Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (30 page)

Stephanie and Rick rose from their seats. A man looking to be in his fifties wearing a lab coat over his Wranglers stepped toward them. Stephanie noticed his eyes were kind, but behind the kindness she recognized something else that scared her. Pity. Goose bumps ran up her legs and through her heart.
Don't you dare give us any bad news.

“Mr. Powell, I'm Leo Bailey.” He extended his hand. Rick shook it. “I've finished examining Axle. Why don't we sit—”

Rick cut him off. “I don't want to sit. Tell me how he is.” Rick crossed his arms and took on his police stance. “I don't care what it costs. Whatever it takes to make Axle well again, I'll pay for it.”

The vet nodded. “Well, Mr. Powell, when I first examined Axle, I was worried we would be having a much more difficult conversation. He's been hurt badly, but you've got a very tough and very determined dog in there.”

It was as if Stephanie had sucked in all of their combined worry and then hadn't exhaled for hours. After hearing the vet's hope-filled words, Stephanie's whole body deflated in relief. Axle was going to be okay. She squeezed Rick's hand again, hoping that the good news would thaw the new coldness that had suddenly descended on him, but there was no squeeze back from him. She sensed the frozen wall between them growing taller and thicker by the minute. What had she done? Why was he treating her like this?

Dr. Bailey continued his prognosis. “Thankfully, the bullet missed some vital areas and then exited without too much internal damage. Axle's going to need antibiotics and time to rest and heal, but he'll pull through.” The vet flipped through the chart he held. “It looks like Axle has already proved that he is not one to stay down for long.”

The vet smiled and dropped the chart to his side. “I have a feeling you haven't seen the end of this dog's heroics yet.”

FOURTEEN

H
ow long until he finds us here?

Stephanie sat on the edge of the hotel bed, running her hands along the comforter, picking at the tiny matted balls on the old pilled material. Her eyes roamed her new surroundings, taking in the 1980s pastel decor. A slight antiseptic scent made the room seem uninviting, but at least it was clean and cheap. She was going to owe Rick so much money by the time this week ended. Most importantly, though, the single-level roadside hotel was close to Axle at the vet's office in case he needed them overnight.

Stephanie had always been an introvert, requiring more alone time than other people to recharge, but now she was restless, too keyed up to enjoy the quiet. She needed something to occupy her mind so she could stop wondering if Julian Hale knew exactly where they were.

Rick was next door in the adjoining room with only an interior door separating them. She knew that all she would have to do was cry out for him and he would come crashing in to her rescue. Jason King was in the room on her other side. She stood up and peeked around the curtain into the parking lot. At that moment a sheriff's department patrol car rolled by on the street, and parked in the space directly in front of her room was a truck with Russ Miller in the cab staring at her door. He waved at her. She gave a tiny, embarrassed wave back and dropped the curtain. She was definitely well guarded.

It was too early to sleep, and she had left the book she had started reading behind at the cabin. She paced the room and then stopped to listen. She couldn't hear anything coming from Rick's room. What was he doing? Probably wondering if there was any way he could get out of babysitting her sooner than he had promised Terrell.

Turning on the TV didn't help her restlessness. She flipped through every station, but it all annoyed her. How could the world go on like normal? She felt too jaded to laugh at corny sitcoms and too consumed with her own issues to care about the world's news. She turned it off. What she didn't want to admit was that she was lonely. After spending so much time with Rick and Axle for company, she missed them. She missed Val, too. Maybe Rick would let her use his phone to call her.

Stephanie's hand hovered inches away from the door that separated their adjoining rooms, trying to decide if she should knock or not. He had been acting so distant and aloof, she was sure he wanted to be left alone. But after all the adrenaline and worry over Axle, this letdown was making her feel stir-crazy. She needed to talk to another human being.

She rapped lightly on the door. “Rick? Are you awake?”

The door swung open with so much force, Stephanie popped back.

“What's wrong?” he asked. His brows were pinched together, his eyes searching first her, and then the room behind her.

She put her hands up. “Nothing's wrong.”

Why had she bothered him? Her question seemed so stupid now. She stumbled over her words. “I just wondered if I could borrow your phone.”

He cocked his head, looking confused. A few seconds ticked by before her words convinced him she truly was okay, and his alert posture relaxed. He turned, leaving the door open behind him.

Returning with his phone, he tossed it to her. “Just keep it with you for now.”

She caught the phone down low by her knees, grateful that she didn't drop it. Without saying anything more, he shut the door, leaving her alone again.

“Thanks,” she said to the closed door. Then she kicked it, which she regretted when pain shot up from her stubbed toe. She fell backward onto the scratchy bed and dialed Val's cell number. She stared at the ceiling waiting for Val to answer.

“Hello?” The smooth, warm voice of her friend wirelessly crossed the miles and embraced Stephanie's heart.

“Val?” She swallowed, trying to control the flood of emotion.

“Steph? Are you safe?”

Stephanie winced. Her every attempt to talk with someone tonight made them worry something was wrong. “I'm okay.”

“Then why do I hear tears?”

“I didn't call to talk about me,” Stephanie insisted.

“But how you are is what I care about.”

After several moments of silence, Val let out an exasperated sounding sigh. “Oh, all right.” She started talking in rapid-fire sentences. “We're all fine. Living in a hotel with kids is about to send me over the edge. The house can be fixed, but it is going to take several months before it is livable again, so we're shopping for a rental. At least we have the swimming pool at the hotel because it is saving my sanity.” Val's report ended abruptly. Stephanie heard the deep inhale she took before she declared, “There, you're all caught up on us. Now spill it,
chica
.”

Val could be so bossy, but Stephanie loved her for it. She told her friend everything that had happened over the past few days, trying to downgrade the danger they had faced, but Val couldn't be fooled. She kept pressing for more details, peeling back the layers of facts until she got to how Stephanie was feeling about all of it.

“What about Rick?” Val asked. “How's he doing?”

“Rick's...” Stephanie stared at the closed door in the center of her wall. “Rick's fine, I guess. I wouldn't know for sure. He's too busy being a jerk and giving me the cold shoulder.”

“I knew it,” Val said excitedly. She sounded so happy, as if she had won the lottery or something. “Hee hee. I knew it, I knew it.”

Stephanie scooted up against the headboard and hugged a pillow. “Valencia Watkins, what do you
know
?”

“You
like
him.”

* * *

Stephanie slipped her head under the water line of the bathtub, her curls floating around her. The shampoo fizzed in her ear.
I am not interested in Rick Powell.

She had denied it on the phone. “It's only been five days, Val. That's too fast to be accusing me of falling for the guy.”

“Says who?” Val had said. “Besides, you have known Rick for a lot longer than that. You both needed to be pushed a little to pay attention to each other, that's all.”

Stephanie spit air at a bubble on her nose and lathered the hotel's old-fashioned-smelling soap between her hands.
I'm not falling in love with him, am I? Because that could mess everything up.
She could deal with a little crush. Anything deeper than that would be more complicated. Stephanie viciously scrubbed her arms as if she could rub off the doubts along with the dirt.

She had collected so much grime. Lying facedown along the river's rocky bank while a madman used her for target practice could do that to a girl, she supposed. The whole ordeal had left her scraped up and filthy. It felt good to soak it all away.

“I'm not falling for him, Val,” she had said.

But Val had only asked her, “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Stephanie had changed her strategy. “How I feel is irrelevant, anyway. Rick is hardly even talking to me anymore.”

“Your feelings are not irrelevant. Rick has his guard up. Terrell did the same thing to me when we were dating. It's a sign that you're working your way into his heart. He's afraid of caring about you, especially after watching Axle get shot. It scares him to imagine something like that happening to you. I've got faith in Rick. He'll come around,” Val had countered.

“Valencia Watkins, I love Liberia, not Rick Powell. Are you trying to confuse me?”

“And you don't think God has made your heart big enough for both?” Val had challenged her.

Stephanie unplugged the bathtub while Val's question battered around in her head. God had called her to Liberia, hadn't He? She had been so sure that she was supposed to be there, but she couldn't find any open door for her to walk through at the moment. She loved the country and the people too much to believe that God wasn't sending her there. She forced the silly ideas Val had put in her head to slide down the drain with the last bit of dirty bathwater.

As soon as Julian Hale was caught and behind bars, she and Rick would be able to go back to their normal lives and to their own plans for the future. She stepped from the bathtub, determined that Val's teasing would not distract her any further.

She dressed in the same dirty clothes she had worn before the bath, wishing she had some fresh ones. She grabbed Rick's phone and logged on to her email account. Scanning through all the junk mail, her eyes landed on a message from her sister.

Her heart skipped in anticipation. Stephanie skimmed the note, searching for names of the people she missed so much and for word about how Emily's pregnancy was going. Hungry for news, she picked out certain words and phrases, eating them up like an appetizer to take the edge off the hunger before she went back to the beginning and read every word slower. There were stories about Moses and how much he had grown, funny anecdotes about the Liberian people and a few new Liberian phrases Emily had picked up. Stephanie devoured every word her sister had written.

She remembered the threatening printouts from Emily's blog that Julian had sent to her. Julian's hands had reached everywhere. He had messed with every area of her life, threatened everyone she loved. His eyes had seen every move she and Rick had made. How? She stared at Rick's phone, pondering. Then, slowly, she began to see the common denominator. She knew how Julian was finding them.

She was holding it in her hands.

* * *

Rick put his ear to the door to Stephanie's room. Would he be able to hear her if she called for help? After the cold shoulder he'd given her, he doubted he would see her again tonight unless she was in danger. Grandpa Powell would skin him if he saw how he had been treating Stephanie today. He could hear his grandfather's voice saying, “Son, that is not how we raised you to treat a lady.”

And Grandpa Powell would be right. Rick knew he was being a jerk, but keeping her at a distance was for the best. All it took was closing his eyes and he could see Stephanie in the cabin last night, her face lit up by the flickering firelight. It took effort not to walk through the door separating them and repeat that closeness. If he didn't keep his distance both physically and emotionally, he would be too tempted and distracted. He had already crossed the professional line and allowed this case to become far too personal. He had to rectify that if he was going to be able to do his job well, and if hurting her feelings a little was the cost of keeping her safe, so be it.

Are you trying to protect her or yourself?

Stephanie's theory had been that Hale wouldn't shoot her from a distance, but she could have been wrong. She could have been shot just as Axle had been. Rick could have lost both of them by that river today. Sure, he had wanted her to learn to defend herself, but he also had treated her shooting lesson more like a date than a true self-defense lesson. And obviously, he hadn't chosen a secure enough location. He had failed to protect her because he was distracted by his attraction to her. He'd been stupid, and he couldn't keep making that same mistake.

His memory replayed the sound the bullets had made as they pinged off the rocks around them. He imagined one of those bullets hitting Stephanie. Rick turned away from her door and paced the room, unwilling to allow his imagination to go any further with that scenario.

Pounding knocks from Stephanie's side of the door startled him. Her knocking was more insistent this time. He yanked the door open.

Stephanie rushed past him and tossed his cell phone away from her and onto his bed as if it were burning her hand. She pointed at it. “Julian knows we're here.”

Her hair was soaking wet, leaving dark wet spots on the shoulders of her T-shirt. The protective instinct he felt for her flared. He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her for injury. Her pupils were dilated and her skin pale again, but she didn't look hurt.

“What's wrong?” he demanded.

“He knows we're here.”

“How do you know?” Rick went to the window and flicked aside the drapes. The parking lot held the same cars he had seen the last time he had checked, and Russ Miller was still guarding her door. He couldn't find anything out of place. “Did you see Hale?”

Stephanie grabbed his upper arms and turned him away from the window, her grip tight. “Your phone, Rick.” She pointed at the bed. “Who's the carrier?”

It was an odd question. “The city has a contract with VoiceOne for all the department's cell phones.”

Stephanie covered her face with her hands, talking to him through her closed fingers. “Ahh. I don't know why I didn't think about it when you told me to leave behind all my electronic devices.”

“They're the biggest carrier in the nation, Stephanie. Almost everyone I know uses VoiceOne for their cell coverage. What's the connection here?”

She removed her hands so she could look directly at him. “I won a technology grant from VoiceOne for my classroom.”

“So?”
Who cares? Is Hale here or not?

Her shoulders sagged and she collapsed onto the edge of his bed. “When I won that grant, they sent one of their IT guys to set up my new equipment.” She looked up and asked, “Does that ring any bells?”

Rick could feel the snarl on his face as he spit out, “Hale worked for VoiceOne?”

Stephanie nodded. “It's possible to find someone's location through their cell phone, right?”

Rick growled his frustration and started pacing. “Yes. You can ping the cell towers and locate to within three miles of their location, a lot closer if that phone is GPS enabled, which mine is.”

How could he have been so stupid? They already knew Hale was a technological genius. Rick remembered the photograph Hale had sent to Stephanie, the one where he put a blanket around her shoulders outside the fire. The image captured a look of tenderness on his own face that had surprised him. Hale must have known that Rick wouldn't stop looking out for her. Matching the police officer he saw protecting Stephanie to the department-issued phone would have been elementary for someone like Hale, especially if he had access to VoiceOne records. Rick reached for the phone to power it down, but Stephanie's slender fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him. “Wait,” she said. He jolted at her touch.