Chapter 14

The twin assaults of hearing that Dennis Powers of OP Pharmaceuticals owned a house on Peabody Lake and that Geoff Abbott had been found dead in the same lake hit her in the chest with the force of a locomotive going at full speed.

She couldn't breathe, could barely think. It was all too much.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she tried to calm her racing heart. It took a long moment for reality to sink in. Dennis Powers was likely the person behind these attacks.

Was likely the one who wanted her dead.

Why hadn't she realized this was all about money? If her research study was a success, she could dramatically cut the need for diabetes medications. Especially the newer, more expensive drugs that had recently hit the market.

She sank into the closest chair as a wave of sick realization washed over her. The pharmaceutical companies didn't want her to cure diabetes. Or to even substantially decrease the number of patients who suffered from the disease.

Because that would take money out of their own pocket.

"Thanks, Roscoe," she heard Grayson say. "Let me know how that goes."

She pulled herself together with an effort. "How what goes?"

"Joe is sending Flynn and Cassidy out to talk to Dennis Powers," he said. "They have his Peabody home address and hope to catch him there. If not, they'll work with the Chicago PD to meet him at his primary residence there."

"He owns two houses?" She sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I always knew pharmaceutical companies brought in big bucks."

"Yes, exactly." He reached for her hands. "We have a good lead, Eve. Now that we know O and P is involved, I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this mess very soon."

"I hope so." She gripped his hands tightly. "It hurts to know this is all about greed, Grayson. As if having two homes and a ton of money isn't enough, they want to eliminate the ability to cure a devastating disease. How cold, cruel, and callous is that?"

"Very," he agreed.

"And why kill Andrew? That doesn't make sense."

"Maybe Andrew uncovered something about O and P that he didn't like. We know Bambi has an alibi, but it could be a hammer was used on Andrew to divert suspicion to someone else."

His logic made sense, even if she had trouble comprehending this level of greed. "I'm sure Dennis Powers will deny any and all accusations and that he'll have high-priced lawyers on hand to represent him." She was already thinking several steps ahead. "What if the police can't prove he's responsible? What if he just goes free?"

"Let's try not to imagine the worst-case scenario." He offered a reassuring smile. "Trust the process. We know more now than we did before. Criminals generally make a few mistakes. I'm confident we'll find and capitalize on them."

"I hope you're right about that." It wasn't that she didn't have faith, she did. But she feared money and power would win out over those with as much clout behind them. "I feel terrible about Geoff. I don't believe he would have willingly done anything to hurt me."

"I get the sense he was dragged into this somehow," Grayson agreed. After a long pause, he asked, "We need to consider your boss a suspect."

"Roger?" She wanted to protest, but after everything that had happened, she knew Grayson was right. "I'm not sure how it helps him to get rid of me. I don't think they can keep the five-million research grant if I'm dead."

"Maybe Dennis Powers is paying him far more than that. I'm sure O and P Pharmaceuticals is worth millions, maybe even billions dollars."

She shrugged, battling a wave of helplessness. They were talking about numbers so big she couldn't comprehend them. And who needed billions of dollars anyway? It was inconceivable that any one person should have that much. Not that she begrudged hard work and dedication for a financial reward, but to resort to violence to keep it was despicable.

That money should be put to better use rather than lining the pockets of the CEOs and owners.

"I want this horrible nightmare to end, Grayson." She suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted. "It seems as if we've been on the run forever, and I just want it to end."

"I know, and we'll get there." He stood and tugged her upright. Then he drew her into his arms. "I'm here for you, Eve."

"I know." She buried her face against his chest, grateful for his strength and never-ending support. She would never have survived all of this without him.

He smoothed a hand down her back as if comforting a child. Too bad her feelings for him were far different from that. She wanted him to kiss her the way he had before. As if he found her as attractive as the other women in his life.

Yeah, and maybe she'd make a billion dollars in her lifetime too. Not.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she clung to him, wishing she never had to let him go. But she also knew he wasn't interested, after the way his relationship with Monica had ended so badly.

"Eve?" He stroked his hand down her back again. "Are you okay? Please don't cry."

"I'm not." Her voice was muffled against his chest, and she hadn't been crying until he'd mentioned it. Now tears burned her eyelids. She sniffled and blinked them back with an effort, reluctantly lifting her head from his chest. "Sorry, didn't mean to fall apart on you like that."

"I'm not sorry." He tucked a damp strand of her hair behind her ear. "I care about you, Eve."

Their gazes clung for a long moment before he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. She could have avoided the kiss if she'd wanted to, but she met him halfway, telling herself this may be her last chance to kiss him like this.

He caught her close, deepening their embrace. Desire sizzled in her blood, making her head swim. Grayson could have any woman he wanted, but here in this brief moment he was hers.

She prayed the kiss would never end, but of course, his phone rang. He broke off the kiss, taking a moment to rest his forehead against hers as he struggled to breathe, before stepping back to pick the device up from the table.

"Yeah?" His voice was low and husky, and his rugged smile made her stomach flip. Then his expression hardened. "He must have been there recently, otherwise where was the ball-cap guy taking Abbott?"

They were talking about Dennis Powers. Her thrill over kissing Grayson faded fast. They didn't know for sure Dennis was guilty, but she already despised him.

Which wasn't fair, she knew. God would not want her to wallow in hate.

"Okay, fine. I don't like it, but I know you're doing your best." Grayson lowered his phone and raked a hand through his hair. "No sign of Powers at the Peabody Lake house. They think he's probably still on the road, though, heading back to Chicago, so they're going to try to catch up with him there."

"I hope they do." She tried to sound positive, even though it felt as if the odds were stacked against them. An awkward silence fell between them in the wake of their embrace. For a moment, Grayson looked as if he wanted to say something, but he glanced at the computer instead.

"I need to see if we can tie the rental car to O and P Pharmaceuticals." He dropped into the closest chair. "The more evidence we can get the better. Lining up the details can only help our case against them."

She nodded, moving toward the kitchen. "I'll start dinner." She wasn't the best cook on the planet, but she could follow a recipe. And this was a meal she'd made often enough that she didn't need one.

As she browned the ground beef, she thought again of Geoff Abbott. Had the man in the ball cap driving the boat been Nick Strong? Had both men taken their resentment against her to a new and drastic level? She could imagine Geoff wanting out of whatever Nick was planning, only to be killed as a result.

She shivered, thinking about how Geoff had died so soon after they'd followed him across the lake. Falling off the boat wearing a life jacket wasn't the same thing, but for several seconds, she'd feared she would drown too.

Looking through the window above the kitchen sink, she stared at the clear blue summer sky and prayed that God would continue to watch over her and Grayson.

And she made a silent promise to let Grayson know how much she loved him before their time together was over.

* * *

The work was tedious,but Grayson kept at it, going to each rental car company and asking about a gunmetal-gray SUV that may have been returned with a bullet hole. Each time he made the call, he had to wait for someone to get a manager. It was something he should have anticipated since the average desk clerk would not want to be the one to share something like that.

And may not even know about a damaged vehicle.

After each conversation, he left his name and phone number, requesting a call back if such a damaged vehicle was returned. At least none of the managers gave him a hard time about that. Seems as if being a party to a crime, even inadvertently, was enough to ensure cooperation.

He was on his fourth company when Roscoe called. He picked up the phone, praying for good news. "What's up, Roscoe?"

"We had the Chicago PD head to Powers's home; he's not there. We have his car registration and license plate number, but he hasn't gone through the Illinois state tollways yet."

Grayson had a bad feeling about this. "Does this guy own other properties? Either out of state or out of the country?" The thought of Powers disappearing for a while down in the Cayman Islands or some other tax-sheltered place made his blood boil. Yet Powers was also the sort who would not get his own hands dirty.

He'd hire people to do that for him.

Like the ball-cap guy and maybe even others. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but had a feeling that Nick Strong was the driver of the boat. And the one who'd pushed Geoff Abbott overboard.

Proof, he reminded himself. Speculation was useless. They needed proof.

"I have Melrose working on that now," Roscoe said, interrupting his thoughts. "But if this guy is smart, he'll have that information buried deep."

"I'm calling rental car companies but so far have not found the gunmetal SUV with a bullet hole. I saw a similar vehicle on the road behind us after leaving Peabody, but I lost it. Could be nothing or it may mean the shooter is still using the rental."

"It feels like we're spinning our wheels," Roscoe admitted. "I was hoping the BOLO for Nick Strong would yield results by now."

"Not if he's with Dennis Powers, flying who knows where." He wondered if the billionaire would take Strong with him or get rid of him, too, the way Strong had eliminated Abbott.

Which is all pure speculation, he reminded himself. He needed to stay on track.

"That's true," Roscoe agreed. "We don't have enough evidence for a search warrant for his financials, so there's no way to know if he's purchased a plane ticket out of Milwaukee or hired a private jet. What I can do is to head back to O'Dell's Pub to see if I can figure out if Geoff Abbott said anything to the bartender or other patrons there. Maybe he hinted at the trouble he's in."

"Good. Let me know how that goes." He wished he could join Roscoe in questioning the pub patrons, but he knew his place was here, keeping Eve safe. "I'll call if I find anything on the rental car."

"Understood. Later." Roscoe ended the call.

"Any update?" Eve asked, turning from the stove to look at him.

"Not really." He didn't want her to be depressed by the lack of progress; he was feeling lousy enough for the both of them. "Something smells good."

She smiled. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

He glanced at his watch, surprised it was past five thirty. Earlier than he usually ate dinner, but after the day they'd had, he was hungry enough not to complain. "Thanks. That sounds good."

"I found root beer in the fridge," she said. "It must have been left behind by whoever was here last. The ice cream was pretty melted, but we can make root beer floats."

He chuckled. "I haven't had one of those since I was a kid. But I thought soda has too many chemicals?"

"We'll make an exception." She turned back to the stove. "Finish up what you're doing and set the table."

"One last call." He wasn't sure how late some of these rental car managers would work. Nine to five? Ten to six? He didn't want to miss the opportunity. He dialed the number displayed on the computer screen and waited. The person who answered sounded harried.

He identified himself as an MPD officer. "I'm investigating a shooting that involved a gunmetal-gray SUV that we have reason to believe is a rental. Did you get a damaged vehicle returned recently matching that description? There would likely be a bullet hole in the vehicle's windshield."

"A bullet hole? No, we haven't had anything like that." There was a pause before the guy said, "Looks like we do have a gunmetal-gray SUV that was supposed to be returned today at noon but hasn't come in yet."

Grayson's pulse quickened. "Can you tell me who rented it?"

"I'm not supposed to give you that information without a warrant," the clerk said. "But if you give me your name and number, I'll call you if the vehicle is returned with damage that resembles a bullet hole. That's pretty serious, and we would always cooperate with an ongoing investigation."

The compromise was better than nothing. And he'd reach out to Rhy to get the warrant. "I appreciate that. Call as soon as you get it."

"I will. And you should know that if we don't hear from the person renting the car within twenty-four hours, our policy is to report the vehicle as stolen. In that case, we'd give you the renter's name, address, and other information."

"Great. Thanks for that." He ended the call, feeling certain he'd found the correct rental car company. He placed a call to Rhy about obtaining a warrant, and he promised to see if he could get one. With that task completed, he walked to the cupboard to get plates, cups, silverware, and napkins, convinced they were one step closer to finding out who shot at them.

"You found something?" Eve asked as she pulled garlic bread from the oven. It was store-bought but smelled delicious.

"Maybe. There's a gunmetal-gray SUV that was due back today at noon but hasn't been returned yet. Rhy's going to try to get a warrant for the name and address of the person who rented it."

She nodded as she brought a bowl of meat sauce and noodles to the table. "You think it's the one that was following us earlier."

"No way to say for sure, but the delay could be related to the fact that the job hasn't been completed." At her confused look, he added, "Let's say the shooter was paid to eliminate you. He hasn't done that, so he can't return the vehicle until he has."

"I guess that makes sense." She looked glum as she brought the garlic bread to the table. "I think the best thing we can do right now is to pray."

"I've been praying a lot over the past few hours," he admitted, reaching over to clasp her hand. "I didn't realize the power of prayer until recently. I always feel better afterward, as if God has calmed my fears."

Her smile lit up her face. "I feel the same way. There's a Bible passage from Isaiah that always calls to me, it helps reassure me when I need to feel Him the most." She hesitated, gauging his reaction. When he nodded for her to continue, she said, "‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness'" (Isaiah 41:10).

"That's beautiful," he murmured, touched by the words. He was humbled by how easily she was able to quote the Bible. "I can't say that I know a single Bible verse, but there is one that I heard about having no fear upon walking through the valley of the shadow of death. That's something that seems to happen while I'm on the job." He didn't want her to know how many tight spots he and his fellow officers had been in over the past two years.

"That's from Psalm twenty-three, another of my favorites." She reached over to touch his hand. "I don't know how you face danger every day, Grayson. It must take a special type of courage and dedication to do your job. I'll be keeping you in my prayers every day from now on. And now, we need to pray so we can eat." She bowed her head. "Dear Lord Jesus, we thank You for this food we are about to eat. We also thank You for keeping us safe in Your loving arms. Please grant us the strength and guidance we need to seek justice to those who would cause harm to innocent people. Amen."

"Amen." He reluctantly released her hand to pass her the noodles. "Ladies first."

"Thanks." It didn't take long for them to fill their plates with food. And he realized how important it was to thank God for their blessings. He had never gone hungry, but his work as a Milwaukee cop exposed him to those who had. He thought about how happy he was for Raelyn and her new fiancé, Pastor Isaiah Washington, especially after they had taken in a foster son who also knew what it was like to go hungry.

Was that something he could do one day? Maybe. If Eve was up for that.

Whoa, Eve? What was he thinking? They hadn't even discussed anything beyond the case. Two kisses did not equal a relationship. For a moment, he thought of Monica, then forced the image away.

Eve wasn't Monica. He probably should have realized Monica was a little unstable before asking her out. But Eve was also going through a difficult time. Anything that developed between them now, might fizzle and die once their respective lives got back to normal. From what he could tell, Eve didn't appear to love the idea of his being a cop.

"Did your officers ever find Larry Kimmel?" she asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

It was a good question. And one that reminded him to stay focused on the case, not on the prospect of seeing Eve again on a personal level once this was over. "No, Roscoe didn't mention anything about him. After they discovered Geoff Abbott's body, I think they stayed focused on Nick Strong."

"That makes sense." She nibbled on her garlic bread.

"Not really." He reached for his phone and sent Roscoe a text asking about Larry Kimmel. "The fact is that everyone is considered a suspect until they've been cleared. And that includes Kimmel."

"That must be a horrible way to live," she said with a frown. "Always thinking the worst of people."

"It's not always easy. But having preconceived notions about a person's guilt or innocence will derail an investigation." He finished his spaghetti with a sigh of appreciation. "Thanks, that was really good."

"You're welcome." She rose reaching for his empty plate. "Root beer floats coming up."

He chuckled at that, glancing at his phone when Roscoe responded to his message. Yes, spoke to L. K. He's clear. Not a suspect.

Ok, thanks.

Despite his recent lecture about keeping an open mind, he wasn't necessarily surprised that Kimmel was clean. His gut was telling him Nick Strong was the guy they were looking for.

And they needed to find him very soon.

The sound of a phone buzzing made him frown. Eve patted her pockets, then rose to cross over to the kitchen counter.

"Wait! Don't answer it!" He jumped to his feet.

It was too late. "Hello?" Her brow furrowed as she listened to the caller on the other end of the line. "Slow down, I can't figure out what you're saying." Another pause, then, "Okay, but what makes you think Geoff Abbott wants to hurt you? I can reassure you that Geoff isn't out there because, unfortunately, he's dead."

He did not like the sound of this. Two long strides had him crossing the room to join her. It was all he could do not to yank the phone from her fingers. "Let me talk to him."

She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure of that. Listen, I have police officer Grayson Clark right here. Talk to him, I promise he'll get officers over to your place right away. Here he is." She finally handed him the phone.

"Officer Clark speaking. Who is this?" he asked.

There was nothing but silence.

"Are you there?" he demanded. He turned toward Eve, but she was heading over to the door.

There was still nothing but silence on the other end of the line. A warning chill washed over him. "Eve? Don't go outside..."

She paused in the act of opening the door. Then a booted heel punched the door, pushing her backward and sending her stumbling against the wall. His phone jangled with notifications from the security system outside, but too late to do him any good.

A man came into the room, holding a small yet lethal gun. Not Nick Strong as he'd expected, but someone else. He frantically searched his memory, the name Dave Firestein finally clicking as Eve spoke.

"Dave, what are you doing? How did you find us here?" Eve pushed herself upright from the wall, gaping at the armed man.

"I need to finish this." His gaze was locked on Eve but then quickly turned to him. "Don't move, Clark. Reach for that gun and I'll shoot you too."

It was hard to believe a man who held a PhD and dedicated his life to research was comfortable handling a weapon, but there was no doubt in his mind that Firestein had used the gun before.

And would not hesitate to use it again.

"You don't want to do this," Grayson said, adopting a reasonable tone. He still had Eve's phone in his hand, and he lowered it to his side as he punched in the numbers for Roscoe's cell. "We already know Dennis Powers of O and P Pharmaceuticals is the one who hired you. They don't want Eve to succeed in her research, right? So they asked for your help to get rid of her. You scheduled the live-streaming presentation."

Firestein's gaze flickered between him and Eve, almost as if confirming that Grayson had gotten this much right.

"If you agree to cooperate with us in nailing Powers, I promise to work with the DA's office to make sure you don't get any jail time."

"Yeah, right," Firestein sneered.

"I'm not lying to you. My boss, Rhy Finnegan, has a brother-in-law and a cousin who both work in the DA's office. Rhy has a lot of clout there, enough to make sure you walk away from this unscathed." It was a rash promise that he couldn't necessarily deliver on but decided it would be better to ask forgiveness later. Right now, he needed to get that weapon out of Firestein's hands. "Please, put the gun down. It's over. We're going to nail Powers, so there's no point in doing this. No reason to kill an innocent woman."

"I don't want to," Firestein admitted. "But I agreed to do my part. I'm sorry, Eve. I need you to come with me."

"Okay." To his horror, she eased toward the door. "I'll go with you, Dave. Just you and me, okay? Leave Grayson out of this."

"No!" He couldn't believe she would leave with this guy. Firestein abruptly fired in his direction, sending him diving to the floor, rolling, and coming up with his own weapon in hand.

But they were already out the door.

He prayed as he sprang to his feet to rush after them.