“We didn’t go out,” she cut in. “We stayed in and ordered take-out.”
For a moment she was tempted to stand up, point directly at Caleb, and yell, “It was him! We slept together that night, too.”
Instinctively, she knew to keep her mouth shut. It wouldn’t look good for Caleb if she announced his involvement with her. But she wasn’t simply covering for him. The truth made her look like a total idiot, and she was tired of Hernandez glaring at her with that belittling and antagonistic expression.
Right now, he just looked disappointed. “You stayed in,” he repeated. “Okay, well, my gut tells me Grier knows about that date, Ms. Kincaid. Somehow, he heard about it, or maybe—”
“He’s close by,” Caleb stated.
The room fell quiet at his words. Hernandez turned to Caleb. “You think so?”
Confidence lined Caleb’s face. “He has to be. We know from the email that he had planned to reunite with Marley soon, and he’s smart. He wouldn’t risk walking up to her door, not unless he knew for sure what the law-enforcement situation was.”
“He’d need to scout the area first,” Hernandez agreed.
“I think he’s doing more than that. He’s watching her. He knows she had another man over—” there was a slight crack in Caleb’s voice “—and in order to see that, he had to be close.”
A tremor ran along Marley’s skin. The notion that Patrick was lurking outside somewhere, watching her, was too frightening to contemplate. God, would she ever be rid of that man? She wished she’d never gone into his hospital room all those months ago, never agreed to that first date, never opened her heart to him.
“Okay, he can’t be next door, since AJ and I have occupied that space,” Caleb said in a brisk voice. He glanced at Marley. “How well do you know your other neighbors?”
Since he’d spoken to her directly, she had no choice but to meet his eyes. Damn. Why did he have to be so attractive? Her heart shouldn’t skip a beat anymore when she looked at him.
“Don and Melinda live in the house on the other side of mine,” she answered. “They have three kids, but they’re all away at camp for the summer. Next to them is Kim, she’s a widow.” She racked her brain for more names and faces. “Across the street is Mrs. White, she lives alone, kind of grumpy all the time but she can be sweet. I’m not sure about anyone else.”
“Do you know if any of the ones you mentioned are on vacation, like the Strathorns?” Caleb asked.
“I don’t think so. I saw Don and his wife the other day, and I saw Kim yesterday when I checked the mail.” She paused. “I haven’t seen Mrs. White in a few days, come to think of it, but she hardly ever leaves the house.”
Caleb and the other men sprang to action before she even finished talking. She tried to hide her admiration as she watched Caleb bark orders at everyone. “We canvass each house one by one, only the ones that have a direct visual on Marley’s. Teams of two. Hernandez, you’re with me. Officer Thompson,” he said to the thin, uniformed blond man, “you stay with Ms. Kincaid. Radio us if there are any disturbances.”
“Yes, sir.”
Marley’s chest tightened with alarm as Caleb and the others unholstered their weapons. What if they got hurt? What if Caleb got hurt? She wanted to urge him to be careful, but clamped her mouth shut. She refused to let herself feel anything for him. Besides, he was a trained government agent. He could handle himself.
Still, her heart thudded as she watched him disappear through the doorway, his strides long and determined.
Please don’t let him get hurt.
CALEB CROUCHED BESIDE the tall hedges of Lydia White’s two-story Victorian home, silently gesturing for Hernandez to take the back. AJ and the other agents, as well as two of Hernandez’s men, were already approaching the other houses in the vicinity, moving stealthily in the shadows.
With adrenaline coursing through his blood, Caleb held his Glock in his right hand and the radio in his left. He crept to the front door while Hernandez circled the house. As he reached the porch, his radio crackled and AJ’s voice came through. “Kim just let us in. Preparing to search the house.”
The radio went silent. Caleb stood in front of Lydia White’s door and rapped his knuckles on it. There was no doorbell, just a sign on the mailbox that said No Solicitors. He knocked again, but still no answer.
“Lydia White?” he shouted. “This is Agent Caleb Ford with the Drug Enforcement Agency.”
Nothing.
The radio came to life again. “Kim’s house is clear.” A moment later, one of Hernandez’s officers checked in. “Don and Melinda Levenstein’s house is clear.”
“Lydia White,” he said again. “With your permission, I’d like to search your house. There is a possible fugitive on the premises.”
He debated picking the lock when static hissed out from the radio. “Back-door lock’s been jimmied open,” came Hernandez’s grim voice. “I’m going in.”
The adrenaline in his veins flowed harder. No time to pick a lock. Instead, he kicked Lydia White’s door open with his heavy black boot and then he was in the front hall, shrouded by darkness. Holding his weapon, he moved through the shadows, clearing the living room and a small den, before rendezvousing with Hernandez in the hallway.
“Kitchen’s clear,” the detective murmured.
The two men headed for the staircase, Hernandez falling into step behind Caleb, letting him take the lead. You could say a lot of things about Hernandez, but Caleb felt good knowing the detective had his back. The two of them moved together as if they’d been a team for years, scouting the hallway, using hand signals to direct their movements. They found the bathroom and master bedroom empty, then crept down the carpeted hall toward the single door at the end of it.
Caleb’s instincts began to hum, growing stronger when a muffled sound broke through the silence.
He signaled for Hernandez to pull back. They paused in front of the white door, exchanging a significant look. Someone was in there. Slowly, Caleb rested his hand on the door handle, glanced at the other man again, then pushed his way into the room, weapon drawn.
A strangled cry came from the bed.
Caleb’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, a soft curse exiting his mouth as he stared at the elderly woman bound and gagged on the bed. Had to be Lydia White.
Caleb held up his hand to silence the crying woman, scanning the bedroom. There was a door, ajar, at one end of the room. Hernandez slipped toward it, then kicked it open and yelled, “San Diego Police Department!”
Nobody was in there. After examining the narrow closet, Hernandez stepped back and said, “Clear.”
Disappointment tightened Caleb’s chest. Damn it. Grier had been here, and for a while, judging by the empty food containers littering the carpet.
Caleb went to the woman’s side, pulling off her duct-tape gag as gently as he could. “Lydia White?”
“Yes,” the woman croaked. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here! He was going to kill me!”
Caleb helped her into a sitting position. He pulled the knife from the holster on his ankle and quickly sliced open the tape binding her hands and feet together. Holding it by the corners, he set the pieces of tape on the table next to the bed for forensics to print and bag. He knew without a doubt whose prints they’d find on the tape, all over the room, in fact.
That son of a bitch had been here, scheming and watching Marley. Caleb’s eyes drifted to the window, then narrowed at the hole in the wall beside it. His pupils contracted as Hernandez flicked on the light, but adjusted quickly, and he noticed flecks of blood on the plaster where the drywall had been broken. Grier’s DNA would be on it.
“Mrs. White, can you identify the man who did this to you?” Caleb asked.
She nodded, a soft sob sliding from her mouth. “Yes, yes, I’ll never be able to forget that face.”
“I know you’ve been through quite an ordeal,” he said, keeping his tone quiet. Behind him, he heard Hernandez barking into the radio, arranging for a for
ensics team and an ambulance. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, to get you checked out, all right?”
The elderly woman’s eyes filled with tears. “It was so terrible, officer,” she said in the raspy voice usually heard from long-time smokers. “He was here for that dear girl across the street. He was so angry!”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Kincaid is under police protection. You are, too, now,” Caleb assured her. “Mrs. White,” he continued, “the man who did this to you—did he say he would be coming back? Did he give any indication of where he might have gone?”
“No. No, nothing,” Lydia stated.
Caleb turned to Hernandez, who carefully walked through the bedroom, making sure not to touch anything. “Miguel, can you stay with Mrs. White while I go across the street to Kincaid’s?”
Hernandez nodded, taking Caleb’s place at Lydia’s bedside, offering surprising words of comfort as he reassured her the paramedics would be there soon to examine her.
But Caleb wasn’t worried about Lydia White as he left the house. The elderly woman was dehydrated and in shock, but she would be fine. Marley, on the other hand…
His chest constricted as he realized how close Grier had been this entire time. He bit the inside of his lip so hard he could taste the blood in his mouth. Christ, he was scared for her. He’d seen the digital photo one of Hernandez’s men had taken of Marley’s locker at the hospital, the thick black X marking her face in that picture.
He couldn’t let Grier hurt Marley.
Swallowing hard, he ignored the sharp metallic taste and walked faster. When he marched into Marley’s living room, she was still on the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. Officer Thompson stood by the window, watching the scene outside.
“Is the old lady all right?” the young officer inquired.
“She’ll be fine. Thompson, do me a favor and excuse us for a moment.”
With a nod, the officer left the room. Caleb heard the front door open and shut, then Thompson’s footsteps as he descended the porch steps to help out the others.
“You have to listen to me right now,” he began, his throat tight as he looked into her gorgeous eyes. “I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t blame you for that, but please, Marley, just hear me out.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“I need you to understand how much danger you’re in.” An eddy of fear swirled in his stomach but he ignored it, trying to remain calm as he laid it all out in front of her. “When I first moved in next door, I suspected Patrick would come back for you. Not to hurt you, but to convince you to leave town with him, or maybe just to say goodbye. I suspected he was obsessed with you, and when he sent that email, I knew it was a matter of time before love, or infatuation—whatever you want to call it—pushed him to see you.”
Marley unclasped her hands and pressed them on her knees. “And now?”
“Now he wants to hurt you.” He sank into the armchair Hernandez had occupied earlier. “He was across the street for who knows how long, and he must have seen us together. He also has to know I’m with the DEA, because he saw me there during the warehouse raid.”
“So he thinks I’m working with the cops.”
“Or at the very least, sleeping with one.” He flinched when he saw her eyes darken. “What he did to your locker was an act of violence, and it’s an indication of what he wants to do to you.”
“I know.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I know the danger, Caleb. I can feel it. Where are you going with this?”
“Someone needs to stay here in the house with you,” he said. “And I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t object. You need protection.”
“Okay,” she said without any argument.
“Though I’d prefer it if you’d agree to stay in a safe house,” he added.
Bitterness flickered across her face. “I’m not leaving my house, Caleb. Patrick has already turned my entire life upside down. I won’t let him chase me from my home.”
He’d known she’d say something like that. “Then an agent will stay here. Grier is going to find out what happened tonight. We might get lucky and he’ll waltz back to White’s house, unaware that we found his hideout, but I’m not holding my breath. He was probably in the area, saw the police activity and took off.”
“So search the neighborhood,” Marley burst out, sounding frustrated.
“We are. Units are combing the area as we speak, though my gut tells me Grier will be long gone by now.”
“But he’ll be back.”
“He’ll be back,” Caleb echoed. “He might consider it too risky to come to this house, but he’ll find a way to get to you, Marley. I’m certain of that.”
She released a shaky breath and turned her head away, but not before he saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it.
“You probably shouldn’t go into work for a while,” he continued. “It’ll be too hard to protect you there, and today Grier showed us that he can find a way into the hospital without getting caught.”
Marley’s jaw tightened. “So I’m just supposed to sit around and wait for him to kill me?”
“He won’t kill you.” Caleb’s pulse sped up at the mere thought. “I won’t let him.”
She fell quiet for a few long moments, then cleared her throat. “It can’t be you, Caleb.”
“What can’t be me?”
“The agent who stays here. I don’t want it to be you. Or your partner for that matter.”
Something shifted in his chest. There, his heart had officially cracked in two. He wanted nothing more than to stay here with her, to protect this beautiful, generous woman who had once trusted him so willingly—and so misguidedly. It killed him that she didn’t want him around, though he understood perfectly why that was.
But God, he wished she would trust him now, to protect her, at least. He’d still be next door, but what if that wasn’t close enough? What if he wasn’t fast enough?
His palms began to sweat and he rubbed them on the front of his pants. “No,” he finally said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Marley.”
THE SHRIEK OF SIRENS reverberated in the night, causing Patrick to sink farther into the bushes. He’d been hunkered down in the small park directly behind Marley’s cul-de-sac for the past hour, ever since he’d heard that first siren wail in the distance. Seconds from hopping the fence at the edge of the park, he’d been forced to retreat, and now he hid, waiting for the opportunity to get the hell out of here. Evidently the cops had discovered his hiding place, which sent a rush of fury to his gut.
A flash of color caught his eye, and he peeked out to see a cop car cruising along the street in front of the park. Patrols. They were obviously casing the entire neighborhood.
“Damn it,” he muttered, ducking into the bushes again.
What was he supposed to do now? He’d planned on going for the money tonight. The black backpack slung over his shoulder contained the syringes and sedatives he’d stolen from the hospital earlier this afternoon. He still couldn’t believe he’d walked in undetected and managed to break into one of the medicine cabinets. Managed to leave Marley a nice little message, too.
Now his plans were shot to hell. It could’ve been so easy. Break into the house next door to Marley’s and stick a needle in that cop bastard’s throat before he knew what hit him. And then, with the cop in a drug-induced slumber, Patrick would get his money from Marley’s bathroom while she worked the night shift. He’d considered going back to the hospital after that, waiting outside in the parking lot for her to come out. Even contemplated forgiving her for sleeping around on him. God knows, starting a new life would be a lot more fun if he had someone with him.
But now…now everything had changed.
He peered out again, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed the cruiser had disappeared. He needed to make a run
for it. If the patrols turned up nothing, the cops might start searching the area on foot soon, and he couldn’t afford to stay in this damn park all night.
He crept out of the bushes and stayed in the shadows, using the oak trees for cover, his guard on high alert with each careful step. Rocks lined the edge of the playground. He bent to pick up a decent-size one, then kept moving. He neared the sidewalk, his gaze darting up and down the street, and finally he zeroed in on a beat-up old Toyota with rust coating the doors. There was no telltale flash of an alarm as he approached the decrepit vehicle. Perfect car to hotwire.
Fingers tightening over the rock, he glanced around the dark, deserted street, then smashed in the driver’s-side window and held his breath. No alarm sounded.
He was in business.
Rapidly, he opened the door and slid into the car, his hand reaching under the dash and yanking out a bundle of wires. Two minutes later, the engine rumbled and Patrick sped away as if his life depended on it.
Because it kind of did.
He drove fast. His breath came out in sharp puffs, growing steadier the farther he got from Marley’s neighborhood. He glanced in the rearview mirror every two seconds, but no police cruisers appeared behind him. No flashing lights. No sirens.
Relief pounded into him. Shit. That had been close. Too close.
When he decided he was far enough away—he’d driven for a good half hour—he pulled up at the curb in front of a small strip mall and let the car idle.
Then he slammed his hands against the steering wheel in fury.
Damn it. What the hell was he supposed to do? He needed that money.
Then you’re just going to have to get her to bring it to you.
A slow smile stretched across his mouth. Yeah. Yeah, that could work. Marley would have to bring him the money. But how? How could he get her to— He straightened his shoulders, the smile widening.
And just like that, he knew exactly what he needed to do.
13
MARLEY LIFTED HER HEAD in surprise. Caleb stood in front of her, his broad shoulders squared, his defiant expression making it clear he would not back down.