Page 29 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

  “Yes, sure.”

  She put her hand to her brow. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just . . . after what happened at the picnic . . . he was there, Joe. And he wanted me to know he was watching me. ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’ That was the song he requested. Cute, huh?”

  “I heard all about it,” Joe said as he followed her into the kitchen. He had already guessed what she was going to do. Make tea. Joe knew the strain was getting to her. In the harsh kitchen light, she looked pale, as though she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.

  Joe blurted out what he was thinking. “You’ve got to stay strong.”

  She whirled around to face him, one hand defiantly on her hip. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Easier said than done, Joe thought. “Why don’t you go into the living room and watch a little television?”

  “I’m going to make a cup of hot tea. Would you like some?”

  “Sure,” he said. It felt like it was 110 in the kitchen, but if she wanted to make hot tea for him, he’d drink it.

  He sat down and watched her work. Nick was in the back hallway, talking on his phone, his head bent, his voice too low to make out any of the conversation. Joe figured he was either talking to Morganstern or Wesson.

  Laurant took the kettle to the sink and held it under the faucet. She stared at the fleur-de-lis painted on the white tile above the splash guard while she thought about the picnic.

  Nick had finished his call and came back into the kitchen in time to hear her say, “Lonnie was there at the picnic. He left early, but he could have put that piece of paper in the hat before Tommy chased him away.”

  Nick got a Diet Pepsi out of the fridge and popped the lid. He took a long swallow and then said, “Yeah, Lonnie could have done that, but he couldn’t be in two places at once, and we know he hasn’t left Holy Oaks in the last month. He was in town when the unsub talked to Tommy in the confessional.”

  “When did you find that out?” Laurant asked.

  “I go that bit of information from Feinberg this morning.”

  She turned back to the sink. “So who wasn’t here?” she asked.

  The kettle was filled, and water was now pouring down the sides. Nick took it out of her hands, poured out half the water, and then put the kettle on the stove top.

  “The sheriff was out of town,” Joe told her. “And so was Steve Brenner. He told friends he was going fishing.”

  Laurant got out the tea bags and cups from the cupboard and put them on the table. She didn’t seem to notice that Nick was drinking a Pepsi. She was still going to make him a cup of tea. He smiled while he watched her work. The quirky habit of hers was odd but sweet.

  She sat down to wait for the water to heat. Restless, she picked up the deck of cards Joe had left and began to shuffle them.

  “What about the crime scene Wesson was so excited about? Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?”

  Joe answered. “The lab’s working on the evidence they’ve collected. I do know the scene was contaminated.”

  “Contaminated by what?”

  “Cows,” Joe said.

  She couldn’t block the picture Joe had just evoked and whispered, “Oh, God.”

  “Deal the cards,” he suggested, hoping to turn her attention. “We’ll play gin.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, but she continued to sit there, shuffling the cards. Joe finally took them out of her hands and dealt them for her.

  “I know it seems like a lot of time has passed, but—” Nick began.

  She didn’t let him finish. “They won’t find his fingerprints. They won’t find any evidence that could lead them to him.”

  Nick sat down, straddling the chair with his arms braced against the back. “Don’t make him superhuman. He bleeds like the rest of us. He’s going to mess up, and then we’ll nail him.”

  She picked up her cards and looked them over. “The sooner the better, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, then why don’t we make it happen sooner. I think Wesson’s right. Maybe I should go running alone tomorrow, and maybe I should spend the day doing errands on my own. Don’t shake your head at me. He’s looking for an opportunity, and I think we should accommodate him. You could make sure I was safe.”

  “No.” He was emphatic.

  “Don’t you think we should discuss this before you—”

  “No.”

  She held her temper. “I really think—”

  He cut her off. “I promised your brother I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  “Hey, Nick, chill out,” Joe suggested.

  The burst of anger was short-lived. “Yeah, right,” he agreed.

  The tension was getting to both of them. Laurant knew why she was feeling so frustrated. Her every movement was being controlled by a lunatic. Yes, that was exactly what was happening, and God, how she hated it. But why was Nick losing his temper? He should be used to working under this kind of strain, shouldn’t he? Up until tonight, he’d been very laid-back and as steady as a rock. How in God’s name was he able to do it, day in and day out? The special unit he worked for searched for abducted children. She couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than a child in danger. The pressure had to be tremendous.

  “You’re the expert. I’ll let you decide what’s to be done. If you don’t want me to run alone, then I won’t,” she said.

  She’d done a complete turnaround in a matter of seconds, and Nick couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly being reasonable again. “How come?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t want to make your job any more difficult than it already is,” she said.

  “Now that you two are calm, I kind of hate to bring this up,” Joe said. He discarded a card and picked up a new one. “ ’Cause I know Nick’s going to get upset again, but—”

  “I don’t get upset. What do you need to tell me?”

  “If the unsub doesn’t poke his head out of the woodpile within the next couple of days, I’m going to be reassigned.”

  The muscle in Nick’s jaw flexed.

  “How do you know you’ll be reassigned?” Laurant asked Joe.

  Nick answered. “Wesson. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Joe nodded. “He thinks maybe the unsub knows I’m here, and if I make a big deal about leaving, then maybe—”

  “Give me a break,” Nick snapped.

  “And I suppose if the unsub still doesn’t try to grab her, then Wesson will reassign the other agents so the unsub will feel more comfortable? I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we all pack up now and leave? Laurant can leave the front door open so he won’t have any trouble getting inside. That’s pretty much Wesson’s game plan, isn’t it, Joe. He’ll stay in Holy Oaks though, you can bet your ass on that.”

  Joe pointed at the disc to remind Nick that Wesson could be listening in. Nick couldn’t have cared less. He wanted him to know what he thought of his methods.

  Nick unpinned the disc and held it up so he could speak directly into the microphone. “You want to be the big man to catch the unsub, don’t you, Jules? At any cost. That’s the plan, isn’t it? It’ll look great on your record, and your political ambitions are far more important than Laurant’s safety.”

  Feinberg’s voice responded. “Sorry to disappoint you, Nick, but I’m monitoring the line, not Wesson, and as far as I’m concerned, you guys are talking about the weather.”

  The agent was doing his best to protect Nick, but the effort wasn’t appreciated. Wesson couldn’t hurt Nick professionally, and even if he could, Nick wouldn’t have cared. How would he feel if he got fired? Maybe relieved, he thought. Bad attitude, he decided, but he couldn’t make himself care about that either.

  Morganstern was right. Nick needed a vacation, and he needed sex. Lots of sex, but not with just any woman. He wanted Laurant.

  “Gin.” Laurant smiled at Joe when she showed him her cards. He groaned.  The kettle began to hiss. Laurant got up to fix the tea. She poured water into all three cups, then put the kettle back on the stove and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

  “Hey, what about your tea?” Joe asked.

  “I’m going upstairs now. I think I’d like to take a hot bubble bath.”

  Nick gritted his teeth. Now, why in the hell did she think they needed to know that? Damn. His mind went wild, and all he could think about was her lush body covered in a mist of bubbles. He wanted to follow her and dive into the tub with her. He headed to the guest room instead and took a cold shower.

  Joe was watching a movie downstairs, so Nick, dressed in his jeans and his favorite old T-shirt, went into Laurant’s room to watch Sports Roundup.

  Theo called to check in. It was late in Boston, but his brother never slept. He was in the mood to talk about the latest bizarre case he was prosecuting. Nick tried to pay attention, but his eyes were locked on that bathroom door, and x-rated images kept flashing through his mind.

  “What’d you say?” he asked Theo.

  “Is everything okay with you?”

  Hell, no. “Sure,” he answered. “You know how it goes. It’s the waiting that makes me nuts.”

  “How come you haven’t mentioned Laurant? I haven’t seen her in years. I’ll bet she’s changed. What’s she like?”

  “She’s Tommy’s sister. That’s what she’s like.” Big mistake, Nick realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He’d sounded defensive, and Theo’s reputation for being a top-rate prosecutor wasn’t just talk. He immediately went for the jugular.

  “So that’s how it is.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Does Tommy know?”

  “Know what?” he hedged.

  “That you’ve got the hots for his sister.”

  Before Nick could answer, Theo laughed. “You’re going to have to tell him.”

  Nick pictured his hand going through the phone and grabbing his brother by the throat. “Theo, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop fishing. There’s nothing to tell. Laurant’s fine. Just fine. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “Does she still have those long legs?”

  “Theo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Go to hell.”

  CHAPTER 26

  He came in through the back door.

  He’d tried using the key he had duplicated, but the bitch had obviously changed the locks. Now why had she done that, he wondered. Had she found the camera? He stood on the back stoop nervously flipping the key over and over in his hand while he pondered the possibility and finally decided no, she couldn’t have found it. It was too well hidden. Then he remembered how old and rusty the lock was, and he assumed that it had simply broken.

  Fortunately, he had worn his black windbreaker, and he could use it to protect his hand and break the glass. He’d put on the jacket so that he could blend into the night and wouldn’t be seen by the two, dried-up old hags living next door to Laurant. They were like cats sitting in their windows looking out. He’d parked the car three blocks away, another precaution against her nosy neighbors, and walked over to her house, making sure he stayed away from the streetlights and close to the bushes.

  Twice he felt like someone was following him, and he got so spooked he considered turning around and going back home, but the rage inside of him kept propelling him forward. The need to strike out was eating at him like acid, forcing him to take the calculated risk. He craved hurting her the way an alcoholic craved a drink of whiskey. The need wouldn’t leave him alone, and he knew he would take any risk to get even.

  He slowly removed his jacket, carefully folded it to double thickness, wrapped his hand inside the material, and then, imagining the glass was Laurant’s face, he slammed his fist through the window, exerting far more force than was necessary. The glass imploded, shattering fragments into the back hallway.

  The rush of adrenaline felt like an orgasm, and he almost shouted God’s name in vain just for the sheer thrill of it. He suddenly felt powerful and invincible. No one would touch him. No one.

  He certainly wasn’t concerned about being heard, for he was sure the house was empty. Nick and Laurant had been picked up by her brother and another priest and had gone to the rehearsal dinner. He’d watched them leave before he’d gone back home to wait and then get ready. It was just after eleven now, and they wouldn’t be back until well after midnight. Plenty of time, he thought, to do what he wanted and get out.

  He reached in, unlocked the dead bolt, opened the door, and came inside. He had to resist the urge to whistle.

  The silent alarm began to flash the second the door opened, but Nick already knew someone was inside the house. He and Laurant had returned home earlier than expected, and he had taken the watch while Joe caught up on his sleep. Nick was upstairs on the landing and had just started down the steps when he heard the sound of glass breaking. The noise was distant but unmistakable.

  He didn’t hesitate. Drawing his gun, he flipped the safety off and headed for the guest room to alert Joe. He was reaching for the doorknob when the door opened and Joe stepped out, his Glock already in his hand, the barrel pointed to the ceiling. He nodded to Nick to let him know he was ready, then faded back into the darkness of the room, leaving the door wide open. Nick pointed to the flashing alarm, and Joe quickly unplugged it.

  Without making a sound, Nick turned and hurried into Laurant’s room. He quietly closed the door behind him. She was sound asleep on her back, her hands at her sides, an open Frank McCourt memoir resting on her chest. He went to the side of the bed, squatted down next to her, and put his hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t make any noise when she woke up.

  “Laurant, wake up. We’ve got company.” His hushed voice was calm.

  She woke up trying to scream. Her eyes flew open, and she tried to focus as she instinctively shoved his hand away. Then she realized it was Nick touching her. His words registered at the same time that she saw the gun.

  “I need you to be real quiet,” he whispered.

  She nodded. She understood. Nick pulled his hand back and she pushed the sheets aside as she bolted upright. The forgotten book went flying and would have struck the hardwood floor had Nick not grabbed it in midair. He put it down on the bed, reached up to switch off the reading lamp, then took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

  Her heart was pounding frantically, and she had trouble catching her breath. The room was so dark they had to feel their way along the wall. Nick led her into the bathroom, and she was reaching for the light switch when his hand covered hers.

  “No lights,” he whispered.

  He stepped back into the bedroom and quietly pulled the door closed behind him.

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  She wanted to beg him to stay with her, but she knew he wouldn’t and couldn’t do that.

  It was pitch black inside, and she was afraid to move for fear she would accidentally knock something over and let the intruder know the household was awake. Head bowed, she folded her arms across her stomach and stood frozen while her mind raced. How could she help? What could she do that wouldn’t be a hindrance?

  She was terrified for Nick. The unexpected could trip up even the most experienced man. Everyone had a vulnerable point, and Nick was no exception. If anything happened to him, she didn’t know what she would do. Please God, keep him safe.

  It was deadly quiet. She pressed her ear against the door and strained to hear any little sound. She stood that way for over a minute??it seemed like an eternity to her—and still nothing but the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

  Then she heard it. A scratching noise, like a branch scraping across a window, but the sound wasn’t coming from inside the house. It was above her. The roof. My God, was t

he intruder on the roof? No, no, he was already inside downstairs. She tried then to convince herself that the noise she had just heard had simply been a branch swaying in the wind.

  She strained to listen. She heard the sound again. It was closer now to where she stood, and it didn’t sound like a scraping noise at all this time. Now it sounded like an animal, a raccoon or a squirrel, she thought, scurrying across the roof ledge outside the bathroom window.

  Was the window locked? Yes, of course it was. Nick would have seen to that. Calm down. Don’t let your imagination run wild.

  She stared at the window. It was above the bathtub, but it was too dark to see if the lock was latched. She needed to check it. If she moved slowly and carefully, she wouldn’t make any noise. She was beginning to inch away from the door when she saw a red, pencil-point beam of light shine through the windowpane. It danced across the vanity mirror, closing in on her. Searching . . . looking for a target.

  She dropped to her knees, then to her stomach, and edged over to the bathtub. She pressed the length of her body against the cool porcelain, her eyes glued to the red beam. Too late, she realized she should have gotten out of the bathroom when she had had the chance. The beam would catch her if she moved now. It was bouncing along the door, back and forth, back and forth. My God, if Nick opened the door and tried to come inside, whoever was on the ledge would have him clearly in his sights.

  Calm down. Think. How could he have gotten on the roof without being seen? Nick had told her that there were agents watching the house night and day, but there was a treed lot next to her bedroom and bath, and another empty lot behind her backyard. It would be easy to climb up one of the hundred-year-old trees and make his way from the treetops to her roof. Easy, she thought.

  But without being seen? It would be daring, tricky, but it could be done. Don’t panic. Wait. Maybe it was one of the FBI agents on the roof. Yes, that could be it. He could be covering the bathroom window to make certain the madman didn’t try to escape. All the windows were probably being covered by the FBI now.

  As desperate as she was to believe that was true, she wasn’t about to stand up to test her theory.