Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (8 page)

A gnawing ache built in Lana's chest. The need to talk about her past pressed at her but she forced it back into the compartment inside her mind, stuffing all the garbage down and securing the lid. “I can barely handle the idea of becoming a mother to my nephew. The thought of adding a man to the mix terrifies me.”

A thoughtful gleam entered Ruth's eyes. “It's probably just as well.”

Miffed that Ruth would agree that Lana and Adam shouldn't get involved made Lana's tone sharp. “Why do you say that?” Before Ruth could answer a thought occurred to Lana. “Is he already in a relationship?”

She'd never thought to ask him. It was none of her business, anyway. Then why did the idea of him with someone else make her chest ache?

Ruth's mouth quirked as if she heard and understood the conflicted emotions going on inside of Lana. “No. The last serious woman he dated was before he went to Quantico.” She moved to the sink and rinsed out the rag, then turned to lean against the counter. “Did Adam mention he'd put in for a transfer to the Colorado Springs police department?”

The news hurt deep down inside. Lana's mood deflated like an airless balloon. “He hadn't mentioned it.”

“He hasn't heard back so it's not a done deal.”

“They'd be crazy not to snatch him up.”

“Yeah, well, I hope they don't.” Ruth pushed away from the counter. “We like having him around.”

Lana could understand that. Adam was a great guy.

“Adam mentioned you haven't had much experience with kids.”

Trying for another attempt at getting some caffeine in her system, Lana picked up the mug. Her hands were steadier. “No, I haven't.”

“I wouldn't have known that after seeing you with the girls,” Ruth stated. “You're a natural. I know you'll make a great parent to your nephew.”

“From your lips to God's ears,” Lana said, meaning the words as she sipped from her cup.

She'd been praying for the past month, from the moment she'd learned that her sister had left behind an orphaned boy. Rosa apparently hadn't confided in anyone who the child's father was, and the birth certificate was left blank where the father's name should have gone.

If God's plan was for Lana to be a mother to Juan, she prayed God would give her the know-how to be a good parent. And protect her and Juan from Mark. She wouldn't put it past him to use Juan against her in some way.

But first the court had to agree to allow her to have custody. “I never babysat like my friends in high school. I worked in my parents' restaurant along with my sister.”

Mentioning Rosa sent a shot of grief piercing her heart.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Ruth said. “Rosa was her name?”

“Yes.”

“I heard about her fall off the cliffs in President's Park.” Ruth shuddered. “I've never liked that part of the hiking trails. Too high up.”

Rosa hadn't liked heights either, which made her presence on those cliffs even more puzzling. According to what Adam had told Lana, Rosa hadn't been dressed for hiking; so why was she there that night?

Her cell phone and wallet were missing, which had led the police to believe her death was a mugging gone wrong. But was Adam correct in thinking that the attacks on Lana were somehow connected to Rosa's death?

“Aren't you two a pretty sight for these tired eyes?” Joe Donovan walked into the kitchen and straight to his wife's side to slip an arm around her waist. “I hope you slept well, Lana.”

“Yes, thank you.” Lana smiled at the tall naval officer. When Lana met Joe last night, she'd noticed the resemblance to Adam in Joe's blue-green eyes and height; both were well over six feet. But where Adam had light, strawberry-blond hair, Joe had a darker hue more like wheat. However, both men had wide shoulders and easy smiles.

Turning his attention to his wife, Joe leaned close to give Ruth a lingering kiss.

Lana dropped her gaze to her mug as longing filled her. She'd dreamed her whole life of having a husband who adored her, of having a marriage made from love and affection. One filled with kids and a home and all the normal things that couples took for granted. But that hadn't happened. And probably never would for her.

Risking her heart again wasn't something she anticipated happening.

No, her future would be wrapped up in a little boy named Juan. She couldn't let romance distract her.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Tara and Kelsey raced into the room wearing matching pink princess pajamas.

Joe scooped up each girl in an arm and hugged her tight. A lump formed in Lana's throat. She remembered her own father doing the same thing to her and Rosa. Carlos Gomez had been a big man with a big heart full of love for his family. Lana's mother, Maria, had been a diminutive woman full of kindness and laughter.

An ache deep in Lana's heart throbbed, making her eyes misty. She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears the tender family scene evoked.

A knock at the front door brought a welcome distraction from her anguish, but inflicted chaos on her heart rate. Adam was here.

“I'll get it,” Lana said and hurried from the kitchen.

At the front door, she paused. Took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. She looked around. No mirror to see how she looked. She smoothed her hair anyway, wanting to look her best.

Yesterday, Joe and Ruth had driven her to their doctor to have the bandage removed. The butterfly stitches above her temple were a constant reminder of the attack. Would Adam find the wound repulsive?

She rolled her eyes. His opinion didn't matter. Or rather shouldn't. Yet, she stood here, heart racing, a flustered mess. Not good. She plastered on a smile and opened the door.

Adam stood on the welcome mat, dressed in his dark-colored uniform. His hair had been tamed back and his face clean-shaven. Her heart did a little flip in her chest. She was happy to see him only because his presence meant she didn't have to go to the courthouse alone.

She ignored the mocking thought that taunted she'd been alone for so long she should be used to going it solo. Relying on Adam would only set her up for heartache down the road. He'd put in for a transfer. He wasn't sticking around. Pinning her hopes on him wouldn't be smart. “Hi.”

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi, yourself.” He inspected her head. “Not bad. Hardly noticeable.”

A tension in her chest she hadn't wanted to acknowledge eased. She self-consciously touched the sensitive skin around the stitches. “Thanks. They have to stay for seven days.”

“Time will pass in the blink of an eye,” he assured her. She liked how he always saw the bright side of things.

“Are you ready?”

She picked up her purse from the bottom step. “Where's Ace?”

“Waiting in the car.” Adam looked past Lana. “Hey, bro. Ruth. Girly-girls.”

Lana turned to see Joe, carrying the twins, and Ruth step up behind her.

“Uncle Adam!” the twins yelled in tandem.

“Whoa there, little fillies!” Joe's booming voice bounced through the house. He held the squirming girls against his chest. “Uncle Adam and Miss Lana have to scoot.”

“I'll be back,” Adam promised and blew each girl a kiss. Much giggling ensued as each child pretended to catch and press the kiss to her cheeks.

With a light heart, Lana stepped outside and Adam closed the door behind her. “You fare all right here in the madhouse?”

“It's been fabulous,” she admitted. She liked his family and secretly wished they were hers. “Ruth is great. And the girls are a hoot.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “I'm sure they've kept you busy.”

“They did. We played multiple games of Candy Land and read every book in their collection. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed Dr. Seuss.” Her smile faded as she climbed inside the SUV. In less than an hour a judge would decide her fate. And that of Juan. “But now my insides are tied up in knots.”

He leaned an arm on the open door and met her gaze. “You'll do fine. Just be honest with the judge. Tell him why you want to raise Juan. I can't imagine the court won't give you custody.” He stepped back and shut the door.

All the way to the H. Carl Moultrie Courthouse, home of the Superior Court for the District of Columbia, Lana prayed that Adam's words would come true.

Whatever the outcome, it would be a part of God's plan but she couldn't refrain from silently pleading her case. Juan deserved to be loved and raised by his only family. Surely God would want the same thing.

Adam parked in the police reserved lot. After releasing Ace from the back compartment and attaching his leash, Adam came around to the passenger side and opened the passenger door. Lana couldn't move. Her heart hammered and her knees locked together. Anxiety paralyzed her. But she couldn't sit here any longer.

Forcing a composure she didn't feel, she stepped out of the vehicle. Ace came to her side and nudged her hand until she buried her fingers in his short fur. Rhythmically stroking his sleek head helped to restore balance in her system.

She glanced down at the dog. “Thanks,” she whispered before falling into step with Adam on the right side while Ace stayed on his master's left.

They entered through the back door of the building, going through security easily and heading to the family court division. At the reception window she gave her name and was told her lawyer was already here.

A few minutes later, Rick Mendes, the family law attorney Lana had hired to assist in her case, approached. Trim, with dark hair and a mustache, he shook hands with Adam and then turned to Lana.

“I'm so glad you arrived early as I asked. I had you moved up on the docket,” Rick said. “Judge Schroeder is presiding today. Better to catch him sooner rather than later. He can get cranky as the day wears on.” Rick took her elbow and led her toward the double doors of the courtroom.

The judge's name rang a bell but Lana was too busy trying to keep up with Rick to process where she'd heard it before. The clicking of Ace's nails on the marble floor let Lana know Adam and Ace followed.

“We've got ten minutes before the bailiff calls your case.” Rick paused at the doors. “Do you have your identification with you?”

She held up her purse. “Everything's in here.”

“Good.” He released her elbow. “I need to check in with my office. I'll be right back.” He strode away, his phone already out and dialing.

Adam put a hand on her shoulder. “You've got this.”

Staring into his eyes, she wanted to believe his words. But the knot of tension in her stomach wouldn't ease. “I'm a person of interest in an ongoing police investigation. That has to hurt my chances of winning.”

The troubled concern flashing over Adam's face didn't reassure her.

“You're innocent until proven otherwise,” he said.

The irony that she'd said basically the same thing to him only a few days ago wasn't lost on her. Her mouth tipped up at one side. “Let's hope everyone remembers that.”

He let out a self-effacing chuckle. Obviously the irony wasn't lost on him either. “Yeah.” He sobered. “Lana, you're going to make a great mother. The judge will see that.”

Her heart thumped. She appreciated that he thought so. “Thanks.”

A few minutes later the bailiff stepped into the hall and called her name, sending her nervousness skyrocketing.

“Here goes everything,” she muttered before following her lawyer into the courtroom.

As she walked up the long aisle, flanked on both sides by wooden bench seats filled with a smattering of people, her gaze zeroed in on the white-haired man sitting at the judge's bench. Her steps faltered as recognition shocked her system.

Now she knew why the judge's name had sounded familiar. Judge Schroeder was the same family court judge who'd granted her the civil protection order six months ago. She wasn't sure if having the same judge was a blessing or not. It was one thing to have a random judge read Lana's file and learn of the domestic violence. But Judge Schroeder had witnessed her fear of Mark firsthand. He'd granted the order, so obviously he agreed that Mark posed a threat. Would the judge now decide that Lana's ex-husband was too great a safety risk to allow Lana custody of Juan? She sent up an urgent prayer asking God to please sway the judge in her favor.

“Lana?” Adam's worried tone made her draw herself up. She forced herself to look at him, half afraid he'd read the panic in her eyes. “You okay?”

No. She blinked. Looked for an escape route. There was none. If she wanted custody of Juan she had to face the judge and leave her fate in his hands.

The bailiff intoned her name and the case number. Lana's mouth went dry. She clasped her hands together. The future was out of her control.

SEVEN

A
n hour later a stunned Lana allowed Adam to usher her from the courtroom and into his vehicle. Her stomach was tied in knots. After hearing from her lawyer and then Lana's stuttering plea for custody of Juan, Judge Schroeder determined that in the best interest of the child, Lana should be evaluated by a court-appointed licensed psychologist before the judge would render his final decree regarding the custody issue of Juan Gomez.

Until then, the boy would stay in the All Our Kids group foster home.

The only bright spot had been Adam. He'd come to her defense when the judge brought up the issue with the museum. Just as she feared, the DC police had her name entered in their database as a person of interest in the museum break-in. She'd proclaimed her innocence and then Adam had stepped up asking to speak on her behalf, explaining to the judge the circumstantial nature of the evidence gathered at the crime scene.

And when the judge had stared down Adam and in a very firm tone asked if Adam thought Miss Gomez innocent of any wrongdoing in regards to the museum theft, Adam had responded with a resounding yes.

Lana could have been knocked over with a feather in that moment. Only her parents had ever offered her that kind of support. Out of love. What motivated Adam? She could only think his innate compassion was his driving force.

Though the judge hadn't denied her custody, his condition stretched her nerves taut. An evaluation by a psychologist to determine if she was mentally fit to take on the responsibility of raising her nephew.

Her heart raced. Sweat broke out on her brow. Her breathing turned shallow. No, no, no. She couldn't collapse in front of Adam. She hated the chaotic, disorienting feeling of losing her cool. Yet, she was powerless to stop the anxiety from squeezing her lungs and clouding her brain.

Adam climbed into the driver's seat. He glanced at her. Alarm widened his eyes. “Hey, now. It's going to be okay.”

She nodded, wanting to appease him, and then shook her head because she couldn't lie. Her future, Juan's future, remained suspended. Only now she had another hoop to jump through. She felt as if someone was holding her head underwater. She needed to control this. She would not fall apart in front of him.

He grabbed her arms and made her face him. “Breathe. Come on. You're having an anxiety attack.” He rubbed her arms. “Breathe.”

She noisily sucked in air, desperate to regain her composure.

“That's it.”

After several long moments, her breathing evened out, her heart rate slowed. She was in control once again.

“Wow, what brought that on?”

She slanted him a glance. He watched her with eyes filled with concern. His distress prompted her to answer honestly. “I don't want to go to a psychiatrist.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

How did she explain that opening up, talking about her feelings, her past, her nightmares scared her nearly as much as facing a masked man wielding a valuable artifact aimed at her head? But what scared her more were the growing feelings for Adam. Feelings she had no idea what to do with.

Something clicked in her mind. A welling realization filled her. The judge was correct. She did need to talk to someone, process through her thoughts and emotions. If she wanted to be the best mother to her nephew she had to move beyond the hurt and pain of the past.

* * *

Lana's lack of response set Adam's teeth on edge. Her dark eyes grew cold, her face losing all expression. It was as though she was turning to ice right before his eyes. All the anxiety that bubbled up shifted inward. If she weren't careful all that frozen emotion would crack under the pressure. The judge's decision to send her for evaluation wasn't necessarily a bad thing. That she agreed spoke volumes about what she was willing to do for her nephew.

Obviously learning to deal with her stress would be helpful. “Did you ever seek grief counseling after your parents' deaths?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “No. It never crossed my mind. My parents were very private people. They raised Rosa and me to be the same. Sharing my feelings with strangers isn't something I'm comfortable with.”

She exerted a great amount of energy to contain her emotions and for the most part she succeeded. That she'd allowed him to see the chink in her armor had his heart expanding. He doubted few people were so privileged.

He wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her to thaw all that rigid self-control. But he didn't think she'd welcome the gesture. Instead, he withdrew his hands from her arms and drove them away from the courthouse. “Talking can be helpful. Sometimes we need another person's perspective to facilitate processing our emotions.”

Man, he sounded like a commercial ad for counseling. But when he thought about all she'd been through—her divorce and her sister's murder on top of losing her parents—anyone would be on the brink of a breakdown after suffering so much turmoil and loss. His heart ached for her.

She'd done such a good job in the courtroom. Poised, calm, yet passionate about her reasons for gaining custody of her nephew. “Are you speaking from experience?”

He sucked in a quick breath. He'd opened that door. He maneuvered his vehicle through the midday traffic and debated his answer. Finally he replied, “Yes. I sought support after my career in the FBI went south.”

Facing him, she asked, “What happened?”

He didn't want to talk about those dark days. Any more than she wanted to talk about her grief.

Lord, how do I proceed?
Did he spill his guts? Or be evasive? If he wanted her to open up to him, he had to first open up to her. Sounded easy. Yet, the words clogged his throat. He forced them out. “I worked out of the LA field office.” He blew out a breath. “My partner and I were brought in on a case by the local law enforcement. They needed the resources we had. Needed our expertise.”

When they reached the Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge spanning over the Anacostia River the traffic thinned out. He stayed in the right lane, closest to the walking path. Up ahead the traffic signs flashed red. The red-and-white-striped bar came down, bringing the flow of vehicles to a halt. A middle portion of the bridge slowly rotated ninety degrees, creating an opening for a huge barge to pass through.

He turned to face her. “It was a murder case. High-profile. The circumstantial evidence pointed to the wife of the deceased. My partner got ‘involved' with the suspect.”

The rev of a motorcycle engine drew Adam's attention, halting his words. He glanced into the rearview mirror. Ten feet back a black motorbike with a rider dressed in black wove down the middle of the two lanes between the stopped cars.

A good way for the rider to get hurt. One person inadvertently opening their side door at the wrong moment would send the bike and rider flying.

Ace barked as the rider slowed to an idle behind them. The animal's sensitive ears didn't like the sound of a motor, from motorcycles, a vacuum or even a blender.

“It's okay, boy.” Hoping to calm the dog, Adam opened the sliding partition that separated the dog's kennel from the front seats.

Lana turned toward Adam for better access to pet Ace. “It's no fun being stuck in the back, is it buddy.”

Ahead, the barge moved out of the way, allowing the section of bridge to swing back into place. The striped bars rose. Traffic moved. Adam shifted the gear into Drive and rolled forward.

The motorcycle gunned its engine and drove alongside the passenger-side window. Ace went ballistic. The dog's deafening barks filled the cab.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Adam grabbed hold of Ace's collar with his free hand. His gaze shot past Ace and Lana to the motorcycle rider. Though the rider wore a darkened visor that hid his face, there was no doubt in Adam's mind the man was looking into the passenger window.

And he held a gun aimed at Lana's head.

* * *

“Get down!” Adam shouted. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, his heart slammed against his ribs. Fearing for Lana and Ace, he pushed Ace back into his kennel with his arm as he grabbed Lana by the shoulder and shoved her to the floor just as the side window exploded. The bullet whizzed past Adam's ear and smashed into the metal of the side panel.

Glass rained down. Lana screamed. The ringing in Adam's ears from the gunshot blast muffled Ace's frantic barks. Adam yanked on the steering wheel and veered the vehicle into the bike. The rider dumped the motorcycle within a second of being crushed between the concrete divider and the SUV. The shriek of metal against the concrete divider shuddered through Adam. He watched the rider hop the divider and then scuttle over the railing and disappear. The guy would have nowhere to go but into the river far below.

Adam slammed on the brakes and jammed the gear into Park and blocked the lane. Cars inched around them.

Panic made his hands shake. “Are you hurt?” He helped Lana to sit up, resisting the innate urge to gather her close. He needed to stay focused. Professional. Not let his emotions take over.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated. “No. You?”

“No. Thank God above.” He looked over his shoulder to check on Ace. “None of us were.” Ace poked his head back through the partition and licked his face.

Lana slipped her arms around Ace's neck and stared at Adam. “What was that?”

“Someone tried to kill you.”

Her olive skin blanched, turning her complexion ashen.

His insides tightened in reaction to her fear. He gave her shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before leashing Ace and climbing out of the vehicle, careful to avoid passing cars. Ace hopped down and raced toward the spot where the rider had gone over the edge of the railing, almost jerking Adam's arm out of the socket. Adam ran to keep up while using the radio attached to his shoulder to call the shooting in. He stared down into the muddy Anacostia River.

There was no sign of the shooter.

Adam returned to the vehicle, noting that the motorcycle was pinned between the side of the SUV and the retaining wall. He helped Lana out of the SUV through the driver's side. Carefully, he picked glass from her long hair.

Sirens filled the air and within minutes the bridge was swarming with law enforcement and emergency personnel. After giving a detailed account of the situation to the officer in charge, Adam waited with Lana while the SUV and the motorbike were disentangled.

Thankfully the damage to Adam's vehicle was minimal and the SUV was drivable. The motorbike, however, hadn't fared as well. The rider must have anticipated Adam's move to react so quickly. Where had the perp come from? Adam was sure they hadn't been followed from the courthouse. But obviously Lana was being watched. Tracked.

A shiver of foreboding sent a chill through him.

“Do you have a cell phone on you?” he asked Lana.

“I do.” She pulled it out from her purse.

Adam slipped the battery out. Noticing Lana's questioning look, he said, “Better safe than sorry.”

The police cleared them to leave. Instead of driving straight to his brother's house, Adam stopped at a convenience store and purchased a prepaid cell phone for Lana. He programmed the number into his phone and then programmed his number into the prepaid one before handing the device to her.

Soon they were in his brother's neighborhood. Adam was grateful for the security at the gate. And the police cruiser that would sit outside around the clock. The community was well guarded. He breathed easier. They arrived at Joe's house to find Ruth and the girls and Tink gone.

Once they entered the house, Adam paused at the threshold, uncomfortable with leaving her alone but unsure she wanted him to stay. Visibly shaken, Lana wrapped her arms across her middle as if to hold herself together.

“I'm sure Ruth and the twins will be home soon.” The need to protect, to comfort, rose sharply within him. The spot on his arm under her hand grew warm. He covered her hand. “I'll stay until they come back.” That was his job, to protect her.

The grateful relief crossing her face sent his heart pounding. He shouldn't like how being needed by her made him feel. He rubbed the back of his neck. Tension tightened the muscles in his shoulders. He was letting himself get too attached, too emotionally invested in her life. Her response was logical. Of course she didn't want to be alone. She'd had a horrible experience. She'd have been as grateful and relieved to have Ruth here. Wouldn't she?

Determined not to dwell on the answer to that question, Adam filled a bowl with water for Ace and then sat on the bar stool at the kitchen counter. His gaze tracked Lana as she filled two glasses of water and set one down in front of him before settling herself on the bar stool next to him. Though still pale and shaky, she was putting on a brave front. No hysterics, no drama. He appreciated that.

Not that she wasn't due a good cry, though. The release would be good for her, but he was sure she wouldn't break down in front of him. She wasn't the type to wear her emotions on her sleeve.

“I don't understand why someone would want to kill me,” she said, in a soft voice that trembled slightly, giving testament to how badly she was affected by the attempted shooting.

She'd become a target. But why? Was the motorcycle rider the same person who'd burglarized the museum? Did that person think she could identify him? “This has to connect to the museum theft. Are you sure you didn't see the man's face? Anything that might cause him to think you could identify him?”

She shook her head. “No. If the man walked up to me on the street I wouldn't know him. You think it could be the same guy? But why?”

“I don't know what to think.” If it wasn't the same guy from the museum...

“Is there anything else you haven't told me about that would put a bull's-eye on your head. Maybe something to do with your sister's death?”