Next To Die Page 4

  Hannah Lindstrom tapped her pen on the legal pad. “We don’t issue personal bodyguards,” she said, answering Lia’s earlier question. “If a witness in a major case is being intimidated, we’ll ask the U.S. Marshal’s service to protect them. That’s not exactly the situation here.”

  Lia blushed, feeling chastised.

  “If you feel threatened, you can call your local phone company and give them permission to identify your caller,” the woman suggested. “The police handle misdemeanors like harassment.” She pulled a business card from the holder on the desk. “Here’s my card. If you come across anything else related to the ricin, be sure to let me know.”

  “I will,” said Lia, dropping the card into her purse. She realized, with a cinching in her chest, that the FBI wasn’t going to rush out and arrest Eric tonight. “So, what now?” she asked.

  “I’ll take a look at the earlier investigation and give you a call. I have your contact information,” she added, referring to the sheet that Lia’d filled out in the waiting room. “I assume you’re going to stay with your sister for a while?”

  “Yes,” Lia acknowledged with a grimace. As much as she’d like to be back in her own apartment, she couldn’t afford to return, anyway.

  A vulnerable feeling accompanied Lia out of the building and into her car. She eased away from the FBI compound with her returned pepper spray, only to find herself stuck in the heavy traffic pouring out of the Norfolk Naval Operations Base.

  “What is it with sailors getting off at three in the afternoon?” she groused, wanting desperately to get back to Penny’s in Virginia Beach.

  She hadn’t felt safe being in possession of the journal. Now that the FBI was holding it, she strangely felt less safe.

  It was a bleak and overcast October day. It wasn’t particularly cold, yet Lia shivered and cranked up the heat in her Oldsmobile. Keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, she scanned the drivers behind her.

  Would she even recognize Eric after all these years? She’d met him only a couple of times when he and his wife came to their house for her father’s Christmas dinner. She’d freak out if she saw him behind her now. But what could he do to her, run her off the road and drag her out of the car? She’d blast him with her pepper spray if he did that.

  She’d owned the can of pepper spray for three years now and never used it. Oh, crap, that stuff didn’t go bad, did it?

  As she grubbed in her purse, the traffic inched forward. Leery of being cut off by a lane switcher, Lia accelerated abruptly, only to brake again. With one hand in her purse, she sifted through the sea of makeup.

  Mascara, lipstick, lip gloss, eyeliner. Aha, pepper spray.

  She withdrew the can and turned it over. Where was the expiration date on this thing?

  Bam!

  With an exclamation of horror, Lia looked up to realize that she’d plowed into the back of the Honda Civic she’d been tailing. She dropped the pepper spray and clutched the steering wheel in consternation. Oh, my God, not another accident!

  The driver’s door on the smaller car opened slowly. Out stepped a scowling young man in battle dress uniform. Lia had to blink because for a second there she thought she was seeing Al Pacino, the way he looked in Scarface. And oh, my God, he was coming toward her car to talk to her. What if he got violent? She groped for the pepper spray she’d just dropped.

  “What did you think was gonna happen with you tailgating me like that?” he demanded.

  She cracked the window just enough to say, “I barely tapped you.”

  “Tapped me?” His eyebrows shot up. He gestured at the back of his car. “Obviously, you haven’t seen the damage, any more than you were looking where you were going.”

  “I was looking!” she retorted with heat.

  “Bullshit. You were too busy looking at yourself in the mirror and reaching for your cell phone.”

  “I don’t even own a cell phone, asshole.” If he wasn’t going to be civil, then neither was she. “I was reaching for this!” She held the pepper spray up to the crack in the window.

  “Whoa.” He stepped back, throwing his hands up. “Put that away. Are you crazy?”

  “Yes, I’m crazy. Now get back in your car and drive. The traffic’s starting to move.”

  He eyed the damage done to the back of his car, then looked at her larger car in disgust—it was probably totally unharmed. “Hell, no,” he said. He went back to his car and came out with a cell phone. With a challenging look, he punched three numbers and held it to his ear.

  He was calling the cops. “Stop!” Lia unlocked her door and struggled to get out, breaking a fingernail. “Ouch! Damn it! Stop,” she pleaded. “You don’t need to do that!”

  His brown eyes seemed to take a snapshot of her body as she rose from the car. In the next instant, he was slipping the phone into his camouflage trousers. “Oh, so you have insurance?” he asked her, on a far more reasonable note.

  “Er, not exactly.” She’d tried to pay her car insurance two months ago, but it was just too much money.

  His mouth curled with renewed contempt.

  “But I’ll pay you whatever you need to get your fender fixed.”

  He stepped back. “Stop waving that thing in the air.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I think it’s expired anyway.” She lowered the pepper spray. “Listen, I’ll write you a check. Just give me a ballpark figure.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked her on a note so incredulous that she took closer stock of him.

  Maybe he was a boy genius in uniform, but not likely. “No,” she said carefully. He looked about eighteen years old, but his uniform made him appear important. His black hair was cut so short that the blustery wind had no effect on it, unlike her own locks, which were blowing into her eyes.

  “Look, let’s start again,” she proposed. “I’m sorry I tapped your car, okay? I’m a little distracted this morning. Do you want me to pay for the damage or not?”

  “Oh, you’ll pay,” he said, in a way that had her snatching her hair out of her eyes. “But I’m not taking a check.”

  Perplexed, she tipped her head back to glare at him. He was amazingly good-looking, with chocolate-colored eyes and lush, lush lashes. “Well, a check’s all I’ve got,” she countered, ignoring the sudden tug of sexual attraction. “It’s not like I carry a bunch of cash with me.”

  “Come on,” he chided. “I can tell with one glance at your car that your check would be useless.”

  She gasped, outraged by his assumption.

  “And if my instincts are right, you’ve got some unpaid speeding tickets.”

  “Listen, young man,” she snapped, before he issued any more accurate statements, “I don’t have to take this kind of slander from you. Why don’t you get in your car and drive home to mommy?”

  He quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head, like, You did not just say that. “Tell you what,” he said, with a hint of humor lacing his Philadelphia accent. “How ’bout you take me out to dinner and we’ll call it even.”

  “Are you crazy?” she cried, amazed by his presumption.

  “Then you’d prefer I press charges,” he said with a shrug. He made to retrieve his cell phone.

  “Wait!” Her heart was thumping and her thoughts were still muddled, but she could think clearly enough to realize that there was yet a way out of this predicament. “You’re going to forget about this accident if I take you out to dinner?” she clarified, giving herself time to plot.

  “I’m partial to seafood,” he added with a gleam in his eyes. She suspected he was laughing at her, only he didn’t so much as crack a smile.

  “How do I know that you’re not psycho or something?”

  He shrugged again. “You don’t.”

  “Oh, great. That’s reassuring. What are you, like eighteen years old? Do you have a thing for older women?”

  “Age isn’t the only mark of maturity,” he said, utterly unperturbed.

  “Right.” She glanced back at her
car, gauging her ability to jump inside it and take off.

  “I’ve memorized your license plate number,” he added, as if reading her thoughts. “I will call the police.”

  Lia envisioned Penny’s reaction to the police showing up at her doorstep.

  “Meet me for dinner tonight at Peabody’s at seven,” he persisted.

  Yeah, right. Like she’d really go out with a kid like him, even if Peabody’s was the hottest spot in town. “Okay,” she lied. “I’ll be there.”

  The traffic had begun to flow around them. Someone blew the horn. They were getting dirty looks.

  “Give me that necklace you’re wearing.”

  “What?” From the necklace dangled a cameo pendant that once belonged to her grandmother.

  “If you want it back, you’ll show up tonight.”

  “I am not giving you my necklace,” she snapped indignantly. “Here, you can have my ring.” She twisted the opal ring off her right ring finger. It’d been a gift from her last boyfriend, the jackass. She’d never miss it.

  He accepted the offering with a suspicious frown.

  “Now leave me alone. I’ll see you soon enough,” she added, raking the faces of the drivers passing them, wondering if Eric was having a good laugh.

  “You owe me dinner,” the soldier reminded, following her to her car. “Don’t break your word.” He shut her door for her. “Seat belt,” he added, tapping on the glass.

  With a growl of annoyance, Lia whipped the seat belt across her chest and snapped it into place. She looked up to see Soldier Boy slipping fluidly into his car. He skewered her with a look in his rearview mirror, and then he took off, his motor roaring loudly.

  “Annoying brat,” Lia muttered, her own car lurching into drive. She was shaken by the incident, but it served at least to take her mind off greater worries, like whether Eric knew she had gone to the FBI and whether he was plotting his reprisal.

  At seven-thirty in the morning, Penny stepped out of her house in her uniform, relieved that it was Friday. She paused on her front stoop to savor the crisp air drawn in by last night’s rain. The sun edging over the house across the street had turned the sky a buttery yellow. She would have preferred to watch it rise over the Atlantic Ocean, but duty called and she had to go. At least she would have the weekend off for working overtime.

  The thud of a closing door drew her gaze to Joe Montgomery’s house. She watched him limp toward his Jeep. He wore his dress blues, complete with golden tassels and brass buttons that fairly gleamed, topped off by a smart combination cap. She wondered what function he was headed to, dressed like that.

  As if sensing her perusal, his head turned and his stride faltered. Despite the shadow cast by the brim of his cap, she could see lines of pain etched on either side of his mouth.

  “Good morning,” she called across the lawn. Had he slept at all since his return? He’d left the lights on every night.

  “Morning,” he growled back. Averting his gaze, he continued doggedly toward his Jeep.

  She watched with concern as he shut himself inside and backed the vehicle slowly out of his driveway.

  He used to drive like a bat out of hell.

  With a shake of her head, Penny told herself not to fret over him. There were plenty of patients at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center who welcomed her attention.

  Joe wanted to die. The pain in his chest took up so much room, there wasn’t space for oxygen. His eyes burned. His knees quaked as he stood in formation with the other SEALs in attendance at Smiley’s funeral.

  Arlington National Cemetery was a palette of autumn hues. Pots of colorful mums flanked the myriad headstones. Vermillion maples and golden oaks fortified the perimeter of the graveyard. Was Nature mocking him? How could she seem so vibrant in the presence of death?

  The air was saturated with the scent of lilies. In the midst of dripping blossoms lay Smiley’s coffin, draped with the stars and stripes of the American flag.

  The bugler lifted the horn to his lips to emit the purest notes Joe had ever heard. They cut straight through his heart.

  Day is done. Gone the sun. From the lakes. From the hills. From the sky. All is well. Safely rest. God is nigh.

  Boom. The first volley of the seven M14s cracked into the silence. Joe locked his knees to keep them from buckling. In his mind’s eye, Nikko passed out, dragging Curry down with him.

  Boom. Mortar rounds punched into the earth and made the mountain tremble.

  Boom. The fireball within the helo mushroomed outward, thrusting Joe away on a wave of incinerating heat.

  He swayed. The men standing at attention on either side of him shifted closer. “Sir?” one of them inquired beneath his breath.

  “I’m fine,” rasped Joe, but he wasn’t.

  If the men around him knew he’d been Smiley’s OIC, they were circumspect enough not to mention it. If they didn’t know, they would never guess. Middle-aged officers didn’t take the place of savvy, experienced chiefs. It was unheard-of, a put-down to the enlisted man’s integrity.

  So why had he done it?

  Beyond Smiley’s mourning family, there stood the press, momentarily subdued, oblivious to the fact that he was the sole survivor of that hideous disaster.

  God, keep it that way.

  I have to get through this, Joe told himself, digging deep for composure. It was nearly over. The funeral detail stepped forward to fold the flag in a shape reminiscent of the tricorn hats of the Revolutionary War. Admiral Johansen presented it to Smiley’s mother, who cradled it in her arms like a baby, the way she’d once cradled her son.

  Joe squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t watch.

  The honor guard withdrew. It was the SEALs’ cue to merge and form a line. Joe fumbled to remove his trident pin. His fingers were still swollen, tender. He couldn’t see through his tear-blurred eyes. He trailed the man in front of him. And then it was his turn to hammer his pin into the lid of the coffin.

  Boom. Half-blinded by tears, he somehow managed to align his pin with the others. His teammates went to shake hands with family members. Joe broke rank and limped toward his car.

  Once inside his vehicle, he clung to the steering wheel and let his chest heave. The salt of his tears stung the wound on his cheek.

  Help me, God. The pain in his heart was getting worse, not better.

  Twenty minutes later, Joe drew his first full breath.

  With a sharp sniff, he lifted his gaze at the coffin, awaiting burial at the height of the hill. Smiley’s family still hovered around it, loath to leave their beloved Richard.

  I’m so sorry, thought Joe, looking up at them. If my arrogance and ambition got him killed, please forgive me. ’Cause I can’t forgive myself.

  Twenty-eight trident pins winked in the sunlight.

  Commander Montgomery was finally back. Penny rolled over as the headlights of his Jeep strafed her ceiling. He cut his engine and slammed his door shut. Now I can sleep, she thought, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

  But then strange noises seeped through the window she’d cracked to counteract the higher thermostat setting Ophelia preferred. Thuds and shouts snatched her from her sleep. She slitted an eye and realized that, in contrast to the previous nights, her neighbor was keeping the lights off. What on earth was going on with him?

  It was out of character for the SEAL to make any noise. Certainly he’d thrown a couple of parties that got loud, dragging on until three in the morning. But the commander by himself was so stealthy that Penny never noticed his comings and goings.

  Until tonight. Something was terribly wrong. Penny had dealt with wounded soldiers too long not to sense it. And she couldn’t sleep because of it.

  Another thud reached her ears, followed by a sound like a roar.

  That’s it. Throwing back the covers, she rolled out of bed. What if he was hurt and shouting for help? Her professional role would not let her turn a blind eye.

  She snatched up her bathrobe, wriggled her feet into slippers
, and left her room.

  A peek into the guest room showed that Lia was sleeping soundly. Penny went downstairs, fetched her house keys, and locked her sister inside.

  The keys jingled in her pocket as she crossed the lawn toward his dark house. An early frost crunched beneath her slippers. Her breath came out in a snowy vapor. She arrived at Joe’s door, chilly in her night attire, and knocked.

  What am I doing here? Penny wondered, hearing nothing but silence coming from inside her neighbor’s house.

  She reassured herself that she had every right to be concerned. If he rebuffed her, she would at least tell him to tone it down.

  She raised a hand and knocked again.

  Nothing. Perhaps he’d finally gone to sleep.

  Lovely. She could go back to her own bed. But as she turned to go, the sound of shattering glass wrested her attention. A lurid curse followed.

  Not only was her neighbor still awake, but he sounded like he’d just hurt himself. Penny swiveled toward the door and knocked more loudly, calling, “Commander? Are you okay?”

  She put her ear to the door and overheard a loud thud followed by a moan. She reached for the doorknob and found it locked.

  Okay, she had a choice: help herself to the key that she’d seen Barbara, the cat-sitter, use, or walk away.

  She started to leave. Three steps from the door, she sighed and doubled back. Retrieving the key from under the third flowerpot, she let herself in.

  “Commander?” she called with a shiver of uncertainty. “It’s your next-door neighbor, sir. I’m coming in.”

  Chapter Four

  Penny slipped inside Lieutenant Commander Montgomery’s front door and shut it quietly behind her. Not only was the foyer dark as pitch, but his house was bigger than hers, the layout unfamiliar. She pocketed his key alongside her own and waded into shadow.

  A light, shining from deep within the recesses of the home, was her only beacon. As she felt her way past a flight of stairs, something silky rubbed against her calf, emitting a yowl. “Felix!” she breathed, her heart hammering.

  The hardwood under her slippers transitioned into steps that descended to a sunken family room, a space scantily illumined by the light, which she now saw was coming from the kitchen. Across the distance, she spied broken bits of glass glinting on the countertops amid a spattering of blood. The potent scent of whiskey reached her nostrils. “Commander?” she called in consternation.