Broken Promises (4 page)

She left the apartment, carefully closing the
door behind her to keep Shadow inside, then walked through the
basement. She climbed the stairs leading to the first floor and
knocked on the door. “Alex?” Without waiting for a response, she
opened the door and entered the newly updated kitchen. “Hey!
Double-O, need any help getting settled?”

All right, don’t answer. Jerk
. Who did
he think he was, anyhow? Just because he was a high-and-mighty FBI
agent and she was a mere vet’s office manager didn’t mean he could
ignore her very existence.

“Alex?” She eased into the hall and tripped
over one of Jackie’s two Himalayans. “Sorry, puss. I know you’re
hungry.” She’d fed them the night before, but with all the
excitement over Jackie’s disappearance, Bette had forgotten that
little detail this morning. Heading back to the kitchen, she
snatched a can of cat food from the cupboards and then grabbed up
their respective food dishes. The other Himalayan minced back and
forth on the granite countertop, wailing her complaint louder than
an emergency siren while the male did his best to hurry Bette by
slithering back and forth between her ankles.

Glad no one could hear, she baby-talked the
two felines and scraped out Meow-meow Chow-mein into two equal
portions.

The cat on the counter arched her back and
hissed.

“Al—” She turned. Made out a tall form. In
black.

Backed against the counter, she had nowhere
to go. She raised her arms to protect her face—

A dazzling array of stars. Then nothing.

~~*~~

Alex drove up Gibson Street to his sister’s
address. He pulled into the driveway of a yellow three-story
Victorian. His sister and her family had moved since the last time
he was home into one of the houses in the historic district.

Sweet.

Obviously, Jackie made a good living as a
vet, and Brad wasn’t exactly a piker in the finance department,
even if he did work from home. In addition to playing the stock
market for a living, his brother-in-law was a damned fine cook, or
so his sister said.

Wonder how Brad liked being interrogated by
the local LEOs? The authorities always looked to the husband when
it came to a missing wife. Thinking how many of those women ended
up gave him a wave of nausea.

He exited the rental car. Now, where would
his sister have hidden a spare key? Colorful summer flowers filled
the foundation beds, and heavy stone pots were situated on either
side of the top step to the porch. He lifted the edge of the first
one, and there was the key—might as well have left an engraved
invitation for every burglar in town.

He pocketed the key and stepped onto the wide
porch, which extended across the entire front of the house and
wrapped around on the right. Baskets of ferns hung at intervals,
their lacy fronds stirring in the slight breeze. He shut his eyes
and imagined a tall, frosty glass of lemonade and Bette reclining
on a chaise… Her large doe eyes filled with promise. Her full lips
parted in a smile just for him. Nekkid as a newborn babe. Oh,
yeah.

He shook himself.
Get your head outta your
ass, man
. No way was he gonna get saddled with a relationship.
The cottage, picket fence, and two-point-two kids wasn’t for him.
He was here to find his missing sister—end of story.

One kiss at Nashville International did not a
future make. Never mind how it totally rocked him off his pins.
Never mind Jersey had a lush mouth ripe for kissing. Never
mind…

He slid the key into the lock, then realized
the door wasn’t locked. Damn. Maybe Jersey had a key. He’d seen her
silver Corolla parked around back when he’d pulled into the drive.
More than likely she was the one responsible for the healthy green
ferns. His big sis was good with animals of every size, stripe, and
shape, but if you valued your life, you kept her out of the kitchen
and away from anything green.

Opening the front door, he heard the sound of
a slamming door. “Bette?” He headed down the hall toward where he
assumed the kitchen and back door were located and ended up in a
sunroom. More ferns. He batted the fronds away and looked out
through the french doors along the back of the house. At the rear
of the property, a tall figure in black ran and scaled the
fence.

Adrenaline surged. Alex sprinted across the
sunroom and blasted through the french doors. Bastard had a big
lead. While Alex had his head wrapped around images of a certain
troubling female, the intruder had taken his advantage and run like
a damned jackrabbit.

Across the pavers and grass, Alex beat it to
the fence, jumped, grabbed the top of the fence, and scrambled
over. He landed on the other side, falling to his knees in the
cinder-strewn alley.

“Son of a bitch!” He brushed off his knees
and scanned for signs of the intruder. Damned bastard got away
clean.

Whether or not he was involved in Jackie’s
disappearance—unknown. One thing for sure, coincidence or not, Alex
didn’t like it one damned bit.

Back over the fence. Not as easy that time.
Adrenaline had propelled him before. Might as well see what the
bastard got away with. Not that he’d know. Maybe Bette would. Or
Brad, when he got home from the CPD.

Bette…

He ran for the house. Where was the basement
entrance? Shit. Nothing visible outside. Must be inside. Why the
hell hadn’t he tried to come home more often? Why was he a stranger
in his sister’s home?

Because he’d gotten the hell out of town at
the first opportunity. Left for college. Then the army and the
Bureau. Sure, he’d talked to Jackie on the phone, but he was
usually too busy to come home for a holiday. No, too focused on his
career. Too many bad guys, too little time.

Who was he kidding? His home town and his
dead twin were forever linked. As long as he stayed away, he could
focus on work. But being home brought back the memories sharp and
fresh as the day his brother’s body was found.

Once inside, he searched for the door to the
basement. No, not in the hallway. Maybe the door downstairs was in
the kitchen. Where was the freaking kitchen? House had to have a
kitchen, didn’t it?

Finally. He tumbled into the stainless
wonderland and stumbled over…

“Bette?”

Kneeling beside her still form, he checked
her neck for a pulse. Strong and a little rapid. Afraid to move
her, he dug out his phone and called 911.

~~*~~

What sounded like an entire fleet of
ambulances and patrol cars arrived at the same time, their sirens
blaring. Pain lanced through Bette’s head and detoured through her
eyeballs. Explosion of those necessary organs seemed imminent.

“Ow.” She levered up to her elbow. “Make ’em
shut up. My head feels like someone just hit me with a sledge
hammer.”

What seemed like a whole slew of uniformed
men stormed into the kitchen. EMTs? Cops? Hard to tell exactly how
many with her vision so blurry.

Alex brushed back a lock of her hair,
examining her head for a wound with a reassuringly worried
expression on both of his yummy faces.

“What happened?” one of the cops asked. “Did
you get a good look at him?”

“He hit me. His face—covered. He was tall.”
She squinted in an attempt to make the blurry men stop weaving
around. “Like you.” She pointed at Double-O.

“What were you doing?” another cop asked.

“I came up to feed the cats. I turned around,
and there he was. He must’ve already been in the house when I got
home.”

“I drove up right after he hit her,” Alex
told the officer. “He must’ve heard me come in and ran out through
the back, jumped the fence, and took off down the alley. I
followed, but he was long gone by the time I made it to the alley.
Must’ve had a vehicle waiting.”

“And you are?”

“Alex MacGregor. This is my sister Jackie’s
house. I flew in from Chicago this morning. She’s missing. Maybe
you heard…Jackie Stinnett?”

“We heard,” the first officer admitted.

“Ow,” Bette groaned, holding her head with
her hands. “For Pete’s sake, he’s an FBI agent. He didn’t hit
me.”

“Looks like she needs medical attention,” one
of the officers said.

Alex glanced over his shoulder. “They should
be here anytime now.”

Someone banged way too loud, for Bette’s
liking, on the front door. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a
low moan.

“In the kitchen,” Alex called out.

She held her head with her hands. “Not so
loud. Puh-leeze.”

Two paramedics rushed into the kitchen. They
set about taking her vital signs, shining lights in her eyes, and
trying to convince her to spend the night in the hospital.

“No way.” She shook her head vigorously—and
regretted it. “I just need an aspirin and a little nap.”

Alex’s two faces were merging into
one…almost. “You need X-rays—doesn’t she, fellas?”

“Absolutely must have X-rays,” the first
paramedic said.

The second piped in with, “And someone to
check her level of consciousness every hour.”

“No rest for the weary—or is it the wicked?”
She giggled. “So, a nap is out whether I’m in the hospital or here
at home?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

God, the EMT was so young and earnest it
hurt. She sighed. “Well, does it take four of you guys to haul me
to the hospital?”

“There are only two of us, ma’am.” Again, so
earnest and sincere.

“I
know
that. I was kidding.” She
rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to know if you were paying
attention.”

“She always like this?” one of them
asked.

Frowning, Alex shrugged. “Pretty much. What
you see is what you get.”

“I’m in the room, and I’m not even close to
being unconscious.” She shot Alex a look of pure displeasure. “But
he’s right. I’m always like this. I hate hospitals.”

“X-rays first. We’ll discuss the rest later.”
Alex’s unctuous tone was patronizing to the extreme, but she let it
pass.

“You bet we will.” She even allowed the EMTs
to load her onto a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.
Alex started to climb in beside her. “Nope. You’ll need your car to
bring me back home.”

This time, he rolled his eyes. “See what I
mean?”

The EMTs were smart enough to keep their
responses to themselves. Damned good thing too.

“I just adopted a dog today. And I can’t
leave her alone. She needs me.” She leaned on her elbow and batted
her lashes. “Al, baby, before you come pick me up, take her for a
little walk. Okay? Don’t want to come home to any surprises. Know
what I mean?”

“
Al, baby
?” Alex mimicked under his
breath, then nodded. “Had surprises enough for one day.” But all
this and walk her dog? Life sure had a weird sense of humor.

He watched the EMTs shut the door and climb
into the van. He turned to the uniformed officers. “We’ll be back
whenever the ER doc says she can come home.” Alex shot a backwards
glance at the house.

The older uniformed officer, a sergeant,
nodded. “The detective oughta show up sooner or later. He’ll have
more questions.”

“I’m sure he will, but first I have to walk
the dog.”

Chapter
Six

After what seemed like many hours but in
reality was only two, Alex brought Bette home from the ER. It took
almost signing a contract in blood swearing he’d check her pupils
and level of consciousness every hour on the hour and he’d bring
her back immediately if she showed any changes.

Sheesh.

“I’m heading downstairs.” Rubbing her head,
she looked up at him. “I need to check on Shadow.”

“You’re supposed to rest. So you’re gonna put
up your feet and let me check on that dog.” He tried to keep his
tone pleasant, but why, today of all days, did she have to rescue a
dog?

“I’ll rest. But I’m sure she’s hungry.” At
the mention of food, Bette’s stomach growled loudly enough he could
hear it. “Hell,
I’m
hungry.”

Where in his job description did it include
nursemaid and dog sitter? Still, Jersey was the last person to see
his sister alive, and if he had to spend the night with her, he
might as well have another go at interviewing her. “I thought you
had breakfast at The Villager.”

“That’s just what I told the detective. I
went to the office first, just in case there were patients showing
up—which, as you saw, there were.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay.
Okay. I’ll call Pontillo’s for a pie. What do you like on
yours?”

“Anything but—”

“I know…anchovies?”

She shot him a wan smile, nodded, and headed
for the basement door. She paused and turned. “And some of those
blister-your-mouth-and-stomach hot wings, okay?”

~~*~~

An hour and a half later, the dog had been
fed and walked, again, somewhat uneasily, courtesy of Alex. He’d
managed to live through the experience. The Sheltie was curled up
on a worn plaid sofa with her new mistress, who was watching an
interior decorating show on HGTV, which begged the question, with
Bette’s design background, how could she put up with living in such
dreary surroundings?

The Victorian’s basement was huge, but her
apartment was mostly subterranean. High up were short windows for
light and air circulation. Still, how would she get out if there
was a fire? The apartment didn’t meet codes.

Okay. Not
his
problem.

A kitchen-slash-sitting room, a small
separate bedroom, and a bath completed the clean and neat
apartment. Except for the pizza-and-wings boxes sitting on the
counter, everything was orderly.

He gestured with his beer can. “Ever bother
you, living down here like a mole?”

Bette rubbed her arms and shook her head.
“It’s cozy, safe, and comfortable. Why would I need anything more?”
She picked up her Diet Coke and drained it. “More, please. I’ll
need it if I’m not supposed to sleep tonight.”