High School Reunion (19 page)

Laurel.
His body hardened immediately as he recalled the night and their lovemaking.

Her face was soft and relaxed, her lips parted slightly. That wild hair half covered her face. He touched a curl.

But his phone was still ringing. He had to reach across her to get it. She stirred.

“Dupree,” he growled.

“Fire! At the police station.”

“Who is this?” But all he heard was a click.
What the hell?
He looked at the display. He knew that number. It was the pay phone on the corner near the station.

He hit his speed dial as he kicked the covers off his legs and stood. But Kit Haydel’s cell phone went straight to voice mail. He headed for his dresser and dug out a pair of jeans.

As he tugged them on, his phone rang again. It was Kit.

“Cade. I just got a call about a fire at the police station.”

“Yeah, me, too. From the pay phone.”

Laurel raised her head. “What is it?”

Cade glanced at her as he reached into his closet. He grabbed the first thing he touched—a white dress shirt. “I’m on my way,” he said to Kit.

“I’m rousting the guys.”

“Wait. I’ll be there in two minutes. It might be a ruse.”

“A ruse?”

“Meet me there. Come armed.”

As he pocketed his cell phone, Laurel sat up, pulling the sheet up with her. “What is it?”

“Fire. At the station.”

“Oh, no.” She swung her feet off the bed and looked around for her clothes.

He hopped on one foot then the other, tugging on his running shoes. He knew she wasn’t about to let him go alone—not without a fight. But he couldn’t figure out which was more dangerous, taking her with him or leaving her here.

Whoever called could be luring them out of the house and into a trap. Or they could be trying to separate them so they could get to Laurel. He wished like hell he knew which.

“You stay here,” he barked.

“I’m not staying here while you—”

“Look, Gillespie. I don’t have time to argue. This could be a ruse to get us out into the open. The voice was disguised.”

She pulled the sheet with her as she retrieved her T-shirt from the floor in front of the bed. “I’m going.”

“No!” He rounded on her. “I’m not putting you out there to be shot at again. Get dressed. Get your gun, and stay here.”

She opened her mouth but his furious glare must have worked, because she closed it again.

Something in her eyes made him stop for a second. “Stay here,” he said softly. “I’ll lock the door behind me. Be back in fifteen minutes.”

Laurel reached for her T-shirt. She couldn’t decide if she was touched by Cade’s concern for her safety or furious at him for ordering her around. She had every right to go with him. He’d requested the FBI’s help on the case. But a part of her also knew that his reasoning was sound. The killer had already taken a shot at her once.

Her job was to get dressed, get her gun and be ready for anything.

She pulled on jeans and her running shoes.

Thank God they’d overnighted the evidence to D.C. If it was Debra’s murderer who had set the fire, he or she was probably hoping to burn up everything connected to the case.

That was definitely encouraging. That meant that the killer knew there was something in the evidence that would lead to him—or her. It also meant they were getting bolder—more desperate. And a desperate criminal was a careless one.

She retrieved her gun from her purse and checked it. She had a full magazine, and a spare that she stuck in her jeans pocket. Then she inserted her paddle holster at the small of her back and seated her weapon in it.

She was ready. She glanced at her watch. Cade had been gone for seven minutes. It seemed like thirty.

She sat down on the couch, where last night she’d lost all reason. Her fingers flew to her mouth. How had she let herself lose control like that? She
never
lost control. But this time it was Cade Dupree.

It was kind of pathetic that she was still totally hung up on her big high-school crush. Way to mature emotionally, Gillespie.

Still, his lovemaking
was
everything she’d imagined it would be, and everything her other relationships had never been. She sighed as an echo of last night’s exquisite climax shuddered through her.

At that instant, her cell phone rang. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Cade.
She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. Had something happened? Maybe the fire wasn’t just a ruse. Maybe it was real.

But she didn’t recognize the number
on the phone’s display. What if it was the fire chief? What if something had happened?

“Laurel Gillespie,” she answered.

“Are you with Dupree?”

“What? No.” Her senses went on alert. “Why?”

“I need your help. I know who killed them.”

Laurel gripped the phone more tightly. The voice was muted and obviously disguised. She thought it was a woman but she couldn’t be sure. She had to keep them talking.

Apprehension fluttered in the back of her throat but she swallowed against it. “Who is this?” she snapped.

“Please, just listen.” The voice rasped harshly in her ears. “I need to talk to you now. It’s life or death.”

“Okay. Why don’t you—”

“Listen to me! There’s no time!”

Laurel pressed her lips together. This might be the break they’d been hoping for.

“Meet me at the Swinging Oak. Hurry!”

“
No.
I’m not meeting you anywhere. I’ll call Cade—Chief Dupree.”

“Fine. Call him. But hurry! They’re going to kill me.”

“They who?”

“Please, they’re coming. For God’s sake, help me.” The phone went dead.

She stared at the display for a few seconds. She couldn’t go out there alone. Cade was almost certainly right. The fire was a ruse to lure her out into the open. She dialed his cell but got no answer.

“Come on. Answer the phone!” She looked at the clock. Seventeen minutes had passed.

“Where are you, Cade?”

Her heart was hammering with apprehension. She’d be an idiot to go out there alone. But if she delayed—Debra’
s swollen, discolored face rose in her mind. She’d been a few minutes late and Debra had ended up dead.

She couldn’t bear another death on her conscience.

She thought about driving by the police station, but that would add another five minutes. Not to mention that Cade wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t have Officer Phillips’s number, so she called Fred. He answered sleepily.

“Fred, it’s Laurel. You haven’t talked to Cade?” She checked her weapon automatically as she rushed out the door.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“I need you to meet me at the Swinging Oak—right now. Can you do that?”

“Sure. What’s going on?” His voice was stronger. He was wide awake now.

“I got a call, but it could be a trap.”

“Where’s Cade?”

“I’ll explain. How long will it take you to get there?”

“Five or six minutes.”

“Thanks, Fred. Wait for me at the Visitor Center parking lot.” As she jumped into her rental car, she heard sirens off in the distance. So the fire was real.

She sped to the Visitor Center and parked right at the edge of the cleared area. Fred’s car was already there, he wasn’t in it.

Dear heavens, he’d already headed down to the Swinging Oak. Her pulse pounded with apprehension.

She tried Cade’s cell phone again. It terrified her that he wasn’t answering.

She tried to reassure herself—he’d probably left it in his truck. Still, ominous scenarios swirled through her head.
He was caught in the fire. The killer had ambushed him.

She shook her head, shaking off the visions, and left him a quick voice message, telling him where she was.

The early morning sunlight reflected off the dew as she walked cautiously into the underbrush using the path that hundreds of kids had walked over the years.

She was worried about Fred, coming down here alone. But she didn’t dare call out to him. When she passed the site where Debra had been killed and saw the ends of the torn crime-scene tape fluttering in the slight breeze, guilt stabbed her for more than one reason. Debra had died trying to do the right thing, and Laurel had been too late to save her. And now she’d sent Fred to face the scene of his daughter’s murder.

Within twenty paces she was at the edge of the clearing that flanked the bank of the creek. The old Swinging Oak still drooped in the same way it always had. A fragment of the frayed rope that kids had swung on for decades, and which had been used to hang Wendell, hung motionless, unaffected by the hint of an early morning breeze.

Laurel drew her weapon and stepped into the clearing. The first thing she saw was Fred, with a gun to his head. Dread settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

“Glad you could make it, Laurel. Drop the gun.”

Laurel stared at the woman holding the gun. She looked vaguely familiar. She wasn’t a tall woman, but she was muscular, as if she lifted weights. In a sleeveless top and shorts, she was a formidable sight.

“Fred, are you all right?”

“Sorry, Laurel. I should have waited for you.” Fred’s voice was shaky.

“Look, let me help you,” Laurel said to the woman.

But all the woman did was poke the barrel harder into Fred’s neck. “Drop the gun or you’ll be sorry.”

The woman’s voice was as shaky and high-pitched with fear as Fred’s. Laurel could see the gun
barrel quiver against Fred’s neck. From her vantage point, she couldn’t tell what kind of gun it was, but if it was her stolen Glock, there was no safety on it. In an inexperienced, shaky hand, one wrong twitch or jerk against the trigger and it would all be over.

“Okay. I’m going to put it down,” Laurel said quietly. She lowered her gun hand and let her weapon slip to the ground.

“Kick it.”

“Look—I can help you—”

“Kick it!”

Laurel pushed the gun with her toe. “Why don’t you let Fred go? He’s got nothing to do with this. Then you and I can talk.”

The woman shook her head. “Don’t try to negotiate with me. You’re not in charge. I am.”

“Okay, but this is between you and me. Not Fred. So why don’t you just let him go. He’ll leave, won’t you, Fred?”

“Shut up!” Sweat beaded on the woman’s face. She was terrified of something.

“Why did you bring me here? Obviously nobody’s trying to kill you.”

“I was supposed to stop you from digging into Wendell’s death.”

Laurel’s stomach turned over. “Stop me? How?”

“I was going to go to Cade’s house and confront you after he’d left. But I was afraid he’d come back. He seems a hell of a lot more worried about you than about the police station.”

Laurel cursed silently. She’d walked right into this trap. Her fate had been sealed the instant the caller had said her life was in danger.

“You don’t want to do anything foolish. I’m betting you’ve never killed anyone.” Laurel was running on pure instinct.

The barrel of the gun pushed harder into Fred’s neck and he stiffened. “Don’t push me,” the woman said.

Laurel cringed at the mounting panic in the woman’s voice. She was about to crack. Laurel had to keep her talking, keep her distracted.

“So who’s giving you orders to threaten me? Kathy?”

“Oh, please. That lush? I’m just trying to stop you from screwing up everything.”

“What everything? Who are you?”

“Shut up!”

“You were there, weren’t you? When Wendell was killed. You know what happened.” Laurel held her breath. She was bluffing. And she had to win, because if her bluff didn’t work, she and Fred could end up dead.

Fred’s eyes met hers. He was going to do something.

Fred, no! she wanted to scream, but the other woman was too close to the breaking point. Any sudden move or noise on Laurel’s part could get him killed.

“I promise I can help you,” she said quietly. “If you’ll just—”

“I said shut up. Shut up and listen to me.”

Fred doubled his fist and drove his elbow into the woman’s gun arm, then whirled, aiming his fist at her jaw.

Her body slammed into a tree and she lost her grip on her weapon. It arced through the air and landed in the brush.

Laurel dove for her own gun. She felt a searing pain along the side of her right foot. Ignoring it, she scooped up the gun just as the woman righted herself and swung a fallen tree branch at Fred’s head. He ducked sideways, but the branch caught him on the side of his head. He went limp.

Laurel came up into a crouch, working to get a good grip on her weapon. Before she could get her finger on the trigger, the woman was standing abov
e her. With one swift, spare movement, she kicked the gun out of Laurel’s hands.

Laurel’s attacker towered over her, bare muscled arms glistening in the sunlight, fists doubled. She looked like she could break Laurel in half without even working up a sweat.

C
ADE JUMPED OUT
of his truck and ran toward the path to the creek bank. He moved as quickly and silently as possible, praying he wasn’t too late.

He cursed himself for the hundredth time for not hearing his cell phone. It hardly mattered that the fire truck’s sirens had been piercing his eardrums or that the fire’s roar had swallowed up all other sound. He should have put the phone on vibrate. He should have heard it.

By the time he realized Laurel had left him a voice mail, fifteen minutes had gone by. Fifteen minutes—plenty of time for her to get herself killed.

The fire had been a distraction to draw him away from her. And it had worked. The inferno started by a potent Molotov cocktail had destroyed the entire front of the station.

As he moved stealthily along the narrow path through the thicket, his decision taunted him. He’d been certain Laurel was safer at his house than out in the open, especially with the chaos of a fire.

He’d been wrong. He’d made the wrong choice and now Laurel was in the clutches of a killer.

Dear God, if she was hurt what would he do? A gnawing pain ate at his heart. If she died—

As he approached the edge of the clearing, he heard a grunt of pain.

He stopped behind a tree and carefully took in the scene before him, his heart hammering in apprehension.