Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (17 page)

A half-mile later, his headlights captured a gate across one of the crossroads.

“I wonder where that leads,” Susan said.

“We’ve passed a few of them. They’re for park officials only, but according to the ranger, this is Sunset.”

“Yikes.”

His sentiment exactly. “Wait here.”

Stone aimed the car lights on the bar, got out and swung the gate back. A cowbell attached to the metal pole rang out. Now that was strange.

He couldn’t wait to warn Gary and suggest the juror find another place to stay. Then he’d take Susan somewhere safe as soon as possible. This location was a bodyguard’s worse nightmare.

They reached Gary Cho’s new residence about three minutes later. One beat-up truck sat in the drive. Richard Thomason’s budget-cutting mind-set had struck again. Cheap bastard.

“I love this cabin,” Susan said. “It’s so warm and cozy.” She pointed to the top of the building. “I see smoke coming out of the chimney. He must be home.”

He’d never heard such excitement in her voice. Okay, that wasn’t totally true. Right after she’d climaxed, she’d been excited. Hell, they both had been.

Stone got out of the Jeep. “Stay here while I check out the area.”

He’d gotten halfway around the cabin when he heard her car door creak open. Stubborn woman. Stone did an about-face and met her along the side of the house. “I told you to stay in the car.” He kept his voice to a whisper.

The hands flew to her hips and she leaned close. “I don’t like being left alone.”

She didn’t have a problem staying snug in the seat when they were at the gas station. “Are you afraid of being in the woods?”

“Me? Afraid? Hah. No.” She cast her gaze to the ground. “Maybe a little.” She looked up and caught his gaze. “Okay, maybe a lot. These woods put my nerves on edge. Especially in the dark. As a matter of fact, I hate the woods at night. The killer could be anywhere.”

Stone chuckled, grabbed her hand, and walked toward the front. Something caught his attention through the lighted window, and he peered in.

“Oh shit.”

Chapter Fourteen

“What is it?” Susan’s normally strong voice trembled.

Stone wavered. He wanted to protect her from seeing Gary Cho, but at the same time, he had to bring her inside with him. No telling where the killer might be hiding.

“It’s Gary. He’s in trouble.”

Stone pulled her around to the front. He guessed he’d have to smash the wooden door down, but when he turned the handle, the door swung open.

The moment they stepped inside, Susan choked out a sob. While he wanted to take her in his arms and give comfort, he needed to take care of the man still dangling at the end of a noose.

He righted the dining room chair and stepped on the seat. He leaned the slight Asian man against his chest and lifted him up.

“Stone!” Susan shouted.

“I think he’s still alive.”

Her footsteps sounded behind him. “I saw someone peering in the window.” Panic laced her tone, but he didn’t have time to ask any questions.

“Lock the door.”

Saving Mr. Cho had to take priority over some Peeping Tom.

He removed the rope from around Cho’s neck, and the body collapsed in his arms, nearly toppling him. He gently guided Cho’s body to the floor. If Cho had been dead for certain, he never would have messed with the crime scene. Two brown burn marks, about an inch apart, marred the man’s neck. “Looks like the killer used a stun gun. Bastard.”

Susan knelt next to him. “My God. Can you save him?”

“I can try.”

He dragged two fingers to the man’s throat. A faint pulse beat, but was he was feeling his racing heart or Gary Cho’s barely beating one?

He slipped the prepaid phone from his pocket and handed the cell to Susan. “Call 9-1-1.”

Eyes wide, she stared at him. He understood shock could freeze a person, but Susan was made of sterner stuff. She’d dealt with gruesome photos of real crime scenes. While the reality was worse, he had faith she could handle it.

A second later, she did as he asked and was smart enough to disconnect once she told the operator about Cho.

Cho’s mouth opened. “Caravel—”.

He gasped and his body bucked before going limp. Eyes wide opened, his head fell to the side.

“Mr. Cho.” Stone shook him, even though he knew the man would never speak again.

He tilted Cho’s head back, pinched his nose, and gave him a few breaths. He performed CPR for over five minutes before leaning back on his heels.

Still gripping the cell, Susan leaned closer, their shoulders touching. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”

“No. I can’t get a pulse. By the time advanced life support arrives, it’ll be too late for him.”

She swallowed hard. “Was he saying something about Peter Caravello?”

He hoped to hell not. “We may never know.”

“Maybe he was identifying the killer. What else could Caravello mean?”

His hands clenched at the accusation. “He could have meant he was here because of the Caravello trial. That’s all.” Stone didn’t want to discuss what-ifs with her. “You said you saw someone peer in the window?”

She blinked a few times. “Yes, when you were trying to get Mr. Cho down.” Her voice rose.

He shot a glance at the window. Nothing but black stared back. The person had disappeared. “What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. Something was in front of his face.” She played with the zipper on her jacket. “And it was dark, but I remember a small glowing object in his hand, like a cell phone. He was there one second, gone the next.”

“You sure it was a he?”

“No, but the glow from the phone reflected off the person’s hood, which came to the top of the window.”

Given the nature of her job, he decided to go with her conclusion. “What direction did he go?”

She pursed her lips. “I was too preoccupied with Mr. Cho’s situation to notice.”

He couldn’t blame her. Stone jumped up, sprinted the ten feet to the door and pulled it open. “Keep this locked.”

Her body tensed. “You can’t leave me here with a dead man.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Her mouthed opened, then quickly shut. As she got to her feet, he jetted out the door. Ms. Independent better not even think about following him. When the door didn’t pop open, he went in search of the trespasser.

Damn, he needed a flashlight. It was darker than 3:00 a.m. in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

He raced to the side window where Susan claimed she saw the man. He peered right, then left, into the cold, dark forest, trying to find someone moving. A path alongside the house led into the woods. Wind rustled the leaves, but there were no animal sounds, no voices, no car engines revving, nor feet racing through the forest. Where had the guy disappeared to? Even after the clouds moved away and exposed the half-moon, he couldn’t see much of anything.

Leaving Susan alone for more than a minute or two, locked door or not, wasn’t going to happen. The cold air froze his nose, ears, and fingers, making a search impractical without proper equipment. He’d only been in Florida a few days and had almost forgotten how much he disliked the frigid temperatures.

Who had been at the window? Some kid? A curious local who wanted to check up on the newcomer? Or had it been the person who’d strung up Mr. Cho? If the killer was nearby, they had to get out of there pronto.

He punched the side of the cabin. Too many questions, not enough answers. He raced back to the front of the cabin and knocked on the locked door. “It’s me.”

The moment she opened up, Susan rushed outside, threw herself in her arms and buried her face in his chest. His heart nearly stopped.

“I don’t want to end up like Gary Cho. So many of the jurors are dead. He’s bound to come after me next.”

He rubbed her back. “Shh. He’s not going to get you.”

She remained snuggled in his arms. Holding her tight, he led her back inside and closed the door.

She looked up at him. “How can you be so sure he won’t come after me?”

“I can’t.” He ran a cold finger down her warm cheek, his finger slipping on her tears. “You’ll have to trust that I can protect you.”

She stepped back and locked her gaze with him. “I do trust you.”

Her admission warmed his heart. “Thank you.”

She straightened. “Maybe we should leave before the ambulance gets here. There’s nothing more we can do for Mr. Cho.”

“You’re right. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in Atlanta.”

He checked out the room once more. Except for the tumbled chair under Mr. Cho’s body, everything looked in place. Two bottles of beer sat on the dining room table, making it appear as though Cho knew the assailant. Or else a different visitor had come and gone, and Mr. Cho hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up.

After wiping the prints off the door knobs on both sides, as well as on the chair, he made certain they left nothing behind to indicate they’d been anywhere near Gary Cho. He might be eliminating the killer’s evidence, but he couldn’t chance his name appearing on a computer at the fingerprint crime lab.

“Let’s go.”

They got back in the Jeep. The officer part of him told him to stay and report what had happened, but the bodyguard half said to run. The 9-1-1 call would have alerted the ambulance as well as the local police, who should be charging here right now.

He had no desire to call the Bureau and report the last juror’s death. Richard Thomason rose to the top of his suspect list the moment he denied knowing him in Atlanta. Let the jerk stay in the dark.

Once he made up his mind to flee, he drove as fast as he could without ejecting them from their seats. When he passed the open gate, something tripped a memory. The cowbell might have been put there to warn whoever was in the cabin that visitors were about to arrive. But how could the killer know he and Susan were on their way? Had the ranger spilled the beans? Or someone from the retro diner when they’d asked directions?

It didn’t matter. The killer knew their whereabouts. The madman had hanged Mr. Cho only moments before their arrival. It was almost as if he wanted him to find Cho swinging. Why?

“Hold on.” He gripped the wheel hard. “This could get rough.”

“It already has,” Susan said between gritted teeth.

“Sorry.”

She took hold of the handle over her head and braced herself against the dash with the other hand. Her respiration increased, probably from the pain of raising her arm. At the bottom of the long road, he came to a hard stop and glanced left. A stream of colored lights rounded the curve. “They’re coming,” he said, more to himself than to Susan, who obviously could see the cops’ arrival.

Slamming the gas pedal to the floor, he fishtailed out of the dirt road onto the pavement. Small rocks bounced under the carriage. Sirens screamed behind him. He took the next curve too fast and his wheels lost purchase.

“Stone!”

Oncoming lights flashed. The car must have witnessed his loss of control, for the driver slowed and dipped onto his side of the berm to avoid a collision. Heart racing, he let up on the gas and regained control.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and let out a breath. “They turned down the road to Cho’s place. No one seems to be following us.”

“Do you think they saw you?” Her voice took on that I’m-really-scared tone, sending his own composure down a notch.

“Probably, but I don’t believe they’ve put two and two together yet.” He didn’t need to send any more worry her way.

“And if they do figure out what happened?” At least she sounded composed.

Leaving a crime scene would cost him his job. “Let’s hope they don’t.”

She leaned her head back against the seat. “Where are we going now?”

Her respiration rate appeared slower. Good. “It’s close to eight. I say Asheville. I have an idea where we could go, but I need to check with T-Squared first.”

“It might be safer if they did put us in jail. The killer couldn’t get to me there.”

He glanced over at her. She was chewing her bottom lip and her arms were crossed over her chest. He needed to come up with a good plan soon if he expected to keep her alive.

* * * *

Richard Thomason forced the smile from his lips as he studied his reflection in the men’s room mirror. He needed to look upset, worried, and a little out of control. He half unknotted his perfectly tied tie, mussed his hair a bit and left his suit jacket unbuttoned, something he never did.

With the prize-winning photo in hand, he strode into the meeting room, precisely three minutes late. Harrison, Tom, William Burroughs, and Nancy Darden were all there. He needed to convince them his proof against Stone was irrefutable. Once his men brought Stone in, Richard could report to his blackmailer that Stone and Ms. Chapman were in custody. His job would be done and his wife and children would be safe from harm.

If the blackmailer was able to get to Chapman after her release, fine. Her death wouldn’t be on his hands.