Chapter 5

FIVE

WHEN TATE LEFT, Steph shut the door behind him and pursed her lips. They’d worked on the code for the better part of two hours without a breakthrough, and now she was frustrated and tired. And grieving hard for her friend. She had other friends, of course. And family. All of whom had texted and called over the course of the day.

Lainie Jackson, soon to be Lainie Cross and Steph’s sister-in-law when she walked down the aisle with James, had called twice while Tate was there, and Steph had let it roll to voicemail. She dialed her friend’s number.

“Steph, are you all right?”

Lainie’s question in lieu of a greeting made her smile. “I am. I’m sad and mad and craving justice for Brenda, but I’ll be okay.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. And thank you for checking on me. It’s a long weekend with Labor Day, so at least I have an extra day before I have to face her empty desk again.” Not that the day would really help, but...

“I’m just sorry. I wish I had other words that were helpful, but I don’t.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“I’m sure he told you,” Lainie said, “but James said anyone who wanted to come to the lake house on Monday is welcome. Do you think you’ll feel like coming?”

Her brother lived on Lake City Lake with his boat and other fun water accessories and enjoyed hosting his friends and family whenever possible. Lainie would move in after the wedding, but her two dogs, Rex and Tex, had already made the place their home. “I’m planning on it. What about everyone else?”

“Everyone who can will be there.”

Which meant Kenzie King, Cole Garrison, Jesslyn McCormick, Kristine Duncan, and others. All close friends Steph usually enjoyed spending time with, but with the shadow of Brenda’s death hanging over her, she’d almost feel guilty having fun. Not that her friend would want her to stop living just because she was gone. In fact, the opposite was true.

But still ... “Okay, well, I’ll just have to see how I feel, but I’ll plan on doing my best to enjoy the day with you all.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. “Hey, Lainie, I have another call. Let me grab this and we’ll talk later.”

“Bye.”

Steph swiped the screen. Cherry Bolin, a longtime friend who worked just about every waking hour at her family’s ecotourism company. They owned Bolin’s Nature Nurture Expeditions, and she and her brother ran it while their parents did a lot of traveling. She’d also been Brenda’s boss one weekend a month.

“Hi, Cherry.”

“Hey. I’m calling to see if you’re okay. I honestly don’t even know what to think. I can’t quite process that she’s dead and won’t be walking through the office door.” The last word ended on a sob, and Steph closed her eyes to hold back her own tears yet again.

“I know,” she said. “She loved working with you, though. Both at the business and having you for a client.”

“And she was good at it too.” Cherry cleared her throat. “Would you want to get together to just visit and have coffee sometime soon? Brenda and I were supposed to do that and ... didn’t. So, I’m just trying to ... well ... you know.”

“Reach out to people you care about and let them know?”

“Yes. Something like that.”

“I’d love to. Give me a couple of days and we’ll figure out a good time.”

“Sure.”

They talked for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes, and Steph hung up to sit in silence for a moment.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to do.

She turned the television on low for background noise, then pulled her phone from the table to open it to the pictures she’d taken of the pages from the notebook. She squinted at the small print and huffed. “I’m too young to need readers,” she muttered. But printed the pages anyway.

Once she had them from the printer, she curled up in the recliner with a pencil and stared at the letters and numbers. “What in the world were you doing, Brenda? All these letters. Two letters and four letters and random numbers and ... ugh!”

She didn’t even know where to start. With her earlier attempts, she’d tried the obvious—the alphabet for the first twenty-six numbers—and that had been a bust. She’d also tried it backward, and nothing.

So, what next? Every second letter? Every third? This was definitely going to take some time.

For the next two hours, she worked and came up empty. When she finally yawned for the third time in as many minutes, she put the pages aside and leaned her head back, eyes focused on the picture of her, Brenda, and Lainie on the mantel. They’d gone white water rafting and had laughed for hours. Steph loved the outdoors, but not like Brenda. The woman would have lived in a tent and off the land if Greg had been willing.

The Monday after the one weekend a month Brenda worked with the ecotourism company, Brenda would come to work refreshed and glowing.

“Why on earth would you choose to be a CPA when you love the outdoors so much?” Steph had once asked her.

“Because it takes money to raise a family.” She shrugged. “And I love numbers. Truly, I have the best of both worlds. And the Bolins are wonderful.” She nudged Steph, shoulder to shoulder. “Cherry babysits when you’re not available.”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Steph said with a laugh. “The real reason you spend as much time as possible there. Suck-up.”

Brenda had laughed too, and they’d finished their lunch.

On that happy memory, Steph finally allowed her eyes to close and sleep to come.

Something woke her. A soft pop? Then a scraping sound that came from her bedroom on the other side of the wall next to her recliner. A window opening? She rubbed her eyes and sat up, papers fluttering to the floor and the soft drone of the television still playing in the background.

She stayed quiet, listening. Was someone in her house?

When nothing else reached her ears, she almost closed her eyes once more, then stopped. She couldn’t just go back to sleep. Steph rose.

Another sound from the bedroom. Like wind blowing through an open window? She grabbed her phone and dialed James’s number. When it rolled to voicemail, she started to dial 911, but at a footstep behind her, she spun to see a figure dressed in black wearing a ski mask, a gun pointed at her. She shrieked and raced for the back door even while knowing she wouldn’t make it in time to flip the dead bolt, open the door, and get out.

He easily caught her sweatshirt and spun her to face him. “Where is it?” He was taller than she by several inches and his voice was a low, raspy whisper that grated over every nerve ending. And he was strong. Very strong.

“The police are on the way.” The words came out in a rush, and he pressed the weapon against her chin. Terror flooded her and she froze.

“I’m only going to ask one more time,” he said, his voice low. “Where is the notebook?”

“The—? I gave it to the police.”

He cursed and she flinched. “Of course you did. What was in it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you read it.” He slammed her against the island and the barrel of the gun jammed harder.

“I tried! But it was all written in code. I have no idea what it said or even what the key is!” She wanted to fight, to push him away, but was afraid she’d jar the finger on the trigger. A musky cologne registered, and all she could think was that he’d taken the time to smell nice before he killed her. Get a grip, Steph!

“The guy that was here earlier. He’s the cop you gave it to, isn’t he?”

Did she dare admit it? Did he know who Tate was? And why did something about her intruder seem familiar?

“Isn’t he!”

“Yes! But he was taking it to put it into the evidence room! It’s probably already there.” She gasped the words, trying to force her fear-frozen lungs to work.

Another curse and he shoved her to a chair, the gun now in her face. When he pulled zip ties from his pocket, she trembled while her mind scrambled for an escape plan. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up and put your hands behind the chair. I can leave you alive or dead. Doesn’t much matter to me. I’ll do what’s easiest.”

Steph complied, and soon her hands were bound behind her. He secured them to the chair before he raced out her front door.

Tate! She had to warn Tate.

TATE COULDN’T SLEEP, so he’d been sitting at the kitchen island working on the code in the little notebook for the past two hours since he’d left Steph’s place. He’d have to turn it over first thing in the morning and log it as evidence—probably should have done that tonight, but the truth was, he’d wanted a little more time with it.

Fat lot of good that had done him. Part of it could have been his splotchy concentration. He kept circling back to Stephanie Cross. Steph.

Despite her eyes and nose reddened from her grief, she was a beautiful woman who’d captured his interest the moment he’d set eyes on her. The professional in him wouldn’t let that interest show. Not yet anyway. She was grieving and he needed to focus on finding who killed her friend.

But maybe in a couple of weeks there would be an appropriate time to ask her out.

His phone pinged and the security footage from the garage at Steph’s office popped up in file format. He thanked the sender and pressed play. There was Steph, walking to her car. And then stopping. She looked behind her before walking once more, picking up her pace. The video stuttered, then shifted to a different angle. One that allowed him to see a man dressed in jeans, a blue short-sleeved shirt, and a baseball cap. He kept his head down, but he was definitely watching Steph. So something had happened since she left the office.

He picked up the notebook. “You’re after this, aren’t you?” Tate said aloud. Was that too much of a leap? From Brenda’s death to Steph finding the notebook to the man in the garage being after it? The security footage showed him following her at a distance, the license plate covered with some kind of white cloth.

“Probably took that off after he got away from the cameras,” he muttered. But he definitely believed the man not only was watching her but followed her home.

Which meant he knew Tate had been there if he kept watching for any length of time. He texted her.

The guy from the garage could have followed you home. Make sure your doors are locked. I’m texting James and Cole to let them know and I’m sending a cruiser to your house. I’ll be there soon.

Tate shut the book and patted his pockets. No keys. He walked into the den and grabbed them from the coffee table. Asking Steph out might not be okay right now, but he’d do everything in his power to make sure she was safe.

He hesitated. He should probably call her to make sure she saw the text.

A creaking sound came from the floor in his kitchen. He frowned, his hand automatically going to the weapon at his hip. Only to remember he’d taken it off and laid it on the kitchen counter.

The same kitchen with the floor that squeaked when someone walked across it. “Who’s there?” He grabbed his phone and tapped 911, then turned the volume down so whoever was in his home wouldn’t be able to hear the voice on the other end. But that voice would hear him. “Hello?” he said as soon as the dispatcher picked up. “I’m a detective with the Lake City Police Department. You’re trespassing in my home. I’m also armed, so you might want to think about going back out the way you came in.”

He grabbed the Louisville Slugger from the mount over his recliner and gripped it while he walked with slow, measured steps toward the now silent kitchen. Not exactly armed, but better than nothing, and the dispatcher now knew he was law enforcement. He just prayed the invader didn’t pick up his weapon.

Before he could swing through the entrance, the intruder beat him to it, moving first and fast. Something slammed into the side of Tate’s head, and he went to his knees while darkness swirled, threatening to suck him under.

This time the footsteps were loud as they rushed past him. Then his front door banged open, and the figure was gone before Tate could get to his feet.

When he finally managed to stand, the room spun, and he grabbed the nearest chair to hold himself upright. The wave of dizziness and nausea passed, and he pressed a hand to the goose egg rising. Sirens finally reached him, and after confirming his weapon and badge were still where he left them, he walked outside to sit in the wicker chair on his small front porch, empty-handed, bat at his feet.

Officers swung into the parking lot opposite him, climbed out, and walked his way, hands on their weapons. “You armed?” the nearest one asked.

“Just the bat.” Not that it had done him any good. “My piece is on the kitchen counter.” He kept his hands where they could see them.

“You’re with the LCPD?”

“Yeah. First day as a detective. Badge is on the counter next to the gun.”

The officer let out a low whistle. “You make someone mad already?”

Tate chuckled, then winced. “Looks like it.”

“I’m Brad Covington. My partner is Elisa Sanders.” He nodded to the officer at his side. “You mind if she checks your kitchen?”

“Not at all. Help yourself. I’m curious to know how he got in.” Elisa walked through his open door and Tate touched his throbbing scalp. “And what he used to bean me with.” The skin wasn’t broken, but the lump kept getting bigger.

“You need an ambulance?” Brad asked.

“For this?” Tate almost shook his head, then thought better of it. “No. It was a pretty hard hit, but I know the signs to look for that indicate a concussion. If I have them, I’ll get help.”

“Good enough.”

The officer returned and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I know how he got in. He used a glass cutter on your window and simply flipped the lock, raised the window, and climbed in.”

“Fabulous.” Tate made a mental note to upgrade his alarm system to include the windows.

“You’re the second one tonight.”

“No kidding?”

“Yep, just as we pulled up to your place, a call came over the radio that a neighbor reported a break-in a couple of miles away in that fancy neighborhood.”

Tate stilled. “Whose house was it?”

“Believe the neighbor said it was Stephanie Cross, James’s sister. You met James Cross yet? He’s a detective too.”

His stomach dropped. Someone had hit Steph’s house, then his? That was no coincidence. He stood and ground his teeth against the pain that spiked before it eased. “Yes, I know him.”

He walked inside to the kitchen. The little pink notebook he’d set next to his gun was gone.