Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (102 page)

"Brandt?"

"Sorry honey, I'm here." Shaking his
head, Brandt returned to the conversation and filled Sam in on why
the room felt familiar. After giving her an update on the colonel's
condition, Brandt headed to the station. Unfortunately, the
incident was likely to be classed as an unfortunate accident until
the colonel woke up. Without more information, Brandt had no reason
to ask Kevin to open an investigation. A list of who had been at
the center during that period was mandatory. Maisy was compiling
hers and Nancy should have a partial list of visitors, repairmen,
and staff.

Once back at the station, Brandt
grabbed a mug, poured coffee and headed to the privacy of his
office.

"Hey Brandt. Did you ever find out
who gave that information to the station?" Adam called out from the
common room.

Brandt didn't even turn around. "No,
not yet."

He had one hand on his office
doorknob before realizing it was already open. Frowning, he pushed
the door open and stepped inside. The room looked the same. Brandt
hated the suspicion coursing through him. He spun around to his
desk. Where was his file on Samantha? It wasn't there. Right, he'd
started locking it up in his desk. Pulling out his key ring, Brandt
unlocked the drawer on the left.

There was the file as he'd left it.
Opening it, he found the information on Sam lying on the top page
and frowned. Had he left it there? Normally, he had those papers
buried in the middle of the file. Uneasily, he replaced the
material, taking care as to how he sequenced the information in the
file.

Relocking the drawer, he searched
around the office for anything out of place. It appeared to be the
same. It didn't feel that way. His chair. He frowned. He'd rushed
out of the office and couldn't remember how he'd left it. He didn't
think he'd have pushed it in that far.

His monitor flashed for his login
information. Brandt hesitated. His keyboard sat off center and
further to the front than he normally had it. His hands didn't
automatically rest on the keys properly.

Suspicion nudged the back of his
mind. He had no way to know if someone had snooped through his
office. His work wasn't exactly a secret. Logging on to his
computer, Brandt quickly checked his files. Everything seemed
normal. The knots in his spine eased, he rolled his shoulders,
pushed his sleeves up, and started in on his emails. Communication
was the mainstay of his network these days. However, he didn't
share everything and made good use of security passwords to keep
some information private.

He'd planned on putting in a couple
of hours then heading to the hospital to pick up his mom. He opened
a file where he typed in his notes from Samantha's call and the
colonel incident. He saved the material with a different code. He
admitted to a heightened sense of paranoia, but still...

Chapter 18

8:20
am, June 21
^st

"Hey
Brandt, there's someone here to
see you." Adam stood at the open door of his office the next
day.

Brandt raised one eyebrow. He wasn't
expecting anyone. "Who is it?"

Adam shrugged. "Deputy Brooker for
Nikola County."

"What the hell?" Brandt's stomach
twisted. He lurched partway out of his chair

Adam grinned. "You don't look so
happy."

"Very odd," he murmured to himself.
"No, I'm happy," he corrected Adam. "I'd like to talk with the
little piss ass."

"Oh, there's nothing little about
this guy."

Brandt, in the process of clearing
off the top of his desk and locking up sensitive files, scowled.
"Big? How big?"

Adam snorted. "This guy makes me look
like an infant."

"Scary."

Adam nodded. "If I had to describe
him, I'd say he was one hell of an arrogant SOB, far too used to
getting his own way."

Shit. So, Sam was probably right
about him. Well then, time to go see why he'd come and what he knew
about Sam.

"Thanks, Adam. Anyone in the
conference room?"

"I don't think so. Is that where you
want to talk to him?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure yet, but this guy
quite possibly needs to be behind bars himself. Don't want to
extend too much courtesy, just in case."

"Sounds good. I'm heading down there
now. Why don't I deliver him to conference room one for
you?"

"Good. That saves me a trip and gives
me a little more distinction. I could use that in this
case."

"What kind of trouble is he?" Adam
walked out of the office with Brandt.

"I think he's been a lot of trouble
for a young girl."

"Then no special treatment for him.
We don't need more of his kind."

"According to my information, he's
also into corrupting law enforcement and running drugs."

He shared a look with Adam. They both
knew other assholes just like this one.

"I need to make a quick call, then
I'll be down."

Adam left and Brandt called his
mom.

His call went to voicemail. Last
night, Maisy had convinced the hospital staff to bring a cot into
the colonel's room so she could stay with him. Brandt's protests
had been shot down immediately. Chances were she was still there,
but he'd feel better if he'd reached her. A second call to the
hospital confirmed that his mom had spent the night and that the
colonel hadn't woken up. As luck would have it, his mom was at the
desk speaking with the nurse too. He spoke with her briefly,
confirming that she'd gotten some sleep. She sounded more chipper
this morning.

Brandt then headed to the conference
room, quickly scratching down a few notes and questions he wanted
to ask as he walked. Entering the room, he found a huge man with
beefy shoulders – not a beer belly, rather a beer barrel that
completely covered the belt holding up his pants. Dressed in
uniform, the deputy's beady eyes held a voracious gleam that belied
the smile on his face.

"Detective Sutherland?" At Brandt's
nod, the older man stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Thank
you for taking the time to see me. I appreciate it."

Brandt shook the man's hand. Then
motioned to a seat opposite his. He sat down, sliding his hand
along his pants to wipe it clean before opening the conversation.
"I'm surprised. Did you just happen to be in this
region?"

"Nope. I came specific. This case,
Samantha Blair, is way too important to leave to
chance."

"Oh, you didn't mention that there
was a case when we talked on the phone?"

Deputy Brooker shifted his bulk into
the big boardroom chair. "I thought long and hard about it. But
decided I needed to come and check this out. I'd just about given
up finding her when I got your phone call."

"What do you want with
her?"

"She caused me a bunch of trouble a
few years ago. I believe she stole something from my family that I
would really like returned."

Brandt frowned. Sam hadn't mentioned
anything about that. "Stole something? Like what?"

"Files and folders. Our family
history. We went to a spell of trouble to collect this material and
we'd surely like it back."

The man was full of shit. Still, he
was here. Therefore, whatever he wanted was important. Brandt
didn't think any of it would be good for Sam.

"What was she like the last time you
saw her?"

The beefy man hitched the front of
his pants up over the lower portion of his belly. He shifted his
weight; the chair creaked in protest. "She was a mouthy
know-it-all. Just like she'd been every other time I'd seen her.
The things that come out of that girl's mouth were something else.
She's surely a liar, she is."

"A liar." Brandt barely restrained
the desire to jump across the table and strangle the bloody fool.
"A liar but not a fraud?"

"Nope, usually her visions were spot
on. But that girl's a social misfit. She's not the same as you and
me. She needed a keeper then and I'm sure things haven't
changed."

"What is your intention when you meet
her?"

"Just talk to her. See if she's had a
change of heart in the meantime. Maybe she's ready to give the
material back now. Or has she ditched it somewhere along the last
few years?"

Brandt took a few notes, more to calm
the fury inside than for later information. There was no way this
asshole was getting close to Sam

"She had a bad car accident after she
was in your neck of the woods. Did you know that?"

"I'd heard. And in truth, I thought
maybe she hadn't survived. I'd called the hospital a time or two,
but word was she was in bad shape and not expected to live. That's
when I put it all away in my head. Until your phone call, then I
hopped into my truck and came here."

Shit.
Brandt
was
responsible for this mess. Truck? As in black truck? "Long
trip. When did you pull into town?"

"Oh, I arrived a couple of days ago.
Didn't want to come knocking right away. Figured you'd be mighty
busy."

Brandt sighed, keeping his head down.
The asshole was lying through his teeth. So he had been around when
Sam called him screaming on her phone about some guy trying to run
her off the road. Through the DMV, he could find out what this guy
drove – putting him on the highway at the same time as Sam was a
different story. How to prove that? "Yes, we're swamped. Portland
is a big city and it's not like there's ever a down
season."

The deputy laughed. "Crime never
takes a holiday."

"Isn't that the truth?"

As much as Brandt would like to cuff
this guy with the information he had from Sam, he knew in good
conscience that he'd need to hear what Sam had to say about the
deputy's truths.

Then he'd have another
talk with the deputy...on his terms.

***

10:48 am

It had not been a good day. As a
matter of fact, as days went, this one sucked. Bill had finally
located the right hospital only to find out his drugged victim was
still alive and in a coma. What the hell? If she died – great. If
she stayed in a coma for the rest of her life – even better. He
kind of liked that concept. But if she awoke, that was bad news. It
couldn't be allowed to happen. He'd have to think this one over
while monitoring the situation.

Then he'd gone on to the care center
with his dogs. The dogs had been great, the staff had been great –
the people however... What was with those old people? They all had
a gambling problem for one thing. And for another, they were a
bunch of busybodies. Like that one old geezer. Apparently, he knew
something about the ring the media had flashed on the television.
Those damn old folks were betting on when he was going to remember
just what it was. Who could have predicted such a problem? Well,
he'd had no choice, had he? The guy couldn't be allowed to remember
anything about him – ever.

That little bit of violence had been
just enough to whet his appetite, to rouse the beast inside, yet
not enough to sate either. It had been too fast, not well
planned…and that bothered him a bit. Yet, he'd had few options.
Prudence said he should be home and out of sight right now. He'd
actually been driving in that direction when he'd seen
her.

She was perfect.

He pulled off the road to a small
parking lot so he could watch her sashaying down the
sidewalk.

The glare shining through the
windshield irritated him. It limited his view. Rummaging in the
glove box, he finally came up with a scratched pair of sunglasses.
Better than nothing. Putting them on, he quickly searched the area
in front of the drugstore that she'd walked into a few minutes
earlier.

There. She was laughing at something
someone had said, her head turned as she walked out the door. She
strode with confidence in the sunshine. God, he loved that. Loved
to see a woman sure of her sexuality, sure of who she
was.

And she was so wrong.

That was the best part. Stripping
away their innocence and teaching them about the real monsters of
the world.

He leaned forward for a better view.
She turned left and moved smoothly down the sidewalk. Look at her
walk – liquid honey. He grinned.

Perfect.

He hopped out of the
truck and followed behind at a steady pace. When she entered a
small clothing boutique, he found a bench on the sidewalk and sat
to enjoy the sunshine. He had nothing better to do, except follow
her around. She loved her little boutiques and before the month was
out, he'd know every one of them.

***

2:20 pm

The afternoon was gorgeous. Sam felt
like shit.

Leaning against the front doorframe
of her cabin, looking out to the rest of the world, Sam mentally
ran through the various options. She still had a couple days before
she started working with Stefan. In the meantime, she had some
homework to do. If these visions would stop, she might actually
have the energy to work on them.