Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (42 page)

Mel cast a wary glance around the room. Funny, this house had always seemed so warm and welcoming, with its warm yellow walls, the cozy fireplace and her aunt's skill with creating an inviting space. Now, however, all she could see was how the curtains didn't completely shut. Anyone could peer in. Biting her lip, she scrutinized the locks. Unlike the doors, which she knew sported state-of-the-art dead bolts, the windows all had the original locks from when the house was first built decades earlier. Weak locks. She should know. She had sneaked in and out of this house often during her teens. Her aunt had never had a clue, or Mel was sure the locks would have been replaced long ago. The idea crossed her mind to go to the kitchen to wait. She rejected that idea almost as soon as it entered her mind. She would feel even more vulnerable if she couldn't see what was happening out front.

Her eyes looked at the side window. It was boarded up tight. In her mind, though, she could still see that brick flying through it. She shuddered.

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

Yelping, she leaped up from the couch. Her heart in her throat, she frantically looked around the room. This was a new sound. Was that a mouse? Some kind of animal? Or was someone in the house with her?
Lord help me.
She sent up an urgent prayer.

A weapon. Of course. She needed some kind of weapon. But what? Her aunt had never kept guns in the house. Her eyes alighted on the fireplace tools.

Scritch, scritch.

She whimpered. Terrified, she slowly crept across the room as soundlessly as she could. She grabbed the first tool she touched. It had a nasty-looking hook on the end. Grimacing, she moved in the direction of the sound. When it came again, she realized it was coming from the large picture window in the front room. Letting out an explosive breath, she moved to adjust the blinds. Really, she was such a coward. Terrified by what was probably a tree branch against the window. Scoffing at herself, she peered out into the now-dark yard. Her breath caught. Terror returned. A man was running down her driveway toward the trees.

“No. This can't be happening.”

When the phone rang, she shrieked
. Oh, maybe it's Jace. Maybe he's calling to check up on me.
She swiped up the phone as if it were a lifeline.

“Hello?”

“Not so brave now, are ya, little girl?” an unfamiliar male voice jeered.

“Who are you?”

“You disappoint me. Such a common question.” He chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound. “I don't think that poker would have worked against a gun, though. Do you?”

With a sharp cry, she dropped the phone back into the cradle. He had been watching her! The man she had seen, he had spied on her. Suddenly she knew it hadn't been branches she had heard. That man had deliberately tried to spook her. He wanted her to know he could get to her whenever he felt like it.

The phone rang again. Mel let it go to the answering machine, covering her ears as the voice filled the room.

Shaking her head, Mel backed fearfully away from it. He could call all night. That didn't mean she had to answer. She couldn't force herself to leave the room, though. Settling herself against the wall with the poker in her hands, she waited. Watched. Maybe she wasn't a match for him if he came for her. That didn't mean she had to give up. Steel entered her soul. No one was going to scare her off. Not without a fight.

The phone rang again. Mel trembled as the answering machine kicked on. She waited for the voice to begin taunting her.

“Hi, Melanie. It's me, Jace. I am...” She flew to the phone.

“Jace!” Melanie's voice was choked with tears as she grabbed the phone with sweaty hands.

“Melanie! Are you okay?”

“I'm okay, but...” The rest of her words were garbled by sobs.

“Melanie, hold on. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

Melanie heard the siren blare before he cut the connection. She dropped the old-fashioned phone back into its cradle. Immediately it rang again. She huddled back against the wall as the answering machine kicked on. She covered her ears with her hands to shut out the string of threats and insults.

Red-and-blue police lights flashed. Cautiously, she crawled to the picture window and peered out. Her eyes widened. Jace had made it in fifteen minutes. She watched as he left his car and practically ran up her steps.

She flew to the door and threw it open before he could knock. The temptation to throw herself into his strong arms was overwhelming, but she managed to resist the urge. Even scared out of her mind, she knew she would regret acting on the impulse. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him forcefully into the house, shutting the door and slamming the dead bolt behind him.

“I'm being watched,” she whispered, answering his question before he asked it.

His face hardened. “Explain.”

“Shortly after seven, I heard noises at the window. I thought a tree branch was scraping the glass.” She swallowed, her trembling hand going to her throat. “But when I went to look, there was a man, running down the drive...”

Spinning on his heel, Jace raced to the window. He peered outside for a few seconds before grabbing his gun and a flashlight from his pocket. Melanie clutched at his arm as he stalked to the door. The determined look on his face told her exactly what he planned to do. He shook her off gently. Ignoring her protests, he unbolted the door and moved outside, eyes peeled.

Mel waited inside, her heart pounding. She couldn't bear the thought of something bad happening to Jace. Oh, what was taking him so long? Surely he should be back by now. Picking up her coat, Mel decided to go check on him. He walked back inside as she was zipping the coat. Bolting the door, he turned. Stopped. Suddenly he grinned.

“You weren't by any chance thinking of coming after me, were you?”

A fierce flush spread over her cheeks. Defiantly, she tossed her head.

“I just thought you might need some help.” Melanie hated the defensiveness in her voice.

Jace shook his head. The amusement drained from his face. The sudden seriousness of his expression made her shiver. Whatever he had seen out there, it hadn't been good.

“There were footsteps under your window and leading down the driveway. And I found this.” He held out a round black object, roughly two inches in diameter. Mel leaned forward for a closer look, inhaling his aftershave as she did.

“Is that what I think it is? It looks like a lens cover. Did that man have a camera with him?” Melanie fought down a wave of panic. Now was the time for clear thinking, not hysterics.

“Sure is, and not just any camera, either. Whoever was using this meant business.”

The phone rang. The relative calm Jace's return had brought was shattered as she paled. Jace walked to stand before her, his concerned gaze sweeping her face. Instinctively, she clutched at his jacket and buried her face in it. She tried not to listen as the answering machine kicked on and the malicious voice filled the room.

“Don't think that cop'll protect you, little girl. Sooner or later, you'll be alone again, and when you are—”

The voice was abruptly cut off as Jace picked up the phone. He listened to the invective spewing from the voice for an instant. Then he hung up, none too gently.

Melanie became aware of the exhausted tears pouring down her face. She allowed Jace to lead her over to the couch. He pushed her down onto the corner cushion, then reached for the afghan lying across the back. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he knelt before her.

“When did these phone calls start?”

“Right after I saw the man outside. He started talking about what I had been doing, so I knew he had been watching me.” She shivered and pulled the afghan tighter. “He's been calling every couple of minutes. I've lost track of how many phone calls.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was so tired.

“Why didn't you unplug your phone?”

“I was afraid he'd see me if I walked to the phone,” she admitted. “I've been crouched on the floor, out of sight.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “If I had been here...”

“It's not your fault. You're here now, and he's still calling.”

The phone rang again. Melanie shuddered. Jace grabbed his cell phone.

“I'm going to call my boss about putting a trace on your line. Maybe this guy will slip up.”

He shut his phone slowly when the voice filled the room.

“If I were you, I'd be careful going out the back door. Never know what you might find.” Malicious laughter echoed before it was abruptly cut off.

Mel watched in horror as Jace reached into his holster and retrieved his gun. He moved with care toward the back door, hugging the walls and staying away from the windows. The idiot was going to open the back door. It had to be a trap.

“Wait! Jace! You can't go out there! Are you crazy?”

He blew out his breath, hard, and tossed her a mocking smile. “What? You think I should wait for the police? Oh, that's right. I
am
the police.”

She held her breath and whispered a prayer as he stood with his back against the wall next to the door, his gun held ready.

“Keep back,” he ordered in a low voice.

Then slowly, he reached out and closed his hand around the knob and started turning.

FOUR

H
er heart in her throat, Mel kept her eyes glued on Jace as he turned the knob. The door opened with agonizing slowness. Any moment she'd hear some spooky music like in a horror movie. She shook her head as the errant thought flitted across her weary brain. A familiar tightness in her chest warned her that she would soon be in need of her inhaler again. But there was no way she was going to reach for it now. Any movement might distract Jace.

Jace opened the door and peered out. He let out a rough sound of disgust, almost a growl. He pulled the door open wider and stepped outside. As he disappeared from her sight, panic screamed in the pit of her belly, fighting to crawl its way out. She hung on to her control, but it was a struggle. When he returned, she let out a breath, unaware until she did so that she had been holding it.

Jace tucked his gun back into his holster with a single abrupt movement. With his other hand, he whipped out his cell phone and hit a button. A scowl furrowed his brow and curled his lips. He stalked back to the door and peered out. Curious, Mel leaned over to peer past him. And gasped in shock.

A storefront mannequin swung in the breeze, a makeshift noose around its plastic neck. A brunette wig was balanced precariously upon its head in an obvious attempt to make it resemble Melanie. A sign had been hung around its neck. It read Murderer. You Are Not Wanted Here. Mesmerized, she was only vaguely aware that Jace was conferring with someone on his phone. He disconnected after a minute. She stayed focused on the Melanie mannequin. Freaked out. Wait. Was that...? She looked closer...

“Oh!”

Jace swung around at her cry.

“Melanie, it's not real, it's just a mannequin,” he held up his hands in a calming motion.

“It's a mannequin wearing my clothes!” Her throat was so tight, it hurt to force the words past the constriction. “I wore that dress all the time. It was a favorite of mine when I was still in high school.”

“Are you sure? Maybe it's a coincidence—just a similar dress.”

Melanie shook her head. There was no way she was mistaken.

“I know that dress,” she insisted. “Aunt Sarah made it. If you look at the tag, you'll see its one of her personalized tags.”

She had always felt so pretty, so feminine in the delicate blue dress. It was the only modest dress she had owned back then. It had pleased her aunt no end when Mel wore it.

Someone had ruined a precious memory. But how had he even gotten the dress?

“I don't know, Melanie.” Mel's eyes shot wide. Had she asked that out loud? Apparently she had.

She was even more surprised when Jace patted her shoulder. The gesture was a little awkward, but she was touched by his attempt at compassion.

Jace cleared his throat. “Don't worry. We'll figure it out.”

An hour later, she listened silently to Jace and his superior, who had arrived twenty minutes earlier. Her eyes followed Jace as he paced back and forth across the length of the living room. His eyes were hooded. His mouth was tightened into a grim line. He kept removing his hat and raking his hand across his hair in what seemed to be a habitual gesture when he was agitated. She could vaguely recall him making the same gesture four years ago.

“Something's off.”

Melanie jumped. Jace stomped to a halt before her and glared at the people watching him.

“Well, don't blame me,” Chief Kennedy drawled. “I'm one of the good guys.”

“Ha ha.” Jace resumed pacing. “I mean whoever this dude is, he's not acting right.”

“What part of bad guy do you need me to explain, Lieutenant?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Melanie found herself muffling a giggle at the Chief's wry remark. Unfortunately, Jace apparently had really good hearing. He leveled a flat stare her way. She straightened in her chair, then gave him a serious nod, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing again.

“You know what I mean. He's a perp. Means he should have a pattern. But this guy is breaking pattern. Melanie should be dead.”

The room swayed. Mel felt the blood draining from her face. Hearing her fate stated with such devastating coolness shook her to her soul. Mouth dry, she stared at Jace.

He flashed a look her way. Was that sympathy? Pity?

“Sorry, Melanie. Shouldn't have been so blunt.”

Chief Kennedy scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Go on. I'd like to hear more.”

Jace hunkered down on the footstool in front of Mel, settling his elbows on his knees and leaning toward her. “Alayna Brown was murdered after going to see your aunt—though there was an attempt to make it look like a simple burglary gone wrong. Your aunt was poisoned. I have to assume it was meant to look like an accident. If we had arrived later...”

“My release time was changed!” Mel burst out, interrupting him. She shot out of her chair and walked around the perimeter of the room. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off a chill. “I wasn't supposed to be released until noon, but it was moved up. But how did the person who poisoned her not know that? Everyone knew. At least it felt that way this morning.”

“But your release time was changed less than twelve hours before it happened,” Chief Kennedy pointed out. “They may not have known that. Or they might not have been able to change the timing on the poisoning. Sneaking the tainted food into your aunt's kitchen might have been something that could only be done at a certain time.”

“Whatever the reason for the timing with Mrs. Swanson,” Jace broke in, “they are playing with us now.”

Mel stopped pacing.

Chief Kennedy sat forward, eyes intent.

“This guy didn't actually try to kill Melanie. He's trying to scare her. He's playing.” A stark note entered his voice at this pronouncement.

A thick silence filled the room. Mel patted her inhaler to reassure herself.

Then Chief Kennedy spoke, his voice now full of authority, all hint of joking gone.

“He doesn't want Miss Swanson dead, he just wants her gone. But why?”

* * *

Jace and Chief Kennedy talked strategy and compared theories for another twenty minutes. Mel felt as if her head were stuffed with wool. The energy seeped from her system as she listened to their clinical conversation. They could have been discussing the latest football game, they were so casual. Only the occasional concerned looks Jace shifted in her direction kept her from screaming in frustration at their callousness. His glances assured her that he wasn't feeling as nonchalant as he sounded. Or at least she hoped he wasn't. It was too much.

Bone-weary, she allowed her eyelids to flutter shut.

Within moments she was sound asleep. She awoke to find Jace leaning over her, shaking her shoulder. “Melanie, I have to go out to the car.”

“What?” She sat up confused. How long had she been asleep?

“My car, sleepyhead,” Jace replied, looking amused. “I can't stay in here overnight. And there is no way I am leaving you here alone.”

“Chief Kennedy? Is he—”

“Paul left five minutes ago. He knows I'm staying.”

“I really want to be independent and tell you to go home, that I'll be fine and all that nonsense.” Mel looked him straight in the eye. “I can't, though.”

Unexpectedly, Jace reached out and brushed a hand lightly over her hair. “You gonna be all right in here?”

She nodded. The top of her head tingled where his hand had stroked. She could feel her cheeks and ears growing warm.

“Yeah,” she managed to choke out, “I'll be okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. Just make sure you make plenty of strong coffee in the morning, and we'll be fine.” Jace winked, then went to his car. Mel watched him go, then shut up the house. She remembered the dress on the mannequin and shuddered. Someone had to have been in her bedroom. There was no way she could sleep in her old room knowing that. She could have slept in the spare room, but she was reluctant to go farther back in the house. Piling up a couple of small pillows, she lay back down on the couch. She was closer to Jace here. He would protect her if anyone tried to get to her. In her mind, she could hear a voice threatening her. Her mind relived the terror-filled moments before Jace arrived until she fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

In the cruiser, Jace was wide-awake. Absently, he gnawed on a piece of cold pizza as he went over the events in his mind. He had never seen anyone as frightened as Melanie had been when she answered the door. He could literally see her fighting not to throw herself into his arms. For a woman as proud as she was, that was saying something. He was also uncomfortably aware of how disappointed he had felt when she withdrew. So much for keeping his distance.

Leaning his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and tried to recall the voice of Melanie's mysterious caller. It had been obviously disguised. But still, there was something about it that was familiar. If only he could remember why. Something in the accent. It wouldn't come to him. Frustrated, he pounded his fist on the steering wheel. His hand slipped and accidentally bumped the horn. The single honk was embarrassingly loud. Jerking the offending hand back, he stuffed it in his pocket. Couldn't cause him any trouble there. Sighing, his mind returned to the voice.

He knew that voice.

But from where?

He drifted off into a fitful sleep. Several times during the night, he awakened abruptly. At around three in the morning, he decided to take a look around the perimeter of the house. He unfolded his lanky frame from the car, stretching and yawning, and then wincing as his muscles protested. He pulled a face and rubbed the small of his back. Sleeping in a car was never a pleasant experience. He felt almost as tired as if he hadn't slept at all. Not to mention the tightness that was still knotting his shoulders. He was going to have a monster of a tension headache if he didn't take measures soon.

Digging in the glove compartment, he found two pain pills in the first-aid kit and chased them down with yesterday's cold coffee. Yech. But the only other option was to swallow them dry. Nothing worse than pill paste on your tongue.

He started around the house at an easy stride. One hand held the flashlight, the other his service weapon. He swept a wide beam across the yard. To his relief, he could see nothing out of place. Sidling up to the window, a frown pulled the corners of his mouth down. The curtains were drawn, but a small sliver was still open at the outside edge. He peered inside. He could barely make out Melanie's shape under a pile of blankets on the couch. Her face was turned away from the window, but a mop of brown hair was visible.

He couldn't do anything about that now. He'd make sure to mention it to her in the morning. He completed his circle around the house and returned to the cruiser. When he drifted off to sleep again, his rest was easier.

Three hours later, he jolted awake again. A feeling of unease slithered down his spine. Something was wrong. He could sense it. Gathering up his gun and his phone, he threw open the door and loped across the lawn to Melanie's front door. The entire way he muttered a litany of prayer under his breath. He might not know where the danger lay, but God knew.

“Lord, You are in control. Help us.”

When he arrived at the door, his blood froze.

Attached to the door with black electrical tape were three pictures. Him, asleep in his cruiser. Melanie, out like a light on the couch. Except in this picture, her face was visible.

The third picture showed Jace and Melanie together as they stared at the mannequin the night before. His muscles bunched and a spasm of rage shot through his gut as he remembered Melanie's terror. Someone was playing a game, all right. Jace didn't intend to let them win.

He ran back to the car and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and a sealable bag from the glove box. Pulling out his cell phone, he took several pictures of the doorway for evidence and sent them in an attachment to Paul. Then, working quickly, he used his pocketknife to scrape the tape holding the pictures off the door. Pulling the pictures free, he placed them in the bag, sealed it and then slipped it into his coat pocket.

He realized he could procrastinate no longer. The unmistakable sounds of someone moving about inside told him Mel was awake. Reluctantly, he raised his fist and rapped on the door.