Forgotten Lullaby (13 page)

The office complex was shutting down, most of the offices empty. Maybe Grant was running late and had decided not to park. He'd probably be outside, she thought, making her way to the front door. The sun had set, dark skies hovering over the horizon. The gusty winter wind sent a chill through her spine as she looked out at the nearly deserted parking lot.

She didn't see Grant. She pulled her jacket around her more tightly and awkwardly searched the front of the building, then slowly walked around to the side parking lot. Shadows loomed from the corners, whispers of indistinguishable sounds echoing off the concrete. Tension fluttered through her—a product of seeing too many women attacked in parking garages on TV, she thought wryly. Her gaze automatically surveyed the vacant lot and she reached in her purse for the cell phone. Suddenly frightened, she turned to go back to the front. There was a noise behind her. The thump of shoes on the pavement. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a shadow at the edge of the building. Someone was following her.

Panic hit her. She stumbled forward and tried to run. But someone grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the ground.

Emma screamed as she pushed up and tried to run. She wielded her cane like a weapon, swinging it wildly. A cab rolled up and parked at the street corner, and she ran toward it, stumbling in the dark. The hands clawed at her again, but she dodged her attacker, almost losing her balance when her foot slid off the sidewalk.

She screamed again and darted into the street, dodging an oncoming car. The car blasted its horn and careered on. Then a muffled popping sound rent the air. A gunshot?

She lunged toward the taxi, swung open the door and collapsed into the back seat.

“Take me to the police station,” Emma shrieked, scanning the street. “Someone just tried to shoot me.”

 

A
S
G
RANT REFILLED
Adam Bronson's glass in preparation for a toast to their business deal, a tremor rippled up his spine. Something was wrong.

Priscilla automatically lay her hand on his thigh to get his attention, but he quickly removed it, his anxiety intensifying. Not only had Priscilla been late, she'd come in looking flustered and shaky.

“Won't you share the toast?” Bronson asked, his graying eyebrows arched.

“Of course we will,” Priscilla said, glossing over the moment with her usual feminine ease. She refilled her glass, as well as Grant's.

“To the most ingenious architect I've had the pleasure of meeting in a long time,” Bronson said. “And to Little Raleigh, the city within a city that is going to be the next wave in development.”

Priscilla smiled flirtatiously at Bronson, and Grant swallowed the wine, then checked his watch. He couldn't focus, couldn't get Emma off his mind. How had her doctor's visit gone? Had she and Kate made it back all right?

“Grant does have wonderful ideas,” Priscilla boasted with a wink. “And the best part is, he always follows through.”

Bronson slapped him on the back. “That's what I want to hear. How soon can you have this scale model completed?”

“When would you like it?” Grant heard himself ask woodenly.

“Three weeks—is that doable?”

“Of course,” Priscilla agreed smugly. Once again she slid her hand over his thigh, patting it as she grinned at Bronson. “If we have to work together day and night, we'll have it finished for you, won't we, Grant?”

“Um, yes.” Grant set his glass down. “Excuse me, please. I have to make a phone call. I need to check on my wife.”

Priscilla caught his wrist. “Oh, dear. Grant, I forgot to tell you, Emma wants you to pick her up after her appointment.”

“What time?”

Priscilla cut into her cheesecake and offered him some. “I think she said around five.”

Grant glanced at his watch in a panic. “Five. It's nearly six now.”

“I'm sure she won't mind if you're a few minutes late,” Priscilla said lamely.

He clenched his jaw, his anger at Priscilla almost overwhelming. “She shouldn't have to wait.”

Bronson eyed him speculatively. Grant muttered a brief explanation, reached into his jacket for his keys, then headed to the exit. His beeper went off just as he climbed into his car. He checked the number, his anxiety level rising when he spotted the detective's number. His heart racing, he punched the numbers on his cell phone.

“Mr. Wadsworth, I think you'd better come to the station.”

“What is it?”

“It's your wife.”

“Emma? She's at the doctor—”

“No, she's here. She isn't hurt, but she's pretty upset. She said someone tried to shoot her outside the doctor's office.”

“I'll be right there.” Grant slammed down the phone and pressed the accelerator, cursing a blue streak. This was all his fault. Damn Priscilla. He could strangle her for not giving him Emma's message. And he wouldn't believe Emma was all right until he saw her himself.

 

E
MMA SIPPED THE TEA
one of the officers had given her, trying to warm her hands and steady her nerves. Warner had assured her they would check the parking lot for a bullet. And Grant was on his way. When she glanced up and saw him enter the office, his face was a mask
of misery. “Emma?” he said in a rough whisper. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Her resolve instantly crumpled and the tears she'd tried to hold at bay erupted, streaming down her cheeks. He was beside her in a second, his big strong arms enveloping her as he rocked her back and forth. “Shh, honey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, not again. Not ever again.” He crooned soft words of comfort and stroked the hair from her face, his broad shoulders cradling her against him.

“I thought someone was following me at the hospital,” she whimpered. “I heard footsteps and it was dark and I saw shadows,” she said, pouring every ounce of strength she had left into telling him the details of the night. “Then he grabbed me.”

“Oh, God, baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” He cocooned her in his protective embrace and Emma clung to him.

“I thought you were going to be there.”

He pulled her back and cupped her face in his palms. “I should have been there, I would have, but Priscilla didn't give me the message. I thought Kate was with you.”

Emma searched his face for the truth. “But I told her Kate couldn't bring me home.”

His jaw tensed. “I'm sorry, she didn't tell me until we were in the middle of dinner.” He ran his hands over her face, her hair. “I swear she didn't tell me or I would have been there, Emma. I never would have left you alone, not with all that's been going on.”

“Mrs. Wadsworth,” Warner said, sidling into the office. “One of my men just called. He said he found a slug from a .38 in the parking lot.” He frowned at
Emma. “I guess you were right. Someone did shoot at you.”

Emma shivered and felt Grant tremble against her.

“We'll have it analyzed. We're questioning folks to find out if there were any witnesses.”

“You have to find this maniac,” Grant said, clutching Emma to him. “Don't you have any ideas yet? What about the florist? Did you find out who sent the locket?”

Warner shook his head. “The florist said it was dropped off by an independent service with a request to be sent to you with the flowers. Cash in an envelope.” Warner gestured toward a chair. “But there's something else. You might want to sit down.”

Grant coaxed Emma back into the wooden chair and pulled another up beside her. “What is it now?”

Warner leveled his gaze at Grant. “We did some further checking on Pete Landers, the guy who owns the black Jeep.”

“Yeah?”

“Found out some interesting things about his past. How well do you know Landers?”

Grant shrugged. “As well as anyone knows a co-worker, I guess. We work together, attend general meetings, sometimes have lunch with a group of clients. We're definitely not buddies.”

“Ever socialize with him or his family outside the office?”

“No.” Grant's curiosity was piqued. “What are you getting at, Detective?”

“So you didn't know Mrs. Landers?”

Grant frowned. “There isn't a Mrs. Landers, at least not that I know of.”

Warner cracked his gum. “You're right, there's not
anymore. But Landers was married. His wife died about a year ago,” Warner continued. “In a car accident.”

Grant's jaw went slack.

“That's terrible,” Emma said in a low voice.

Warner nodded. “Worst part was that his wife was pregnant at the time. Baby didn't have a chance.”

A fine sheen of sweat dampened Grant's neck. “Pete never mentioned it.” He thought back over the past year. When had Pete come to work for the firm?

“Records show Landers signed on with your company right after his wife's death. Other company he worked for said he went berserk after the accident. They encouraged him to seek counseling, but he refused. Said he got volatile, almost went off the deep end.”

“What a tragedy, losing both his wife and baby,” Emma added quietly.

“I had no idea,” Grant said. His gaze shot to Warner's. “But I don't understand what this has to do with Emma.”

“Maybe nothing,” Warner said. “But a shock like he suffered can make some people go crazy. I was thinking about the threats Mrs. Wadsworth's received. Seems sort of eerie, kind of parallel. The car accident. You have a baby, he lost his. If Landers has something against you, maybe he snapped and wants you to hurt like he's been hurting. Sounds like a motive to me.”

“He wants the promotion I'm up for.” The threats flashed through Grant's head.
I lost my loved one and so will you. The broken locket and missing picture. Pete's chastising him about staying home with his family.
Could Pete's ambition and grief drive him to such cruel acts?

 

E
MMA CLUTCHED
Grant's hand the entire way home, comforted by his presence. Warner followed them,
wanting to confer with the officer stationed outside.

“How's Carly?” Emma asked the moment she stepped through the door.

“She's sleeping,” Kate said. “We went to the store earlier to buy diapers.”

“You took Carly out alone?” Grant asked.

Kate bristled. “I didn't know I wasn't allowed to go to the store with her.”

“It's okay, Kate,” Emma said. “We're both on edge right now.”

Grant explained about the shooting.

“Oh, my God!” Kate exclaimed. “I can't believe it.” She gestured toward Carly's room. “You don't think this crazy person would hurt Carly, do you?”

“I don't know, but we're not going to take any chances,” Grant said firmly.

“That's right,” Warner cautioned. The detective had come in before he left, saying he had a few more questions. “If anyone comes to the door, calls, whatever, I want to know about it.”

Kate gestured toward a long white box on the dining table. “That box was on the back doorstep when I arrived.”

They all moved toward it hesitantly. Warner slowly lifted it and listened, took it to the kitchen sink and slowly undid the ribbon, then opened it. He carefully removed the tissue, and Emma gasped when she saw what was inside.

“Oh, my,” Kate said, pressing her hand to her cheek. “Dead roses.”

Emma's gaze rested on the enclosed card.
Roses are red, violets are blue. I lost my family, and so will you.

Her stomach heaved when she saw a snapshot of
Grant, Carly and herself underneath the note. The picture had been cut into a dozen tiny pieces.

“Damn.” Grant's eyes darkened. He started to pick up the butchered photograph, but Warner ordered him not to touch anything. He rubbed his neck, then turned away, his hand at Emma's elbow. “I don't understand why someone would want to torment Emma like this.”

“I'll have the box and contents dusted for prints,” Warner stated. “And we'll check with the florist again.”

Kate found a paper bag and the policeman carefully put the box in it. He turned to Grant. “Mr. Wadsworth, I need to know where you were when your wife was shot at.”

“I was at River Mill Steakhouse,” Grant snapped.

“Can someone corroborate your story?”

Emma flinched when Grant's hand curled into a fist. “Yes. A co-worker and one of my clients.”

“You were with Priscilla?” Kate said in an accusing tone.

“And Adam Bronson,” Grant said, glaring at Kate. “We were closing a business deal.”

“Anyone at the house today other than the three of you?”

“Martha, the housekeeper, came earlier,” Kate replied.

“But she had to clean the jewelry store where I worked at five,” Emma said. “And there hasn't been anyone else here since.”

“And you, Kate?”

“I was baby-sitting Carly,” Kate said.

“But you went to the store. Did anyone see you?”

Kate's eyes widened. “The clerk, I suppose, if she remembers me, that is.”

“You or your wife own a gun?” Warner asked, his gaze on Grant.

“No,” Grant said adamantly. “I'd never have one in the house with a child around.”

Warner nodded his approval, his mouth almost quirking into a smile. “How about you, ma'am?” he asked, directing his question to Kate.

Kate bit her lip. “Er…no, I'm afraid of guns. Why?”

“Just checking.” He gestured toward Grant. “I'll have a talk with Pete Landers. See if he owns a gun.”

“You do that,” Grant said between clenched teeth. Then he escorted Warner to the door.

A few minutes later Emma tried to eat the Chinese food Kate had picked up, but the meal was awkward and tense. Kate chattered on about how good the dishes were, and Grant was unusually quiet.

“Dan called and asked me out,” Kate said idly.

“Are you going to date him?” Emma asked, pushing away the tasteless food.

“I don't know,” Kate said. “He's really persistent. But I'm not sure I can trust him, especially now that I know he has an arrest record.”

Emma saw Grant tense, but he didn't comment. Maybe he and Kate would put aside their bickering for tonight.

“I think I'm going to go lie down,” Emma said. “Kate, I appreciate your keeping Carly, but maybe you'd better go home tonight.”

Kate frowned, then pushed away from the table “All right. But I'll clean up the dishes before I go.”

“Thanks for the dinner, Kate,” Grant said. “I'll help clean up.”

Kate smiled. “That's okay, Grant. Why don't you take care of Emma?”

Grant nodded and walked Emma to the bedroom door. Emma gazed into his eyes, Grant's hungry expression almost stripping her of her resolve. But exhaustion pulled at her muscles and she swayed slightly.

“Come on, you need to lie down,” Grant said. He curved his arm around her waist and coaxed her into the room. Moonlight drifted through the bedroom window, dappling soft lines of light through the room and turning Grant's eyes to a smoky blue. His broad hands cupped her face and he gently lowered his mouth, kissing her with such sweetness she felt tears burn her eyes.