Deadly Aim (38 page)

“What—you need money?”

“I don’t need money. I need information.”

He smiled. “Information, huh. Well, not sure I can help, but I’ll try.”

“I saw your car parked by the pharmacy the day of the robbery. I didn’t see you, though, and wondered what happened to you.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t there very long. Another call came in from dispatch, so I took it.” He bit into his sandwich.

“Did you see anything that might be helpful? Were you near the warehouse?”

“No. I didn’t say anything because I had nothing to add.” Frank patted his heart. “Started after the others, but I had
to stop because I was having chest pains. Took some nitro and went back to the car.”

“I’m sorry.”

He blew on the soup to cool it then dipped his spoon in. “What’s with all the questions?”

Angel got a warning look from her mother. “Nothing. I just wanted to talk to everyone who was out there. I’m trying to piece together where everyone was.”

“You still thinking you weren’t the only shooter?”

“I’m certain of it. I just can’t seem to figure out who fired the extra shots and why.”

“And you thought maybe it was me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Guess I can’t blame you for wondering. You have to look at every angle. But you got to remember one thing, Angel: If I had been there and seen you were in trouble, I’d have fired without a moment’s hesitation. I wouldn’t have split though. I’d have stood right there with you. I’d bet any of the other guys would say the same thing.”

He had a point. There would have been no reason for any of the officers to back her up and not take credit for it. They’d have had no way of knowing the kind of trouble shooting Billy would bring. But none of them had done it.

“If you didn’t fire those shots, then the person who did has something to hide.” Frank went on. “My guess would be one of the gang members. They wanted to make sure the boy couldn’t ID them.”

Angel picked up her sandwich. “I’m sure you’re right, Dad.”

“One more thing. Do you really think if I shot the kid, I’d let you take the rap?”

Angel took hold of his free hand. “No. I guess I hadn’t really thought it through. I just remembered the time you took me hunting and—”

“I shot the buck you missed.” He became more animated. “He was a beaut, wasn’t he? We got a lot of good meals from him.”

“Yeah, we did.” Angel had hated those meals. But she’d eaten the meat along with everyone else, not daring to object.

“I took credit for it, didn’t I?” Frank asked.

“Yes, you did.” She smiled. “Every time we ate it.”

The phone rang, and Angel pushed her chair back and went into the living room to answer it. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Oh, good. It’s you.” Eric sounded tense. “Listen, there’s been an accident—no, scratch that. Accident isn’t the right word.”

“What is it?” Angel held her breath.

“It’s Brandon. His car’s been bombed.”

A
ngel sank into the nearest chair. She felt sweaty and cold at the same time.
Oh no. No
! “Is he...?”

“We don’t know. There are body parts...”

Angel’s stomach tightened, threatening to release the food she’d just eaten.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” Anna came into the room, wiping her hands on a towel.

Angel raised her hand. “Okay,” she managed to say to Eric. “I’ll be there right away.”

“You don’t want to see this, Angel. Trust me. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“I’ll be there. Thanks for calling me.”

She heard a click as Eric hung up. She stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, then looked up at her mother’s fading form as shock gave way to weeping.

Anna sat down and wrapped her arms around her. “What is it, honey? What’s happened?”

Angel told her between sobs. “They did it because of me.” She pulled out of her mother’s embrace. “They’re still trying to get back at me because of Billy.” She folded her arms and rocked back against the seat cushions. “When is it going to end, Ma. When? How could God let this happen?”

“I don’t know, honey,” her mother said, stroking her hand, her eyes filling with tears. “But I think we need to put the blame where it belongs, on whoever did it.”

Frank came in and settled a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like me to go downtown with you?”

“No, I’m okay.” Angel sniffled and blew her nose in the tissue her mother handed her. She clutched the tissue, suddenly frozen in fear, not so much for herself but for her family. She pictured the men who had surrounded her car. Had they done this? Had their anger driven them to extract the worst kind of revenge?

She couldn’t let fear get the better of her. She stood up, determined to walk out to the Blazer and drive downtown. “I have to go. I need to find out who did this, before they kill someone else.”

“You let the authorities handle this, Angel,” her father called after her. “You hear me?”

She was halfway to the Lafferty offices when her cell phone rang. She picked up.

“Angel?”

Angel slammed on her brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of her that had stopped for a red light. The caller sounded like Brandon.

She threw the phone onto the seat.
That’s it. I’ve gone over the edge. Now I’m hearing things
. Her hands shook as she pulled over to the curb and picked up the phone again. Whoever it was had hung up. She turned the phone off, but it rang again. Drawing a deep breath, she told herself to ignore it, but in the end, she had to pick up.

The voice said her name again, but she stopped him. “Who—who is this? What kind of sick joke are you playing?”

“Angel, please don’t hang up. It’s me—Brandon.”

Relief mingled with disbelief. “Are you sure? Eric told me you were dead.” Or had he? He’d said there’d been body parts, and she had assumed they belonged to Brandon.

“It was my car. I was hoping to get to you before you found out.” His voice cracked. “I loaned my car to my secretary.
She had a doctor’s appointment and hers was in the shop. I still can’t believe it.”

“Where are you?”

“At the office. The police won’t let me leave.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up and glanced upward. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

But her joy was short-lived as she thought about Brandon’s secretary. Muriel had children and grandchildren. They would be devastated.

Just concentrate on Brandon for now. He’s alive, and somehow I have to keep him that way
.

Angel parked her car in the lot about two blocks away from Brandon’s office building. Most of the block was taped off, and the street had been closed. Several officers were already on the scene taking pictures and evaluating the debris. Bo and Mike were talking to Callen. Eric and Nick were interviewing people outside the crime scene, probably looking for potential witnesses.

She could see the bombed-out car and the shattered glass in the nearby buildings but had no desire to get a closer look. She went in the back entrance and was immediately stopped by a sheriff’s deputy. She told him who she was and waited while he called Brandon to verify whether or not he should let her into the building.

Apparently satisfied, the deputy walked her down the short hall into the lobby, where she took the elevator to the third floor. Brandon was waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator. His eyes were red rimmed, and his expression one of disbelief and horror. He swept her up into a bear hug.

Angel couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to—tears clogged her throat and eyes. He was safe. For now.

Brandon finally pulled her arms from around his neck. “Let’s go into my office.”

The office was elegantly appointed, as one might expect, with an executive desk and two walls of bookshelves made with a dark, expensive-looking wood. Brandon’s father stood by the window, looking out over the water. He turned as they
entered, his cool gaze assessing Angel and finding her lacking. She lifted her chin as though his opinion of her didn’t matter.

“Why you, Brandon?” Angel lowered herself into one of the chairs in front of Brandon’s desk. “I don’t understand why they would go after you.”

“They?” Brandon’s father turned back from the window. “Are you saying you know who did this?”

“Not really, but it might’ve been the guys who attacked me when I went to the Hartwell boy’s funeral. They’re probably the same ones who wrecked my apartment. Maybe they decided to hurt me by going after people I care about.”

“Seems pretty far-fetched.” Brandon’s father took his usual condescending tone with her. “I doubt they’d harm Brandon since I’m representing the Hartwells in the civil suit.” He rubbed a hand over his nearly bald head. “I’m afraid this is rather uncomfortable for you. With us representing the other side. It isn’t personal, you understand.”

“I understand.” She didn’t, of course. To her, the decision to represent Broadman had been a slap in the face.

“My guess,” the older Lafferty said, “is that this bomb wasn’t meant for Brandon at all. I think it was meant for you.”

“Me?”

“Brandon said you borrowed his car.”

Angel gulped. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. “I haven’t driven it since Sunday night.” But Broadman had seen her with the Lexus. Even though he was in jail now, he could’ve arranged the whole thing.

“Well, it’s something to consider.” Michael Lafferty walked from the window to the door. “I’m waiting for a call. If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

Angel watched his retreating back.
And I thought my father was bad
. She felt sorry for Brandon, but as she turned back to him, he seemed unfazed by his father’s behavior. He was focusing on a spot on the floor, apparently deep in thought.

“What are you going to do?” Angel asked.

“What do you mean?” He lifted his gaze to hers.

“Whoever tried to kill you failed. I’m worried they’ll try again.”

“So am I. So is everyone else. Dad thinks the bomb was meant for you, but he isn’t taking any chances. He’s hiring a bodyguard for me.” He straightened and went around to his black leather executive chair. “I won’t be going home for a few days. I’ll stay in a hotel—undisclosed location.”

“That’s wise.”

Someone knocked on the door, then opened it. Brandon’s father poked his head in and frowned disapprovingly. “There are a couple of police officers here. They want to talk with you. If you’d rather wait, I can tell them to come back.”

“No.” Brandon got up again and walked to the door. “I’ll talk to them. We need to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.”

Eric and Nick came in.

“Angel. I’ve been trying to call you,” Eric said. “But I see you already know Brandon wasn’t in his car.”

“Yeah. He called me while I was on the way over here.”

“Good. I’m sorry I scared you like that. Guess I should’ve waited for a positive ID.”

“I appreciate you letting me know.”

Nick turned to Brandon. “We need to ask you some questions.”

“Go ahead.” Brandon sat in the client chair next to Angel and clasped her hand.

“Do you know of anyone who might want to kill you? Any enemies that you know of?”

“Anyone who’d want me dead? I have no idea.”

“Any angry husbands?”

“That’s an odd question.” Brandon tightened his hold on Angel’s hand.

“Not really. You handle divorce cases. Some husbands get pretty upset with their wife’s lawyer, especially when the lawyer takes them to the cleaners.”

“Now that I think about it, I suppose that’s possible.” He released Angel’s hand and went back to his chair and opened a drawer. “There is one, a new client who wants out of an abusive relationship.”

“Can you give us a name?” Eric had pulled out a notepad and pen.

“I’d rather not—client confidentiality.”

“We can get a warrant.” Nick pursed his lips.

“I can talk to her and see if she’ll let me release the information. I’ll get back to you on it.”

“Sounds fair enough.” Nick turned to Eric. “Can you think of anything else?”

“That should do it for now.” Eric’s gaze wandered around the room. “Um, work up a list of possible suspects for us, and we’ll check them out.”

“Will do.” Brandon picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk blotter. “Before you go, there’s something you should know.”

“Yeah?” Eric took a step back toward them.

“Angel thinks the guys that have been harassing her might’ve come after me.”

Eric squinted at Angel. “I doubt they’d hit Brandon. It’s you they want.”

“Yes, and as Brandon’s dad just pointed out, I’d been driving Brandon’s car. Maybe they didn’t realize we’d switched.” She rose and walked to the wide bank of windows. “I wish I had been. Then Muriel would still be alive.”

“But you wouldn’t.” Nick came over and settled an arm across her shoulders. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, Angel. You have to learn to let things go—especially the things that are out of your control.” He gave her neck a squeeze.