Next to Die (16 page)

“But I think it was a car accident,” she continued, and Joe’s misgivings evaporated. “I heard a rumor that the passengers in the car didn’t make it.”

“That’s terrible,” Hannah remarked after a shocked silence.

Joe scratched his head. Had Penny just made up a tale to throw Hannah off the scent? He found himself walking toward the kitchen.

Both women looked up guiltily.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” he asked both of them at once.

“No,” said Hannah brightly. “But thank you. You’ve been very helpful. Unfortunately for Penny, the FBI has no real cause to get involved yet, so the police are still handling the investigation at this stage.” Her cell phone vibrated and she sneaked a peek at it. “Excuse me just a sec,” she said, heading for the patio.

Joe and Penny exchanged a long look. “Why can’t the FBI get involved?” he wanted to know.

“They can’t convincingly prove that Eric stole the ricin or that he pushed my father off the road. This is a simple case of harassment and trespassing,” she added with defeat.

It was all Joe could do not to pull her into his arms again. “I’m sorry,” he said, jamming his fingers into his pockets. “You gonna be okay tonight?”

“Sure,” she said, forcing a smile. “Lia’s on her way home now.”

“I overheard what you said to Agent Lindstrom about how I got this scar,” he heard himself admit.

She had the grace to look embarrassed. “I wouldn’t feel so bad about lying if I understood why you don’t want anybody knowing. There’s no shame in serving your country, is there?”

He looked down and away. “Maybe I’ll explain one day,” he answered.

She sent him one of her searching looks. “It’d be good for you to talk about it,” she urged.

She was probably right, but he was cautious about sharing too much. Sometimes women took advantage of shared secrets.

“Here, take some bread with you,” Penny offered, turning toward the stove. “You need to fatten up,” she reminded him. “Thanksgiving isn’t all that far away.”

He couldn’t refuse that offer. As she handed him the warmed block of tinfoil, their fingers brushed and a pleasant feeling stole over him. That had to be because her massages were so soothing.

He turned away, envisioning the type of man Penny would eventually secure. Someone tame and gentle, who was hopefully as caring and generous as she was. Envy spurted through him. Penny wasn’t his to hold; she was just his physical therapist, a bit of a confidante. But he knew that he wanted the best for her, whoever that lucky man might be.

“Huh,” said Hannah, looking away from the television as she searched her mental archives.

“What?” Luther looked up from the opposite end of the couch, where he was reading a Tom Clancy novel.

“A deputy Chief of Staff member was found dead in his home,” she said, relaying the news she’d just heard on television.

“Did you know him?”

“No, never heard of him,” she muttered, drumming her fingers on the arm of the couch, “but this is the fourth time in like five years that a military leader has died unexpectedly.”

“Five years is a long time, baby. People die.”

“Yeah, but this is weird,” she insisted. “I mean, to find no cause of death on four separate men, all of whom serve or have served in the highest levels of the military? That’s stretching things.”

“So tell the FBI,” he teased.

But she took him seriously. “I think I will.” Rolling to her feet, she padded to the kitchen to retrieve the cordless phone. She returned to the living room, dialing Special Agent Rafael Valentino’s number, and flopped back on the couch.

Luther watched with tolerant interest as she greeted the man responsible for bringing her into the Bureau.

“Hi, sir, it’s Hannah. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” rasped the Italian American, a legendary peacekeeper who’d put the famed mob boss Tarantello in jail for life. “Just a minute. Let me turn down the music.”

The opera music in the background dimmed abruptly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His once-silky voice now sounded like a rock grinder, thanks to a bullet that punctured his vocal cords last year.

“Well, I just saw something on the news. I wondered if investigators had made any connections.”

“What was it?”

“About the deputy Chief of Staffer who died unexpectedly?”

“General Fripp,” the agent answered. “I’m working that case right now.”

“Are you? Then maybe you’ve noticed that his death bears a striking resemblance to some others?”

A definite pause followed. “I’m not surprised you connected the dots, Hannah, but we have no evidence to suggest that the murders are connected.”

“But you think they are,” she guessed, shooting a wide-eyed look at Luther.

“That’s hard to say without a motive or a murder weapon.”

“What have you ruled out?” she wanted to know.

“Well, none of them died of the usual. Every autopsy test imaginable has been run without yielding the exact cause of death. Some of the victims died immediately; others appear to have been poisoned over time, but there’s no consistent data.”

“Have you considered ricin poisoning?” Hannah asked, with a shiver of excitement.

“Ricin,” Valentino murmured thoughtfully.

“I don’t believe it’s routinely tested for in autopsies.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed.

“And it can be ingested or injected or even passed straight through the skin if it’s mixed with DMSO.”

He was silent for some time.

“Or maybe I’m just grasping at straws,” she added with belated self-doubt.

“No, I’ll look into that. I don’t suppose you’ve also thought of a motive?” Now he sounded amused.

“No, sir, I can’t think of one.”

“So, what’s new down at our Norfolk branch?” he asked, shifting to a more neutral topic.

“Oh, same old stuff.”
Luther’s trying to get me pregnant
, she wanted to add, only she was terrified of the impact on her career. Besides, how would news like that affect Valentino, whose three children, not to mention his wife, had been killed by mob retaliation?

“I’m thinking of taking a break from the office,” volunteered the older agent.

“What do you mean, sir? Retirement?”

“No, no, just considering a step down to get back into the field.”

“That would be cool,” said Hannah, wondering why he’d chosen to park his butt behind a desk in the first place. “Make sure you drop in if you come down this way.”

“I’ll do that,” he promised. “Thank you for calling.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up the phone wishing she called him more often. He never complained of his solitude, yet the loneliness that crept into his voice at times tugged at her heartstrings. “Wouldn’t that be something,” she said to Luther, who was giving her that warm stare that was the first indication of his intent.

“What?” he asked, pulling her into his powerful arms.

“Maybe terrorists stole ricin from a government lab in order to poison our military leaders.”

“I can think of more effective ways to kill the top brass than by poisoning them,” he pointed out.

“Hmmm, that’s true,” she conceded. But with Luther nuzzling her neck and slipping a hand under her sweater, it was hard to come up with an alternative motive.

“You know what I want in my stocking this Christmas?” he murmured, finding her nipple and thumbing it into stiffness.

She hadn’t given a single thought to Christmas except to hope that Luther would be back from his upcoming mission to Southeast Asia. “What?”

“An EPT with a positive result sign.”

“You have a one-track mind,” she scolded, sliding a hand up his thigh.

“Yeah, but the train is headed in the right direction.”

“I sure hope so,” she replied.

Any more words of doubt she might have said were cut short by his deep, all-consuming kiss.

Chapter Ten

Lia frowned at her reflection in the antique mirror above the marble-top dresser in Penny’s guest bedroom. “To go or not to go?” she asked herself. The fact that she was still home at seven o’clock was a novelty.

Her beaded jeans, a turquoise camisole edged in black lace, and a cropped velvet jacket were suitable for a night at Peabody’s. Her friends were probably already there, scoping out the guys.

But Lia didn’t feel like going.

Her stomach wasn’t settled. Eric was still on the loose, and after what he’d done to Penny the other night, leaving bruises on her arms, maybe it wasn’t smart to leave the house. On the other hand, Penny had a date tonight; she’d probably like for Lia to go.

“So, I’ll go,” said Lia, making up her mind.

But then she thought of Mark Minors, who’d groped her at Katie’s Halloween party. He was a thirty-three-year-old stockbroker with a fast car. When he’d kissed her, she’d found herself wishing he was Vinny the SEAL.

Find me
. The challenge that the SEAL had tossed over his shoulder was taunting her. She couldn’t forget it any more than she could forget about that kiss. It was annoying to admit, but the boy SEAL had gotten underneath her skin in an alarmingly short amount of time. She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts.

A knock downstairs pulled Lia back to the present. She left the room for her first glimpse of Penny’s suitor.

Like Brad, Penny’s former fiancé, the Navy surgeon was of average height, average build, with brown hair and blandly pleasant features. He bestowed a warm smile on Penny as he stepped through the front door. “I’ve never seen you in civilian clothes,” he commented. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” said Penny, touching a self-conscious hand to her shiny hair.

Nice?
thought Lia. Wearing a gold blouse, black skirt, and sheer, sexy stockings, Penny looked better than nice.

“This is for you,” he added, producing a long-stemmed rose, which he’d held behind his back. It was yellow—for friendship.

Good choice,
Lia conceded.

“Oh, I love roses,” said Penny, putting it to her nose.

They both turned their heads as Lia descended the stairs.

“This is my little sister, Ophelia,” Penny said, introducing them.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Steven, with annoying innuendo in his voice. His eyes performed a quick tour of Lia’s body.

“I can only imagine,” she drawled, glancing at Penny to see if she’d noticed her boyfriend’s wandering eye, but Penny was looking at her, not at Steven. “Aren’t you going out?” she inquired.

“I’m not sure,” said Lia.

“It’s Friday night. When have you not gone out on a Friday night?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You’re not in the way,” her sister rushed to reassure her.

“I’m not sure if I want to go out with Eric on the loose,” Lia tried to explain.

“Oh,” said Penny. “Well, good. I don’t want to have to worry about you, either.”

“Eric?” Steven asked, looking between the two of them.

“I’ll explain over dinner,” Penny promised. “Take your jacket off and come on back. Do you like red wine or white?”

“Both,” he said, trailing after her with one last look at Lia.

She resisted the impulse to stick her tongue out at him.

Joe Montgomery had never ogled her like that. In Lia’s book, he got major points for rescuing her sister. She shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn’t chased Eric off. He was the man Penny deserved, not that whey-faced surgeon who looked like Brad.

Scowling, Lia plodded back upstairs. She threw herself across the guest bed feeling discontent, self-critical. It really bugged her that Penny had done so much for her, seeing her through college, cheering her on through rehab. She’d been Lia’s lifeboat when reality had done its best to drown her. Nurturing and committed, Penny had put her future on hold for her sister and lost the man she loved.

Lia thought back. It was four years ago that Brad had left. She must have really, really loved him not to date any other man since. The realization made her feel like even more like a loser.

She needed to get a real job. She missed her candles and pillows, her wall art, and her collection of cut glass. She wanted Penny to get a life.

Vinny’s words reverberated in Lia’s head.
Prove it to yourself.

He had a real job, the little twit. He probably had his own apartment, too. Maybe even a house.

Scowling, Lia rolled off the bed and stalked out the door. She crossed to the third bedroom, which Penny used as an office. Maybe she’d work on her résumé instead of going out. What would it hurt? She had nothing to lose by trying. The world of news media demanded grit and tenacity, and she had both in spades.

An hour later, Lia sat back with a sense of accomplishment. The printer hummed as it spat out her résumé, a cut-and-pasted conglomeration of résumés found online. It was two-thirds fact and one-third fiction, but hopefully no one would question the shades of gray or call up the folks she’d listed as references.