough for me.”
He puffed out his chest, his face turning a light shade of red. And suddenly Bex wondered whether he’d felt more toward her mother than simple friendship. And whether those feelings were returned. If so, her mother had never said anything. But then again, her mother might have worried that Bex would feel funny about her finally dating someone after all these years. And, truth be told, she would have felt...odd about it.
A car crash had taken Bex’s father from them when Bex was in middle school. The loss had been devastating for her and her mother. Imagining her mom with anyone other than her daddy made her feel sad. But happy, too. Her mother deserved some male companionship in her life. And if she’d found it with the honorable Mr. Augustus Leonard, then that was a very good thing.
Mr. Leonard cleared his throat. “Thank you for your faith in me, Miss Kane. I have a form at the office you can fill out for the power of attorney. When you’re finished here, I can walk you over. Martha’s a notary. She can witness our signatures and notarize the document.”
“Can you raise your arm a few inches?” Don asked.
Bex lifted her arm so he could wrap some gauze over the stitches.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said to her lawyer. “The sooner I can get out of Destiny the better. There’s nothing left for me here except bad memories.”
Movement near the ambulance doors had her looking up, and right into Max’s eyes. Again. And just like in the grocery store, his jaw tightened and his eyes darkened.
“Max. Um, hi. How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
“Long enough.” The bitterness in his voice surprised her. Had he heard what she’d said to Mr. Leonard? Why would it matter? He certainly didn’t have any feelings for her anymore, as evidenced by how he’d treated her at the deli.
Or did he?
He motioned toward the bandage. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
She blinked and looked down, having forgotten all about her injured arm. “It’s just a little cut.”
“More like a gash,” Don said. “Eight stitches.”
“How did that happen?” Max elbowed his way past the lawyer and hopped into the ambulance. He grabbed Bex’s left hand to inspect the EMT’s work as if he would demand a redo if it didn’t meet his standards.
Bex frowned and tugged her arm out of his grasp. “I assume it happened when you...when I hid between the shelves. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. Really.”
He studied her a moment, then promptly ignored her, speaking instead to the EMT.
“Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?”
“She said she didn’t—”
“I refused to go to the hospital,” she said.
“Well?” he asked the EMT, as if she hadn’t spoken.
Don’s brows rose to his hairline. “I, ah, Miss Kane didn’t want to go to the hospital. She asked me if I could take care of her arm here.”
“What about the risk of infection? Those grocery store shelves aren’t exactly sterile.”
The bewildered look on Don’s face hardened. “I know how to clean a wound, sir. And I asked Miss Kane about getting a tetanus shot, but she insisted that she didn’t need one.”
Max turned to face her. “You either get the shot or you’re going to the hospital.”
Bex rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse from the bench beside her.
“I’m not an idiot, Max. I’m up-to-date on my shots. And I don’t need you, or anyone else, bossing me around.” She shook the EMT’s hand. “Thank you, Don. I appreciate your help.”
She went to hop down from the ambulance, but Max gently pushed her back and hopped down first. Then he lifted her out before she realized what he was about to do.
The feel of his warm hands around her sent a delightful shock of awareness up her spine, making her stiffen in surprise.
His jaw tightened and he dropped his hands, taking a quick step back. Before she could correct his obvious misinterpretation of her reaction, Mr. Leonard stepped forward.
“I’ll escort you back to my office.”
“She needs to answer some questions about the shooting,” Max said, a thread of steel in his deep voice.
Eager to avoid any kind of confrontation, Bex stepped between the two men and shook Mr. Leonard’s hand. “Thank you, for everything. If you don’t mind, I’ll go to your office some other time to sign that power of attorney.”
“Very well. My door’s always open for you, Miss Kane.” He tipped his head politely. “Detective Remington.” Then he headed across the parking lot toward his office, one of a handful of businesses and restaurants on Magnolia Street.
Max waved Bex back from the ambulance so Don could close the doors and prepare to return to the hospital.
Bex crossed her arms, not quite sure which Max Remington was standing before her now—the one full of anger at the deli, or the one who’d nearly broken her heart with kindness as he’d soothed her after carrying her out of the store.
“I never really thanked you before. You saved my life today.”
“Just doing my job.” His voice was curt, clipped.
She sighed. Deli Max was back.
“Chief Thornton wants me to show you some pictures of the gunmen to see whether you recognize them. And I’m sure he’ll want me to interview you about what happened,” he continued. “I figure it will be easier at the station. We can take my truck. I’ll bring you back to your car when we’re done.”
He reached for her good arm, but she jerked back, her stomach churning with dread. At the mention of the police station, her body flushed with heat, in spite of the chill in the air. She shook her head and took a step away from him.
“I’m not going to the police station.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
She glanced past him at Thornton, who was talking to a uniformed officer about thirty yards away. “I...don’t have fond memories of that place, as you can imagine. And I never intend to go there again. So, unless you’re arresting me, the answer is no.”
She hurried toward her car, which, thankfully, was no longer blocked by a fire engine, as it had been earlier.
“Bex. Wait.”
The irritation in his voice as he followed her had her practically running and pulling out her keys. She stopped beside a blue Honda and reached for the door handle just as Max caught up to her. He braced a hip against the door and crossed his arms as if daring her to try to open it.
Which was fine, since this wasn’t her car.
She stepped back, her hands on her hips. Then she took another step, then whirled around and ran to her Toyota RAV4 SUV two spaces over. By the time Max realized she’d played a trick on him and started toward her, she was zipping out of the parking space.
He stood watching her in her rearview mirror, his hands fisted at his sides.
Running from him was childish. Especially since he was a police officer and she’d have to answer his questions eventually. But facing angry, cold Max was more than she could take right now after everything else that had happened. How could she stand there, talking to him as if he was a stranger, when even now her body yearned for his touch?
It might have been ten years since she’d last kissed him, a decade since she’d felt the comforting weight of his body pressing her down into the mattress. But from the moment she’d seen him at the deli, all those years had fallen away as if they’d never happened. And her emotions were just as raw now as the day she’d left.
She wanted, needed, some time to herself. To decompress, to reflect about what had happened today and get her emotions back under control. Trying to do that with a man she’d once loved looking at her like he despised her was more than she could bear, more than anyone should have to bear after the kind of crisis she’d just lived through. No, tomorrow would be soon enough. She’d face Max tomorrow.
The sound of a powerful engine had her looking in her rearview mirror again. A shiny black four-by-four pickup was coming up fast behind her. And sitting in the driver’s seat was an achingly familiar silhouette.
Max Remington.
