First Night Read online

  “We take a few pro bono cases.” She didn’t want to make him feel bad about his inability to pay. “Sometimes,” she went on, “justice doesn’t have a price. We do what needs to be done.”

  He thought about that for a moment. Those dark eyes remained filled with uncertainty even as he spoke. “So what do we do now?”

  Truth was, they had had quite a night. “We get some sleep.” Personally, she was going to take a long hot bath and then sleep like the dead for at least a few hours. At his crestfallen expression, she added, “Then we’ll dig in and figure out where those phrases lead us.”

  When she was about to turn away, he stopped her. “How is it that no one knows about this place?”

  Translation: are you sure we’re safe here?

  “Victoria built this house a very long time ago, more than two decades ago. She didn’t use it for a very long time. Most of her friends and associates believe she sold it. You have nothing to worry about here.” She lifted her shoulders, then let them fall. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, you have my word. Even if somehow those yahoos followed us, there’s an alarm system that is what all other state-of-the-art systems aspire to be. We’re hooked directly into the agency. And—” she patted her purse “—I’m armed.”

  He stared at her purse a moment. “Do you know how to use it?”

  One corner of her mouth lifted in a knowing half smile. God, she was tired. “I definitely know how to use it. I worked as a homicide detective in Nashville for several years before coming to the Colby Agency.”

  “Was there trouble in your past career?” He watched her closely in an attempt to read what her words wouldn’t tell him. “Is that why you moved here? Or why Mr. Michaels sounded as if he would prefer some other investigator work my case?”

  Ah, so he’d noticed Ian’s innuendo in the conference room. “No. No trouble. I just decided I wanted to do something different. And Ian didn’t want me to take your case because I’m fairly new at the agency. He would have preferred a more experienced investigator.” That was true, in part.

  Brandon’s brow furrowed. “If you used to be a homicide detective in your former job, it makes sense to me that Michaels would consider you the best person for the job.”

  Good point. She wasn’t going there. “Get some sleep, Brandon. You’re going to need it just as much as I do. We’ll talk about the case later when we’re rested and our heads are clear.”

  She exited the room before he could ask another question. A long hot bath was on her agenda. In her room, the one next to Brandon’s, there was a comfy nightgown and two changes of clothes. Not colors she would have picked—she liked bright colors—but she could live with it. The selections had been made with blending in mind. Beiges, tans and browns.

  The bed looked so inviting, she scarcely worked up the wherewithal to go for that bath.

  But her aching muscles would thank her when she awakened a few hours from now.

  She turned on the faucet in the big, jetted tub, and adjusted the temperature of the water. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the ankle-deep water. Waiting until it had filled was out of the question. A variety of bath salts and bubbly, scented oil lined the tiled edge. She picked one, poured it into the water and watched the scented bubbles build. Smelled good.

  The water had reached her torso and she leaned back, letting her skin adjust to the cool feel of the tub, and closed her eyes. That wouldn’t last long. Soon the water and the tub would be nice and hot all around her.

  The bubbles tickled her breasts as the water level rose.

  Heaven.

  Her mind drifted, then floated away. God, she’d needed this.

  Cool fingers touched her shoulder.

  Her lids fluttered open and she sat up, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  Brandon Thomas stood next to the tub, his eyes wide with something like frustration. But it was his bare chest that captured the better part of her attention. Wide shoulders, lean waist and lots of muscled terrain in between. The jeans hung low on his hips, giving just a glimpse of the dark, silky hair that veered down to off-limits territory.

  “Is something wrong?” She really didn’t know what else to say.

  “The house phone is ringing off the hook.” He planted his long-fingered hands on those lean hips. “Didn’t you hear it?”

  Of course she didn’t. She was deaf. But he didn’t know that. She twisted the faucet knobs to the Off position then flashed him a proper glare. “I guess not.” Her chin shot up a little higher as defiance arrowed through her. “The water was running and the door was closed.” She wasn’t sure about that last part, but maybe she’d closed it.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Climb in here with me, she thought with a start. She blinked the idea away. She was tired. Not thinking straight. “I’ll check the voice mail. If it’s urgent,” she said, nodding to her cell on the closed toilet lid, “whoever is calling will use my cell.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged those incredibly wide shoulders. “Sorry.” He glanced at the bubbles shielding her naked body. “I guess I’ll go back to my room.”

  “I’ll let you know if the call was news.”

  His dark, dark eyes meshed with hers and what she saw startled her all over again.

  Approval. He liked what he saw.

  She was the one wowed now.

  But this was definitely not the time, much less the place.

  He stalled at the door, turned back to her. The idea that her pulse rate had climbed significantly annoyed the heck out of her.

  “It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”

  “Yeah.” A slight nod accompanied her response. She hadn’t forgotten, but it was just another day to her this year. “Is that a problem for you?”

  He gave that good-looking head a shake. Something else she shouldn’t have noticed.

  Depending upon how long it took them to figure this out, maybe she would take a break and look around for an artificial tree and decorations. There were lots of places around here to store stuff.

  “Good night,” she offered.

  “’Night.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Merri leaned back, tried to relax again. Maybe she was in over her head.

  She hadn’t heard the house phone and she damn sure hadn’t heard him come into the room.

  First thing after they’d had breakfast, she would tell him the truth.

  It wasn’t as if he could decide he wanted another investigator at this point.

  She chewed her lower lip.

  Could he?

  Chapter Six

  Christmas Eve, 1:52 p.m.

  On the range. Nothing can change. My space and no place. Invisible.

  Merri stared at the phrases she’d written on her notepad. She pursed her lips and took a moment to consider her thoughts before she spoke. “This has to mean the place where he grew up.” They had gone over every other possibility. There were no other reasonable alternatives.

  “Seems logical.”

  Brandon’s noncommittal attitude was beginning to get on her nerves. They had awoken about ten. She’d prepared breakfast with his help. He’d wanted to know what the call was about last night. She hadn’t mentioned it until he’d asked because the call was nothing important, just property security wanting to ensure that all was as it should be as they settled in for the remainder of the night. Routine call.

  The staff at the agency knew to call her on her cell phone. The specially designed phone would blink, allowing her to see that a call was coming in.

  For more than two hours after dragging themselves out of bed and having breakfast, they had been brainstorming the phrases Kick had given Brandon a while back. He couldn’t recall exactly when he’d been given this information. Sometime during the past month. For a man barely thirty, he had a heck of a time remembering the little things. But then, she suspected there was a reason for that. One he didn’t want to talk about any more than she wanted to discus
s being deaf.

  Turner from Research had called. She’d come up with nothing more than what they had surmised on their own. Kick’s selection of phrases wasn’t related to any former headline or book or even a movie—at least not according to the elaborate software system employed by the Colby computers.

  Kick had apparently been very careful not to connect his message to anything that would allow for easy access or misinterpretation. In doing so, he’d left Merri, who knew nothing about him other than what Google and Brandon had told her, to attempt to piece together a revealing message with little or no foundation in reasoning or logic.

  “Where did Kick grow up?” she asked.

  Brandon dropped back onto the sofa. Like Merri, he was still exhausted. “Blue Island. Maybe forty-five minutes from our old apartment.”

  The deceased’s childhood home remained the only reasonable conclusion. “Home doesn’t usually change.” Unless there’s a death or a divorce. “Home would certainly be his space and yet no place. Particularly if he didn’t have any fond memories of growing up or if he hadn’t been able to wait to get away.”

  Brandon sat up straight. “Wait. There was something he always said.” His forehead furrowed in concentration. “That he was nobody growing up—invisible. He always dreamed of making it big in the city. That’s why this story was so important to him. He wanted to prove they were wrong—the kids he grew up with, I mean.”

  “Invisible.” That certainly covered the final part of the puzzle and fell in line with the rest of Merri’s conclusions.

  Brandon braced his forearms on his knees and searched Merri’s eyes. A little shiver tangoed up her spine. Stop, she ordered. Not allowed. She’d spent way too much time in the past getting personally involved with one aspect or another of a case. Wasn’t going to happen this time. The Colby Agency was a new beginning for her, professionally and personally.

  “Since our apartment is history,” Brandon continued, “and the bad guys no doubt still want to locate the video, we have to assume, I suppose, that they’re probably watching any other place we might show up. They’re expecting us to lead them to the evidence.”

  “Like the precinct where the investigation is assigned. The Trib. His girlfriend’s place—if he had one.” That was a question she should have already asked, but then the last twenty-four hours had been a little crazy. The last couple of hours had been the only time available for thinking.

  “He didn’t have a steady girlfriend,” Brandon assured her. “Kick liked playing the field. No permanent attachments whatsoever, on or off the job. He liked his space.”

  “And the homes of any close family,” Merri offered. “They’ll be watching those, too.”

  “But we have to go to Blue Island.”

  She nodded. “We do.” There was no better place to begin this search. “With the apartment gone and no girlfriend to check out, that leaves work and where he grew up.”

  Brandon’s head was moving side to side before she finished her deductions. “No way would he leave anything important at the Trib, much less share even a hint of what he was working on with any of his colleagues. He claimed this was his big chance. He wasn’t about to risk having anyone steal his glory.”

  “Blue Island it is, then.” Merri reached for her phone to send Simon a text as to their plans. “I’ll let the office know our strategy.”

  Brandon stood. She looked up at him.

  “…to eat.”

  “Sure,” she acknowledged though she hadn’t gotten the entire sentence. She’d evolved into quite the expert at estimating what had likely been said. He was hungry. He wanted to eat. “I’ll get something in a minute.”

  No sooner had she sent the text than the screen on her cell flashed, indicating that she had an incoming text.

  Walters.

  What’s in Blue Island?

  Simon.

  We’re relatively certain the puzzle or riddle or whatever the hell it is points to where he grew up. Kick, aka Kevin Randolph, grew up in Blue Island so that’s where we’ll go first.

  Makes sense. Turner indicated his parents still live there and he has one sister, Bethany Stover, in the area, as well.

  We’ll be checking out both in addition to any neighbors or childhood friends we discover along the way.

  Be careful, Merri.

  Definitely.

  A Detective Whitehall is in charge of the Randolph case. He’s nosing around. I told him we’re looking into the situation and that we’ll keep him apprised.

  Text his cell number to me and I’ll touch base with him as soon as we determine if there’s anything to know in Blue Island.

  The Colby Agency had an outstanding reputation of cooperating with the local police. Keeping it that way was part of her job.

  Is he aware that we’re working with Brandon?

  She typed the letters quickly across the screen.

  In light of the two explosions, perhaps the police were having second thoughts about Brandon’s suspected guilt.

  Whitehall still considers Brandon a person of interest, but under the circumstances they’re looking into his story about someone else being involved a bit more seriously.

  At least the loss of Brandon’s home was proving worthwhile on some level. Not to mention the two dead men in the mangled van. Simon reminded her once more to watch her back, then the exchange ended.

  Merri had checked Randolph’s two social network pages. Photos of his parents and sister were posted for public viewing. The men after Brandon would definitely be watching the homes of Randolph’s immediate family. That meant going to those locations was risky business, but there was no way around it. Particular care would need to be taken on this field trip to Blue Island.

  A hand waved in front of her face. She jumped, looked up to find Brandon hovering over her.

  “You want a sandwich?”

  She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed that he’d walked back into the room. That had to stop. But there was only one way to do that. “Sure.” She got to her feet and headed for the kitchen.

  Brandon kept time with her pace. She glanced at him to see if he was speaking. He wasn’t. Just watching her from the corners of his eyes.

  She couldn’t put off telling him the rest of the story much longer. Trust was key here, and she was showing a lack of it.

  When they’d reached the island in the massive kitchen, she saw that he’d spread all the sandwich fixings on the counter. She grabbed a couple of slices of bread. “Looks like there’s a little of everything.” Cheese, an array of sandwich meats, all the trimmings.

  He picked up the thick sandwich he’d already prepared and tore off a bite. “Yep,” he said between chews. “We wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry any time soon around here.”

  Her gaze lingered on his lips when he licked them. She blinked, ordered herself to focus on preparing the sandwich. Focus on the case, Merri—not the man or his intensely dark eyes. With a soft drink from the fridge and her sandwich piled high, she headed back to the great room. She wanted to review her notes once more as she ate. And to avoid looking at him. Or his eyes.

  Last night she hadn’t really had much of a chance to analyze her new client. Now that she had the time, she recognized the too familiar mistake. On some level, whether her brain was ready to admit it or not, she was attracted to the guy. Maybe because he appeared to have a challenge of his own. The whole delay-confusion-memory sequence situation didn’t sit right with her. Or maybe just because, to use a clichéd phrase, he was tall, dark and handsome.

  Scanning her notes, she kept an eye on Brandon. He polished off his sandwich and went back for another. When the lunch clutter was cleaned up, they packed up their change of clothes and notes and headed for the car. So far, no more communication glitches.

  She was thankful for the jeans, sweater and sneakers. Dressing up was something she did for work, but in her off time she lived in jeans. Hugging her parka a little closer as Brandon piled their stuff
into the trunk, she worked at ignoring how his jeans molded to his backside. The size was a perfect fit. The shirt and sweater combination looked good on him. He’d been wearing sneakers already. She imagined that he lived in those just as she did when classier duds weren’t required.

  “Maybe I’ll bring the laptop,” she said when he turned around and caught her checking him out.

  Before he could respond she dashed back to the house, provided the necessary security info and went inside. She slid the laptop into its case and grabbed the AC adapter and cord. When she returned to the door, she hesitated and watched Brandon. He surveyed the yard and the water beyond. Did he know more than he was telling her? She didn’t think so. He was afraid of getting killed, but he was determined to do the right thing.

  Going to the Randolph family would be tricky. Innocent or not, the police considered him a person of interest in the investigation—a suspect, really. The family would be aware of his standing with the police. Kick’s parents might not want Brandon coming around, even if they could get close to the parents without getting caught by the enemy.

  BRANDON VOLUNTEERED to drive. Mostly he wanted to distract himself. Since they had arrived at the safe house, he’d had a hell of a time keeping his thoughts on the task at hand.

  Dumb, seriously dumb.

  He was a murder suspect. This woman might be his only hope of proving his innocence. And still he found himself looking at her as a woman.

  Blond hair, pretty blue eyes. Petite, but with an athletic frame. He had been surprised to learn she had once worked as a homicide detective. She didn’t seem like the type. He would have labeled her a teacher or a counselor. Maybe because of the way she questioned him. He’d had plenty of experience with teachers and counselors.