Authors: Debra Webb
He tried to open the door but it was locked. He banged on the window. “Natalie! Are you all right?”
She turned and stared up at him. Her face was flushed red, abrasions already darkening on her skin. His heart rammed mercilessly against his sternum as she slowly hit the unlock button. He yanked the door open and crouched down to get a closer look at her.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded.
“I’m not sure.” She took a deep breath as if she’d only just remembered to breathe. “I don’t understand what happened. I was driving along and the air bag suddenly burst from the steering wheel.” She reached for the steering wheel and then drew back, uncertain what to do with her hands. “I don’t understand,” she repeated.
“I’m calling for help.” Clint made the call to 9-1-1 and then he called his friend, Lieutenant Chet Harper. Every instinct cautioned Clint that Natalie was wrong about not being able to trust herself.
There was someone else—someone very close to her—that she shouldn’t trust. He intended to keep her safe until he identified that threat.
Chapter Five
University of Alabama Hospital, 2nd
Avenue
1:15 p.m.
“Good news, Ms. Drummond.”
The ER doctor who looked ridiculously young to be a doctor and seriously disheveled as if he’d worked a twenty-four-hour shift shuffled into the room with Natalie’s chart. She was certainly ready for some good news. Her face and chest were sore from the impact of the damned air bag.
How on earth had this happened?
“You’re going to be sore and bruised, but no fractures. Your neuro screening was great. You’re a lucky lady.”
Natalie knew she should feel lucky, yet she didn’t. “Thank you, Doctor. Does that mean I can leave now?”
She had spent more than her fair share of time in hospitals and she had no desire to stay in this one another minute. She picked up her jacket and pulled it on, groaning in the process. He wasn’t kidding about her being sore. She felt as if she’d had a collision with...another car. Funny thing was, she had. Except the other car hadn’t been moving. She’d read briefs on legal cases related to air bags malfunctioning; she just hadn’t expected it to happen to her. Wasn’t that the way it always turned out?
“As soon as the nurse brings your release papers, you’re free to go.” The doctor flashed her a weary smile as he headed for the door. “Try to keep it between the lines.”
“Thank you. I’ll do my best.” When he’d gone, she blew out a big breath. How was she supposed to keep her car between the lines if the air bag got in her way? She was no mechanic but she understood the air bag deployment wasn’t supposed to happen. Events like this morning’s were the sort that resulted in lawsuits.
The car had been a gift to herself just a year before the fall. She’d only started driving again four months ago. The vehicle scarcely had ten thousand miles on it. She should call the manufacturer and see about any recalls.
A soft rap on the door drew her attention there as Clint entered the room. “The doctor tells me you’re ready to go.”
“Beyond ready,” she assured him.
He offered his hand. She felt somehow comforted by the small gesture as she placed her hand in his and climbed down from the examining table. Thankfully the nurse arrived with the necessary documents for her escape. As they exited the ER lobby she dug for her sunglasses, but remembered she had been wearing them when she crashed. They were likely still in her car, possibly broken.
“Do you know which towing company took my car?”
Clint opened the front passenger-side door of his car. “I had it towed to the lab.”
Natalie held her hand above her eyes to block the sun so she could see his face better. “What lab?”
“The BPD’s forensic lab, for testing. We need to understand what caused the air bag to deploy.”
A stone-cold certainty settled in the pit of her stomach. “You think someone tampered with it.”
“I do.”
“My God.” She dropped into the passenger seat for fear she’d fall if she remained standing. Could someone have really done such a thing? She had consoled herself with the idea that the intruder in her home was likely there to steal, but deep inside she feared it was more personal. Was it possible that Clint really believed her?
He was sliding behind the steering wheel before she realized he’d moved. “You really do think someone wants to harm me? That it’s not my imagination?”
“Isn’t that why you hired me?”
She stared into his dark eyes. She’d been so determined to prove she wasn’t losing her mind and that she really had shot someone she hadn’t stopped to consider what she truly believed about the intruder.
“I don’t know.” She pressed a hand over her mouth to hide the way her lips trembled. Of course she knew. She was not naive. Of course this was about hurting her—possibly killing her. Why would anyone want to harm her?
Those dark whispers she had tried so hard to close out just before she drifted off to sleep each night these past eight or so weeks nudged her now, echoing deep in her mind. She closed her eyes and let them come. Laughter, soft, feminine...then the raised voices—a man and a woman. She couldn’t understand the words or identify the voices. Was it a real memory? Something from before her fall? Something from childhood?
The blare of a car horn snapped her eyes open. Air filled her lungs in a rush before she realized she’d been holding her breath. Natalie blinked a couple of times to clear the fog. The doctors had explained that pieces of memory from different times often tried to blend, making any memories surfacing more confusing than anything else.
God knew she’d heard plenty of arguments. Clients argued. Colleagues argued. This felt more personal. She and Steven had argued. Maybe the voice was hers. She frowned. It could be a memory of one of their arguments. The laughter could be hers or April’s. The sounds reminded her of what she’d heard last night. So maybe the laughter was April from years ago when they’d both lived at home and April had sneaked more than one boyfriend into her bedroom. It was a miracle their parents never caught her. With her sister staying in her old room it was more than possible those old memories had been triggered.
Natalie had never had a boyfriend she liked enough to risk disappointing her father. Then again, perhaps that was why she was alone right now. She pushed away the idea. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to solve this mystery and it certainly wouldn’t help her recovery.
As Clint made the turn onto Southwood Road, Natalie said, “I should call for a rental car.” She had no idea how long her car would be at the lab and then there would be the repairs. Maybe she should just buy a new one. She shuddered at the idea that someone may have tampered with her car.
“You won’t need one for a while.”
She waited until he’d parked in front of her home to say, “I don’t intend to stay holed up in this house. I can’t...do that.” As big as her home was, the walls had begun to close in on her well before she had been able to return to work. As long as she had half a brain and the ability to walk she was not staying in the house 24/7 ever again.
When she reached for the door, he put his hand on her arm. “Wherever you go, I go, so I might as well drive.”
She wanted to argue but some self-preservation instinct prevented her from doing so.
“This is only temporary, Natalie. We’ll get to the bottom of the problem and then you’ll have your life back.”
The roar of an engine and the squealing of tires had them both turning to see who had charged into the driveway.
April
.
“I should have called her.” Natalie’s sister had a way of hearing the news before it was broadcast anywhere.
April emerged from her Mercedes in a huff and stormed across the cobblestone. “What happened? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I’m fine, April. Really.”
April glared at Clint. “You don’t have my number, Mr. Hayes?”
While Clint poured on the charm and added April to his contacts list, Natalie watched her sister. She pretended to be angry that no one had called her, but she was actually terrified. April’s slim body trembled and she hugged herself. Natalie bit back the emotions threatening. Her sister was so opposite from her. She’d bleached her dark hair blond when they were teenagers and she’d kept it that way. April had claimed it looked better with her blue eyes. They had the same blue eyes. Before she’d bleached her hair people had often asked if they were twins. Except Natalie had always been the frumpier one. A little heavier and a lot more conservative when it came to fashion. April had always needed to set herself apart.
“Why don’t we go inside?” Clint asked when April continued her tirade despite his efforts to calm her.
“Just tell me what it is you’re doing to help my sister,” April demanded.
“April,” Natalie warned.
“As soon as we have the forensic report back on the car we’ll know more.”
April stared at him in disbelief. “Forensic? What does that mean?”
Natalie reached for her sister but she held up a hand. “No,” April insisted, “I want to know what he’s talking about.”
“I believe,” Clint said, drawing her attention back to him, “someone tampered with the air bag.”
April swung her stunned glare to Natalie. “Is he serious?”
“Yes.” There was no point trying to keep the truth from her sister. “Our current working theory is that the intruder and the accident are connected.”
“There was no intruder!” April planted her hands on her hips. “You’re only hurting yourself going down this path, Natalie.” Her sister shook her head. “I’m calling David. He’ll know what to do.”
Natalie felt taken aback. “Is that a threat of some sort?” It felt exactly like a threat.
April appeared startled. “Of course it isn’t a threat. I’m... I’m just worried about you and I don’t trust him.” She arrowed a contemptuous look at Clint. “I know about you, Mr. Hayes. My sister may not be herself just now, but she’s no fool. She’ll see through you soon enough.”
With that profound statement April strode away.
Natalie turned to Clint. “What’s she talking about?”
“We should go inside.”
Numb, Natalie followed him.
If her life felt upside down before, it was totally ripped apart now.
* * *
C
LINT
SAT
ON
the sofa and waited for Natalie to begin her interrogation. She’d insisted on making tea after he’d done his walk-through of the house. The proverbial wait for the water to boil had felt like forever. Eleven years. He’d put this business behind him more than a decade ago. He’d made up his mind he didn’t care and he’d walked away. He’d applied to the police academy and moved on. All those years as a detective had driven home the point that stuff happened and sometimes good people got the short end of the stick.
Natalie returned her cup to its dainty little saucer. The delicate china with its pink rose pattern reminded him of her vulnerability. The cup would shatter if dropped despite its ability to withstand being fired at thousands of degrees. Natalie Drummond might be tough as nails but she had her breaking point and someone was pushing her further and further in that direction.
“What did April mean when she said she knew about you?”
There were some secrets a man couldn’t keep forever no matter how hard he tried. No matter how badly he didn’t want to look back. The only surprising part was that April had discovered his secret. There were only a handful of people who knew that part of his history. Farago, the bastard, had likely put in a call to the sister. One of these days he was going to get his. Clint hoped he was around to watch.
“It has something to do with why you chose not to pursue a career as an attorney,” Natalie suggested.
She’d asked him about that before and he’d done what he always did, he’d brushed her off. Making that leap now was the reasonable route to take. “It does.”
“Is it relevant to my case?”
“No.” Was she offering a way out of this discussion?
She nodded. “I see. Well.” Shoulders squared, she picked up her cup. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the matter.”
He wanted to be relieved but he understood this would not be the last time the issue came back to haunt him. “Why put off the inevitable? April feels the issue is relevant to my trustworthiness.”
Natalie lifted her chin. “But I don’t. Despite recent events, my sister is not my keeper.”
The seed of doubt had been planted. Clint was well aware how this worked. The subject might feel irrelevant at the moment but in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep it would nag at her.
“My father worked in a factory,” he began. “My mother operated a daycare in our house for the neighborhood children. Together they made enough to keep a roof over our heads and to fall above the income level for any sort of government aid. There was no money for college, much less law school.” He resisted the urge to stand and pace. “I was a smart kid. I didn’t get the kind of scholarships the athletes received, but it was enough to get me in the door. The rest, however, was up to me.”
“So you worked your way through school,” Natalie offered. “There’s no shame in hard work. College is expensive. Law school is even more costly.”
She couldn’t hide the automatic guilt she clearly felt for growing up rich when she heard stories like his. No matter, when she heard the rest that guilt would shift into outrage and disgust. What the hell?
“I worked as an
escort
.” He figured she would comprehend the full implications of the statement without him going into graphic detail.
She sipped her tea, cleared her throat and took a breath. “Do you mean—?”
“I mean exactly what you think I mean. The Alabama State Bar used its morals clause to preclude my admission to the bar based on my character and that was that.”
“You did this for...?”
If she blinked too hard the frozen expression on her face would no doubt shatter. Clint almost laughed. He was a damned good investigator. Whether he’d delivered pizza or pleasure during college should be of no consequence to the job he had to do now. “Five years.”
The duration of his early career startled her and the dainty cup almost slipped from her slim fingers. “I see.”
No. She didn’t see at all. There were other things he could tell her, like the fact that he earned more in his first year than the average attorney did in his first four. He’d had a high-end operation, not a street corner. His clients had been the rich and famous of Alabama. By the time he hit law school he had invested widely and wisely. He could retire now, if he chose, on the investments he’d made. None of that would matter. He saw the horror and disbelief in her eyes.
He stood, fury and frustration beating in his pulse, and buttoned his jacket. “You have my number. Let me know if you still require my services. If not, I’ll ask the boss to send someone else.”
“Sit down, Clint.”
Whatever hesitation she’d felt before, there was none in her blue eyes now. He, on the other hand, hesitated. He wasn’t apologizing for his past.
“Please,” she added.
He ripped the jacket button loose once more and sat. His boss, he still had to work at reminding himself not to call Jess chief, would be the first one to say he didn’t care for taking orders. He preferred giving them. That said, he wanted this new venture to work out for all concerned—including the lady staring at him right now. Whether she realized it or not, she needed him.