Morgan slung the straps for her briefcase and gym bag over her shoulders and stepped to the door. Fear that had plagued her all night made her hesitate and her hand lingered on the knob. “You’re being ridiculous. No one’s waiting to hurt you.”
She pulled her shoulders back and stepped outside. Wind howled down the tree-lined street, but the sun shone bright and the snow was melting. She huddled into her coat and carefully made her way down the slippery sidewalk. A nutty scent drifted up from the coffee shop on the lower level of her building. Her salary left little money to spend on coffee, and she rarely did, but after her lack of sleep and the unusually cold morning she couldn’t resist the aroma.
She took the steps down to the shop and ordered a large mocha with whipped cream. She’d have to work harder tonight at the gym to burn off the extra calories, but after her day yesterday she deserved a treat.
The barista was efficient and Morgan was soon pressing the remote for her car. She checked for oncoming cars on the busy street as she sipped her coffee, the chocolaty goodness sliding down her throat and leaving a warm trail. Traffic cleared for a moment and she quickly opened the door before another car could charge past and sideswipe her door. Her gaze landed on the driver’s seat. She jumped back in horror. The coffee cup dropped from her hand, exploding on the pavement, darkening the brilliant white snow and splashing up her leg. She yelped at the pain but even that couldn’t take her eyes from the seat.
Two long-stemmed red roses crossed like an X lay on the seat, an envelope beneath them. She was curious about what the envelope contained, but the roses captured her thoughts. Maybe the X meant something, maybe not. Didn’t matter. What mattered was that someone broke into her car without damaging it. No broken windows. No jimmied lock. The roses were fresh, as if they’d just come from a garden or a cooler, not been exposed to freezing temperatures for hours. They’d been left recently, which meant her stalker had to be close.
She fired a look down the street, searching for anyone watching her. Two people headed for their cars. No one looked at her. At least, no one standing out in the open.
Could her stalker be hiding in the bushes across the street—behind trees down the road—while she stood out here? Vulnerable. Her life in danger.
A car horn sounded behind her, and she spun around, clutching her briefcase like a shield. A man sat behind the wheel of his car. His gaze frustrated, he made shooing gestures with his hands.
Feeling as if she was coming out of a fog, she looked around. She’d backed into traffic, but she didn’t care. Could she ask this man for his help? Ask to sit with him while she called 911? Could she even trust this man? Was he the stalker?
You’re still vulnerable. Move, now. Go. Quickly.
She slammed her car door and ran for her apartment building. She frantically slid her fingers along the ring to locate the right key for the main entrance. Her hand trembled. The key refused to fit the lock. A noise from behind startled her. The keys flew from her hand as she shot a look over her shoulder. Spotted a woman walking her fluffy white dog down the street.
Not a threat, but one still existed. She had to get inside. She scrambled to find the right key. Got it into the lock and twisted.
Now what? The thought came unbidden. With the rose and photo left on the counter, you’re no safer inside.
You’re not safe anywhere.
* * *
Brady’s phone rang, dragging him out of a deep sleep. He groaned and glanced at the clock. Better be important for someone to get him out of bed at 6:00 a.m. when he’d stayed with Rossi until two o’clock. Fat lot of good it did them. They’d lifted a few fingerprints but located no other leads.
He grabbed his phone and when he saw the caller ID, he was instantly alert.
“Morgan,” he answered. “Is something wrong?”
“Roses,” she whispered. “Two of them. In my car with an envelope.”
A vision of her standing near her vehicle, a dangerous stalker nearby, had Brady lurching to his feet and grabbing a pair of jeans. “Where are you?”
“In the coffee shop of my building. I thought staying in a public place would be the most secure location right now so I hurried down here.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, Brady.” He heard the relief in her voice, and he hated to admit it, but he liked that she’d called him to come to her rescue.
He pulled on a T-shirt and quickly brushed his teeth, then grabbing his jacket on the way out, he made a mad dash down the stairs to his ancient pickup truck. One set of footprints led across the asphalt to Jake’s car.
“Brady?” he called out.
“It’s Morgan. More roses,” he explained and jumped into his truck. He used the wipers to clear the snowy windshield and coaxed the ancient truck to start in the unusual cold. On the road, Brady called Rossi who was even grumpier than last night, but he agreed to meet Brady at Morgan’s car.
Rush hour had begun, but with the snow, most people would stay home until later, allowing Brady to pull up to the coffee shop in less than ten minutes. He grabbed latex gloves from his console and headed over to talk to Morgan, searching the area for potential threats on the way.
He didn’t like what he saw. Plenty of places for a stalker to hide on the street and watch Morgan’s movements. No way would he bring her out into the open like this. He’d insist Morgan remain in the shop while he checked her car.
She met him at the door. Dressed in another suit that appeared tailor-made, this one blue, she looked professional, but it was the fear darkening her eyes that struck him hard.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, sounding like he’d arrived at a social event instead of another invasion into her life.
Part of Brady was impressed that she could control her emotions, the other part was mad that she was hiding her real feelings. Still, her body language told the story. Arms clutched around her waist. Leaning forward as if she might drop any minute. Her face pale. Her hands trembling.
“Tell me exactly what you found,” he said, making sure he sounded comforting and reassuring.
She flicked a gaze outside then quickly back at him, the fear stronger now. “I stopped for coffee, then unlocked my car with the remote. When I opened the door, I found two roses lying in an X pattern and sitting on top of a white linen envelope.”
Likely another picture. “This X pattern mean anything to you?”
She shook her head.
“And the envelope?”
“I didn’t open it. I was too afraid.” She was shaking, and looked like she’d melt to the floor.
He took her elbow and moved her to a chair. She looked up at him, seeming small and defenseless.
He wanted to rail at the injustice heaped on her head, but he held it together by shoving his hands into his pockets. “Did you notice anything else?
She stared off into the distance. “The windows weren’t broken or the doors jimmied. I guess he could have used one of those bar things I see on TV shows, but since my key is on the same ring as my apartment key, he likely made a copy of that one, too.” She paused and chewed on her lip for a moment.
“Anyone else have your car key? Do you keep a spare set hidden somewhere?”
“Just at my parents. No other spare set.”
“Have you checked with them to see if anyone stole the keys overnight?”
“I called my mom right after you. They’re still in the drawer.” She looked like she wanted to add something but stared over his shoulder instead.
He followed her gaze through the street level window. “Which vehicle is yours?”
“I’ll show you.” She started to rise.
“No.” He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You stay here. It’s safer.”
She jerked free and cast him a defiant look. She was suddenly all fire and passion, much like last night. He watched, enjoying the metamorphosis from timid victim to fierce warrior and waited for her to refuse his directive. He didn’t like the thought of her rushing out onto the street, but he respected her determination in the face of danger.
She kept eye contact with him for a long while until she finally sighed, her agitation disappearing with it. She dug her keys from a leather briefcase, then handed them to him. “It’s the blue BMW. Three cars behind your truck.” Panic returned to her eyes.
So she’d let her fear take over enough that she’d been watching for his arrival. A protective feeling surged to the surface and the urge to touch her was strong. She needed reassurance. Needed to know that he’d be there for her. Any hour of the day. The minute she called.
Not a good idea. She should call Rossi instead.
Brady shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled to ease her fear. “You hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Outside, he fought through the biting wind as he passed his truck to get to the sleek BMW. Talk about contrasts. Battered and rusty from Minnesota winters, his pickup was on its last legs. Her Beemer, a metallic blue coupe that Brady recognized as the top-of-the-line, was polished and shiny. Of course. He should have known by now that she’d have nothing less than the best.
Snapping on gloves, he clicked the lock. He noted a paper cup lying by the front wheel, the snow tinted with chocolaty coffee. He suspected Morgan had dropped it as she’d dropped the glass last night. Another shock to her system.
He leaned inside the spotlessly clean vehicle. Perfect, like her apartment. Just as she’d said, two red roses lay on the leather seat and were positioned in an X shape, which was unusual, but what really drew his attention was the freshness of the flowers. The temperature had dropped well below freezing last night, and if the roses had been inside long they’d be damaged.
He lifted the envelope and dread filled his gut even before he opened it. He pulled out an official-looking invitation printed on quality paper. It wasn’t engraved, but printed on a laser printer.
He read the front page, inviting the recipient to a wedding celebration. Inside, the details claimed Morgan Thorsby would marry Her One True Love. Grimacing, Brady scanned down the page to the date.
Saturday. Only five days away.
Could this creep be planning to abduct her on that date to force her to marry him?
Crazy. Totally crazy. And dangerous.
Brady’s stomach churned. He had less than five days to find the stalker before this jerk harmed Morgan. Hopefully the car contained a lead. He took his time, looking through the front, in the glove box, under the seats, in the back, the trunk. Came up empty.
He was starting for the coffee shop when Rossi pulled up. He double-parked, proving he wasn’t intending to stay long.
“Owens,” he said and stepped to the driver’s door where he made a cursory inspection of the vehicle. “No forced entry again.”
“No,” Brady said. “And I searched the entire vehicle. Nothing.”
“At least we know where Shaw is and he couldn’t have planted the roses.” Rossi stood staring at the car. “You getting the same vibe about this as I am?”
“Depends on what vibe you’re getting.”
Rossi looked at Brady. “Bored little rich girl. Decides to invent a stalker to get back at an ex who jilted her.”
Brady stepped back. He’d been thinking of Morgan as a little rich girl, too, but his anger rose at Rossi’s tone. Why, he didn’t know. The guy was right. She was rich, maybe pampered. Maybe spoiled.
Brady was trained to read people. He did it all day long on the job. Read them, predicted what they might do, then acted accordingly. Morgan was many things, things he didn’t want to dwell on now, but he’d spent enough time with her to see she wasn’t an attention seeker and he trusted his gut instinct.
“I’m more inclined to believe her,” he said making sure his tone carried his conviction.
Rossi arched his brow. “She tell you something I’m not getting from the scene?”
“No. Her story was simple. She opened the car door. The roses and invitation were here.”
“Odd that they’re so fresh. Not wilted from the cold, right? Seems unlikely that the stalker put them here in broad daylight. Means she could’ve left them.”
No. The word shot into Brady’s brain but he held back from saying it. If he was going to get Rossi fully on board, he’d needed proof of Morgan’s actions this morning. Maybe a video. Brady searched for surveillance cameras on the nearby buildings. Found none. So what else could prove her innocence? A money trail.
“You could pull Morgan’s financials to see if she’s bought any flowers lately,” Brady offered.
Rossi rolled his eyes. “Credit card receipts for three roses? Nah. She could’ve paid cash.”
He was right and Brady was grasping at straws here, but he wouldn’t give up easily. “What about showing her picture at local flower shops? See if anyone recognizes her or they have invoices for a purchase?”
“Same thing. Flowers can be bought just about everywhere these days. And if she was trying to hide the purchase, she’d make sure she got them from an untraceable source, like a street vendor.”
“Your points are all valid, but you can’t just ignore the fact that she might have a stalker.”
“I’m not ignoring it. If I was, I would’ve gotten a whole lot more sleep last night, but after you took off, I brought the fingerprints to our tech, and I also confirmed the ex-fiancé is in Florida.”
“You’re sure he’s out of town?”
“Positive.” Rossi frowned. “I’d honestly hoped the guy was behind this so I could close the case and move on. Being the jilted boyfriend and all, I thought it was likely, but I was wrong.” He blew out a long breath and stared at the car. “I’ll dust for prints again. We can compare any we find to last night’s prints and search AFIS for a match. I’ll do a canvass again and review the threat file she gave me, but after that I’m done unless something else turns up.”
Brady wanted him to do more than search the Automated Fingerprint Identification System—a national fingerprint and criminal history system managed by the FBI—but had to agree that there was nothing more to do. “I appreciate you taking this seriously.”
Rossi nodded gravely. “I suggest Morgan gets her locks changed.”
Brady agreed. “She’s in the coffee shop. I’ll arrange that with her while you check for prints.”
Wearily, Rossi ran his hand down his face. “I’ll be in to take her statement in a minute.”
Brady turned on his heel and jogged down the steps to the shop. Morgan met him at the door again, her expression hopeful.
“Rossi’s dusting for prints.” Brady gestured at a table. “We should sit. It’ll take some time.”
She looked at her watch and shook her head. “I have an important presentation this morning and can’t be late. With my car out of commission I’ll have to take MAX so I should get going.”
“If we want Rossi to continue to take this seriously, you need to stay to give him your statement.”
“I want to stay.” She glanced outside then back at Brady. “But my clients are counting on me to obtain the support of a local employer today, which could mean more jobs.” She tapped the screen on her phone and Brady saw the MAX timetable appear. “I have to leave right now to catch MAX. I’m sorry if I brought you out here for nothing, but my clients come first.”
“You can take my truck if you like.” What was he thinking offering his rusty old pickup? Not that he expected Ms. Uptown Girl to even consider it.
“I couldn’t put you out,” she replied, but he could see she was thinking about his offer. Interesting to say the least.
He should let it drop, but now he wanted to see how she would react once she got a closer look at the truck. “I’m off today so I can wait around while Rossi finishes the canvass. Then I’ll stop by your office to give you an update and deliver your keys.” Make sure you’re all right in case you need me again.
“On your day off? I already got you up at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t ask you to do more.”
“No biggie.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
He gestured at the counter. “I’ve got coffee, muffins and free Wi-Fi. What’s to mind?”
“Then, yes,” she said with a smile that lightened her face and gave her a carefree look.
He felt a goofy grin take over his mouth. He could stand just like this for hours. Watching her. Enjoying her smile. Exactly the kind of thing he needed to be alert for if he spent any time with her. “I’ll just grab that coffee. Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head.
He gestured at a table. “Then have a seat, and we can talk about this until you have to leave.”
While she perched on the edge of a chair like a bird ready to take flight, he quickly ordered black coffee and two huge banana nut muffins from the perky barista. At the table, he moved a chair so he could see the door.
He concentrated on peeling the paper from his muffin, thinking his questions might be easier for her to answer without him staring at her the way he’d been doing. With a stalker after her, she probably felt like she had too many eyes on her already. “I think it’s time to ask who besides your parents might have access to the drawer with your keys.”
“The staff, of course. And Dad takes meetings in his home office sometimes, but I don’t know who he’s met with in the last few months.”
“Can we find out?”
“Maybe my mom will tell me, but my dad’s pretty tight-lipped about his business dealings.”
“Check with your mom and let me know what you learn.” He moved on. “I suggest you change the locks for your apartment and car. I can arrange it for you while you’re at work, if you want.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Why would you do that for me?”
“You need help.” He bit into his muffin.
“Nothing else?” She held his gaze for a long moment, distrust rampant in her expression. “No hidden agenda?”
Suspicious little thing. “No agenda other than to help you.” He smiled to reassure her. “I’m trying to do the whole knight-in-shining-armor thing. Maybe not real well, though, as you seem awfully suspicious of me.”
She let out a breath, her defensive posture relaxing. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. In the world I come from, people rarely do things for others without an ulterior motive.”
He’d always thought the rich and famous had it so easy, but maybe that lifestyle wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. She’d left it behind, after all. At least, that’s what she’d been saying, but the expensive car, swank apartment and fine clothes said differently.
The door opened. A cold draft swept over them as Rossi stepped inside.
“Ms. Thorsby,” he said in greeting. He took a chair, turned it around and straddled it, then dug out his notebook and pen. “Tell me what happened this morning.”
Brady sat back to finish his muffin and sip the dark-roasted coffee as Morgan told her story. She’d erected a wall of confidence for Rossi, and her emotions seemed firmly under control again. Maybe she’d gotten over her fear, or maybe she felt more comfortable around Brady and wasn’t afraid to let him see her distress. He hoped that was true. It would make him feel better about the way she’d managed to get past the defenses he’d put up. To make him interested in her when she was the last woman on Earth that he should be having such thoughts about.
Rossi snapped his notebook closed. “I’ve lifted a few prints from the car and should have time to run them later today. Where can I reach you if I need you?”
She dug a business card from her bulging leather briefcase and wrote a phone number on the back. “My cell.” She slid it across the table then passed another card to Brady. “You’ll need this for my work address.” She stood. “Thank you for your help, Detective. Now I really need to get to work.”
Brady got up, too. “I’ll walk you out.”
Rossi nodded at the barista. “I might as well grab a cup of coffee while I’m here. With the snow, it’ll be a crazy day at the precinct.”
Morgan picked up her gym bag and briefcase. Brady reached out to carry them for her, but she held fast and headed for the door. As fragile as she seemed at times, she was tough to the core. He appreciated her strength, but honestly, it was starting to irritate him, too. She needed help right now, his help, and he wished she’d just accept it without questioning his motives.
He stopped in front of her. “Let me make a quick sweep before you go outside.” He expected an argument but got a clipped nod instead. Good. At least she wasn’t too stubborn to listen to common sense.
On the street, he ran his gaze up and down, checking trees, shrubbery and between cars. Rossi had pulled his car out of traffic, but other than that, nothing had changed. He gestured for Morgan to join him. They started down the sidewalk, and he rested his hand on his sidearm just in case he’d missed something in his search. At his truck, he unlocked the door and stepped back.
Morgan set her bags on the cracked vinyl seat, then gracefully settled behind the wheel, looking as uncomfortable as a regal princess at a thrift shop. He was suddenly very aware of how completely run-down his truck was. He kept it clean. No trash or fast food wrappers like a lot of guys, but it had seen better days. Honestly, it was about ready for the scrap metal yard. He risked a glance at her face, expecting disgust. Instead, he found that iron mask she was able to call up at a moment’s notice.
He gave her the keys and rested an arm on the door. “She likes to stall sometimes, but she always starts back up.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “She?”
“Aw, come on, don’t tell me people in your life never gave their vehicles a name.”
“Never. At least, not that I know of.”
“Sounds like you’ve been hanging around the wrong kind of people,” he said, though actually he was kind of embarrassed.
A tight smile broke the tense lines on her face. “Thank you again for the loan of your truck. My presentation should be finished by noon. We can meet then.”
She put the key in the ignition before looking back at him. “Her name. You didn’t say.”
“Bessie.”
“Bessie?”
He should never have brought it up. Now he’d have to explain. “When I was in middle school I hung out at a friend’s farm. Travis and I raised a calf for exhibit at the state fair. We named her Bessie after a cow we saw in TV commercials for a local milk company.”
Memories of one of the best times of his life came rushing back and he allowed his thoughts to remain on caring for the animal. Bessie listened to all of his struggles and never judged. Plus, caring for her gave him hours and hours out in the fresh air. An escape from the tin can of a trailer they lived in. And then there was the unending food supplied by Travis’s family. Until... The memories evaporated like a popped balloon. “After it was over, they sold her.”
Morgan slid the seat forward. “So you named your truck in honor of the cow.”
“Yeah.” He felt his face flush in embarrassment at the silly sentiment.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s a very sweet thing to do.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze.
Uncomfortable at letting her into a part of his life he’d never shared with others, he pulled back.
“Don’t worry, I get it.” A sweet smile softened her face as she adjusted the mirrors. “You have to be the big, tough deputy and can’t let anyone see your true feelings.” She winked at him. “Your secret is safe with me.”
That wasn’t the whole reason for his discomfort, but he didn’t dispute her assumption and stood back while she fired up the engine. It coughed a few times, then caught and roared to life. The engine idled high, and Morgan’s body vibrated on the seat until she put the shift into Drive and took off.
He continued to stand there, his gaze following the truck down the road, his mind on the fancy lady and his run-down truck. She claimed she’d left her other life behind and maybe she had. But he doubted driving a rusted bucket of bolts was what she meant, and he doubted she could ever get used to a life that included a heap of a truck. Translated, she could never get used to a guy like him.