Embattled Hearts 1 (4 page)

As she crept across the living room floor, thoughts of a horror flick she had seen several months ago flitted through her mind. She could only assume it was because of the anxiety she was feeling. Still, she tried to be extra vigilant as she peered behind doors and into closets.

She didn’t find anything.

Had she imagined the can? Maybe she drank the cola and just didn’t remember. That seemed like a more likely excuse than somebody being in her house.

Certainly, it couldn’t be Mike. He was still in jail.

Right?

Shannon had decided that the house was clear when her phone rang, re-energizing her fear. Her heart thudded as she tried to control her breathing, but her voice quivered when she snatched up the handset.

“Hello?”

“Shannon? You okay?”

Unaccountably, her eyes filled with relieved tears when she heard John’s clipped voice. She had no idea why he’d called, but she didn’t care. His voice was safety to her.

Shannon took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Hey John. What’s up?”

“You were acting a little off at work today. Are you okay?” he repeated, more forcefully.

Shannon swiped her hair off her forehead and tried to gather her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit spooked. That’s all.”

“Why are you spooked?”

“Well, it’s going to sound stupid. I, uh, found a Pepsi can in the trash. And I haven’t drunk a Pepsi for years. Only Diet. Don’t even keep it in the house.”

There were several long beats of silence on the other end of the line, and Shannon wondered if John had hung up on her.

“Shannon, are you sure? You didn’t buy it for somebody else?”

She nodded her head emphatically, even though she knew he could not see her. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Oh, John, no. That’s all right.”

But the receiver in her hand was already dead.

D
uncan ran his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear away the fuzziness. He needed to get this email done while it was still fresh in his mind.

The men from Texas had been polite, but their proposal had left much to be desired. Hell, it had made him grit his teeth most of the time. As much as he wanted to help other vets, he wanted no part of the circus he knew it would turn into down there. Honestly, these guys would leave and probably start their own service, which was fine. They could deal with the mess.

He finished the “Thanks, but no thanks” email and rocked back in his chair, trying to find a kinder position for his hip. His gaze automatically zeroed in across the room. The three foot by four foot whiteboard across from his desk was full of names and colors, identifying where everybody was assigned at the moment, how long they were projected to be on project and every other pertinent detail he might need to remember. It was still a difficult machine to drive.

The whiteboard was one of Shannon’s ideas, tossed to him when he’d lost yet another legal pad and had been scrambling for information. But if the company kept growing the way they were, he was going to outgrow this one and have to line the walls.

He looked at the Jennings file on his desk. Until the kid looked for the help he needed, Duncan would not,
could
not, take him on. The men that worked here were damaged. Period. Both physically and mentally. But they were all taking steps to make their lives better, either dealing with the VA or finding alternative counseling.

Cameron wasn’t doing either, though he sure needed to be.

Pushing from the desk, Duncan planted his feet and stood, bracing himself against the hardwood. Blood flowed down through his thighs and he winced at the pins and needles. Though it hurt like a bitch, he needed to move around more often. Today he’d been sitting way too long.

Picking up his cane, he stepped to the glass window behind his desk and looked out. Snow streaked across the streets and he shivered. Without even stepping outside he knew the wind would cut like a bitch.

Movement drew his eye down the street. A familiar dark figure shuffled along the sidewalk, head into the wind. He’d seen the man before. Denver had its fair share of homeless downtown, but out here in business area, there weren’t as many. Not as many places to curl up at night or get food.

He wondered when the man had last eaten. Or slept.

Leaving his office, he headed to the break room to scrounge through the refrigerator, dropping an apple and bottle of water into a shopping bag. He grabbed two of the pre-packaged sandwiches from the freezer and threw them into the microwave for two minutes. While he was waiting, he went to the multi-purpose room. There were a couple of cotton blankets in the cupboard. He grabbed one and returned to the break room to stuff it into the shopping bag. Then he tossed the sandwiches into the folds of the blanket to stay warm.

Locking the office, he made his way downstairs and through the lobby. His truck was stone cold when he got in, but he didn’t give it a chance to warm up before he took off. He didn’t want to lose him.

When he turned down the street, the man was still shuffling along. Traffic was minimal, so Duncan pulled along the opposite curb beside the man as he walked. “Excuse me.”

The man continued to walk as if he hadn’t even heard Duncan.

“Hey, buddy!”

Finally, the man paused and turned toward his truck. Duncan held the bag out, but the man made no move to take it. He wore a hooded sweatshirt that covered his face, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. Just as Duncan noticed this, though, the man pulled them free and backed up a step.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Duncan swung the bag in his fingers and dropped it to the man’s feet. “There’s a sandwich and a blanket in there. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

The man didn’t say anything, and didn’t move to pick up the bag. The wind gusted and he shuddered, but he still didn’t move.

Duncan waited for a minute, then just pulled away. When he looked in the rear-view mirror, the man’s hood followed his departure. It wasn’t until Duncan had almost lost him from sight that the man stepped forward and picked up the bag.

*****

John called himself ten kinds of fool as he tapped a finger on the cell screen and slid it into his pocket. He’d known something was up with Shannon. He’d seen the worry in her brittle smile as she tried to reassure him. Reassure
him
. When she was the one unsettled.

John tossed a few items into his chair bag then leaned down into the front closet safe and pulled out his M9 Beretta. The shoulder holster was folded neatly on top of the safe and he slipped it on. It was a struggle to keep his mind clear of memories as he checked the clip and the action of the gun, then shoved it in the holster. Since he was normally in the office, chances to carry his gun were few and far between. He pulled his leather jacket over top of everything.

Adrenaline pounded through his blood as he hurried down the sidewalk. It was so cold outside, the wheels of his chair slipped as he tried to stop, and he scuffed the side fender of his new black F-150.
Fuck!
He waited impatiently for the hydraulic pad to level out, then rolled on. He pressed the button to lift himself inside and seal the door. He set the automatic clamps onto his wheels and twisted the key. The throaty engine cranked immediately. He’d only been at the apartment a few minutes when he had decided to call Shannon. The heater even pumped out lukewarm air when he flicked it on.

Shannon’s house was just a few streets over from his apartment building, less than two miles away. John gave little regard to the speed-limit signs as he passed them. He’d sensed that something was wrong by the quiver in her voice when she’d answered the phone. Very little shook Shannon. Even his typical glowing personality hadn’t put her off. She was always as cheerful and upbeat as that very first day he’d met her.

The fact that something had shaken her tonight was enough to make him come out in twenty-degree weather to check on her.

Within just a couple of minutes, he pulled onto her block. Automatically, his eyes began to scan the cars on the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary. A dark green Range Rover passed him, but John knew it was the neighbor just a few houses down the street. His observation was confirmed when the vehicle pulled into the drive, then disappeared into the attached garage. No other cars were on the street.

John pulled into Shannon’s driveway and turned off the truck. He sat for several long moments and observed what he could of her house and surrounding area. He unlocked his chair and pressed the door release. Shannon’s vehicle was apparently in the garage.

John pushed himself up the handicapped access ramp, surprised at the convenience. Why she even had it on her house, he didn’t know.

Shannon opened the door before he had a chance to knock. She still wore her office clothes, but she had taken the barrette out of her chocolate-colored hair. It swung freely now to the side of her face, hiding part of her expression.

“You didn’t have to come over, John. It’s probably nothing.”

Rolling inside the entryway, John surveyed what he could see of the living room. It was neat, and picked up. Uncluttered. Easy to see if something was out of place.

“Show me the can.”

Her gaze had latched onto the shoulder holster and gun, but she turned and wove her way through the house to the kitchen at the back. The connecting garage door stood open, letting in chilly air, as if she had been interrupted in her routine. Shannon motioned to the white trash can in the corner, near the beginning of the counter. There were miscellaneous items in the can, which filled it about halfway. Placed conspicuously on top of the trash was a Pepsi can, sitting vertically. Almost as if somebody wanted it to be seen.

“Did you touch anything in here? Did you touch the can?”

Shannon shook her head emphatically. “It was exactly like that when I got home.”

John pulled the digital camera out of his chair bag and began to take pictures. Then he snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and opened a paper bag. Holding the can very carefully by the rim, he dropped it down into the bag, then sealed it with red evidence tape.

“I’ll send this into the lab first thing in the morning,” he promised. “But it’ll be a while before we hear anything back.”

Shannon nodded her head as if she already knew what he said was true. “Tell them to check the Ohio State Penitentiary database, specifically against an inmate by the name of Michael Gerbowski.”

John’s dark eyes narrowed in on her. “Do you know who did this?” he demanded.

Shannon rubbed her arms up and down, and clasped her elbows. “No, I don’t know who it is that put the can here. Years ago, though, I had a problem with a stalker. I just want to make sure he’s still where he’s supposed to be.”

John nodded his head. “Did you check the rest of the house?”

“Yes. Nothing else seems out of place. The doors were all locked when I got home and the windows latched. I wouldn’t mind if you checked, though. Maybe I missed something.”

John took her at her word and rolled away. Shannon heard him enter the living room, then he was quiet. The rubber wheels on the chair made no sound on the hardwood floors.

She closed her eyes for a moment and felt the tension ease in her shoulders. Just the knowledge that John was in the house eased her mind. She prided herself on not needing anyone for anything, but having a strong man in the house was a nice change.

She turned to the refrigerator to look for something for dinner. Nothing appealed to her. She was too on edge. Maybe John would see something she hadn’t on her walkthrough. There were no forced doors or windows. Nothing moved out of place. She was too paranoid to keep a key hidden outside anywhere. She had not the slightest idea how the intruder had gotten in.

Snatching a container of homemade noodles out of the fridge, she tried to think rationally. The only people who had a key to her house were her parents and sister, several hundred miles away, and her brother, a thousand miles away. Lisa had one in case Shannon ran down to her sister’s for the weekend or something, but she hadn’t asked her to watch the house recently. She also had one taped to the inside of her desk drawer at work, but that was only because she tended to lock herself out of the house.

She thought of the tracks in her driveway and the flat tires. Those had been strange, too.

John rolled silently into the kitchen. Shannon’s gaze stalled on his flexing biceps before she dragged it away.

“Did you find anything?” she asked, making her voice firm.

John shook his dark head from side to side. The normal glower was even deeper than usual, and his mouth was tight. “Doesn’t mean anything, though. I’ve never been in your house, so I don’t know if anything is out of place or not. And the windows and doors are secure, like you said.”

Shannon nodded and stared sightlessly at the door of the white refrigerator. She’d known he wouldn’t find anything.

The kittens meowed piteously. Boohini looked up at her reproachfully. She reached down and scratched his head apologetically, then turned back to John.