Freezing Point (3 page)

Four months ago, Tannin began his attempt to systematically destroy Casey's life and had progressed to disrupting her career and credibility. His first act began when she discovered the hard drive on her home computer destroyed along with all backup files. Then her email had been hacked, and no matter how many times she changed the service provider or her password, her email address was used as spam to send pornography. So, she could live without email for a while.

The little things began to add up. Though the police could not identify the perpetrator, Casey knew it was Tannin. He'd threatened to destroy her life little by little.

She no longer answered her phone. No matter what the caller ID said, even if it was a friend calling, she would hear only the heavy breathing until she hung up. Tannin had called in a serious favor or paid someone in the world of hackers who knew what they were doing.

But why? Why would anyone go to that much trouble? Maybe Tannin had wondered the same about her unraveling his life.

Fine. She'd keep digging until he was arrested. But during the digging she discovered something else about Tannin—for years he'd been under the care of a psychiatrist for antisocial personality disorder, or rather, he was an abusive psychopath.

She'd done an exposé on the wrong man—Will Tannin had snapped. She would have done less harm by taking a baseball bat to a nest of killer bees.

The small interruptions in her everyday life were a nuisance, but a week ago, Tannin had hacked into the newspaper, changing a story she'd written in order to damage her professionally. Eddie had then told her to get out until everything died down. The newspaper couldn't afford to fight off a madman, especially when the police could find no proof to arrest him.

That's when Tannin had gone the next step and explained to Casey how and when he would kill her.

T
o be safe. That's all she really wanted.

She'd made the right decision to come here. Her mother and father had been killed in a car accident years ago, and Aunt Leann was the only real family Casey had left. Her aunt had had the foresight to send Casey the key to their home on the beach while she and Uncle John traveled Europe. Casey had taken the key and grabbed a few necessary items then fled her home, her friends and her job.

Casey tugged out one of the low-calorie frozen dinners she'd stocked the fridge with yesterday and shoved it into the microwave, thinking she needed to find out more about the ice company.

She sighed, knowing she had to quit her insane need to uncover a story, no matter the cost. While she ate her dinner, she began the process of creating a completely new email screen name. One more step away from Tannin.

Relaxing against the chair back, she rolled her shoulders, easing the tension in her neck. The view from the living-room window had grown dark. She hadn't noticed that night had fallen.

Casey rose calmly from the dinner table where she'd set up a temporary office with her laptop, and moved to the large window that provided the ocean view. She stared out, again,
only this time instead of seeing waves lapping the shore, complete darkness stared back along with her reflection. The sun had set, and she'd missed the moment.

She turned the lights down in the house, hoping to gain a better look outside without her reflection. For a few seconds, she searched the blackness, but could see nothing except a few lights in the distance—probably a fishing boat or two. She wondered if Tannin could be out there somewhere, watching her. She couldn't shake off the sense that someone was, in fact, observing her.

Despite everything she'd been through, the idea still seemed a little paranoid. After all, she'd driven almost twenty hours, putting over a thousand miles distance between her and Tannin. He couldn't know where in the country she was.

The strangeness of today fresh on her mind, she shoved the hair from her face, wondering if she might have something more than Will Tannin to worry about.

“Get the interview and you've got a job,” Danny had said.

Get in and get out, leave the rest of it buried.

She began the chore of tugging the heavy window treatments over the vast expanse of glass until it was completely covered.

A sound from somewhere in the house startled her. Casey froze.

Holding her breath, she listened and heard the noise again. She spotted a large ballerina figurine on the end table. She could use it as a weapon if needed. She lifted it.

It was heavy enough.

It would do. Except… Was it a Lladro?

Casey cringed for half a second and looked around her for something less expensive, but there wasn't anything except
pricey-looking décor and figurines accenting the room. She hadn't even noticed until now.

Aunt Leann would understand, since Casey's life could be at stake.

 

Jesse allowed the waves to wash up against his feet and ankles, soaking his running shoes, as he held the golden retriever's leash. He stared through his night-vision binoculars at John Helms's house, not seeing much now that Casey had closed all the curtains. Finally, he jammed them into the pack he wore around his waist and continued his jog, Simon at his side.

She'd looked out into the darkness, a strange expression on her face, before tugging the curtains to the center of the window from one side and then moving to the far side to start the process over again. He'd watched her the entire time. Her trim figure didn't seem equal to the task, but she managed. There was something in the way she acted when she closed the curtains, like she expected someone was watching her—and little did she know that he was.

Beautiful blond strands hung around her face, her expression one of both defiance and fear—not much change from when he'd come across her on the loading dock and rescued her. Though she probably didn't think of it like that.

Why was John Helms's niece staying in his home while he was gone? Not so unusual—but then why had she appeared to slink onto the loading dock in need of an interview with him? At the time he had been inclined to believe her explanation, wanted to believe it, if he were honest. Anything more would be trouble. Then he'd found out about her background.

An investigative reporter.

She was trouble or she was going to get into trouble. Jesse hadn't figured out which, but he now had the added assignment to thwart in either case.

Beautiful…but dangerous.
Those same words had come to mind when he thought about dry ice. The comparison elicited a small grin.

He drew in rhythmic breaths as he jogged up the beach away from the house, considering what tomorrow would bring. Jesse was close to being someone Miguel would finally trust and accept into the inner circle of those operating the cash-smuggling ring.

With Casey Wilkes's appearance on the scene, Jesse was now in the position of also having to infiltrate her life without her knowing his motives—but to protect her, to protect the covert assignment.

Another person he'd have to lie to. Another person whose trust he would need to win, and who would end up hating him in the end.

Lungs burning, Jesse dropped to his knees, catching his breath. He wanted this to be over and done with. He wanted out. But now things were more complicated.

Simon whined and licked Jesse's face. Jesse pulled away, wanting to cry out to God. He needed God's help, but it had been so long since he felt good enough to be on speaking terms with the Almighty.

Jesse squeezed sand in his fists, his instincts on fire. He wasn't about to let this attractive woman reporter ruin this assignment.

A scream ripped through the night.

 

Casey fought against the arms that wrapped around her, screaming and kicking.

In the hallway outside the guest bedroom she slammed the figurine at the man's head, but missed.

He squeezed her wrist, sending pain up her arm. She cried out and the figurine flew through the air then slid across the floor of the bedroom.

Her only weapon gone.

The wall! She tried to reach the wall with her feet. Shove her back into the man and loosen his grip.

If she could just gain traction. There.

Her feet against the wall, she pressed hard, slamming him into the corner of the hallway. He cursed.

She pressed harder, but his grip around her only tightened. She couldn't breathe. He shifted and dragged her down the hall.

His grip loosened but only slightly. She drew in a breath. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Let me go.”

Now she wished she'd made friends with the neighbor.

Casey screamed again, louder this time, if possible.

Then, to her surprise, he threw her on the floor. She slammed against the tile, hitting her head.

The taste of blood filled her mouth. Unsure why he'd dropped her, but not caring, Casey scrambled to her feet. Before she took off running, she glanced behind her.

The man wore a tailored black suit, she now noticed. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled something out.

Casey gasped.

A gun. He had a gun.

Casey's knees trembled. “What are you going to do?”

 

Like a bull intent on goring his target, Jesse slammed into the man from the side. Though he'd held Casey at gunpoint, the guy hadn't fingered the trigger guard yet. Jesse had to act fast.

The nine-millimeter slid across the floor.

The man grunted from the blow. Jesse landed on top of him as they hit the tile floor. The attacker moaned, but Jesse didn't care. He threw a punch in his face for good measure.

Blood gushed from the man's nose, and he pressed his
hands to it. “You broke my nose,” he said, his nasal-sounding tone filled with outrage.

Jesse held his fist in the air and paused. “I'm going to break more than that. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Still cupping a hand over his nose, the man dropped to his knees. Something slid from his pocket.

“The name is Harrison Spear. I'm a friend of the Helmses and I came to check on the house. I found her inside, stealing from them. I pointed the gun at her so she would stay there while I called the police. The bigger question is who are you? And who is she?”

Fire in her eyes, Casey stepped forward. “I was doing no such thing.” She fairly spat at the man.

“Come on, you had that figurine. It's worth a lot of money.”

Jesse relaxed, but only slightly. “Look, I think there's been a misunderstanding.”

He looked to Casey, knowing he'd eventually need to explain why he'd been here to save the day.

“My name is Casey Wilkes and I'm Leann Helms's niece.” Casey's face went pale as she gripped the table. “What were you doing sneaking around in the house? I didn't hear you come in.”

Jesse rushed to her side and grabbed her arms, supporting her. Holding tightly, he guided her to the sofa.

To the stranger he said, “You can get out of here. I think you've done enough damage tonight, don't you?”

Jesse pulled out his phone, acting as if he was making a call, but took a picture of the man before he left the house. He made a mental note that Spear had grabbed the gun on his way out, but left the item that had fallen from his pocket. He must not have realized he'd lost it. Jesse would remember it, though.

“Thank you.” The soft words drew Jesse's attention back to the woman at his side.

He squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her, and felt the strength in her grip. “You're welcome. I'm just glad—” What exactly could he say to her?

“Glad that you were here? You want to explain that?” Her tone held only a hint of accusation.

Jesse stood, wanting to put distance between himself and the beautiful Casey Wilkes. He held up a finger. “Just a second.”

He went to the back door and unlocked then opened it, whistling. Initially, he'd come through the front door, which was unlocked, presumably by Spear, unless Casey had left it unlocked. A glance back and he witnessed Casey's raised eyebrows.

Simon came bounding into the house.

Jesse laughed and rubbed his dog behind the ears. “Simon and I jog on this beach every evening. I heard a scream.”

Simon sprang over the sofa and onto Casey. He licked her, causing laughter to erupt. The sound of it warmed Jesse. As he watched her petting Simon, he knew that she'd recovered from having a gun pointed at her. She'd be all right—at least this time.

Soon enough he'd find out if Spear was criminally involved in the smuggling ring, working with Miguel or Carlos, or if he really was checking on the house for the Helms. Still, how had he gotten in unnoticed? Was he already here when Casey arrived home? For his own cover, he'd given Spear no reason to suspect he was anything other than Casey's friend—he'd done exactly what a friend would do.

Casey looked up at Jesse, breaking into his disturbing thoughts. Unable to look away, he held her gaze a little too long. In that instant, he felt a strong connection to her.

Not good.

T
he trauma of the last few minutes still fresh in her mind, Casey ran her fingers through Simon's soft fur and looked into Jesse's face.

Pain seeped into her thoughts. She remembered hitting the tile with her head and biting the inside of her mouth. She frowned and touched her head.

“You're hurt.” Jesse nudged the dog from the sofa and sat next to her. “Let me see.”

He placed his hands on her head, tilting it just so, then ran a finger over the lump. “Ouch…” he said, as though her pain were his.

Though she winced a little, his gentle touch and apparent concern sent a barrage of warmth through Casey's insides. Uncomfortable with his nearness, she pulled away. “It's nothing. Just a bump.”

He shoved his hand over his mouth, a contemplative look on his face. “Maybe we should take you to the E.R., just to be safe.”

Casey pushed up from the sofa. “I'm fine. I've had a concussion before, and this is nothing.”

When Simon began sniffing around the living room, Jesse rose and moved toward the dog. He reached down and
grabbed the leash then looked over at Casey. “What can I do to help? Can I get you something?”

She weaved her fingers through her hair, careful to avoid the sore spot. “I'm just a little shaken, that's all. It's not every night a girl faces off with a man holding a gun in her own home.” She offered a small grin. “Even if it isn't exactly my home.”

“Maybe you should call your aunt and uncle and let them know what happened.”

“Yeah, let them call off any other dogs.” Feeling chilled, Casey rubbed her arms and turned her back on Jesse. Tonight's incident, coupled with fleeing her home only days ago, left her more than frazzled. Tears stabbed at the back of her eyes.

From beside her, a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and squeezed. “It's all right, Casey.” Jesse's words were soft, his breath warm against her ear.

This wasn't the man she met today on the loading dock. This was someone entirely different. She liked this Jesse much better.

Casey wanted to ask him how he knew it was all right, but she couldn't because he would hear the tears in her voice as she fought them sliding down her cheeks. At least she didn't fall victim to a full sob, which is what she really wanted to do.

She couldn't be that uninhibited in front of Jesse—a man she'd met only this afternoon. By all counts, he was a complete stranger.

And yet, Casey felt safe with him. Because of that, she allowed him to hold her, if only for a few moments. She sank into what felt like the protective armor of his arms. It had been far too long since she'd experienced that feeling.

Finally, her anguish dissipated, at least for now, she re
leased a slow breath. Jesse must have taken that as his cue and dropped his arms.

He turned her to face him and lifted her chin. “You're going to be all right. Make sure you set the alarm when I leave.”

Casey wanted to tell him that arming the place hadn't stopped the intruder. But then again, Mr. Spear wasn't exactly an intruder and obviously had the alarm-system password. She'd have to ask Aunt Leann if she could change the password and how to do it. That would go a long way in making her feel safer.

“Thank you, Mr. Jesse Dufour. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't shown up.” She knew her smile was weak, but Jesse was the only reason she smiled at all. That is, Jesse and his dog, Simon.

He jammed a hand in his pocket and held Simon's leash, keeping the dog from her, then without warning, he released him. Simon came bounding at Casey once again.

She knelt to meet him. “Come here, you.”

When she looked up at Jesse, his expression had sobered. “I'm going to check around the rest of the house now to make sure there isn't someone else lurking in a closet, though I doubt it.”

“I'll come with you,” she said.

“No, you stay with Simon. He'll keep you safe if there's any need.”

Jesse finally returned. “The house is empty except for us. Listen, I gave you my business card today, but it doesn't include my personal cell. Let me give you that number.”

“I'll get my phone.” Casey came back to find him standing halfway out the doorway, one foot on the deck. “Okay, what is it?”

He gave her the number and she stored it in her phone.
“Got it. But I'm sure I'll be fine. It was just a misunderstanding, right?”

“Right. If you get another intruder you should call the police. I was referring to the fact that you wanted an interview. That's the best way to contact me.” He grinned.

“I knew that.” Heat crept up her neck. Had she actually thought he would return to protect her if she called? Still, he'd already given a contact number for the interview. Why was he giving his personal number now? She liked that. Warmth spread through her but it quickly died. She couldn't have called the police tonight if she tried. Or Jesse, either, for that matter.

Next time she'd go for the phone instead of a figurine.

“How about tomorrow at nine?” he asked.

“Tomorrow? I thought you said a couple of days?” Casey had considered that Jesse would likely renege, considering how eager he had been to see her leave the ice company.

“Okay, a couple of days then,” he said.

Did she really want to wait that long? Not a chance.

“Tomorrow at nine o'clock.”

“See you then.” He completed his exit through the door.

She watched him make his way down the steps and disappear into the darkness on the beach. Suddenly she felt drained—tired from running for her life, running from Will, and exhausted from her struggle with a friendly intruder.

What an oxymoron.

Long after Jesse left that night, Casey lay in bed, staring at a late-night talk show on the muted television while she held the phone to her ear. She'd left a message with Aunt Leann about the friendly but brusque intruder, then spent a few minutes writing in her diary. She'd kept a diary for years. All of her deepest feelings were poured onto its pages, including thoughts about everyone she knew. When she'd fled Portland, her diary had been among the most important items to
grab. Journaling kept her centered, giving her the ability to laugh when life threw her the unexpected. Maybe one day she could read back over the events of the last few months and laugh.

No. She doubted she'd ever laugh about this.

Then, she'd jammed the book beneath a pillow and called Meg because she couldn't bear to be alone tonight.

“Thanks for staying on the line with me, Meg. I think I'm finally getting sleepy.”

“I'm glad you called. I was getting worried. But…I want to hear more about this Jesse guy. He really just barged into the place and tackled a guy with a gun? Who would do that?”

A hero, that's who.

Meg wanted Casey to focus on something positive so she could get some sleep, Casey knew that. She pointed the controller at the television and shut it off then snuggled deeper into the soft, quilted blankets.

Funny, earlier in the day she'd wanted to call Meg to tell her about the strange vibes she'd gotten from Jesse while at her uncle's company—how suspicious she'd been of him. She'd wanted to hear if Meg thought Casey was overreacting, given all she'd been through.

Now she considered Jesse one of the good guys, and she didn't need Meg's opinion to believe it.

But did that really matter when Will Tannin was out there, waiting and watching for his chance to kill her? Despite the distance she'd put between her and Tannin, she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't lost him.

 

It was well after eleven-thirty when Jesse felt comfortable releasing his watch over the house where Casey was hopefully sleeping. After checking the house—looking for any places that an intruder could easily enter or had already en
tered—Jesse had said good-night and instructed her to arm the security system.

Though Spear claimed he wasn't an intruder, the incident had shaken Casey and, Jesse hated to admit, it had shaken him. He'd given a show of jogging down the beach but returned moments later to watch for signs of danger.

In the meantime, he sent the image he'd taken of Spear to the others working the case to be analyzed. He'd know soon enough if tonight's mishap had been just that…a case of mistaken identity. And a case in which Spear had been abusive in his handling of Helms's niece. Jesse sensed in his gut there was more going on here.

He tugged the thumb drive from his pocket—the item he'd seen slip from Spear's pocket. He intended to find out what was on it. Spear would soon discover he'd lost the item and if he had any sense, he'd suspect that it occurred during his scuffle with Jesse.

Jesse feared Spear would return to the house to search for the missing item. What Jesse didn't know was the man's mood if he came back—would he knock on the door, knowing Casey was there, or would his handling of her be gruff again?

Right off, he didn't think he would like the guy even if he hadn't been pointing a nine-millimeter at Casey.

 

Casey opened her eyes and stretched out on the soft mattress—one of the best she'd ever slept on.

Oh, no.
What time was it?

Blurry-eyed, she sat straight up and stared at the clock on the bedside table. Did that read nine o'clock?

Tossing the blankets off, Casey hurried to the bathroom to shower and dress. She had her interview with Jesse this morning and now she was late. She'd never overslept like this.
But the last few days had been harrowing, and she hadn't given herself much time to regroup.

It was too late for a few days of rest now. She had a job, or was close to having one.

Dressed and as ready to face the day as she would be, Casey backed her car from the driveway, planning to grab a cup of coffee on the way to the Helms Ice and Trucking Company where she'd interview Jesse. Her heart did a quick flip at the idea of seeing him again.

Pathetic.

Her car struggled to climb the hill as she whipped around a curve in the road that skirted a sea-cliff viewpoint. Steering with her left hand, she called the
Orange Crossings Times
on her phone with her right and, careful to watch the road, too, she punched in the editor's extension.

To her surprise, Danny Garcia picked up on the first ring.

“Danny here.”

“Mr. Garcia, hi, this is Casey Wilkes, aka Carson Williams. I got that story you wanted.”

“Oh, yeah? Which one was that?”

Casey held on to her smile, despite his discouraging tone.

“I'm headed over to interview Jesse Dufour, the ice sculptor at Helms Ice. So, do I have the job, then?”

Casey's car lurched out of control and she dropped her cell to grip the wheel.

What in the world?

The VW was nearly impossible to control. A car honked as it passed her on Shoreline Road.

Casey slowed the car, though steering was difficult, and managed to prod it onto the shoulder, though not completely.

She hopped out to investigate the damage. About a quarter of the car was still on the road. Too bad. With the crags hedging the beach next to the road and her inability to per
fectly control the car, she didn't feel comfortable trying to move it completely off the road.

But on this side, she saw nothing wrong.

She stomped around to the other side.

A blowout.

Of all the…

Hands on her hips, she turned her gaze from the tire and her precarious position on the road and scanned the shoreline, watching the waves as they lapped the beach. The day had started wrong, all wrong.

Opening the passenger door, Casey scrounged around the small car looking for her cell that she'd dropped mid-conversation with Danny.

She found it and held it to her ear. “You still there?”

Silence.
Casey called him again, but the line was busy. Next, she called Jesse's number, thankful he'd thought to give it to her, and that she'd stored it in her phone.

That he'd been that protective and concerned for her seemed a little strange at first. But with the likes of Tannin after her, Casey could use a dose of protective behavior from a man, so she had welcomed it. Last night, he'd single-handedly doused her suspicious first impression of him.

She was happy to nix any further thoughts on the matter, considering she had enough trouble already.

“Casey, where are you?” Jesse said, skipping right over the normal greeting.

Casey heard a note of alarm in his voice and wanted to dispel his concern. “I've got a flat tire. Hope that doesn't inconvenience you. Can you wait for me?”

She left out that she was already running late when she woke up this morning.

“I'll do better than that. Tell me where you are, and I'll come change your tire.”

Was he serious? Though in all honesty, she'd hoped for a little help. “Just up the…”

Casey paused mid-sentence and watched as a silver SUV took the curve in the road much too fast. What's more, even with her car in full view, it began picking up speed.

Really? Could they not see that her flower-girl green VW was parked partially on the road?

“Shoreline, not too…”

“What's the matter?” he asked. “Casey?”

“There's a car driving a little too fast.” To avoid hitting her car they'd have to veer, and it looked like it was going to be one of those last-minute swerves, if it happened at all.

A prickle of alarm snaked up her spine.

To Casey's shock, the driver gunned the engine and veered right toward her car—and her.