A Killer's Agenda (27 page)

Alex moaned, wrapping slim arms around his neck. “Just

ignore it. They’ll call back.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, looking down at her. Her red

curls shone on the stark white of the pillow, her cheeks flushed with the beginnings of the passion that had his heart already pounding. Leaning over, he glanced at the incoming number and shook his head. “It’s either Kevin or Uncle Frank. I can’t.”

She sighed, removing her arms and sitting up. “Okay, you

answer and I’ll just slip into something more comfortable.”

“Don’t make it too fancy,” he warned, reaching for the offending phone, “because it won’t stay on long.”

“We’ll see,” she said huskily, running a nail along his jaw.

Groaning, he answered the phone.

Alex smiled as she gathered her shower bag. Tossing a look at the man behind her, she grabbed her Mickey Mouse nightshirt.

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Closing the door firmly behind her, she walked down the hall toward the bathroom Betty had pointed out earlier.

Although it was obvious the room had been modernized it still held an old world charm. The modern shower was side by side with a wonderful claw footed bathtub. Alex chose the bathtub, adding a liberal amount of perfumed bath oil she had in her case. Stripping, she settled into the scented water, groaning with pleasure as the warm liquid caressed her body, relaxing against the big curved back. Mindful of the fact there was only one bathroom upstairs, she only allowed herself fifteen minutes but it was more than enough time.

The hall was deserted when she emerged. She stretched, feeling clean and delightfully feminine. She admired the vintage carpeting covering the soft golden wood floor as she padded toward the room.

When a patch of sunlight caught her eye, she stopped and turned toward it, noticing a small alcove just before their bedroom that she hadn’t seen before. Two large window seats faced each other, both tucked against the wall facing ornate French doors that Alex couldn’t resist opening.

Impulsively, she dropped her bath things on one of the seats and walked out onto what appeared to be a summer porch. She

leaned on the rail enjoying the view of the yard and the street below. Huge oak trees provided shade and privacy; the branches close enough that she could actually reach out and touch them but far enough apart to allow her to enjoy the scenery below. She could feel the warmth from the last rays of the sun peeping through the colorful leaves.

The artist in her began to daydream, glancing down at the

curved driveway and the covered porch below. She could imagine

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fancy horse-drawn buggies letting their passengers off in front.

There would be women with long, swishing skirts and dashing men in top hats and coats escorting them up the stately steps leading to the ornate double front doors. The urge to paint what she was seeing made her regret not having her supplies. So she did the next best thing and stored the images in her memory, hoping to bring them to life when she returned home.

The scent of the fall flowers blooming below wafted up, sending her to another place and time. Tomorrow she would make a point of examining the architecture of the house, maybe adapt some of it for ideas on what she had to finish in her own.

She leaned against the banister sighing and feeling just a little bit homesick. She should check in with her parents soon and call the office as well. Nora was capable but…

Suddenly, almost violently, an image intruded. Every muscle in her body tensed as she sensed the danger. Someone was out there watching, waiting. She backed up against the house, edging

toward the French doors, knowing he was moving closer and

looking up, his features hidden by the branches. Yet there was no mistaking the image of the gun he held aimed at her from below, the late sun glinting on the barrel, a silencer covering its deadly end, a finger on the trigger patiently watching… At that very moment, a stream of sunlight spotlighted her in its beam and those eyes focused and narrowed. He’d seen her. She knew it! In very slow motion, her mind saw the mechanism click, heard the silent ping as the weapon fired…

She threw herself on the wooden floor milliseconds before the bullet buried itself in the thick wood directly where she had been standing. Heart pounding, she stayed flat and perfectly still,

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hoping whoever it was that had fired at her would think he had succeeded in his objective.

She could feel, sense, his presence, the evil that swirled around him. Her mind connected with his as bits of phrases came

through.

“…finish what Fowler started…no one left who knows

anything…warn them to keep their mouth shut or else…shame the pretty PI is dead…too bad… the Norton man is next…”

Minutes that seemed like hours later, she heard a car start up and speed away. Closing her eyes and willing her heart to slow, she felt more than saw the danger fade away. Shakily she stood, and eased her way back into the alcove. She picked up her case with nerveless hands and walked the remaining distance to the room.

Brad looked up from unpacking his suitcase, an eyebrow lifted teasingly. “That must have been some soak…”he began and then stopped as he got a good look at her face. “What’s wrong?”

She dropped the case on the bed and walked over to him

slipping her arms around his waist taking solace from his warmth.

“I’d like you to hold me. Really, really tight,” she murmured huskily, reaction beginning to set in.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned. He removed some

dried leaves stuck to her collar and her curls. “How’d these get in your hair?”

She took a minute to gather herself, already feeling better.

“Someone shot at me, Brad,” she said baldly.”

“What?” he growled, fury lighting his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No but he doesn’t know that.”

“Who?”

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“I’m not sure. It was either Russell Ferron or someone else he’s hired.” She eased out of his arms, anger replacing the fear as she began pacing without realizing she was doing so. “He must have known we would head here. Either he was waiting or he followed us once we arrived in town.” She turned back to him. “I saw a balcony through some French doors and couldn’t resist exploring.

He was down there waiting, probably knew what room we were in. I hit the deck moments before the bullet buried itself in the wood behind me.”

“Damn!” he swore harshly. “That does it. I think we should call off this whole thing and let the police take it from here.”

She raised her eyes to his. “Do you really want to do that?”

“Hell I don’t know what I want anymore. I thought this

investigation was paramount but it sure isn’t worth putting you in danger, Alex.”

She traced the frown marring his forehead. “I know the risks just like you do, Brad. You realize we stop now and there’s a good chance Ferron won’t ever be caught.”

“I know. Besides that Uncle Frank just made it even more

difficult to back off.”

Her expression sharpened. “That was him on the phone?”

He nodded. “Dad didn’t waste any time doing what we asked.

My uncle told me he’s going up to the family cabin in Canada for a long weekend. Maggie and my father are going as well. Knowing Maggie’s powers of persuasion, that long weekend will stretch to a week. Maybe give them some time to work through things. Do

them both good.”

“That’s great. It’s one less thing to worry about right now.”

“That wasn’t the only reason he called.”

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His tone of voice had her glancing at him quickly. “He has some information?”

“That’s putting in mildly. He’s promised to fax me what he has as soon as I can find a machine but what he was able to tell me over the phone was enough.”

Alex eased back and turned to the door, flicking the lock and then walked across the room toward the tall windows pulling the shades. “Just taking precautions,” she responded to the question in his eyes. She shook her head. “I still feel as if I’m not doing my usual thorough job, Brad. I should have known there was a good chance Ferron wasn’t going to stop now. Whatever he’s hiding must be pretty explosive.”

“It is. According to my uncle there’s a good possibility Russell Ferron arranged for someone to mess with the Steadman’s plane the day they crashed.”

“If that’s the case, why wasn’t he arrested?”

“Not enough evidence. He was able to get hold of the file

because the case was never closed. Ferron was investigated along with a number of other people but he had a solid alibi. The man is clever, I’ll give him that. Anyway, my uncle said he found himself engrossed in what the detective assigned to the case had collected evidence wise.”

Alex’s eyes lit with interest. “Anything we can use?”

“If we can corroborate what he suspected we can.” He brushed his lips along her forehead. “You smell good.”

She smiled, nestling closer. “Behave yourself. At least until you satisfy my curiosity. Come on, give.”

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His expression hardened. “The Steadmans' plane was damaged

heavily but there was enough left of the fuselage to ascertain, after investigation, that the landing gear had malfunctioned.”

“Someone tampered with the hydraulics?”

“It was suggested by the Steadman’s mechanic but his theory

was shot down because they couldn’t nail anyone. The couple was well-liked and active in the community. Let’s face it, the business they were in might be competitive but they weren’t heisting

diamonds.”

“Then why did this detective suspect Ferron?”

“For a number of reasons. My uncle spoke to him at length.

The pilot’s family was very outspoken in their anger at the media’s take about this being strictly pilot error.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a former military instructor as well as having over thirty years' experience flying. According to his son, his father knew that plane inside and out. Said there was no way he would have not checked those gauges before take off. He was that

meticulous.”

Alex brought her knees up, resting her chin on them

thoughtfully. “Mechanical devices fail.”

“Maybe but it sent a flag up and, according to Uncle Frank, the detective told him after he spoke to the mechanic again, he began to suspect foul play. It took some prodding but the guy

remembered a conversation the Steadmans had while he was

checking their plane over a few days before the crash.”

“About Russell Ferron?”

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He nodded. “Apparently, they seldom argued so their raised

voices caught his attention. It seems Lawrence Steadman hadn’t been too thrilled with his daughter’s latest love interest.”

“Namely our Mr. Ferron,” Alex said. “Did he hear why?”

“He said he heard something on the order of he wasn’t going to stand aside and watch his only daughter marry a criminal. Then they caught sight of him and clammed up.”

Alex scanned her memory. “I had Ferron thoroughly

investigated before we left on this trip. I found no mention of any criminal activity. I doubt he would have been accepted to law school and passed the bar if that were the case.” She raised a brow thoughtfully. “Only way I wouldn’t have found something is if the records were sealed.”

“Such as criminal activity under the age of eighteen.”

“Exactly. I do know Lawrence Steadman was a very astute

businessman. I’ll bet when he saw how serious his daughter was about Ferron, he had him investigated. That kind of money can get past red tape.”

“So how do
we
get past it?”

She reached for her phone. “I’ve got a hunch if anyone can get us some info on this it’s Rosa Santos. Assuming she isn’t in the hospital giving birth, that is.” She frowned when she got the answering machine and glanced at her watch. “Strange. It’s almost nine o’clock. You’d think they’d be home by now.”

She punched in a different group of numbers and the frown

disappeared when Rosa answered.

“Now what is a momma-to-be doing out this time of night?” she teased.

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“Alex! You were next on my list to call. You must have read my mind.”

“I’ve been known to do that.” Alex grinned into the phone, her glance finding Brad’s. “Call me about what?”

“Oh, nothing important really. Just thought you might like to know Miguel didn’t get his way.”

“His way? About what?”

“Naming our child.”

Suddenly Alex caught the undercurrent of excitement in her

voice. “You had the baby!”

“Late yesterday afternoon. Seven pounds twelve ounces of

bouncing baby girl. Emma Rose after both grandmas. Alex, she’s so beautiful. Dark hair and long eyelashes and the cutest dimples.”

Alex’s eyes misted. “Oh, I’m so happy for you and Miguel, Rosa.

Brad’s here with me and gives his congratulations as well. How are you feeling?”

“On top of the world. I don’t think Miguel has stopped pacing though. He was the epitome of the classic nervous first dad but he hung there when I needed him.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on her. Give her a great big kiss for me.” She paused, deciding not to tell Rosa why she had called.

“You sound a little tired so I’ll give you a call tomorrow for all the details. Give our love to Miguel.”

“Oh no you don’t. I’m not that tired. I want details, woman.

What’s going on at your end?”

“You sure you want to hear about that right now?”

“Absolutely. Come on, tell me everything.”

When Alex was finished there was a long pause on the other

end. “Wow, you have been busy. Are the two of you okay?”

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“At the moment.”

“Only way Ferron hides any criminal behavior is if he were