Chapter 9

NINE

STEPH PULLED TO THE CURB of the very nice two-story farm-style home set on a two-acre parcel. Stan was married to Beth, and they had two sons in college and one married daughter.

Steph stepped out of the car, breathing in the scent of freshly mowed grass. Even though it was September in the mountains, it was still hot during the day. She gripped the driver’s door and looked behind her. The driveway was long and winding, and the main road was empty. If anyone followed her—other than the two bodyguards right behind her—they were staying well back. She had to admit, knowing Tate and Cole were on the way eased her nerves. A lot.

Stan’s garden was on the other side of the property at the back of the house. If he was here, that’s where he’d be. The garage door was up, the lights on. Stan’s weekday Mercedes was on the left side, and the right side that usually housed his wife’s van was empty.

Where were the college kids’ vehicles? Stan hadn’t said for sure they were coming, so maybe they’d decided against it? And where was Stan’s truck? He had an old beater that he used to haul stuff for his garden and yard. The sound of an engine caught her attention, and she turned to find Tate and Cole turning in. As they drew closer, she was able to make out Cole’s surprised expression.

He likely expected her to be inside or with Stan. She refrained from sticking her tongue out at him and simply raised a brow because ... well ... she couldn’t really blame him.

He smirked and Tate looked amused as well. Cole had probably told Tate all about her impatient nature, explaining that she wouldn’t have listened to him to wait. She almost wished she’d proven him right.

Cole parked and the two men climbed from the vehicle. Her gaze was immediately drawn to Tate, and she blinked, forcing herself to look away and turn to Cole. “I waited.”

“I’m shocked,” Cole said. He waved to the other officers and they drove off. When he turned back to her, his expression had softened. “But I’m glad, so thank you.”

“Sure. The lights are on and it looks like someone’s home, but he’s not answering his phone.” Steph turned her back on them and headed to the side of the house that would take her around into the backyard. “Stan? Are you here?”

“Steph?” Tate joined her, with Cole three steps behind him. “Do you always go dashing into possible danger?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course she does,” Cole said at the same time, all softness gone from his face.

Steph scowled at him, then focused on Tate. “Stan wasn’t answering his phone and I just figured he was working in his garden or the greenhouse.” The lights lit up the area, and she swept a hand toward the immaculate space that contained just about every vegetable and herb known to man. But no Stan.

Tate let out a low whistle. “Nice.”

“I know. He brings stuff in all the time to share.” She pointed to the vehicle at the edge of the garden. “Well, that answers the question about his truck.” He’d pulled it around and looked like he’d been in the middle of unloading bags of mulch. “Wonder what interrupted him?” she asked.

“Maybe nothing,” Cole said. “It’s possible he simply stopped to go to the bathroom or take a phone call or get a drink or something.” He clucked his tongue. “Always so suspicious. I’ll check the house.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Unless you’ve already done it and hightailed back to your car so I wouldn’t know.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I haven’t checked it, Mr. Smarty-pants.” She’d had his friends watching her. Besides, there was no way she’d ever let on that she’d thought about it despite having eyes on her movements.

“But you thought about it,” he said. Steph gave a short laugh and Cole shot her a knowing look, then nodded to Tate. “Ready?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Her laughter faded quickly. The truth was, she was uneasy. Something just felt off.

Cole knocked on the door and they waited.

Steph shifted. Tate rang the bell.

Nothing.

“Stan?” Cole identified himself and Tate. “Steph’s here too.” He rapped his knuckles against the wood once more. “You home?”

No response.

Steph reached around Cole and twisted the knob. “It’s unlocked.”

“That’s all well and good, but we can’t go in there,” Cole said. “We don’t have a good enough reason.”

“Exigent circumstances?” she asked.

“There aren’t any.”

“Well, I’m not bound by the same restrictions you are.” Before either man could protest, she slipped past them and into the house. “Stan? Are you here?” She went right into the kitchen and noticed a pile of clothes on the kitchen table. Weird. But no Stan.

“Steph.” Cole’s exasperation rang clear.

She’d apologize later. She walked into the connecting den and gasped. “Stan!” He lay on the floor, next to a shattered glass coffee table. Blood had pooled beneath his head, the oriental rug stained dark.

Thinking he was dead, Steph nevertheless hurried forward and knelt by her boss to search for a pulse while Tate followed, and Cole called for an ambulance. Steph almost couldn’t believe it when a faint thumping pulsed against her fingers. “He’s alive. Y’all, he’s alive.” Barely. And not for much longer if he didn’t get help.

“Ambulance is on the way,” Cole said.

“What do we do now?” Because doing nothing wasn’t an option.

“Keep him warm for one thing.” Tate grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and covered Stan. “Uh ... ABC, right? Airway, Breathing, Circulation. Is he breathing?”

She checked. “Yes.”

“And he still has a pulse,” Tate said. “So we wait for the ambulance and pray it gets here soon.”

Steph kept an eye on the clock. Three minutes later, paramedics arrived and got him stable enough to transport. Soon their taillights disappeared and the siren faded.

Tate returned to her side on the porch. “How did you know he was in trouble?”

“I didn’t. Not really. Things just seemed odd. He was more stressed than usual. Yesterday I was leaving the office and he was on the phone and pacing, upset about something.” She shrugged. “Individually, those don’t mean much. Everyone has bad days and clients can really stress you out. When you deal with people’s money, things can get hairy sometimes.”

“Right.”

“But just adding it all up and then Brenda’s notes in the journal made me want to ask him myself. See his face when he said he didn’t know what Brenda was working on, then show him her notes. The thing is, we always keep Stan up-to-date on stuff. He’s a bit of a micromanager, so I know Brenda would have talked to him.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?”

“I don’t know. He said she didn’t, and at the time, while it seemed odd, I believed him. Then I kept thinking about Brenda and Stan and how we all worked together, and I just...” She shrugged. “I thought maybe now that some time had passed, he might have remembered something—or would be more willing to share what he knew.”

“Hmm.” Cole looked at his phone. “Do you have any idea where his wife and kids are?”

“Maybe her mother’s? I think she lives in Asheville. His sister-in-law lives in Black Mountain.”

“Thanks. Those are good places to start. I can find names and addresses with that.” He walked back into the house, dialing his phone on the way. The crime scene unit had taken over the den, and Steph was at a loss as to what to do next.

Tate started to say something, but Cole’s appearance in the doorway stopped him.

Steph frowned. “What is it?”

With gloved hands, Cole held up a black ski mask and hoodie. “I don’t suppose these look familiar?”

TATE SLID AN ARM around Steph’s shoulder when she swayed and gaped. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered.

Cole grimaced. “I wish I was. They were right there on the kitchen table.”

“Stan is the one who broke into my house? Tate’s? B-but why?”

A shudder rippled through her, and Tate tightened his grip. “Unfortunately, only Stan can answer that.”

She looked around, a slightly dazed expression on her face. “Then he’s the one who stole Brenda’s journal. It’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Assuming he didn’t pass it off to someone,” Tate said.

Cole nodded. “We’ll turn this place upside down looking for it as soon as the crime scene unit is finished—which will be a while because now we’re looking for anything that can give us a connection between him and Brenda that may not be work related.” He paused. “At the very least, we need to finish deciphering the notes. It may tell us what made him so desperate to get his hands on it.”

“I have a headache,” she said.

Tate shot her a sympathetic smile. “Explain the key to us, and we have people who can finish decoding it. Fast.”

She nodded. “All right.”

Once they’d given their statement, Tate called to let Lainie know that Stan was being brought in and he and Cole needed to talk to him as soon as he was awake. And coherent. In the meantime, they’d be heading back to Bolin’s for another visit first thing in the morning.

Steph pursed her lips and frowned. “I’m just confused. What was his connection to Bolin’s? Other than the fact that they were one of Brenda’s clients? Stan liked the outdoors, but he wasn’t an outdoorsman. He’d never ride the rapids or do zip-lining or anything else Bolin’s offers. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Cole said. “We’ll figure it out when he wakes up.”

“If he wakes up,” she said. “What if he doesn’t?”

Tate sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the crime scene unit will turn up something here at the house. In the meantime, we need to get out of the way.” Officers were doing as promised and tearing up the place, bagging evidence, and would let them know if the notebook appeared.

Steph continued to frown, then shook her head. “I just can’t believe Stan would break into my house. And yours, Tate.”

“What? You think someone is framing him by leaving the clothes?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just would have thought I’d have recognized his voice or the way he walked or even just the shape of his body. Something .”

Tate honestly didn’t know what to think. He sighed. “You were scared. It’s possible it just didn’t register.”

“I guess that’s possible.” Her furrowed brow said she was still thinking about it. “But suppose someone else is involved and is throwing the blame on Stan. Where does that leave me? Am I safe? Or does the person still want to come after me? And why?”

Tate rubbed his chin. “Good questions. Whoever was in our houses wanted Brenda’s little pink notebook. And got it. If this was an attack on Stan and not a fall or an accident, then it’s possible the person knew Stan had the notebook, attacked him, and got what he was after, assuming officers don’t find it here.” He looked around. “And so far, they haven’t. I’m guessing Stan knew something and the person who attacked him—if it was an attack—wanted to shut him up. In that case, I’d think you’re in the clear and safe.”

“Right.”

“We’ll see what the lab says about the clothing. If they can pull some DNA off of it, then we’ll have something to work with.”

She nodded.

“I’m going to have a chat with Matt over there,” Cole said. “I need to tell him to be looking for the journal.” He nodded to Tate. “I’ll meet you at the car in just a few.”

Cole walked off, and Tate led Steph back to her vehicle. She swiped a tear from her cheek, and he laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

A sigh slipped from her. “I’m in shock right now. And I may have been betrayed by a person who I thought was not just my boss but my friend as well. I’ve had lunch with his wife, they’ve given me Christmas and birthday gifts, and so on. I’m just ... angry too.” She ran a hand over her hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that on you. I normally vent to my girlfriends, but they’re not here, so you’re the lucky recipient.”

“Hey, I’m here anytime you need to vent.” He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Steph, this may not be the best time to ask, but now that it looks like you’re in the clear, would it be all right if I came over after I’m done at the hospital?” He ducked his head but looked up at her. “I’d like to get to hang out with you without the threat of someone trying to kill you.”

She smiled at him. “I’d like that.”