The sound of gunfire sliced through the air. The loud popping noises made me shake my head. People screamed. Car alarms blared. The noise was deafening. I quickly dropped down to the ground and scrambled toward the car door. Marcus followed me while the guy in the construction hat jumped behind another car. The guard scuttled back to his security booth. He had his phone to his ear.
Marcus grabbed my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I nodded. Mouth dry, I tried to get my bearings. I tried to turn around but fell on my rear. I sat, unable to move. The gunfire was still going. The air was filled with what sounded like hundreds of balloons exploding one after the other in rapid succession. I looked around, trying to catch my breath. People were scrambling around behind the fence and across the street. I could hear yelling and car doors slamming as people rushed to find cover. Soon the screech of tires sounded as the cars were driving away.
My head was pounding, and I was shaking all over. I believe that was why it took me so long to realize it wasn’t gunfire. Marcus had pulled out his phone and was calling 911. I rubbed my temples trying to clear the cobwebs which caused a shooting pain to flash through my head. Squeezing my eyes closed, I waited for the throbbing to pass. I eased up to my knees and peered through the window of my car. The guard had also stopped and was looking around. He looked from building top to building top, and then his gaze moved to the area along the fence line. With a heavy sigh, I stood. Marcus clutched my arm and tried to pull me back down.
“Leah!” he hissed.
The noise was lessening with only an occasional pop or ping. There were no bullets hitting the ground. Just the sound of metal being hit with a small rock or nail. I placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder and squeezed. He looked at me a moment. A voice was shouting through his phone.
“It’s not gunfire,” I told him. He looked at me in disbelief. “Marcus, I know guns. That’s not gunfire.”
“You know handguns and rifles. That sounds like an automatic weapon.”
Most of my experience was with handguns and rifles. I had participated in numerous shooting competitions while in high school and college. I no longer competed, but I still owned a handgun and had a concealed gun license. With all the recent shootings in schools and churches, I had started wondering if I, or any civilian, should be allowed to carry, but that was an argument for another day. Right then, I knew what we had heard was not gunfire.
“Trust me, Marcus. Look.”
I pointed to the guard. He was making his way over to us. He was still talking on the phone, but the expression on his face was one of anger and disgust. The man had a military look about him. I had a feeling he had come to the same conclusion I had. He ended his conversation and stopped in front of Marcus.
“Mr. Cantono, I believe that was firecrackers in one of the trash barrels.”
He pointed to the right. As I turned to look, the movement caused my head to swim, and I lost my balance. Marcus caught me before I fell, but I had to lean on him and breathe slowly to avoid throwing up. My vision swam. The concussion was catching up with me.
“Leah!” Marcus yelled.
He scooped me up and gestured toward the car door. The guard opened it, and Marcus set me gently in the seat. He knelt beside me before reaching for the water bottle I had in the holder. He unscrewed the cap and held it to my mouth. I took it from him and took a sip. My head had stopped spinning, but I was unexpectedly incredibly tired.
Suddenly, we were surrounded by police and emergency vehicles. The sirens made me wince, and I had to close my eyes to avoid the flashing lights. Marcus patted my arm and told me to stay put. I couldn’t have moved even if I had wanted to. He wasn’t gone long, and he returned with a paramedic in tow.
The man looked me over and stated I had simply overdone it. He made me drink some more water before suggesting I take it easy for the rest of the day. Marcus grumbled a little, but I assured him I was fine.
“Okay,” he said doubtfully. “Stay here while I talk to the police then I will drive you home.”
When he returned, the nausea was gone, but my head still ached. I moved to the passenger seat and handed him the keys. Marcus didn’t say a word. He started the car and drove away. I didn’t speak until we were away from the construction site.
“Who wants to stop you from opening the restaurant, Marcus?”
He snorted. “If I knew that, do you really think this would still be going on?”
“I guess not, but it has to be related to Brandy.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t think it is.”
“Why not?”
“Brandy was personal. This, the vandalism, is business.”
“Brandy said she was dating someone who was in the restaurant business.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Marcus said sharply.
“I believe you, but if she was, that’s one big coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone is trying to ruin your restaurant business, and the woman who is murdered is dating someone who’s in the restaurant business?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I can’t believe someone would kill her just to keep me from opening another restaurant.”
“He was wearing your shoes.”
“What?”
“The man who hit me was wearing your shoes.”
Marcus cursed and slammed his hands on the wheel. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat as he continued muttering to himself. The car slowed. I opened my eyes to see him pulling to the side of the road. When the car stopped, Marcus turned to me. He looked haunted.
“It wasn’t me,” he said softly.
“I know,” I said, placing a hand on his arm.
He stared at me and shook his head. “I don’t understand you, Leah.”
“Huh?”
“You are a smart, successful woman. There’s no reason for you to believe I’m innocent. There’s no reason you should believe me at all.”
“Sure there is.”
“Oh? What?”
“You’re my friend.”
He turned away and looked out the window. “You need better friends.”
“I have great friends,” I said breezily. “You just need to understand me better. I don’t give up on my friends.”
He didn’t reply. We sat in silence for a few minutes. Marcus didn’t say anything else as he pulled back onto the road. Head in my hand, I leaned against the window, and I thought about what all had happened. I wanted to believe the sabotage of the restaurant was related to Brandy’s murder. One bad guy—not two. But Marcus felt Brandy was personal. If that was the case, we had two people after Marcus.
“How did he get your clothes?”
Marcus glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. “The night Brandy was killed, I was working at Bella’s. One of the bartenders and two of the wait staff had to leave because they were feeling ill. My manager called in another waiter, but they were still short-handed. We had a private party booked for the wine lounge and only one bartender. He was thinking about canceling so I told him I could fill in.”
“Seems odd that three people all got sick the same night.”
“I know. We’ve had a few issues at that location too.”
“Mike mentioned that. What kind of issues?”
“Some of it is similar. Graffiti on the back door. Cars vandalized. But we also had the dumpster enclosure nailed shut. A couple of the staff have been late or had to miss a shift because they had car trouble or a prank pulled on them.”
“What about security cameras?”
“The vandal knows where they are. He has disabled them twice, and the other times, he remains in the blind spots. The few glimpses we’ve caught showed him dressed all in black. He was always crouching or bent over so we can’t even guess at a height.”
“Did you contact the police?”
He paused. The Cantono family did not contact the police. Marcus had made an exception a few times, but I had a feeling he would try to handle something like this himself.
“They know,” he finally said.
Puzzled by that comment, I simply moved on. “Still doesn’t explain how someone got your tie and shoes.”
“I got home Monday night a little after eleven. I was tired but restless so I changed clothes and went for a drive. I tossed the suit, shirt, and tie onto a chair in the bedroom and kicked off the shoes. It was a long drive, and it worked. When I returned home, I went straight to bed. The next morning the clothes and shoes were gone.”
“You think someone came in while you were out. Did they break in?”
“No.”
“So who has a key to your place?”
“No one,” he said sharply. Then paused. “Mama does.”
Arabella might have gone into Marcus’s house and picked up his clothes, but she would never use them to frame her own son. Still, the fact she had a key meant someone else in the Cantono family might have used it.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Marcus continued. “The door wasn’t locked.”
“What?”
“When I went for the drive, I didn’t lock my front door.”
We lived in a close-knit community, but Reed Hill wasn’t so small that people didn’t lock their doors. We had crime. Things like petty theft, drugs, and domestic abuse. People enjoyed living in the area, but crime was still a factor. Marcus not locking his door didn’t feel right.
“Why on earth did you leave…” I stopped as the lightbulb went off. “You were expecting someone.”
He didn’t look at me. He ran a hand through his hair, his profile bathed in sunlight. It hurt to look at him, but I was struck again at how handsome he was. Even tired and stressed, he was gorgeous.
“Not expecting exactly. More like hoping.”
“She didn’t show?” I asked softly.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He shot me a startled look. I shrugged and continued. “Could she have come and gone while you were out? Could she have taken the clothes?”
“NO! She had nothing to do with this, Leah.”
“Marcus, you have to consider it. How well do you know her?”
“She isn’t involved,” he growled.
“Who is it?”
“None of your business. I told you she didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Do the police know about her? Do they know you left your door unlocked so she could get in?”
He squirmed in his seat but didn’t reply. We were nearing my apartment. Marcus turned onto Ash Street. This unknown woman could have taken his clothes and given them to the killer. If that was the case, Marcus was in big trouble. He obviously cared about her, but he seemed convinced of her innocence.
He pulled to a stop in a parking spot in front of my building. My head hurt, and I was exhausted, but I couldn’t get his mystery woman out of my mind. There was something niggling just out of reach. Marcus opened his door and came around to help me out. I don’t know what triggered it, but suddenly I knew.
He opened my door, and I looked at him with wide eyes. He closed his briefly and sighed. “Leah…”
“You’re dating a cop?” I said incredulously.
“Come on,” he said, reaching down to take my arm and help me up from the seat.
He led me to the sidewalk and up the stairs to my apartment. He had to steady me once or twice. I was still a little dizzy so it was nice to have someone at my back. Marcus followed me inside and shut the door behind him.
“Where are your pain pills?” he asked.
“In the bathroom,” I replied with a wave toward the hall.
“Why don’t you go take one?”
“I will,” I said and waited. When he didn’t move, I asked, “Aren’t you leaving?”
“I’ll stay until you’re asleep. I wouldn’t put it past you to try to go out and start interrogating every female cop in town.”
I huffed. “I wouldn’t do that. I know I need to rest. Besides, I don’t need to interrogate every one of them. I already know who it is. Megan and Marcus. The cop and the criminal.”
He glared at me. I walked away. In the bathroom, I downed one of the pain pills and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. I wasn’t about to change into my nightgown. It was only three in the afternoon.
When I opened the door, Marcus was leaning against the wall waiting for me. He reached out and took my arm to guide me to the bedroom. I started to shake it off but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
“I can make it to the bed by myself,” I muttered.
“I know. Let me help you this time, Leah.”
Surprised, I glanced at him. I finally saw the worry on his face. I nodded and let him lead me to the bed. He pulled back the covers, and I crawled in.
“Sorry about the criminal remark,” I said sleepily. “That was mean. You aren’t a criminal.”
He laughed humorlessly. “Sometimes you are so naïve.”
“Hey!” I said, knowing I should be offended by that remark, but the pain pill was starting to work, and I was feeling a little loopy.
Marcus leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. It wasn’t the same as Griggs, but it was still nice. He smiled at me. “Go to sleep, Leah. You can go back to trying to save me tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I slurred. “I will, you know.”
“What?”
“Save you. No one messes with my friends.”
As I was falling into a deep sleep, I heard him softly say, “If anyone can, it would be you.”