Conviction of the Heart (25 page)

“And in the meantime? What? Everything goes to hell?”

Her words floated in a thick pool of silence. The two men brooded and didn’t look up from their cups. Her frustration with self-appointed domestic terrorist Greg Morgan bubbled up to the boiling point and just ran over.

“That’s it then? We just concede to the bad guys?”

Roy took a deep breath, then eyed her. “When is the last time you slept a full night?”

Where did that come from? “I don't need you to be my mother,” she snapped.

“Of course not, Suz,” Nick interceded. “But you do need to
be
a good mother. You’re really stressed out here. How can you take care of the girls if you're not taking care of yourself?”

“So you're ganging up on me?” Suzanne looked from one to the other, realizing she was being “handled.” The recognition annoyed the hell out of her. She was a big girl; she didn’t need them to tell her what to do.

“We're not ’ganging up’ on you, Suzanne. There’s a lot going on, and we need each member of the team to be at his or her best,” Roy said. “You and I both know the legal system has flaws. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we’ll have to be ready to investigate any possibility, however unexpected.”

Irritated, despite the knowledge their concern was sincere, she looked at her watch. It was late. She didn’t want to leave the girls alone too long. “Fine, I’ll go home.”

“Want me to walk you out?” Nick asked.

“No, I’m just right outside. Call me tomorrow?” To Roy she added, “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” He nodded.

She got into her car, watching them through the diner’s wide front window. The two of them began an intense conversation as soon as she turned the ignition key. There
was
something she wasn’t privy to. Nick must be “protecting” her again...

She growled and fought the tiny voices of exasperation which crept into her head by placing a Doobie Brother’s greatest hits CD in the slot and turning it up. “China Grove” started to play and she sang along, slightly off-key, as loud as she wanted.
Screw them both.
She had her own network of contacts. Someone would have the information she needed. She’d find a way to help Nick, even if she had to sneak behind his back, just to spite him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The holidays passed, and the children returned to school as if their lives hadn’t been turned upside down. While Suzanne was preparing red beans and rice for the family dinner one evening the first week of January, Hope brought her a plain white envelope with no return address, just a carefully-inked “Attorney Taylor” on the front.

“I almost forgot to give this to you. Some guy gave it to me in the parking lot at school. Said he was one of your clients, and he didn’t have time to get to your office today.”

“Really? Thanks, honey.” Hope headed upstairs to her homework, and Suzanne just studied the envelope.
Odd.
She couldn’t remember ever getting something via her kids before. And who would know she had a child at the high school?

She knew who.

Better see what’s inside.

She gingerly opened the envelope and drew out the dog-eared piece of notebook paper inside. At the top of the paper was a blotch of red, inartfully drawn to represent a bloodstain. The writing underneath was bold, black, and terrifying.

I’ve been busy, bitch, but I haven’t forgotten about you. I can get this close to your children. If you love them, you’d better leave my children alone!

The words echoed in her head like a chanting locomotive, speeding faster along its inevitable track.
Close to your children, close to your children, close to your children
.

Her heart racing, she set the paper and envelope on the counter, jerking her hand back like they had been a pair of cobras. Several people might have held these sentiments—Jack Wachowski, who’d confronted her on the courthouse steps, several others in various stages of family disintegration. No clue in the writing or the words who might have done this, but gut instinct gave her a prime suspect.
Gregory Morgan
.

The threat was beginning to sink in. She felt vulnerable. Despite her income, she hadn’t put the children in private school or taken any special precautions, wanting them to grow up as normal as possible. Even after what had happened to Riviera. If nothing else, this example demonstrated to her that she couldn't possibly protect them every day, everywhere. They were at risk. What if the man had handed her an envelope full of anthrax instead of paper? What if he’d had a knife instead of the envelope?

The progression of evil thoughts scared the hell out of her. She desperately needed a moment. She folded the letter and shoved it into her pocket, then turned off the stove and hurried down the hall to the office, closing and locking the door. She leaned against the door as if to keep out all the bad things in the world, half expecting a huge axe to come slicing through the door panels after her.

What should she do?

The police hadn’t taken the last incident seriously. In the end, they’d reduced the charge to harassment and cited Joshua. His dad had paid the fine, probably with a cocky smile. It wouldn’t serve much purpose to call them again, now, would it?

Besides, she couldn’t prove who’d sent this. This note was handwritten. The one she’d received outside the Benedum had been typed. No way to tell if they were from the same person. Or the emails Riviera had received from that “jonboy.” She’d never verified who those had come from. Maybe Joshua Morgan, now that she thought about it. Would there be a way to prove it? She didn’t know. Maybe it was time to involve the professionals after all. Maybe she could make them believe her.

She picked up the phone to call the police, but then hesitated before she dialed 911. She’d tried to get Nick distracted over the last weeks and hadn’t been able to do it. If anything would grab his attention, this would be it. He had practically begged her to let him go after the bad guys last go-round. Maybe this would help them both—and give her a way back into his heart.

She dialed Nick's number.

“Sansone.”

“Nick, I need your help. Please come over to the house. Please.”

“Suz? Are you all right? Is someone there?” Nick demanded.

She told him only about the note she’d received tonight. “I think Morgan’s back in the picture.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

His sudden click and absence gave her the impetus to wipe her face and collect herself. She checked on the girls. They were upstairs, each of them, chatting on their computers. She double-checked the doors, making sure they were locked. Morgan would have known the letter would strike inside her defenses. She envisioned him at his wide councilman’s desk, slashing the words onto the paper with that angry script.

She stopped abruptly in front of an open curtain. He could be there right now, watching her, waiting for her reaction, wanting to see how much he’d hurt her. Her heart thumping like a loose tire in her chest, Suzanne went from room to room, closing the curtains. Hope came out of her bedroom, stopping to study her mother with a peculiar look.

“Mom? What’s the matter?”

“I’d like you to stay away from the windows, would you?” Suzanne finished the upstairs curtains and hurried to the lower floor to do the same.

“Can I help?” Hope followed her, graceful arms reaching for the wide curtain across the picture window in the living room.

“Sure. Let’s get this done quickly.” They moved through the downstairs, closing curtains, and Suzanne confirmed the doors were locked again.

“Is someone out there, Mom?” Hope hung back from the window, as her mother had instructed, but her eyes were wide with fear. “Are the police coming?”

“I’ve handled it, I think.” Suzanne’s smile was shaky. Her fingers were, too. She moved into the foyer and crossed her arms tight.

“It’s that letter, isn’t it? Was it from that Morgan guy?”

“I don’t know, hon. I don’t know.” It sucked to feel helpless. She hated it more with each passing minute.

“Do you think he sent those emails that Riv got?”

Something in Hope’s demeanor set off a parental alert. What had Hope kept from her? “Is there something else I should know?”

“I’ve had a couple of scary emails too. I didn’t want to give you more to worry about. But I saved them. Come on.” With a defeated air, she led her mother upstairs to her room.

****

Some indefinable tremble in Suzanne’s tone struck at Nick’s heart. She didn’t get rattled often, but she was now. That warning note allowed him to shrug off his self-imposed exile long enough to find his weapon and an extra clip of ammunition. Tucking those inside his jacket, he jumped in his truck and gunned the motor, leaving a black stripe of rubber in his driveway in his haste to depart.

I’m coming, babe.

She hadn’t asked him for a thing until now. In fact, he had to fight to get her to admit even minor vulnerabilities. If she’d called him for help, that note must be worse than she’d let on. Which meant the danger was very real. As he drove, he whipped the police light onto his dashboard and plugged it into his cigarette lighter. People zipped out of his way as they spotted the red flashing in their rear-view mirrors. Belatedly, he remembered he was suspended, and probably not authorized to use any police power.
They can call my mama...

“Come on, come on, get out of the way!” he shouted as he swung wide to pass an elderly couple out in the family station wagon.

He made the usual twenty-minute trip in thirteen, anxious thoughts wondering what he’d find at her house. Had Morgan struck at them? If anyone hurt Hope and Riviera, he would personally choke that person’s heart out.

Nick squealed into the driveway, throwing rocks right and left under his tires as he barreled toward the house. He jammed on the brakes and grabbed his pistol, checking to make sure the extra clip was in his pocket. Making a 360-degree scan, he found nothing that didn’t belong. No other car here besides Suzanne’s sedan. His gun at the ready, he moved, cat-like, toward the house, watching behind him for an ambush.

At the front step, Nick surveyed the area once again and prayed that when he opened the door, he wouldn’t be greeted by a tragic scene. He took a deep breath and twisted the handle. It didn’t turn, so he knocked.

Several long seconds passed before the door opened, during which he imagined a dozen bloody scenes he could find inside. As the door swung inward, movement caught his eye; someone on the stairs. He registered that it was Riviera at just about the second she shouted, “Mom, Nick's here, with a gun!” Instinct spun him to face her. She eyed his gun with a frightened peep and ran back upstairs.

Nick pointed the weapon toward the ceiling, annoyed he’d scared the girl. “Suzanne!”

Suzanne stepped out, Hope half hidden behind her, both their faces pale and drawn. Their eyes, too, were on the gun.

“Is anyone here?” he asked.

“No. I checked and locked it up.” Suzanne’s hands were clenched into fists. Hope patted her shoulder. Nick found it odd that the child was doing the comforting, but he could see the emergency, if any, had passed. Nothing else looked amiss.

He tucked the gun back into his jacket, and all of them seemed a bit relieved. “Let me see the letter.”

Suzanne pulled an envelope from the pocket of her sweater. “Sorry about fingerprints. We all touched it.”

Nick shrugged. “It happens.” All the same, he held the paper as little as possible, just by the corners, while he read it. The heavy black letters and the red splotch alarmed him, just as they had Suzanne. He was no handwriting expert, but the person who’d created this was angry, at a minimum, and perhaps unhinged as well.

He folded it again and returned it to the envelope, stepping close enough to put an arm around Suzanne’s shoulders. A split second later, Hope slipped under his other arm, seeking comfort. He held both of them, feeling them tremble inside the safety of his embrace. No matter how disgraced he might be, they still counted on him.
That means so much…

“I think I scared Riviera,” he said, with a gesture toward the steps. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Hope said, and she gently detached herself. “Thanks for coming, Nick.” She ran lightly up the stairs after her sister.

“I don’t want them to be frightened,” Suzanne said. “It’s not fair. No one should take out what happens in a legal case on a lawyer’s family.”

“Some fear is healthy, Suzanne. If they aren't scared enough, they can be hurt. Or dead. That's not a better choice. It’s unfortunate, but the world isn’t made up of nice people. They need to be aware.”

She nodded. “You know I trust you with our lives.”

“Then we’ll do this by the book.” Nick took his cell phone and reported the threat to the police. It galled him to have to call in like an average citizen, but his name still carried enough clout to get the call noticed, since the dispatcher agreed to send someone immediately.

“The situation’s a little more complicated than you know,” Suzanne said.

He knew her well enough to guess what she meant. “Something you haven’t told me.”

She sighed. “A couple of somethings.” When his frustration came up to the level of his eyes, she took a step back, her hands spread in a gesture of surrender. “I know. I probably should have told you. But you’ve had so much to deal with, I wasn’t going to bother you with any of this. But it’s getting too close and too big for comfort.”

Torn between scolding her and holding her safe in his arms, he opted for neither. “Tell me.”

“Hope’s computer may be compromised.” She explained a little about the emails that both girls had received, all anonymous, but with the same threatening bent. Then she told him about the episode with Morgan’s son. By the time she was finished, she was in tears and he was livid.

“The guy is digging himself a hole. I swear to God I’m going to bury him in it!”