McCullen's Secret Son (The Heroes Of Horseshoe Creek Book 2) (18 page)

“Emma will help, I’m sure,” Sophie said. “If you both use your skills as investigative reporters, you’re bound to turn up something.”

“We can all help,” Abby said. “I only know about botany, but I’m good at following directions, so if you give me a job, I’ll do it.” A graduate student, Abby had almost completed her work toward a master’s degree in environmental science.

“Me, too,” Sophie said. A former government administrator in Madison, Wisconsin, Sophie had given up her job to move to Montrose and search for Lauren.

“Thanks, all of you.” Lauren hugged them each in turn. For all the terrible things that had happened to her in the past weeks and months, she’d gained these wonderful friends. They had rallied around her since she’d come to Montrose, and treated her like another sister. That was a blessing she was truly grateful for.

A knock sounded on the door. Sophie said, “That’s probably Rand. He said he was going to stop by and take me to lunch.”

Lauren answered the door. “Hello, Rand.” She smiled at the handsome, muscular man with short brown hair who stood on the landing, then looked past him to the darker, taller man behind him. “Hello, Marco.”

“How are you doing, Lauren?” Agent Marco Cruz asked as he followed his coworker into the apartment. His deep, soft voice made her heart beat a little faster. When had she turned into such a cliché, going all swoony over the handsome guy in uniform who’d just happened to save her life? Of course, pretty much any straight woman with a pulse got a little weak-kneed around Marco, who might have been the inspiration for the description “tall, dark and handsome.”

But Lauren was not any woman, she told herself. She wasn’t going to allow hormones to let her make a fool of herself over a guy who was probably used to women falling at his feet. She was grateful to him, of course, but she refused to be that cliché. “I’m holding my own. Come on in.”

She ushered the men into the house. Rand greeted Sophie with a kiss. Since the two had worked together to rescue Lauren, they’d been almost inseparable. “Are we interrupting something?” he asked, looking around the kitchen at the women.

“We were discussing Richard Prentice’s latest,” Sophie said. “Emma just left. She showed us an article in the
Post
—he’s managed to get Lauren fired.”

“The article doesn’t say anything about Prentice getting me fired,” Lauren said.

“No, but I’d bet my last dime that he paid your ex to say you were unstable,” Sophie said. “And he probably threatened to sue the station if they didn’t let you go.”

“Prentice must have a whole team of lawyers working full-time,” Rand said.

“We saw that he’s suing the Rangers, and his senator friend is agitating to disband the task force,” Abby said.

Rand shrugged. “Nothing new there.”

“Do you think he’ll succeed in breaking you up?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t think so. He’s just trying to distract attention away from his own troubles.”

“Emma told us the grand jury plans to hand down an indictment today,” Lauren said.

“That’s just the start,” Rand said. “Once the indictment is in place, the serious work of doing everything we can to bolster our case really gets started. Even with everything we have, convicting that man is going to take a lot of luck to go along with our hard work.”

“What do you think, Marco?” Lauren asked. The DEA agent didn’t talk much, but she’d learned he was smart and thoughtful.

“I think we’re going to have to get lucky if we want to succeed in bringing down Prentice,” he said. “We need to find his weaknesses and target them.”

“Does he have any weaknesses?” Sophie asked.

“Lauren was his weakness once,” Marco said.

She flushed. When he’d kidnapped her and held her hostage, Prentice said it was to stop her from interfering in his business. But instead of killing her, he’d tried to woo her and persuade her to marry him. “I don’t think he feels the same about me now,” she said.

“The opposite of love is hate,” Marco said. “I still think you matter to him, one way or another.”

“Oh, I’d say he definitely hates me now, and he’s playing hardball, getting me fired and making the public think I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Marco said. “Just stay smart and be careful. And call me if you need anything.”

She turned away, not wanting him to see how his assurance affected her. They’d only spent a few hours together, when he helped rescue her from Prentice, but she’d felt safer with him than she ever had with anyone, despite the fact that, to most people, he was pretty intimidating—hard muscles, hard eyes and an expression that said he was untouched by events around him.

Rand checked his watch. “I hate to break up this party, but we have to go. We’ve only got an hour for lunch, plus I left Lotte in the Cruiser.” Lotte was Rand’s police dog, a Belgian Malinois who had helped locate Lauren.

“Give her a biscuit and an ear scratch for me,” Lauren said. “And we all have to get back to work, me included. I’ve got a lawyer to call.”

“I won’t be long.” Sophie hugged her goodbye. “Maybe we’ll take in a movie later.”

The men left with Sophie, and Abby prepared to take her leave, also. “I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly has a thing for you,” she teased as she collected her purse and sunglasses from the kitchen counter.

“Marco?” Lauren’s face grew warm. “He was just being nice.”

“Marco is never ‘just nice,’” Abby said. “Not that he’s not a decent guy, but he’s very reserved. And a little scary.”

“Do you think so?” She’d never felt afraid with Marco.

“He was in Special Forces,” Abby said. “Those guys are all a little scary. But very sexy, too.” She nudged Lauren. “And I think he definitely likes you. You should ask him out.”

“I don’t need another rejection right now.”

“I don’t think he’d reject you,” Abby said.

“Even if you’re right, now’s not the time to start a new relationship. I really need to get my life together.”

“Maybe Marco would help.” At Lauren’s scowl, Abby held up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop matchmaking. But, you know—keep it in mind.”

The apartment felt emptier than ever when the women were gone. Lauren set about putting away coffee cups and wiping down the counter. After she spoke with Shawn, her lawyer friend, she should update her résumé. And maybe see about doing some freelancing. The local university might need someone in their television department.

She returned to her list and began making notes. Was there a way to get hold of Richard Prentice’s tax records? Maybe through some kind of public records request? That might be revealing...

Pounding on the door made her jump—not a friendly knock, but a heavy beating against the wood that made the wall shake. She grabbed up her phone, ready to hit the speed dial for 9-1-1. “Who is it?” she called in a shaky voice.

“I have a delivery for Lauren Starling.”

She tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. A burly man in a tracksuit stood on the landing. “You’re not with a delivery company,” she said. “Go away.”

“I have a package for you.” He held up a box about eight inches square.

“I don’t want it. Go away.”

“I’m going to leave it here on the landing. You need to open it.”

“Go away before I call the police.”

“Suit yourself.”

She watched as he set the box on the doormat and walked away. She waited a full five minutes, heart racing, mind whirling. Who was sending her a package? Was this some kind of joke, or a bomb?

Finally, reasoning there was only one way to learn the answer to her questions, she eased open the door and looked around. The area was deserted. Quickly, she picked up the package and took it inside, where she set it carefully on the table and stared at it.

No return address. No postage or metered label, either. She put her ear to it. No ticking. But would a bomb necessarily tick? She wished Rand and Lotte were still here. The dog could probably tell if the package contained explosives. She could call them, but Rand had enough on his mind right now without worrying about her. The local police might help—or they would just as easily dismiss her as that crazy woman who’d been on television. She couldn’t take any more humiliation. Better to handle this herself.

Feeling a little silly, she grabbed a knife and slit open the end of the box. Inside, she glimpsed red foil paper and white silk ribbon. Less afraid now, she worked the knife around until she could lift off the top. Inside the first box was a second, gift-wrapped package. Again, no label.

She carefully worked loose the ribbon on this box and opened the flaps. Inside was a single dried rose and a printed card. “In loving memory,” the card read, “of Lauren Montgomery Starling.”

Trembling, she turned the card over. Printed in pencil, in neat block letters, were the words, “Such a short life wasted. We’ll all miss you when you’re gone.”

Copyright © 2015 by Cynthia Myers

ISBN-13: 9781460388174

McCullen’s Secret Son

Copyright © 2015 by Rita B. Herron

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