For the Right Reasons Page 15

  But the lie had been weighing heavily on him. His conscience constantly reminded him that he had wronged the man who had essentially saved his life by intervening with the governor and vouching for Eric. He’d also given Eric a job and referred him to his barber. A man didn’t share his barber with just anyone.

  Daniel trusted Eric. And Eric had repaid him with an egregious lie.

  “Ralston never confessed to his crimes—not to me or anyone that I know of. He has always maintained his innocence.”

  Daniel looked momentarily confused. “You lied?”

  Eric nodded.

  “Good God, Eric, why on earth would you do that? Did you even know him?”

  “Yes, I knew him—for about two weeks. During that time, he sliced open my chest with a shiv, then threatened to kill me if I ratted him out.”

  “The injury that landed you in the hospital?” Daniel’s voice and expression were carefully neutral. Eric had no idea what he was thinking. He was probably one helluva poker player.

  Eric nodded. “That wouldn’t predispose me in his favor, but the real issue is different. He threatened to go after MacKenzie....” He repeated the whole disgusting story. “So you can imagine how I felt when I saw that man’s face on the screen in the conference room. I would have done just about anything to keep him behind bars, where I firmly believed he belonged.”

  “Even lie.”

  “Even lie to a man who certainly didn’t deserve that from me, not after everything you’ve done.”

  Daniel was silent for a time. Eric couldn’t tell if he was angry or not, but he looked troubled.

  “I’ll understand if you fire me. I’d probably fire me if I were you.”

  “Believed,” Daniel said suddenly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said, you believed prison was where Ralston belonged. You used the past tense. Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I looked forward to the day that man walks out of prison. But he did give a plausible explanation for why he threatened me. He said he was trying to protect me—to keep me from getting labeled a snitch. I’m guessing you know what my fate would have been if that had happened.”

  Daniel nodded. “Not a pretty picture. So you went to visit Ralston?”

  “Yes.”

  “Might I ask why you did such a thing?”

  “Let’s just say Bree Johnson is a persuasive woman.”

  “Ah. Brianna. That explains it.”

  “Really?”

  “I did talk to her on the phone. She was...insistent. Very passionate in her belief in Ralston’s innocence. Frankly, the reason I had you give her the bad news was because I didn’t want to. I knew she wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

  “Combine that personality with the looks of a sexy angel and you’ll understand why I found it hard to refuse her anything.”

  There was a moment of silence during which Eric relived his initial meeting with Bree—how hot she’d looked, how uncomfortable he’d felt because she was the first woman he’d wanted since Tammy came into his life.

  “Oh, dear God,” Daniel said. “You slept with her.”

  “Hell, how did you know that?”

  “I’m impressed you didn’t try to lie about it. I probably would have.”

  Eric shrugged. “I don’t see the point. If I’m gonna lose my job anyway.”

  “If I fired people for having sex with inappropriate partners, my whole staff would be gone. And I’d have to resign myself. Makes me wonder if someone’s pumping hormones into the water pipes.”

  Eric tried not to laugh. He wasn’t sure if Daniel was kidding. “Maybe that explains the size of the cockroaches there.”

  “So what’s the bottom line?” Daniel asked. “You obviously came here today hoping for a certain outcome.”

  “I’d like for you to reconsider taking on Kelly Ralston’s case. The woman who claims she misidentified Ralston as her rapist?”

  “Philomene Switzer, yes. What about her?”

  “She’s gone missing.” Eric gave Daniel a quick rundown of the evidence they’d amassed so far. “I’m afraid Bree might be next. If someone got to Philomene, they undoubtedly know that she confided in Bree. And if the sheriff is involved...”

  “Bree certainly can’t depend on the local law enforcement to adequately investigate Philomene’s disappearance.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Where is Bree now?”

  “At home, I think. I tried to get her to stay with me until I talked to you, but she insisted she would be careful. Stubborn woman.”

  “All right. Since a woman’s life might be at stake, I’ll put Joe Kinkaid on this. He just concluded another case, so he can jump right on it.”

  “Really?”

  “I’d already approved this case before you deep-sixed it. Seems like the right thing to do is resurrect it and give it the attention it deserves. The victim threatening to change her story, then vanishing sounds ominous—requiring some type of urgent action.”

  Something tight inside Eric’s chest unwound, and he took a deep breath. Thank God. Daniel got it. Eric might be unemployed, but at least someone would be looking out for Bree. And poor Philomene. She would either be found alive...or avenged.

  “Thank you, Daniel. I’m very grateful. I’ll go clean out my office.”

  “Did I fire you? I don’t think so.”

  “Oh. Aren’t you going to?”

  Daniel softened his tone. “Come on, man, I’m not that much of a hard-ass. You were trying to protect your daughter. When it comes to family, I’d do just about anything for them—including killing someone, and obviously you would, too. That’s the kind of guy I want on my payroll.”

  This was unexpected. “Thank you, Daniel. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You can say, ‘Daniel, next time I’m faced with some kind of ethical dilemma like that, I’ll confide in you instead of lying.’”

  “Done.”

  “I just have one question. Did you lie to Bree, as well?”

  “I had to give her some kind of reason for the foundation’s change of heart.”

  “Have you told her the truth?”

  Eric shook his head.

  “Nothing will be right between you until you do. Tell her what you told me. She might be angry at first, but if she’s a woman worth your time, she’ll understand. Eventually.”

  “I plan to tell her.” Eventually.

  * * *

  BREE HAD THOUGHT she was being brave and sensible when she’d marched away from Eric the previous day, declaring she could take care of herself. She’d convinced herself that she wasn’t in danger, that calling in to work sick and hiding from some imaginary threat was a severe overreaction.

  But when she’d left the hospital in the predawn hours, physically and emotionally exhausted from caring for the victims of a multicar accident, she’d noticed something that filled her with unease. A strange car—a beige Acura, several years old—had been parallel-parked in the street adjacent to the staff parking lot.

  No one ever parked there at night. There was nothing around except a couple of houses that had plenty of parking in their driveways. Hospital visitors and patients had their own lot, which always had spaces available.

  The suspicious car had tinted windows, so Bree hadn’t been able to see if anyone was inside. But she’d felt as if she was being watched.

  She’d shaken off her feelings, convincing herself she was just tired. But when she’d awakened from a restless sleep at close to noon, she’d looked out her front window and seen the same car, now parked on her street.

  Was she being stalked?

  Bree walked downstairs to pick up her newspaper, which the carrier always left fo
r her in the lobby. While there, she peered out the front window, where she could get a better look at the car. From this angle it didn’t appear that anyone was behind the wheel.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. This whole business with Philomene had made her far too jumpy—and had impeded her judgment, apparently, given how easily she’d succumbed to her attraction to Eric. Her heart twitched inside her chest at the memory. She couldn’t recall when she’d ever meshed with someone so seamlessly, so perfectly. Everything had felt right, like two longtime dance partners who could anticipate each other’s moves without words.

  But afterward—she’d behaved badly. Horribly. Okay, so she’d panicked, and she was desperately out of practice when it came to romance and sex etiquette. The moment they’d joined their bodies, she’d realized the whole “no strings” idea was a nonstarter. She already had feelings for the man, and a longing to be part of a family again that made her stupid.

  Putting a quick, decisive end to the episode and returning to a business-only relationship had seemed like the wisest course of action.

  But when was it ever wise to hurt someone? Rather than exhibiting gratitude for being spared the awkward after-sex tap dance, Eric had acted hurt and angry. So clearly not all men appreciated no-strings-attached sex.

  Did that mean Eric wanted strings? Or was he simply miffed that he hadn’t been the one to declare there would be no repeat performance?

  Her fridge was empty, so Bree decided to make a trip to the market. Maybe a pint of Chunky Monkey was in order. Wasn’t that what her friends always did when they had man problems—eat a large quantity of ice cream right out of the carton?

  In the end her medical training won out, and she compromised with low-fat frozen-yogurt pops. By the time she was stuffing her bags in the trunk of her car, she’d all but forgotten about the beige Acura—until she spotted it again, parked at the end of her row.

  This was no coincidence. It was the same car—she’d taken note of a scrape on the right rear fender.

  Someone was keeping tabs on her.

  She was too scared to drive home. What if this guy lay in wait for her, surprised her? He could disable her before she could get to her cell phone. No one would hear her scream.

  She didn’t see anyone behind her as she drove home, but he didn’t have to follow her; he knew where she lived.

  Oh, God, she was being paranoid. Wasn’t she?

  He probably hadn’t beat her home, because he hadn’t passed her. So she could go inside, lock all the doors, set her security alarm.... But then what about the next time she had to go out? She could call in sick to work. But how long could she do that? How long would four small bags of groceries last her?

  When she let herself in through the security gate, she noticed that the keyhole had scratches all around it. Had those always been there? Or had someone picked the lock?

  Okay, that was it. She wasn’t going home by herself. She chucked her groceries back in the trunk, got in her car and got the hell out of there.

  After several minutes of aimless driving, trying to figure out where she would be safe—a motel? A friend’s house?—she did what she’d known she would do all along. She turned the car toward the interstate and headed for Houston. Eric might be mad at her, but he wouldn’t turn her away. He would never propose that she put herself in danger. He cared for her at least that much.

  * * *

  ERIC’S DAY HAD been long and tedious. After leaving Daniel’s place, he’d met with Joe Kinkaid, an investigator who had played a key role in proving Eric’s innocence and getting him released from prison. Eric liked Kinkaid. The guy was former Secret Service, and at first glance he seemed like the buttoned-down, by-the-book agent—military haircut, bulky dive watch on his wrist, rigid posture. But a few minutes’ acquaintance soon revealed a rebellious streak a mile wide. The guy dressed in dark conservative suits, but his ties were definitely nonregulation. Today’s had a picture of a cartoon woodpecker on it.

  Debriefing Kinkaid had taken a couple of hours. Then they’d spent another couple of hours setting priorities—keeping Bree safe from any repercussions resulting from their investigation was number one. Next was finding Philomene. If she could be found alive, they would convince her to visit Dr. Claudia Ellison, the foundation’s on-call psychologist, who was a nationally renowned body-language expert and hypnotherapist. She was especially adept at recovering suppressed memories. If anyone could help Philomene remember the true identity of her rapist, Claudia could.

  Then there was the whole angle of possible law enforcement involvement in the crimes perpetrated against Philomene. Kinkaid had a contact in the Texas Rangers; he’d promised to talk to that guy and see if the Rangers might get involved, perhaps on an advisory basis.

  Recruiting any kind of law enforcement was a tricky business, Eric had discovered. Getting more people to work for the home team was good. Unfortunately, cops tended to take over. And if they decided to, they could order Project Justice investigators to stand down—which meant the foundation’s priorities could get derailed.

  It was all enough to make Eric’s head spin. He wanted to keep working, but he also wanted to get home to MacKenzie. She’d stayed home from school today just as a precaution, but she seemed completely recovered from her stomach bug. Elena, bless her heart, had agreed to stay home and babysit, but now it was Eric’s turn.

  His heart jumped when he saw a strange car in the driveway. Then he realized it wasn’t so strange, after all.

  Bree.

  He’d been looking forward to calling her and giving her an update. He’d also planned to convince her to take her safety more seriously. Now he would have the pleasure of doing so in person.

  Seeing her was dangerous. Now that Kinkaid was on board, Eric ought to turn the whole thing over to him and be done.

  But the thought of staying totally away from Bree was about as attractive as putting his arm under his brother’s new saw.

  Eric parked behind Bree’s little red Fiat and loped inside. The front door was unlocked—he’d have to speak to Elena about that. Just because Tammy’s murderer had been caught and locked up didn’t mean other crazies weren’t running around. He found Elena in the living room folding laundry.

  “Look at you, domestic goddess.”

  “It’s not so bad. Not that I’d want to quit working, but I don’t mind doing the house-and-kids thing once in a while.”

  “Where’s MacKenzie? Is she doing okay?”

  “She’s doing great. Good appetite, eating better than I’ve ever seen her. I’ve had to pace her—don’t want her overdoing it right after being so sick. But she seems fine. No fever, no stomachache, nothing. Now, aren’t you dying to ask me where Bree is? I know you saw her car.”

  “My kid first. Then Bree. She is here, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. She offered to keep MacKenzie entertained while I attacked our mountain of laundry. They were in the backyard last I checked. Bree was pushing MacKenzie on the tire swing.”

  The mental image that came to mind was sweet—Bree and MacKenzie laughing, Bree’s skirt blowing in the wind, clinging to her shapely legs.... “Do you know why she’s here?”

  “She didn’t offer an explanation and I didn’t interrogate her.” Elena lowered her voice. “But I’m guessing she’s here because she likes you.”

  Eric smiled, though he thought like was a pale verb to use when describing what was going on between him and Bree. “I can’t thank you enough for watching MacKenzie. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

  “Great, because I haven’t pulled anything out of the freezer. Oh, but Bree brought groceries. She put a few things in the fridge, anyway.”

  What the hell?

  He peeked out the window that faced the backyard, but Bree and MacKenzie weren’t there. The tire swing was still.

  His first thoug
ht was that they’d disappeared. Immediately he counseled himself to stop jumping to ridiculous conclusions, but every cell in his body was on edge until he climbed the stairs and heard the high-pitched tones of MacKenzie’s voice and Bree’s more dulcet tones.

  He found them in his daughter’s room. MacKenzie sat at her little desk with papers and pencils and crayons spread out in front of her. Bree had dragged in a chair from Eric’s room so she could sit beside the little girl.

  Eric stood quietly in the doorway, observing.

  “So we’ve got three pieces of pie here and two pieces of cake and one cookie. How many desserts does that make?” Bree asked.

  MacKenzie counted laboriously on her fingers. “Six!” she announced proudly.

  “Excellent. So write the number six in that box.”

  Using her special fat pencil that was supposed to encourage her to hold it correctly, MacKenzie filled in the box. Her teacher had said that MacKenzie was reading, writing and spelling on a first-grade level and progressing well at math, too.

  “Okay, next one,” Bree said. “We have one mommy, one daddy and two children. How many people are in that family?”

  MacKenzie touched each of the family stick figures with her index finger. “I don’t have a mommy,” she said softly, sounding sad. “She got killed. That means she’s never coming home.”

  Eric sucked in a breath.

  “I heard about what happened to your mother,” Bree said. “That’s very sad.”

  “She’s in heaven now. She’s an angel and she’s watching me.”

  “I bet she’s very proud of how smart you are. You’re doing all these papers by yourself. I’m hardly helping at all.”

  “Are you a mommy?” MacKenzie asked innocently.

  Bree’s expression changed abruptly from one of compassion to an almost palpable sadness. “I am. But my little girl—she’s in heaven, too.”

  Eric stopped breathing. Oh, my God.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MACKENZIE’S EYES WIDENED. “Hey, maybe she knows my mommy!”