Broken Promises (5 page)

He got up to oblige his patient. Ironic. Here
he was, a trained FBI agent, and he was playing nursemaid to a
woman he’d spent one miserable night with. Not that it was her
fault. He handed her the can of soda, then picked up the
flashlight. “It’s time again, Jersey. Let me see your eyes.”

The dog stirred and let Alex know he’d
disturbed her afternoon nap by curling her lip. Not a growl, mind
you. But he got the Sheltie’s message. “Don’t think she likes
me.”

Bette made a show of holding her lids open.
“It’s your imagination. She’s just getting adjusted to a new
situation.”

“Say, are your pupils supposed to get bigger
or smaller when I shine the light?” he asked, teasing her. They
reacted appropriately and equally. God, he could really get lost in
the depths of her gaze if he wasn’t careful.

“Hmph.”

“You’ll do. Now, what day is it?”

“June fourteenth. The President is Barack
Obama. Enough questions. I’m fine.”

He turned off the flashlight and sat down on
an overstuffed, sagging recliner. “I want to try an experiment.
Just to see if you remember anything new.”

“Okay.” Her response was wary. Maybe she
doubted his methods. Maybe she just didn’t trust him.

“Shut your eyes and think back to last night.
“What was the weather like?”

She let out a sigh, then complied. “Warmer
than usual but starting to cool down.”

“Was it dark?”

“Getting that way. Jackie and I worked on
accounts after the office hours were over. There were a couple of
post-op patients. We checked on them one last time. Nothing
major.”

“What about smells when you left the
building?”

She laughed. “No smell of disinfectant. There
was something blooming, and you could smell that. Not sure what it
was—roses, maybe. Wait. The man’s SUV—it was running hot. I smelled
the burning oil.” Her lids popped open. “Does that help?”

“It might if we find the SUV. Shut your eyes
again.”

“Okay.” She drew the word out like a petulant
child who needed a nap.

“Any chance you can remember the make?
Anything about the vehicle—no matter how insignificant.” His jaw
clenched as he waited for Bette’s response.

Please, let her remember something that’ll
help me find Jackie.

“It was black. I’m sure of that. And I know
that’s no help because three-quarters of SUVs are black.” She sat
up. “Lots of caked mud on the tires. Like he really used it
off-road.”

“How much has it rained this week?”

“Not much. Naples had a downpour Wednesday or
Thursday, but we only had a sprinkle in town.”

“What else?” Excitement grew in his belly. A
possible location for the kidnapper. Now
that
was something.
“What about the size? Mid or large SUV?”

“Large. Not as big as a Hummer, though.”

“Chrome or markings?”

“No. Look, I just was anxious to get home.
Actually, I offered to stay and help, but she laughed and waved me
on.”

“Could the man have been one of the regular
pet owners? Are you sure you didn’t recognize him?”

“No, I told you already he was wearing a
hoodie. Give me a break. I’ve only been there six months. I may not
have met all the regulars.”

“Can you think of anyone who had a beef with
Jackie? Maybe someone whose pet didn’t make it?”

“No. Everyone loved her.”

“Tell me again what happened after she went
inside.”

Bette let out a huff, then continued. “She
went back and unlocked the front door. He followed her inside.
That’s the last I saw of her. Oh, God, Alex, if I’d just stayed
with her.” She ended her words with a wail.

Her shoulders started shaking, and before he
knew it, she was crying her heart out. Helpless, that’s what he
was. He reached over and patted her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,
Jersey. You couldn’t have known something was going to happen.”

Her sobs tore through him. How could this
have happened in a quiet town like Canandaigua? How could someone
have taken his sister? Why Jackie? Wasn’t it enough his brother had
died at the hands of some sick bastard?

From upstairs came the sounds of someone
walking around and not being particularly quiet about it either.
Had the intruder returned?

He glanced upward, then at Bette. Her eyes
widened, her sobs hushed, and her body seemed to draw inward.
Motioning for her to be quiet, Alex pulled his Glock from its
holster on the side table and headed for the door. He paused. “If
I’m not back in a couple of minutes, call 911.”

She nodded, her expression contorting into a
mask of fear. Her thumb went to her mouth, and she started chewing
on the nail. Her other hovered over her cell phone.

“Don’t follow me.”

She let her thumb go to nail him with a
drop-dead look. “Don’t worry. I’m not stupid. I don’t like guns,
and I especially don’t like them going off anywhere in my
vicinity.”

“Good,” he said. “After I leave, lock the
door.”

She nodded that she would. Now it was time to
find out who the freak was upstairs.

His weapon held at his side, he eased up the
basement steps and tried to avoid making a sound. If the intruder
had returned, he sure as hell didn’t plan on giving the fucker a
warning. He placed his hand on the knob. Waited. Listened. All he
heard was the sound of his heart pounding like a bass drum. Mouth
dry, he swallowed. Turned the knob.

Only to have a weapon shoved in his face by a
bald man sporting a mustache. “Hold it right there!”

Alex eased down one step and lowered his
weapon. “Detective Spitz,” he said wryly, “how nice of you to stop
by. Took you long enough.”

“What are you doing here?” The detective’s
face was twisted into what might be a permanent scowl. Behind him
stood a tall and tense uniformed officer.

“Careful, Detective. You wouldn’t want your
face to freeze like that. As for what I’m doing here, this
is
my sister’s house. I’ve been in the basement apartment
with Bette Smithson. She was attacked—you knew about that, didn’t
you?”

Spitz lowered his weapon. “Of course I know
about it,” he sputtered. “This is my crime scene. I don’t want you
mucking it up.”

“You could’ve given us a warning. As you
might imagine, Bette’s a little on the jumpy side.”

“Don’t have to give warnings.” The detective
waved a paper in Alex’s face. “I’ve a search warrant, and I mean to
search this house from top to bottom.”

He reached for the warrant. Read it. Spitz
was right. Some meathead judge authorized a full search of the
entire house. “What’s the point? Bette was in the kitchen when she
was attacked, and my sister wasn’t at home when she was
abducted.”

A smug sneer replaced the detective’s scowl.
“We only have Smithson’s word for that.”

So they were still looking at Bette. Idiots.
“Do you have a warrant for her arrest?”

“No. But we might by the time this search is
concluded,” the detective said with an unnecessary amount of
bravado. “Now, you and Miss Smithson will vacate the premises until
such time as we release it as a crime scene.”

“But
she
was attacked. Seen in the
emergency room. Required X-rays and a CT scan. Do you think she
bashed her own head? Don’t forget, I saw the fucker take off down
the alley behind the house. Now that she’s received medical
treatment, why don’t you get off your ass and interview her about
the attack?” He glanced around the kitchen. “There might be some
evidence here in the kitchen. Don’t see why you need to tear up my
sister’s entire home.”

Honestly, did he have to tell these
small-town yokels how to do their job?

“Appreciate if you just do as ordered. I’ll
take care of instructing my men.”

“Someone needs to.” From upstairs, Alex could
make out the sounds of drawers being dumped. He shook his head.
Jackie would be so pissed off when she came home.

If
she came home.

Chapter Seven

Waiting in her apartment, Bette chewed her
thumbnail and looked at her watch. It’d been over two minutes. Time
to call 911. Her hands trembled as she punched in the numbers.
Overhead, she could hear voices. No gunfire yet.

A sharp rap on her apartment door startled
her and set her heart racing. The formerly quiet Sheltie barked,
quick, loud, and fierce as Cujo.

“Bette? It’s okay. Open up.”

Alex. A rush of relief flooded through her.
The Sheltie yapped and backed up at the same time. “Shh, it’s all
right,” she said in a vain attempt to calm the dog, then ran to the
door and flung it open. “You’re all right. Thank goodness.” She
almost threw her arms around him but stopped just in time.

Alex stepped aside, revealing Detective Spitz
and a uniformed cop behind him. “Afternoon, Miss Smithson. I have a
search warrant for the entire house. You’re required to vacate the
premises until further notice.”

Her chin dropped. “Vacate? Where am I
supposed to go?”

“Not my problem.”

She schooled her glance away from Alex’s.
Where she spent the night wasn’t his problem, either, and she’d be
damned if she dumped any more of her problems in his lap. “Fine. I
need to pack a bag. And the dog. I have to take her things. I just
bought them this morning, Detective.”

The detective motioned toward the uniformed
cop, who followed him downstairs with a jerk of his head. “Rollins,
see she doesn’t take anything of importance. One bag and the dog’s
stuff.”

With his hands set on his hips, Alex loomed
over the detective. “She’s had a head injury and requires continual
observation. You can’t just kick her out into the street.”

Think again
. That’s exactly what the
detective was about to do. “Maybe I can get one of the other girls
from the office to take us in.” She glanced down at Shadow. Hadn’t
the poor little Sheltie been through enough without being uprooted
from her new home? And now, just as she was getting somewhat
settled, they had to move again.

“I’ll find us a place,” Alex volunteered.
“Since I’ve been kicked out too.”

“We’ll be fine. We’re not your
responsibility—”

“Enough!” The detective shouldered his way by
Alex and strode into her small sitting room with a swagger. “Just
get your stuff together and get out.”

Officer Rollins, a gangly redhead with a
buzz-cut, followed the detective into the apartment and nodded.
“Ma’am, if you’ll just do as Detective Spitz says…”

“Fine.” She glanced around and sighed. “What
about Mr. Stinnett?”

“Don’t worry about your boss’s husband,”
Spitz said with a knowing leer. “He’s down at the station house
assisting us with the investigation.”

“Just get your shit together, Jersey,” Alex
said through clenched teeth. “Let’s get out of their way. We’ll
sort out the rest once we find a place to stay.”

Alex’s color was high, his movements jerky.
Clear to see he was pissed off, not to mention powerless to do
anything but follow the detective’s orders. Come to think of it,
she didn’t do powerless well either.

She nodded and set about packing a bag under
Officer Rollins’s watchful but apologetic gaze.

“I’ll get the dog’s stuff,” Alex
volunteered.

“Her name’s Shadow. Show her some respect.
This is probably more upsetting for her than either of us.”

A sheepish smile tugged at his mouth. “Yes,
ma’am. I’ll collect
Shadow’s
belongings. My vehicle awaits,
your majesties.” He bowed with a grandiose and massively sweeping
gesture.

“That’s a bit much,” she said and rolled her
eyes. “Don’t forget the pizza and wings.”

Yet once again Special Agent Alex MacGregor
had leapt on his white horse and rescued the fair maiden. Dammit.
Playing fair maiden to his brave knight was getting old, especially
when it wouldn’t be too long before he jumped on his charger—um,
airplane—and took off for the Windy City.

But what about Jackie? Would he even stick
around long enough to find his sister?

Chapter Eight

Once they were settled in the Super 8 Motel
on Eastern Boulevard, Alex reclined on one of the double beds.
Bette and her dog occupied the other, just like last New Year’s Eve
in Nashville, minus the canine. He should’ve never lost his head
and kissed her good-bye in the airport. But after spending that one
long night with her, being a perfect gentleman while listening to
the couple next door screw their brains out, he couldn’t let her go
without tasting her full lips just once.

What a fucking idiot he’d been.

He glanced at his watch and swung his feet to
the floor. “Time for another check. Open those eyes.”

She folded her arms across her chest and
scowled, her perfect mouth in a sultry pout. “Talking to me or
Shadow?”

“Give me a break, Jersey. Is this any way to
talk to the man who found you a place to stay—not to mention your
dog—at great expense, I might add?”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly at his
exaggeration. “Wasn’t that expensive. I was there, remember?”

Busted. “Well, you have to admit conditions
are better than the last time we shared a motel room.”

She sat up, and the dog stirred. “It’s all
right,” she said to the dog, then eyeballed him. “If you mean
there’s no blizzard raging outside and no one’s fornicating at the
top of their lungs right next door, then yes, I’d have to
agree.”

He shook his head. Leave it to her to mention
that couple. “How quickly some folks forget,” he said, trying to
tease her out of her bad mood.

“
Forget?
I didn’t forget anything.
Seems like a certain FBI agent promised to keep in touch. Maybe
even come home soon for a visit.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Yeah, finally she
was bringing up the elephant in the room. “I know. Sorry.” Crap.
What to tell her? He’d lost his head? Promises weren’t his thing?
“I was pulled into the middle of a case—a big one.” Stalling for
time, he cracked his knuckles.