“My camera! I was taking pictures with it in the parking garage just before Brian was shot!” If there were photos of the Faceless Crew on there, Vince would be sure to run them on the front page of the paper. Then, the police would have to take Vince seriously when he pressured them to answer their questions, and her place in the Torchlight family would be secure.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was there. I thought I’d handed over all of your stuff at the hospital.” Daniel picked it up. The lens was cracked and the view screen was smashed. “Pretty badly damaged, but hopefully the police will still be able to get something from it.”
“I’ll give it to the tech wizards at the newspaper first thing on Monday. Or actually, maybe Ricky can work on it tomorrow. I’ll ask him as soon I figure out where he’s gone. Once we get downloaded whatever’s on it, Vince will make sure it gets handed over to the right contact person within the police. He’ll know the best channel.”
Daniel set the camera down on the front seat of the truck and led her across the floor to the workbench. “Except that now is no time to be thinking like a reporter. You’ve potentially got evidence of a murder. What we need to do is we hand it over to an officer, any officer. Right away. We can’t afford to wait around for your newspaper to do their thing.”
She bristled. He might be a good foot and a half taller than she was, but that was no reason to talk to her like a child. “Yes. But you don’t just hand over evidence to the police without making a copy of it. How would that be responsible? You also don’t just hand something this important for a news story to any random cop, because they have no reason to ever give it back to you and you’re all but guaranteed never to see it again. Not that I’ve got anything against the cops. My sister, Chloe, is a detective. But there’s a way that journalists handle sensitive, potentially explosive information. They make a backup copy of everything. They get their editor to send it up the correct channels.”
Sure, she was in his garage, in the middle of nowhere—not to mention her arms were practically screaming in pain from the zip ties around her wrists—but she was still a reporter. He was going to take her seriously.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a computer here, I don’t have an internet connection and it’s almost eight o’clock on a Friday night. You’re just going to have to explain to your editor that I insisted we give the camera to police and there was no way to back up any of the pictures.” They reached the workbench. “Now turn around and I’ll cut the cuffs off you.”
“Hang on.” She practically dug her heels in. “You’ve saved journalists’ lives before when you were a bodyguard. You told me so back in the diner. So you’ve probably been in an actual war zone and known with certainty that reporter you were escorting had pictures or video with them of a bombing or a terrorist attack. Maybe you’ve even been present for an interview with insurgents or with a tribal warlord. Right?” It wasn’t a question. She could see the answer in his eyes. “Did you ever not trust their newspaper to handle that information professionally? Or say that you were just going to take their camera from them and hand it over to police?”
He frowned. “Obviously not. But this is different.”
“Why? Why is this different?”
“Look, can’t we just get your handcuffs off? You’ve got to be in pain.”
“Fine.” She was. She’d been practically gritting her teeth not to let it show. “But that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing with you.”
Thunder rumbled around them. Rain pounded the roof above.
“I get that.” Dark eyes met hers. “Now, if you’ll just turn around for me, I’m going to grab a knife and free your hands. Stay as still as you can, okay?”
He stepped behind her. She heard him pick something up off the table, then felt one strong hand grab both of hers and hold her firmly still. There was the quick flick of something brushing against her skin.
Her hands fell free. The relief that flooded through her body was so intense it almost knocked her breathless. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Thank you for trusting me.” Daniel gently turned her toward him. “Can you feel your fingers? How’s your range of motion?”
She let him take her hands in his. Carefully, he brushed his fingers along the insides of her wrists. Then he linked his fingers through hers and gently moved each wrist around in a circle before letting them drop. Pins and needles shot painfully up her fingers. But the sensation of blood rushing into her hands felt so good it more than made up for it. “I’m sore. But it’s not that bad.”
“I’m glad.” His hands brushed her shoulders, as if he was debating whether or not to hug her. Then his gaze ran over her shoulder and out toward the house. “First things first, we call 9-1-1. The dispatcher will take down our details and get someone to call us back about giving a statement. Either they’ll come here or we’ll go to whichever station they tell us. Or maybe, because it’s late, they’ll take our statements over the phone. You tell the cops whatever you want. But when I’m giving my statement, I’m telling them about your camera. Fair?”
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
He stepped back and picked a cordless phone up off the workbench. “We’ll try this first. The battery is pretty low and there’s a landline in the house if we need it. But I’d rather we call from out here.”
“Why?”
Why stand out in the garage when he had a house right there, even if only a handful of the rooms were finished? Presumably, the kitchen had chairs they could be sitting on. If not a coffeemaker. But he’d already dialed 9-1-1 and within moments was talking to the emergency dispatcher, who passed him through to a police call taker. Daniel relayed the basic details of what had happened, along with his phone number and address. Then he handed her the phone and Olivia did likewise.
“Someone will call you back shortly to take further details.” The call taker’s voice was female, elderly and somehow managed to hit that perfect spot between professional and comforting. “They might schedule an interview with you for tomorrow instead of dispatching an officer to your location tonight, unless someone is in imminent danger. Are you somewhere safe right now? Do you feel certain that the threat has passed?”
Daniel walked over to the window and looked out at the rain.
Olivia studied the strong lines of his form. “Yes.”
“Do you feel safe?”
She closed her eyes. Even with Daniel’s back to her it was as if she could feel his presence in the room. “Absolutely.”
The phone beeped to warn her that the battery was dying. She quickly ended the call. “They’ll get someone to call us back. But I gave them my cell phone number, too. So if you’d be so kind as to give me a ride back to civilization, they can still reach us that way. I don’t know where the closest bus terminal is. But there was some hotel on the highway where we turned off. The clown-themed one with a campsite and some kind of little fairgrounds? I could spend the night there and find my way back to Toronto in the morning.”
“That place is a rat trap. Trust me, you want to stay away from that place.”
“Okay. Then, what do you suggest?”
“Give me a minute. I’m thinking.” His shirt was still so wet from the downpour it practically clung to him. While she had to admit soaking wet wasn’t exactly a bad look on him, this was hardly a “fall into some strong man’s arms” kind of moment.
She straightened her top, walked over to the truck and picked up the remains of the camera. It was the type of model where all the pictures were saved digitally on a memory card. But the card was wedged in and didn’t want to come out. She pinched hard with her fingers and yanked it loose. It looked bent. She slid it into the pocket of her jeans. Hopefully, once she found Ricky, it’d still be possible to get the pictures off it.
“Well, I can’t read your mind,” she said. “So how about you start by telling me what you’re thinking? I still don’t know why you asked me to come out here and meet you, or why you were waiting for Brian Leslie in that parking garage.”
Daniel ran both hands through his hair and for a second it looked as though he couldn’t decide whether she frustrated or amused him. “I’ve got to go into the house to check up on something. Then we’ll discuss where to go from there. It might be best if I just drive you all the way back to Toronto tonight.” He started toward the garage door. “I’m sorry if this sounds rude. But the thing I’ve got to sort out is kind of personal and I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed out here. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Seriously?” She didn’t even try to keep the indignation from her voice. “Look, I’ve been pretty understanding about respecting both your privacy and your boundaries. But don’t you think asking me to hang out alone in your garage, in the dark, like some kind of stray when there’s a house with at least a few usable rooms right there is pushing it just a little too far?”
The garage door rattled. There was a banging sound, as if someone was throwing his or her weight against the metal. The door rolled up slowly.
In an instant, Daniel had stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his.
Her body tensed, waiting to either fight or run. Her eyes stayed locked on the rolling garage door. A pair of sturdy brown boots. Skinny legs in tight blue jeans. Long flowing blond hair slipping through the hood of a raincoat. Beautiful full lips twisted in a scowl. Olivia gasped. Daniel sighed.
“Olivia, meet Sarah Leslie, Brian Leslie’s niece.” Daniel took a deep breath. “My ward and former stepdaughter.”
* * *
“I was married to her mother, Mona, for about two years a very long time ago,” Daniel said. Although considering she’d just left him and never sought a divorce, they were still technically married when she died. “I’m now Sarah’s guardian.”
Shock didn’t even begin to describe the look that crossed Olivia’s face. He regretted not telling her sooner. But Sarah could be temperamental, and while she’d seemed to really like the idea of meeting Olivia and being interviewed by her, he hadn’t wanted to just waltz into the house with the reporter without first talking to Sarah and filling her in. She’d already been frustrated enough when he’d insisted they get out of the city for a few days.
“Legal guardian.” Sarah’s lips turned up in an expression that was halfway between a smile and a smirk. “See, the law’s kind of fun when it comes to being orphaned. You can move out and live on your own at sixteen. But I can’t touch a cent of my inheritance until I turn eighteen.”
“So November,” Olivia said.
He wasn’t even sure Olivia realized she’d said that out loud.
“Yeah...” Sarah’s eyes scanned Olivia’s face. Then her gaze cut to Daniel. “So what is this? You pulled up ages ago, but instead of coming into the house you hide out here?”
She said it as though he’d done something wrong. As though she was the parent and he was a teenager who’d sneaked a date into the garage.
“Sorry.” He extended one hand toward each of them. “Sarah, this is Olivia. She’s the reporter we talked about. I know I’d told you we’d talk about it first before I saw about introducing her. But when I went to tell her about the situation, someone tried to attack her after she left the diner. So I brought her here to call the police.”
Sarah’s shoulders rose and fell. She might be three months away from turning eighteen, but somehow the giant hood and baggy coat engulfing her body made her look several years younger. Before he could say anything more, she turned and started back toward the house.
A long pause spread out in the garage. Olivia’s face was still pale in the dim light. Her eyes stared out into the darkness beyond. The rain had tapered off completely. Either the heavy storm was no longer coming or the weather had decided to give them a break before it hit in full force.
“I never thought to check Mona’s marriage records,” Olivia said, more as if she was talking to herself than him. “I did try to find out who Sarah’s legal guardian was. But that information was confidential. I just assumed it was Brian.”
“I met Mona when I was eighteen and she was seventeen. Sarah was just a tiny baby then and Mona was struggling to cope. I felt needed. We got married when I was nineteen. She quickly decided she wasn’t cut out for married life and left me for good when I was twenty-one. It all happened rather fast.”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. His heart ached faintly at the memory of a very old wound. Everything to do with Mona had been fast. It was a mistake he’d never make again.
“Four years ago, I got a call from her lawyer saying she’d died. I was in Egypt at the time and still don’t know how he tracked me down. But Mona and I had never legally divorced. I believed I’d made a commitment to her forever so it never occurred to me to ask for a divorce, and for whatever reason, she’d never filed. Her will still named me as the person she hoped would take custody of Sarah. It also gave me guardianship of Sarah’s inheritance, which was and is quite considerable. When I married Mona, I promised I’d do whatever I could to help her take care of Sarah. Mona never trusted Brian, and her closest friends on the construction crew had the kind of criminal backgrounds that made social services think twice. She didn’t really have anyone else. So I came back.”
It had been tense. Sarah had been barely more than a toddler when he’d left. Now, as a highly independent teenager who’d grown up surrounded by drinking and partying and had just lost her mother, Sarah had pretty much accepted his guardianship as a kind of necessary headache that kept her from falling into the foster system. He just hoped he’d done right by her.
“As you can imagine, Sarah’s been getting calls nonstop from media outlets who want to interview her ever since Brian was arrested. They’ve tripled now that he’s died. Being a typical media-generation kid, she’s really eager to do some interviews. But she’s so naive. She’s angry at how her name is being trashed in the mainstream press and thinks no harm can possibly come going on a media interview blitz to set the record straight. She worked part-time in the office at Leslie Construction, so she thinks all the people Brian stole money from are really her friends. She knows they’re upset, but she thinks they only hate her now because of some big misunderstanding and will forgive her once she explains none of Brian’s actions were her fault. I’m not sure she gets that the kind of anger they’re feeling won’t blow over quickly. She’s even talking of running the company herself.”
He nearly rolled his eyes as he said it. What was she thinking? While his legal guardianship might end when she legally became an adult, he’d hardly be able to abandon her then, especially if she was trying to run that wreck of a company with no business education and precious little experience to call on. “So she thinks that all she has to do is call up some reporters, tell them she’s a really a good person and then everyone will see her side and get off her back.”
“Well, right now nobody knows what to make of her,” Olivia said slowly. “A good interview in the press could do a lot to restore her reputation. Or it could backfire really badly. It all depends on how the reporter and media outlet spins it.”
“Which is why I called you. I tried hiring a public-relations firm, but she hated that. Said it felt as if they were trying to control her. And once she turns eighteen I can’t prevent her from talking to the press any way she pleases.” Keeping her away from the drinking and partying lifestyle that had ruined her mother’s life was exhausting enough, not to mention stopping her from sneaking out to meet up with whoever she was trying to date behind his back. “But she was open to talking to you. As a compromise. I agreed that if she liked the idea of being interviewed by you, I’d probably be okay with that. But now, judging by her reaction, I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m beginning to think this was a terrible idea.”
“I understand. But you told me you didn’t work for Leslie Construction besides taking a couple of shifts here and there.”
“And I was telling the truth. When I first came back to Canada I did a few one-off construction jobs to pay the bills. Between that and all the time I spent trying to track down Brian at his office and various worksites, I also know a lot of his regular guys and they know me. But I had nothing to do with how Brian ran the place. My only role as Sarah’s guardian was to make sure he didn’t touch her share of the inheritance. Recently, Brian wouldn’t even take my calls, which was why I was waiting in the parking garage to talk to him about doing the right thing, for Sarah’s sake.” A sigh rolled from his lungs. He felt as if he’d handled this whole thing so badly. But he couldn’t think of anything he could have done different. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“Really, it’s okay. I understand.” Her tone was sad, almost bordering on resignation, and something about it rattled him, like a tiny thorn that pricked inside his chest. Then her shoulder brushed against his arm and he looked down at her face. There was a warmth in her gaze. A brightness that drew a person closer, like a campfire in the cold. A damp night breeze brushed through the open garage door, sending her hair dancing around her cheeks. Now the pain in his rib cage was so sharp he could barely breathe without feeling it pressing against in his heart.
He didn’t know why.
They walked down the long, sloping driveway in silence until they reached the house. The kitchen was huge, with warm pine cabinets he’d crafted himself and a beautiful wood floor. It was the first room of the house he’d finished, as eating cold food scooped out of tin cans had quickly lost its appeal. Sarah was standing by the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee. Olivia walked over to the reclaimed wood table. The two women eyed each other.
“The other phone is in the study, just through that door there.” He pointed toward the living room door. “The study’s finished, but you’ll have to cross through the living room to get to it, and I’m afraid that room doesn’t have a floor yet. You’ll have to walk across some planks I set up over the foundation’s pillars. It’s only like a six-foot drop on each side. I didn’t dig a basement, just a crawl space.”
“Thank you.”
“Between working to pay the bills and Sarah finishing school in Toronto, restoring the house has gone really slowly. Especially since I’m doing it all myself and pretty much just on the weekends. That door right behind you leads to the other room that’s finished. Sarah’s using it as a bedroom right now while I take the study. The big door beside the window is the staircase heading upstairs. It’s really pretty if you like ornate wood. But trust me, you don’t want to try climbing those stairs.”
He didn’t quite know where the impulse to give her the grand tour had suddenly come from. But Olivia just nodded.
Then she turned back to Sarah. A professional smile spread across her gentle lips. She stretched out her hand. “I’m really sorry, we weren’t properly introduced. As Daniel mentioned, my name is Olivia Brant. I’m a writer for Torchlight News. Daniel and I met at the diner to discuss your situation. But someone tried to abduct me, and your stepfather was kind enough to come to my rescue.”
“Former stepfather.” The teenager ignored Olivia’s outstretched hand. “I hope you thanked him for bringing you out to the absolute middle of nowhere, where there’s no cell service or internet access. I, for one, know I feel so much safer being somewhere I can’t go online or chat with my friends.” Blue eyes, so much like her mother’s, cut toward Daniel. “I’ve changed my mind and I’m not okay with this anymore. I flipped through those copies of the paper you gave me and decided the Torchlight is not my thing. It’s a ragtag small-time paper and Olivia doesn’t even have any good bylines.” She glanced vaguely in Olivia’s direction. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Olivia pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “I assure you, though, that you can trust Torchlight News with your story. While my paper might be small, it’s honest, and I know a fair bit about your family and the case against your uncle.”
What must she think of him now? Knowing he once married Mona Leslie? Knowing he hadn’t petitioned for a divorce after she’d left? That he’d then kept his youthful promise to his unfaithful former wife to protect her daughter all these years? The baggage of his past felt so heavy at times, and even with Sarah turning eighteen, there was no real end in sight. She still needed him, whether she wanted his help or not. He was bound to the choices he’d once made. And now he was the last kind of man who a woman would ever choose to build a life with, no matter how much his battered heart seemed to want to tug him toward Olivia.
“I really need to try to call my colleague to let him know I’m okay.” Olivia’s voice cut cleanly through his thoughts. “Also, the police should be calling back soon.”
“There’s a lamp just inside the office door. There are spotlights on the basement floor, too. They run on a basic extension cord.” He opened the door to what would someday be a large beautiful living room but was now just a nicely dug pit surrounded by cool stone walls. A pathway of planks lay balanced across the foundation posts. She glanced into the gloom, then crossed the boards without once hesitating or looking down.
Sarah turned back to her coffee. “I don’t like her. Her newspaper is small and boring, and I don’t like how she looks at you.”
Where was all this coming from? How exactly did she think Olivia looked at him? Daniel blew out a frustrated breath, and reminded himself that despite her brash exterior, here was a young woman who’d lost her mother barely four years ago and was now reeling from the death of her uncle. He glanced to the ceiling in silent prayer. Lord, all I can do is advise and guide her. Help me find the right words to say.
“I know you’re old enough to make your own decisions,” he said. “I just want you to be cautious and really think things through. Don’t be too quick to dismiss Olivia. I think she’s got a decent heart and isn’t out to exploit you. Plus, she understands the stakes. She could’ve died in the same explosion and gun violence that killed your uncle, and someone just tried to abduct her at gunpoint—”
“Which should mean what to me, exactly?” Sarah folded her slender arms across her slight figure. “I mean, yeah, it’s tragic and terrible, but there’s no proof that any of it has to do with me, or even with Uncle Brian. She’s a reporter. Someone could be after her for lots of different reasons. I’m just trying to live my life here, Daniel, and you’re totally in controlling mode. I appreciate that you care and all, but just because you’ve cut me off from my friends and dragged me out here to your stupid construction project doesn’t mean I’m actually in any kind of real danger. Whatever mess my idiotic uncle got himself into has nothing to do with me.” She shook her head like a stubborn pony. “And just because you’ve now brought some pretty little journalist here doesn’t mean I’m going to give her an interview.”
* * *
The lamp was yellow, chipped and looked like the kind of relic one would find for fifty cents at a yard sale. But it was enough to cast a gentle glow in the room. A maze of rag rugs covered the cold stone floor. A paint-stained desk sat by the wall. She was almost surprised the clunky phone on top of it had push buttons instead of rotary dial. Olivia tried her answering machine first, half expecting to hear a panicked message from Ricky. There was only one message.
It was from her sister, Chloe. “Hey, little sis. I did some digging around into the Leslie Construction thing and I think you should find another story. Without going into details, that case looks big and messy, and there’s more going on there than you can handle. We’re talking about some pretty nasty people, and I don’t want you getting hurt. So please—give this one up. Let it go. Let the people with the guns and the badges handle it. I’m sure your boss will understand and give you something easier. Okay? Call me back. Love you. Bye.”
The phone went click. Olivia stared at it a moment, too stunned to even hang up. It was the first time she’d heard from her sister in weeks, and all she’d gotten was a lecture about how this story was too big for her to handle. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and blinked back hot tears.
Chloe had never taken her or her writing seriously. Six feet tall, athletic, top of her class in the police college, had always treated her artistic, five-foot-one little sister as some kind of cute little nuisance who couldn’t take care of herself. While their dad’s employment problems had kept them moving from town to town, Olivia hadn’t just idolized her big sister—Chloe was the only friend she’d had. She’d been the one person who made her feel she wasn’t alone. Until Chloe had left to join the Ontario Provincial Police.
Then I found the Torchlight News “family.” Which I’m about to lose, too, if I don’t do something to prove to Vince that I should be allowed to stay. Besides, I’ve already faced my share of danger and survived—
A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the feel of the thug’s gun pressed up against her head. Yes, her sister could be overprotective, but surely Chloe wouldn’t ask her to drop a story unless she was actually worried, would she? Except, it was too late now. She was right in the middle of this story whether Chloe believed she could handle it or not.
She needed to call Ricky. Fortunately, she could still access her address book on her phone even though she couldn’t get a signal, so she was able to pull up his number and call him on the landline.
“Hey!” His voice echoed as though he was using his phone’s hands-free setting. “Sorry, I know I’m running really late. I got a bit lost. Some cop pulled me over and then sent me on this ridiculous detour. But I think I’m on the right road now.”
Ricky hadn’t even made it back to the diner yet? She glanced up at a clock on the wall and blinked. It had only been an hour and a half since he’d dropped her off.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not at the diner anymore.” She ran through the basics as quickly as she could—the masked man trying to force her into a car, heading back to Daniel’s house, finding the photo memory card, meeting Sarah.
Ricky let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“So which of the three men was it? Brute, Rake or Shorty?”
There’d been so much going on she hadn’t even thought to compare her attacker to the names and descriptions from the Faceless Crew website printout. “I don’t know.”
“Well, was he incredibly skinny, really short or built like a brick wall?”
“None of the above.” She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the gravelly-voiced man who’d pressed a gun to her face and threatened to shove her into the trunk of his car. “He was kind of on the large side, but nowhere near as big as the really huge masked guy I seem to remember shooting Brian. He did have a mask, but more generic, not one that matched the pictures of the Faceless Crew.”
Did that mean the Faceless Crew weren’t the killers—that she’d misremembered the men from the parking garage? She’d had a head injury and there had been a lot of smoke. Maybe it was only her imagination that the attackers resembled the Faceless Crew. Certainly the man from tonight hadn’t matched any of the crew’s profiles.
She sat down on the floor and leaned back against the battered couch. “I have no idea if Sarah’s going to let me interview her. She says she’s changed her mind about it, but I don’t really know. She’s young and kind of temperamental. Maybe I could use Daniel to get through to her.”
But even as she heard the words leave her mouth, she felt guilty. Daniel had saved her life. How could she possibly think about using him to save her job? She glanced to the window above her head. The rain seemed to have stopped for now, but thick, humid air was pressing its way through the screen. Get a grip, Olivia. Daniel was nothing more to her than a potential source. She was nothing more to him than some random reporter who’d stumbled into his life, and was pretty close to tumbling right back out again. “Daniel is a really good guy, but he doesn’t seem to care that as reporters we have a job to do, too. He’s pushing me to turn the photo card over to the police right away, skipping Vince entirely, without even making a backup.”
Not that she could entirely fault him now that she knew he was worried about protecting Sarah.
“Do you want me to go grab a laptop and see if we can download those pictures right away?” Ricky asked. “I’m sure I have a spare one at my folks’ house.”
“Yes! Absolutely.” She sat up straight. That was perfect. “The diner’s closed already and Daniel didn’t seem that keen on that clown motel. But maybe he can suggest somewhere else he’d be willing to drop me off that we could meet up. Or we could meet back in Toronto really early tomorrow morning.” It’s not as if there could be a huge amount of difference between handing the pictures off to police at eleven-thirty at night or nine in the morning. She doubted cops would be working through the night on Brian’s murder.
The phone’s call waiting beeped. “I’ve got a call on the other line. It’s probably the police. Go to your folks’ house, and once I figure out where and when to meet up, I’ll call you back.”
“Sounds good. I just hope the storm holds off.”
The phone beeped again. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Talk soon.” She hung up and accepted the incoming call. “Hello?”
Breathing on the other line. Heavy. Slow.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
“Hey there, sunshine.” The voice was male, raspy and deep. “Just want you to know that I know where you are and you’re not going to get away from me so easily. I’m going to come hunt you down. And then I’m going to kill you.”