High School Reunion (7 page)

“I don’t know, but it sure looks like somebody’s trying to stop you from nosing around.”

“Oh! I need to check on my photos.” She turned and headed toward the back of the house.

Cade followed.

In the guest bedroom, she reached for the jacket she’d tossed across a chair and felt in the pockets. With a sigh of relief she pulled the pictures out. “They’re here.”

“I’ll put them in the evidence room.”

“So you
do
think I’m right about Wendell.”

He shrugged. “Whoever’s behind this is desperate. They’re risking lives to keep something quiet. These pictures could be the key. I’d feel better if they were locked up. Plus, it’d be nice if you weren’t attacked again before daybreak.”

She sent him a narrow gaze.

“Or ever, if I can help it,” he amended with a small smile. He took the pictures from her and slid them into a plastic bag from his pocket.

“Okay.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “Almost 4:00 a.m. I think we’ve had quite enough excitement for this weekend.”

“And this is just Friday. I’ve still got the reunion to get through.”

“Are you sure you want to stay? It’s obvious you’re a target. I’ve called Misty’s parents. They’re coming up from Florida this morning to take her home with them. You should consider going back to D.C.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going anywhere. I believe Wendell was murdered, and I’m not leaving here until I can prove how he died.”

He sighed. “Well, Special Agent Laurel Gillespie, you’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest. Get dressed. You’re going to have to come with me. You sure can’t stay here.”

She looked around at the mess. “I guess not.”

He picked up her jacket. “Here. Put this on.” He held it for her but she stopped.

“Oh, my God! I dropped my gun when I got maced. I tried to find it but my eyes were burning too much.”

“Where is it?”

“It should be somewhere in the foyer, but—”

“Okay. We’ll look.”

It didn’t take two minutes to realize that the weapon was nowhere to be found.

“Whoever attacked me must have picked it up.”

Cade swallowed that information.
Not good.
Not good at all. “Whoever’s doing this is armed.”

Chapter Four

Laurel quickly dressed and packed her small suitcase. “I let them get my weapon. What a rookie mistake,” she said to Cade.

“You were blinded by Mace.”

Cade’s words didn’t make Laurel feel any better. She shook her head. “First thing the FBI teaches you—hang on to your weapon no matter what.”

“You’re right. It’s not good that your attacker has your gun. Do you have a backup?”

She thought about the little Smith & Wesson in her suitcase and nodded. “I’ve got to report my weapon missing, though.” She didn’t want to think about what her boss, Mitch Decker, would say. He was kind and understanding—to a point. But he expected a lot of his agents—as much as he did of himself. Laurel hated to disappoint him.

Cade touched her arm. “Come on, we’ve got to find you a place to sleep.”

Laurel shook off his touch. “I need to go through that mess. If there’s anything left, I need to find it. The only reason someone would do this is if they were afraid of what Misty’s pictures might show.” She headed toward the d
ining room. “At least he didn’t have time to find what he was looking for, or he wouldn’t have bothered to set the fire.”

“You need to see a doctor about your eyes and then get some sleep.”

She ignored him. The dining room was a charred, sodden mess. Her stomach sank to her toes. “Poor Misty. He tried to burn every photo she had.”

She picked up a partially burned snapshot, then another and another.

“I’ll have Shelton box them up,” Cade said. “He and Fred can go through them tomorrow.” He took the snapshots from her hand and laid them back on the table.

She picked them up again. “I don’t want anyone to see these. I’d rather the attacker think they all burned up.”

“Okay then, I’ll get my dad to do it.”

She looked up. “Your dad? Oh, Cade, I never asked about him. Misty told me he’d had a stroke. Is he okay?”

“He’s doing fine. He has a little trouble with his speech, but there’s nothing wrong with his mind or his body.”

Her eyes were starting to burn again. She covered them with her palms. “I’m so glad he’s okay. It was wonderful of you to come back to stay with him. With James’s death and then the stroke, he must have been so glad to have you.” Misty had told her at the time that Cade had just finished his training at Quantico. He’d given up his FBI job to come home and help his father.

Cade nodded. “Yeah. Come on. You need to see a doctor.”

“I told you, this will be better after I get some sleep. If you want to do something for me, check Misty’s medicine cabinet. See if she has some saline eyewash and a bottle of witch hazel.”

He frowned. “Witch hazel?”

“Misty hasn’t changed a thing in
this house since her parents moved to Florida. I’d bet money her mother kept witch hazel in her bathroom cabinet.”

While Cade went to check the bathroom, Laurel closed her eyes and went over the timeline of her attack. But try her best, she couldn’t put herself into the mind of the perpetrator. This time she was the victim and that was all she could think about—how helpless she’d felt against the Mace and the blanket.

The attacker had slipped into the house while she was dealing with the car alarm. He must have dumped the photos and lit the fire in record time, because she couldn’t have been outside more than four or five minutes, and the fire was already raging when she came out of the bathroom.

“Here you go. You were right.”

Laurel opened her eyes to a tiny slit and saw the plastic bottle of witch hazel in Cade’s hand.

“Of course, who knows how old it is.”

“I don’t care,” she said.

“Let’s go. I just talked to Mr. Holder. He owns a bed-and-breakfast near my house.”

“What about Harriet?”

“The cat will be fine tonight. We’ll do something about her tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive my car.”

Cade took her by the shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the front door. “No, you won’t. Not with those eyes. We’ll get it tomorrow.”

She gave in. “Don’t forget the photos.”

“Not a chance.” His voice held a note of irony.

L
AUREL SLEPT
with cotton pads soaked in witch hazel on her eyes. She only got about three hours’ sleep but her eyes felt much better. She put on her makeup very carefully.

Then she paced. It was nine o’clock. Where was Cade?

She’d already talked to her boss Mitch about the loss of her weapon. He’d told her where to get the forms she needed to fill out.

Fuming, she looked around for a phone book. If Cade thought he was going to leave her sitting around nursing her eyes all day, he had another thing coming. She had too much to do. They had to question all the members of the Reunion Committee, go through Misty’s photos and Wendell’s case file and prepare for the party.

It was obvious she’d stirred up old secrets and fears. She felt sure that one of the people who’d overheard her phone call to Misty had attacked her. Someone with a big secret to hide.

Speaking of phone calls, she wasn’t waiting another minute for Cade. She retrieved her cell phone, dialed Information and got the chief of police’s cell number.

Just as she was about to press Call she heard a banging on the door.

Cade.

She threw the door open so hard it crashed against the wall. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “It’s late.”

His eyes flashed and his mouth turned up into the crooked grin that knocked her socks off every time. “I’m fine, thanks. How’re you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Good morning. We need to question all the members of the Reunion Committee.”

Cade sidestepped her and closed the door. “I stopped and talked to Mrs. Gardner.”

“Who?”

“The elderly lady across the street from Misty. She’s the one who called me yesterday to repor
t that someone was lurking.
You.
She told me people had been lurking around the street all day. So I wanted to find out what she knew.”

“And—?”

“
All day
turned out to be twice.”

“Twice?”

“Yeah. It fits. She saw movement around Misty’s house at six and then again around eight o’clock. But she couldn’t identify anyone. Apparently she doesn’t see so well. Speaking of eyes—”

His hand on her arm surprised her.

“Let me look at yours.”

“My eyes are fine. I told you—”

He placed his hands on either side of her head and examined her face and eyes. His warm palms cradled her cheeks protectively, and his blue gaze swept across the sensitive skin around her eyes like the ghost of a touch.

She’d already examined her face in the mirror, so she knew that although the swelling and redness were better, she looked as if she’d been on a crying jag.

“They still hurt.” His words were a statement, not a question. His gaze was soft, and it drifted down toward her mouth.

Laurel swallowed hard. She was getting way too into his gentle concern. She backed up and pushed his hands away. “I’m fine. I’ll wear sunglasses and tell people I have allergies.”

She started to put her cell phone into her purse, then thought of something. “Give me your cell phone number.”

“What? So you can call me at the crack of dawn?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up his hand. “That was a joke. Here.”

They exchanged numbers.

“Thanks,” Laurel said as she c
hecked her backup weapon and stuck it in the paddle holster that rested at the small of her back. “I don’t suppose you’ve set up interview times with the Reunion Committee?”

He propped an arm on the mantel and sent her an irritated glance. “Not yet. I figured we could go by my dad’s and check out the pictures he found.”

Her pulse jumped. “He found pictures already? In all that mess?”

“He gets up early.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open, then looked back at him, catching him staring at her bottom. He hadn’t moved from his slouch against the mantel.

“Well? Are you coming?”

He muttered something under his breath. Sh
e thought it was
not a chance.

C
ADE FOLLOWED
Laurel out to his pickup. She was determined—he had to give her that. Her eyes were still swollen and bloodshot, but she hadn’t complained at all. All her concentration and energy were aimed at finding out who had attacked her friend and her.

He opened the passenger-side door and stood back to let her climb in. Her skirt was knee-length and slim, and it rode up her thigh as she stepped up onto the running board of the pickup and into the cab. She glanced at him quickly, then smoothed her skirt, tugging on the hem.

He shut the door, a smile playing around his lips. Another fact about her—she dressed in what women used to call the
power suit.
He supposed it helped her feel and look more businesslike and competent, but she couldn’t bring herself to completely hide her femininity. If she really wanted to play up her competence and play down her
looks and sexuality, that skirt could be a lot looser and longer, and her shoes could have lower heels.

He went around and climbed into the truck and took off. It only took about three minutes to get to his dad’s house. Cade didn’t look forward to introducing Laurel to him. He couldn’t be sure what Dad would talk about. He might tell her about Cade’s experience with the FBI, or he might go off on a long discussion about James.

Cade was also a little afraid that she might have trouble understanding his father, and he did not want his dad embarrassed if she got impatient.

However, he needn’t have worried. She charmed his father, and seemed to be charmed by him. They bent over the photos together, leaving Cade craning his neck to see. He finally gave up and went into the kitchen and made coffee.

Then he called to set up interviews with Kathy Adler, Debra Evans, Mary Sue Nelson and Ralph Langston, sipping his coffee as he listened to their tirades about how busy they were.

When he brought coffee to his dad and Laurel, they were laughing about something. Cade felt a twinge of jealousy. He hadn’t seen his dad laugh since his stroke. More accurately, since James died.

Laurel grabbed the coffee cup as if it were a lifeline. She wrapped both hands around it and took a long swallow. It seemed to transform her.

“Ah, that’s good.” She smiled at him. “Unfortunately, I’m addicted.”

Cade nodded. “We’d better get going. We’ve got our first interview in—” he checked his watch “—ten minutes.”

“Really? Great!”

Cade took the box of photos from his dad a
nd stuck it under his arm. “I’ll run these by the station and lock them in the evidence room on our way.”

“Good. Now I won’t have to worry about them any more.” She took another hefty swallow of coffee. “Mr. Dupree, I have to know what kind of coffee this is.”

To his surprise, his dad took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. “It’s a blend. I mix a pound of medium-roast Arabica with a quarter pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain. Then I put in a few tablespoon of hazelnut flavor blend.”

“Wonderful. I’ll try that. The touch of hazelnut is inspired.” After reluctantly setting the cup down, she turned and held out her hand to his dad. “Thank you so much. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Glad to help. The bigges’ mystery I solve these days is where my golf ball rolls. Come back to see me.”

Laurel leaned over and kissed his dad on the cheek. “I will, and I’ll be on the lookout for dark chocolate-covered cherries.”

His dad’s eyes lit up. “Tha’d be great.”

As she passed Cade going out the front door, he murmured, “Dark chocolate cherries?”

She sent him a smile over her shoulder. “His favorite. But you know that.”

A twinge of sadness hit his chest. He rubbed it. “
His
favorite? I thought he bought them for—” He bit off the rest of the sentence.
For James.
Just like everything else.