Deadly Aim (25 page)

A
ngel wasn’t used to being the victim, and she didn’t like it.
God, what’s happening to me? I’m a police officer. I shouldn’t be letting these guys upset me like this
.

“I’m scared, Brandon,” Angel admitted. “These guys mean business. I pressed charges against them. I don’t know, they... they’re like the mafia and I... well, I guess I don’t know how to fight back.”

“You don’t have to. The police are supposed to do that.”

But I am a cop! Or was
.

“Let’s get out of here.” Brandon took her hand and pulled her down the hallway toward the door.

“Where to?”

“I don’t know. We’ll drive up to the house. I want your opinion on something. Maybe we can get something to eat after and walk on the beach.”

Angel grabbed her jacket. Getting out seemed like a good idea, regardless of where they ended up. “I’m not changing my mind. About the house, I mean.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Brandon had parked at the north end of the parking lot, so by walking along the upper deck to the stairs at the far end of the building, they were able to escape the press and quite possibly the caller.

Once on the road, she breathed a little easier. Several times she checked to see if they were being followed, but in the darkness it was hard to tell. For a long stretch, there was no one behind them—at least as far as she could see. She probably should have reported the call, but what good would that have done? She’d tell Detective Riley about it in the morning. Besides, she and Brandon would be safe out at the house.

That’s not quite true, is it? You’re really not safe anywhere
. Angel shook her head, refusing to give in to her fears and choosing instead to keep her mind on Brandon and the house.

Brandon’s place was as magnificent as she remembered and looked even better now that he had started furnishing it.

“What do you think?” He nodded toward the leather sofa and chairs. “My mom helped me pick them out.”

“They’re very nice. Earthy. You’ll need more color though.” He’d brought a watercolor from his collection at home and placed it on one wall. Soft rose tones and lavenders depicted a horse and rider at sunset. “I’d probably pick up some pillows that match the colors in the painting.”

He nodded. “Good idea. I got some rattan furniture for the solarium.” They walked through the great room to the solarium. The room was shadowed by plants, the only light coming from a spotlight that lighted the area around the Jacuzzi. Just before Brandon put on overhead lights, Angel thought she saw a shadow moving away from the shrubbery.

Probably an animal. A panel of spotlights lined one of the frames in the ceiling. Except for the back wall, the entire room was made up of glass panels and doors. Angel imagined the room in daylight with sun streaming in. Colorful tropical print cushions accented the white rattan furniture. Two chairs and two chaises.

“I love it.” The room was elegant yet practical and made a wonderful greenhouse. The ceiling fan with its wide, leaflike arms would cool the room when the sun overheated it. She lowered herself onto the chaise lounge and put her feet up, luxuriating in the feel of the thick cushions beneath her. “Nice.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

Angel almost wished she could say yes to Brandon’s proposal. If he asked her now, she might. It was tempting to let herself flow with the tide—to get married and have children.
But you don’t love him, Angel
.

Of course I do. He’s kind and decent and loyal
.

So is a pet
.

“I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time out here,” Brandon said.

You’re using him
. Angel felt a flash of annoyance at her mother. Why did she have to poke her nose into something that was none of her business?

“It’s relaxing and lets in a lot of light,” Brandon went on. “I have air-conditioning to keep it cool even with the hot afternoon sun.”

“I’m glad you bought the house. It suits you.” Reluctantly, Angel got to her feet, afraid that if she didn’t she might never want to leave.

“Where are you going?” He got up as well.

“Um—nowhere. I’m just feeling restless.”

Angel flipped off the lights and stood at the sliding glass doors, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, admiring the sparkling lights of Sunset Cove. Above them, the moon showed its brilliant face in a cool white, with shadows of a smile. “You have a spectacular view.”

He draped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. She thought about letting him. He didn’t. Nor did he remind her that she could have the view and everything that went with it if she changed her mind. And as much as Angel wanted the security Brandon offered, she couldn’t bring herself to alter the course she’d taken. Turning him down had been the right choice. She loved Brandon as a friend, and she doubted it would ever be anything more.

Looks like you were right, Ma
. She smiled, realizing she’d acknowledged that more than once in the past couple days.

Brandon moved away. “I have some drinks in the fridge. Want anything?”

“Just some water, thanks.” She stayed where she was a few moments longer, wishing Brandon would come back and wondering
why she insisted on torturing herself like this. Wavering wasn’t usually part of her game plan. But the shooting and everything associated with it had set her reeling, and she couldn’t seem to find her footing.

Angel took a long drink of the water he handed her. “So when are you moving in?”

He shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”

She yawned. “Oh, sorry.”

“Tired?” Brandon guided her back into the great room.

“Exhausted.”

“It’s no wonder with all you’ve been through lately. I’m not too excited about you staying alone though—not while the creep who called you is on the loose.”

“I’ll keep my gun under my pillow.” No, she wouldn’t. Her gun had been stolen out of the evidence locker. And the goons that had vandalized her apartment had Nick’s.

“Not good enough. What if there’s more than one? I’ll stay. I’ll sleep out on your couch. And if you won’t let me do that, I’ll camp outside your door all night.”

Angel grinned at the thought of Brandon Lafferty sitting on her doorstep in his polo shirt and his designer jeans and leather jacket.

“You can have the couch.” She didn’t have the heart or the strength to argue. Besides, the thought of Brandon being there gave her a measure of comfort.

You’re using him, Angel
.

Angel ignored the pestering voice. She’d been going with Brandon for a long time and wasn’t about to break it off now—not until she felt certain it was the right thing to do.

When Angel got up the next morning, Brandon was gone. He’d made coffee for her and set the newspaper on the table beside his car keys and a note.

Angel, I had Carl pick me up this morning. Use my car. That’s an order. And be careful. I’ll call you later. Love, Brandon
.

She poured her coffee and picked up the paper. The headlines bore her name again. Someone had snapped a photo of her at the
funeral and in the car with the gang of thugs pummeling it. While the photo of her car being beaten up might’ve brought a shred of sympathy for her in the public eye, the article below would nullify it.

A well-known white supremacist had called Angel’s actions “commendable.” The article quoted the man as saying, “The world will be better off with one less street kid who would (if he wasn’t one already) become a gang member.”

Angel groaned. “Great. This is all I need.” She rolled up the paper and threw it against the wall. Then she poured mini shredded wheat into a bowl with milk, peeled a banana, and sliced it over the top. As she ate her breakfast and tried to calm down, she realized she was looking forward to seeing her shrink. Janet had penciled her in for Friday at 11:00, and she intended to go. Today was the day, she decided. This time she’d let Janet do her hypnosis thing. Maybe she’d remember details about the shooting. She had to try.

Too early for her appointment, Angel drove to the beach and parked Brandon’s Lexus at an angle that gave her a clear view of the coastline north and south. Another sunny day. She’d worn a white sweater with jeans and Reeboks. She removed the sweater and tossed it into the backseat, then locked the car and headed toward the water. The tide was out, leaving the sand firm and perfect for exploring.

Angel walked for about a mile, stopping to pick up agates and looking for shells. When she returned to the car, she realized she still had a thirty-minute wait. After watching a couple with a kid and a kite exit their van, she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

In the distance a dog barked. A child laughed. Angel’s eyes drifted open, and she stared at the beach beyond the windshield. The child laughed again, running with a kite twice his size. A young couple, probably his parents, urged him on.

Did Billy ever fly a kite
?

The wind lifted the rainbow-colored kite out of the boy’s hands and carried it several yards before depositing it in the
sand. Undaunted, the child tried again. This time the kite sailed higher and higher until it danced in the air currents, bound only by an invisible thread.

Angel rubbed her eyes with her palms and dragged her hands down her face. The clock on the dash read 10:45. She had an appointment with Janet at 11:00. She started her car and backed out of the parking space.

Minutes later she was lying on a couch under a blanket, listening to quiet music with the sound of rain. Janet’s soft voice guided her into a relaxed state.

Her eyelids felt heavy—too heavy to open. The past few days began playing in her mind like scenes from a movie, the images as vivid as they had been on Sunday morning. She saw herself following Billy into the warehouse and saw him raise his weapon. She brought up her gun and took aim.

In an instant the scene changed.

Angel was twelve. Billy’s age. Tears streamed down her face as she held the rifle across her lap. She didn’t want to learn to shoot anymore—didn’t want to use a gun ever again.

Angel sat up and pushed the blanket aside.

“It’s not helping. I remembered everything except the shooting.”

“It takes time. And you did remember some things.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m wasting your time and mine. I thought it was going to happen. I remembered seeing Billy and raising my gun—then all of a sudden I’m a kid and I’m crying and I’m scared. I don’t understand what it’s all about. It’s almost like I’m afraid of guns, but I’m not. How crazy is that? I’m a police officer.”

Janet nodded. “Being a police officer doesn’t mean you can’t be afraid.”

“I don’t
want
to remember my childhood. I just want to remember the shooting.”

“Maybe the memories are somehow linked.”

“How?”

Janet shrugged. “We won’t know that until you remember them. Don’t try to force the memories or stop them. Let yourself drift through them.”

Angel fell back against the cushions. She hadn’t been truthful with Janet. She did have a fear of guns—maybe not a fear exactly, more like an aversion. But she had forced herself to use them. “This isn’t getting me anywhere.”

“Give it time. Would you like to make another appointment?”

Angel sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

On the drive home, Angel thought about her first encounter with a gun. She’d been ten years old when her father had finally taught her to shoot. She’d gotten a hunting rifle for her birthday, and she remembered being thrilled, thinking that now she and her father would have something they could do together. Frank had been happy for her; he’d wanted to go out right away and teach her how to shoot. Her excitement hadn’t lasted very long though. He helped her hold the heavy weapon up, placed the butt against her shoulder. When it went off, she screamed. It kicked hard enough to knock her down. Anna had said she was too small for a gun that size, but Frank insisted that if she was going to shoot, she’d do it right. He wiped her tears then made her pick up the rifle and fire again and again.

Angel hated the gun and the noise but determined then and there she would not complain. Her father didn’t want a crybaby. He wanted his kids to be tough.

Now she wondered if the pain of firing the rifle could have been enough to cause her stomach to tighten in knots whenever she had to shoot. She tried to remember more details about the shooting but couldn’t. Janet had told her to be patient—easier said than done. The OSP crime lab should’ve been able to determine exactly what had happened, but now with the stolen evidence, all she had was her memory—an apparently faulty one at that.

Angel bypassed her apartment when she saw the mob waiting in the parking lot and headed for the hospital. Peter and Paul accosted her in the waiting room. “We’re taking you to the resort,” Paul said. “No argument.”

“You need a break from all of this.” Peter hooked an arm around her neck.

“We all think it’s a great idea.” Paul seemed more animated than usual. Angel suspected it was because of a certain lawyer.

“We’ll even kidnap Brandon if you want.” Peter chuckled and released her.

“Don’t you dare.”

Paul shook his head in disgust. “We’re supposed to protect our little sister, not lead her astray.”

Peter grinned and shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

Angel surprised them by agreeing. “You’re right. I do need to get away.”

“Wow. That was easy. We didn’t even have to bribe you with our best suite.”

She hugged both of them. “I love you guys, you know that?”

“Yeah. We know. Now get in there and see Dad, then we’re leaving.”

At the resort, the twins treated her to a wonderful dinner of filet mignon and lobster. After dinner they escorted her to her room. “You should be safe here on the premises. We have a security guard on duty all the time.” Peter opened the door and handed her the key.