Chapter 4

FOUR

THE SECOND brIGGS TURNER saw the unmistakable look of fear flashing in Lahela’s brown eyes, his instinct went on alert. “What do you mean, go to the police? What’s going on?”

“Lahela, are you in trouble?” Nash’s attention was no longer on his birthday gifts. “How can we help you?”

Briggs appreciated the level of concern radiating from his friend, but it wasn’t a surprise. In the short time they’d known her, Lahela’s friendship felt so natural, like she’d always been a part of their lives. It was one of the reasons Briggs hesitated to ask her out. Their friendship was relatively new, and he didn’t want to risk losing it if she wasn’t in the same place he was. He may not have known Lahela long, but it only took a few hours with her to see the way her bubbly personality lit up the room. Nearly as bright as her smile. Both were missing in this moment, and it didn’t sit well with him.

His eyes searched Lahela’s face for an indication of what was going on before sending a pointed message back to Daphne.

“It’s okay, Briggs,” Lahela said, catching him in the act. She offered him a half smile that was no match for the wattage of a real one. She looked to Daphne, who gave a small nod, before continuing. “I started receiving some weird phone calls from someone who doesn’t say anything.”

“From who?” His nerves were already firing in the offensive. All he needed was a name and he’d put a stop to it.

“I don’t know.” Lahela twisted her hands together. “I thought it was someone dialing a wrong number.”

“Okay.” Briggs leaned his elbows on the table. “Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

“No. We’re here to celebrate Nash’s birthday dinner.” Lahela shook her head and took her cell phone back from Daphne. “This is probably someone’s idea of a weird joke.” Her voice lacked the confidence of her words as she dropped her cell phone into her purse.

“No, we should talk about these calls.”

“And photos,” Daphne added.

“Photos?” Briggs practically growled, and it drew startled looks from both ladies. “They sent you photos?”

His imagination was taking him places he did not want to go, places he’d witnessed when he worked with the Dallas Police Department, things he wished he could scrub from his eyes and brain.

Lahela’s eyes rounded. “No.” Her hand reached over to wrap around his forearm, and his skin instantly reacted to her touch. “Not those kinds of photos.”

Relief spread through him even as he watched Lahela shudder, likely her mind going to the same place his did.

“They’re photos of Lahela”—Daphne held up a hand when his gaze swung to hers—“at school and outside of her house.”

Lahela dropped her hands to her lap. “Daph.”

“What?” Daphne folded her arms. “This guy is stalking you.”

Stalker . A dull throbbing began in the back of his head. He was glad the photos weren’t the worst he’d imagined, but this wasn’t much better. He didn’t know what was driving Lahela’s hesitancy, but in his experience, it was better to tread lightly. “Anywhere else?”

Lahela reached for a chip. “Those were the only ones from tonight.”

“Tonight?” Nash asked. “How long has this been happening?”

Lahela exchanged a look with Daphne before meeting his eyes. “A while ... and before you read me the riot act, I did go to the police when it started happening, but without any proof or ideas of who it was, there wasn’t much they could do.”

Briggs blew out a breath. She wasn’t wrong. Stalking cases were some of the most difficult to prosecute, which made them not just frightening for the victim but, if they escalated, often deadly.

“You have no idea who it might be?” Nash asked.

“No,” Lahela said quietly.

Briggs wanted to press her on that, but he was interrupted when Fisher Crawford showed up at the table.

“Happy birthday, big man.” Fish wrapped an arm around Nash’s neck in a playful back hug, his eyes landing on the envelope still sitting in the middle of the table. “Did you like it? If you need someone to—” His eyes moved around the table. “What’s with the serious tone? Wait, are they out of tacos? Because I just spent the last two hours helping Mom flip her office upside down looking for Celery only to find the little rodent hiding in the art closet covered in blue paint. Washable paint is only washable when the subject wants to be washed. So, if they’re out of barbacoa tacos I might throw an adult-sized tantrum.”

The magnitude of the interrupted conversation hung between Briggs, Daphne, Lahela, and Nash as they all stared up at the man who looked a little unhinged.

Nash frowned. “Are you saying that you have a blue prairie dog?”

“Actually”—Fish flashed his painted palms and fingers at them—“he looks a little green now, but yeah.”

Lahela and Daphne burst into laughter. Even Briggs couldn’t help but crack a smile as Fish dropped into his chair.

Their laughter slowed when the waitress arrived with a tray of Juana’s tacos along with bowls of rice and refried beans, and Fish looked like he wanted to kiss her. He filled his plate, only pausing when he realized he was the only one. A taco hovered in his hands, inches from his first bite, when he glanced around the table again.

“What’s wrong with you guys?”

“We should eat before it gets cold.” Lahela set a fish taco on her plate. “We can talk about everything else later. It’s Nash’s birthday. Let’s celebrate.”

“ Taco ’bout what?” Fish crunched into his taco and smiled. “See what I did there?”

Briggs loved Fish, but reading a room wasn’t where he excelled. He looked over at Lahela, who was pushing her rice around on the plate. It wasn’t his place to bring up the calls and texts right now, but he wasn’t done discussing it.

AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER and with restrained patience, Briggs had forced himself to eat if only to encourage Lahela to do the same. Nash opened his gifts. They laughed, they talked, they ate tacos, and to anyone seated around them they seemed like a group of friends enjoying a normal night out.

What they wouldn’t see was the angst turning Juana’s delicious tacos into something tasteless and heavy in his gut. Or the places his mind was taking him as a former police officer. It was enough that when they had finally paid the bill and were walking through the parking lot to their vehicles, he’d kept to Lahela’s side and vigilantly surveyed the area. Was the person behind the calls and photos out there watching her now?

“So, you’re picking me up tomorrow for the festival?” Lahela asked Daphne when they got to her car.

“Yep.” She looked at Briggs and then back to Lahela. “Are you sure you don’t want us to go with you to the police station?”

“You already know they can’t do anything.”

“But you need to report this.” Nash slid a look at Briggs, understanding passing between them before he said, “Especially because whoever is calling you has changed their tactics with the photos of you at your work and home.”

Lahela’s chin tipped down and her features shifted into worry. Nash wasn’t trying to scare her, but his job with the FBI gave him the same insight Briggs had into these types of cases. Briggs hated that someone was doing this to her and hated it even more that she wasn’t wrong. He’d worked stalking cases, and without any names of possible suspects, there wasn’t a lot the police could do, which put her at a disadvantage.

Briggs put a hand on her shoulder. “I agree with Nash.”

“Listen, guys, I appreciate your concern, I do. And I’m taking it as seriously as I can, but I know”—she looked at Nash and then Briggs, her eyes lingering on his for a few seconds—“there are a lot bigger crimes that need the attention of the police, and I’m not going to distract them with a potential prank caller.”

“We just want you to be safe.” Fish hugged Lahela. “You call us anytime you need us. We’ll be there for you.”

Nash voiced his agreement and then pulled Briggs aside while Daphne and Fish said their goodbyes. “If you can get her to give you a list of potential suspects, I’ll do whatever I can from my position.”

“Thanks, Nash.” Briggs fist-bumped his friend. “Happy birthday, man.”

When Daphne, Fish, and Nash left for the night, Briggs turned to Lahela. “Listen, I know you don’t want to go to the police right now, but I care about you.” There was a shift in the way she was watching him. A softness in her gaze that had him remembering what he’d been hoping to do tonight. The timing wasn’t right in her vulnerable state, but he did need her to listen to him. “If you get another call or text, you’ll go to the police immediately. It’s their job. These kinds of cases can become dangerous, and I need you to understand that.”

“I do.” Her tone wasn’t defensive like he expected. It was assenting, and it made him see that she wasn’t trying to defer the seriousness of the situation so much as maybe she was trying to assure him she was okay. “Is that all?”

He swallowed and fought back the urge to ask her out right now just so he could spend every second with her and keep her safe. Instead, he reached to her cheek and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I’d also like to make sure you get home safely.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Her eyes dipped to his lips and then back up again. “Thank you, Briggs.”

Relief swelled through him, fighting for space with the mix of attraction and protection already battling in him. For the first time all night, he thought he saw a glimpse of the emotion that made him believe they shared the same feelings for one another. Any other night, he wouldn’t waste another second, but tonight ... tonight hadn’t gone as planned.