Her Hero And Protector. Shawna Delacorte
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a side door from the yard to the garage. He could enter the house that way without anyone in front seeing him. But first, he wanted to make sure no one was watching from the street.
For an hour he had turned things over in his mind as he drove from his cabin to her house. Had he just been pulled into another bad situation by a beautiful woman who appeared vulnerable and seemed in need of his help? Was he being set up again, only this time with a longer prison sentence waiting on the horizon? But could he afford to pass up an opportunity to even things with Frank James, no matter what the risk? He wasn’t at all sure he was doing the right thing.
Had he ended up frightening Brandi more than instilling a sense of confidence? He touched his fingers to the scratches on the side of his face. Yes, indeed—she had fought to protect herself. Unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of her attack. After that, had he managed to assuage her fears?
Suddenly, a flicker of light caught his attention, snapping his mind away from his thoughts and back to the task at hand. The breath froze in his lungs. His senses went on full alert. A man was sitting in a car parked across the street from Brandi’s house, his cigarette lighter supplying just enough illumination to see the man’s face. There was no doubt in his mind—Detective Sergeant Frank James, recently promoted to the rank of lieutenant.
Years of anger and resentment twisted in his gut, turning his insides into a seething cauldron. It took all his conscious control to continue driving in a straight line at the same speed and not do anything to arouse suspicion. When he arrived at the corner he made a left turn so that he could come back through the alley behind Brandi’s house. As soon as he was out of the lieutenant’s line of sight, he pulled over to the curb and stopped.
His worst nightmare and his foremost obsession all rolled up into one. Frank James—the crooked cop who had lied on the witness stand. The man responsible for sending him to prison. Frank James and his cohort, an enticing and devious little sexpot named Cindy Thatcher. Cindy had played him for a fool from day one, and he had been so dazzled that he hadn’t seen it coming.
Reece had a turbulent ten-year history with Frank. It had started when Frank had arrested a murder suspect, insisting that the man was guilty beyond any doubt—almost as if it had been a personal matter for him. The suspect’s attorney had hired Reece to find evidence to verify his client’s alibi. Reece had been able to do it, and the man had been acquitted. Reece later found out that the man’s arrest had, indeed, been a personal matter on the part of Frank James.
After that, it had seemed that every time Reece had turned around, a case he was involved with ended up having something to do with Frank James. Twice Frank had attempted to get his private investigator’s license revoked on the flimsiest of excuses, and twice he had failed.
What in the world could Brandi be involved in that had put a piece of vindictive scum like Frank James on her trail?
He clenched his jaw in determination and tried to tamp down his bitter resentment. If she had somehow crossed this rogue cop, then it was as much his fight as it was hers. She was ill-equipped to handle a confrontation with Frank on her own. If nothing else, that settled the matter in his mind. Frank James was his prey—and nothing would stand in his way in bringing Frank down.
True, Brandi’s sketchy description of her abductor could fit any number of men, but Frank James was definitely one of them. A little flicker of satisfaction told him things were about to break wide open, that inner voice and instinct he had learned to trust over the years, especially during his time in prison. If only he had trusted that voice earlier, back when it had tried to tell him Cindy Thatcher was bad news.
Suddenly the world had come alive with a promise of a future. He had found a purpose, a way to focus his energy and revitalize his existence. And that purpose was to expose Frank James and bring down his network.
Reece drove down the alley behind Brandi’s house with his headlights turned off. He stopped two houses from her back fence, turned off the engine and sat for a few minutes going over everything in his mind. The reason he had given Brandi for her staying behind had been the truth—as far as it went. But he had another reason for not wanting her to go with him. He wanted to do more than just pick up the things on her list. He also wanted to look around inside her house, to get a better feel for who she was and see if he could find anything that might give him a clue to what was happening and why. But with Frank James sitting out in front, he needed to be careful.
Very careful.
Frank James epitomized obnoxious, unethical, dishonest and arrogant. He represented a slap in the face to all the law enforcement officers who worked hard to keep the public safe while placing their own lives in daily jeopardy. But there was one thing Frank James was not—he was not a fool.
Reece didn’t want to enter Brandi’s house while Frank was still parked in front. He made his way across her backyard and stationed himself in the bushes where he could see Frank’s car.
And then he waited.
Stakeouts weren’t new to him, but it had been a long time since he had experienced the excitement of being on a case. The adrenaline surge told him he was back where he belonged. Even the steady rainfall didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. And he had the added benefit of knowing it was more than just being on a case again. His one burning obsession, clearing his name while bringing down the man responsible for putting him in prison, had just taken on a new life. It had moved into the realm of reality.
Less than half an hour later Frank started his car and pulled away from the curb. Reece waited another fifteen minutes to make sure Frank wasn’t circling the neighborhood in an effort to make it appear that he had gone.
He pulled Brandi’s keys from his pocket and entered the garage from the side door. Once safely out of sight, he shrugged out of his rain jacket and shook off the water. He took off his boots and left them in the garage so he wouldn’t track mud inside her house. He pulled the flashlight from his pocket.
Using her sketch, he slowly made his way through the interior, room by room. Everything in the living room, dining room and kitchen seemed to be normal, or at least what he assumed to be normal. Everything was neat, clean and orderly. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. He looked around her bedroom and bathroom. Things there seemed to be in place, too. He collected the items she had on her list, placing them in a small suitcase from her closet.
Then he checked her office, a storage room, her darkroom and what would have been another bedroom that she was using as a studio. In sharp contrast to the rest of her house, it seemed obvious that someone had searched these rooms. While her picture files had not been vandalized, someone had definitely been looking for something specific. He had no way of knowing what they had been searching for or if anything was missing.
What could someone have been looking for? Or more accurately, what could Frank James be looking for? Why would pictures of weddings and portrait sittings be of interest to him? What could they have to do with the nightmare that had invaded her life? Even the photographs for the book she said she was working on, scenic pictures from around the state, didn’t seem to be anything that would pose a threat to anyone.
If Brandi had purposely hidden something in her picture files, then she would know what someone had been after and why she had become a target. But he believed her story. He believed she was very frightened and didn’t know why any of this was happening to her.
Two televisions, a VCR and a DVD player, a computer, camera equipment and darkroom equipment—items easily turned into cash—had not been disturbed. He returned to her bedroom and checked the jewelry box. Unless there was a particular piece of jewelry missing, everything appeared to be undisturbed.
So, the disarray in her office was not the work of a common burglar. Had whoever it was found what he had been looking for? It was a question he couldn’t answer. Would Brandi be able to?
Reece pulled a small digital camera from his pocket and thoroughly documented the condition of her work areas. Maybe the pictures would trigger something for her that could help them figure out what was going on. As an afterthought, he also took pictures of the other rooms in case there was something missing