Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”

Like the starter’s gun to begin a race, Briggs was sprinting toward Mr. Dunn’s front door at the sound of a woman’s voice. He pounded his fists on the front door. “Lahela!”

“Briggs!”

He spun on his heel and ran to the garage. Is that where the noise came from? “Lahela!”

No answer. Instead, he heard scraping and scuffling coming from inside the garage. He reached for the handle and tried to pull it up, but it didn’t move. He yanked out his cell phone and dialed 911 while running back to the front door.

He tried the handle, but the door was locked. It was solid wood, but that didn’t stop him from punching and kicking at it. “Lahela!”

As quickly as he could, he gave the 911 operator his information and location. Then he went to the garage door and pounded on it. “Mr. Dunn, there’s nowhere for you to go. Let her go.”

A loud grunt was the only response he got. He needed to get inside this garage now. Spinning around, he looked at the covered Volvo. Would there be a garage door opener inside?

Briggs ripped off the cover and was relieved when he saw the garage remote attached to the visor. He checked the door, but it was locked. Behind him, he grabbed a smooth river rock from the flower bed and smashed the window. The car’s alarm went off, giving away Briggs’s advantage.

All his police training told him he should never go into a situation blind, but experience working the job said seconds counted when the police were minutes away. This was Lahela’s life, and he wouldn’t waste a single second.

He smashed the garage door button and heard the motor kick on as it began lifting upward. Moving to the edge, he crouched, and when there was enough room, he rolled under and popped to his feet.

“Briggs, watch out!”

Lahela’s warning came just as Mr. Dunn lunged at him with an open box cutter in his hand. Briggs grabbed Mr. Dunn’s hand and redirected his momentum so that he twisted the man backward and shoved him to the ground, causing the box cutter to slip from his grip.

Mr. Dunn groaned but rolled over and reached for the box cutter. But his attempt was foiled when a large shelf crashed over him.

Briggs’s natural inclination was to go to Lahela, who sat handcuffed to a chair, but he needed to check on Mr. Dunn.

“Is he alive?”

The man’s body lay motionless, and there was blood trickling from a gash on his head, but there was movement in his chest that suggested he was still breathing.

“Yes.” Briggs got to Lahela just as the first sounds of sirens met his ears. He checked her face, running his hand along the angry red mark on her cheek. He’d hit her. Rage raced through him, and he forced himself not to go over there and kick the old man. He crouched in front of Lahela, his eyes tracing the rest of her face before moving down to her hands. He gently cradled her injured hand and looked up at her. “The police will take the cuffs off and there’s an ambu—” His voice broke and the sting of tears burned his eyes.

“Briggs, I’m gonna be okay.”

He rolled her as close to him as possible and threaded his arms around her waist and dropped his head to her knees. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Me either.” Lahela rested her forehead on his shoulder and whispered, “Thanks for sticking around.”

Lifting his head, he gazed into her dark brown eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Lahela.”

CLOSE TO AN HOUR LATER , Briggs had kept his word. At least until Detective Morgan pulled him away so he could take his statement while Lahela was getting her hand checked by the EMT. And even then, Briggs was only three steps away. He’d counted.

He was grateful her injuries were superficial and would heal, but he wasn’t sure about her heart. He wouldn’t blame her if this was the final straw to send her back across the Pacific. But he wasn’t ready for her to leave. He wouldn’t stop her, but if she did decide to leave, Briggs wanted to be sure she was making the decision for the right reasons.

“The damage on Mr. Dunn’s car matches the impact on Nancy Bart’s car,” Detective Morgan said. “Rosemary’s camera caught him leaving his house in the Volvo a few minutes after Lahela’s alarm went off. Crime scene will confirm, but it looks like he’s the guy who ran Nancy off the road. He’s also confessed to setting the fire to the chairs and calling in the false missing hiker report.”

Briggs seethed. “Another charge to add to the rest and keep him in jail.”

Stalking charges on their own were hard to prosecute be cause the crime was so nuanced the laws often fell short of protecting the victims. The more criminal charges they could add, the higher chance of keeping the stalker behind bars for a very long time.

“I’ve seen some pretty weird stuff in my career, but this one might take the cake.”

Briggs thanked Detective Morgan for his work and then crossed the three steps back to Lahela’s side. She lifted her gaze to meet his and smiled.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” She waved her freshly wrapped hand. “They’re forcing me to go to the hospital.”

“That’s good.” He brushed his fingers across the cheek that wasn’t hurt. He physically ached to see the spot where Mr. Dunn had hit her, and it was probably going to take a whole lot of praying to stop wanting to hurt the man. “You’ve been through a lot, and we all just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“We?”

Briggs tipped his head, and Lahela looked around him to find Daphne hanging back near the police cruisers parked along the curb. She gave a shy wave, looking more self-conscious than he’d ever seen her. “She didn’t want to impose, but she wanted you to know she’s here for you. Whenever you’re ready.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away. “I’m ready.” She sniffled and then her expression turned bashful. “But I’m also ready for that dinner you promised me.”

Briggs grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Tension crackled between them, and Briggs searched her eyes, hoping to find the answer to his question. Was she going to leave? Was the hope flickering in his chest for a future with Lahela going to be snuffed out? Was—

Commotion behind them turned their attention to the sudden movement of the police jogging toward the street. Detective Morgan was at their side, his hand on his service pistol at his waist.

“What’s going on?” Briggs moved in front of Lahela, reaching one hand behind him for her to hold on to as he searched for the threat. “What is it?”

“There’s a man trying to get to Lahela. He’s threatened two of my officers and—”

“Wait,” Lahela cut in, putting a hand on Briggs’s shoulder to peek around him. “Does he look like a Hawaiian Fabio?”

Detective Morgan frowned and then spoke into his radio. A second later, his frown deepened. “Yes,” he said with some hesitation.

Lahela groaned. “That would be my brother.”