Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (61 page)

Go time.

* * *

Dan was partially awake, and alert enough to give Laney a smile, which seemed to infuse her with new vigor. As they returned to the truck, Officer Chen met them and insisted they go back inside the lobby to talk. Settled into green-covered chairs, screened from the quiet hallways by a massive potted tree, Max explained every detail, starting from their ill-advised visit to Peterson's house and ending with their trackside confrontation with Diane.

Chen listened in perfect stillness. “I can check out the Aston registration and whether or not Diane Morrison purchased a white car in the past four years, but until you can put a person behind the wheel, it isn't enough.”

“What will be enough?” Max nearly shouted. “When Ancho kills Laney to keep her from placing Beth behind the wheel?”

“Please don't raise your voice. I can check out these leads, and we can start to ask questions, to reopen the case, but it would help if Laney could remember what happened that night.”

Her eyes went wide. “I've tried so hard. It's all starting to come back faster and faster. I'm going to remember it all. Soon.”

“The sooner the better.”

Max saw that there was something underneath the carefully neutral expression on Chen's face. “You believe us, don't you?”

“I'm beginning to.”

Finally.
“Why?” Max said.

“Because Hugh Peterson was killed an hour ago.”

TWENTY-ONE

L
aney kept repeating the phrase over and over after Chen dismissed them with the promise to conduct a complete investigation.

Because Hugh Peterson was killed an hour ago.

How could that crabby, full-of-fire man be gone? His life had apparently ended when his car had slipped off the road and landed in a snow-clogged ravine ten miles from his house.

Max held her close in the hallway outside her room. “It was no accident,” she breathed. “Ancho must have been watching, waiting for him to head back home.”

“Or Diane called Ancho from the arena.”

Laney's insides went cold. “How could anyone end a life like that? Why? To cover for Beth? I don't see why Ancho would do it.”

“Because he's connected with Diane somehow. Maybe he loves her or has a debt to repay.” Max rubbed her shoulders. “More than anything I think he just flat-out likes it. He enjoys the fact that he's got the town hoodwinked about what kind of person he really is.”

“What's going to happen, Max?” she said, pulling away so she could look into his face.

“Ancho and Diane are going to know pretty quick that the police are poking around. I'm sure they'll both be questioned. They'd be fools to try anything else.”

“What can I do? I feel responsible. Peterson got into this to find out the truth about our accident.”

“That's for the police to ferret out. We're not putting ourselves in any more dangerous situations. All you need to do is focus on racing and your father's recovery.”

She wanted to insert herself back into his embrace, to feel his strong arms around her that kept the bad things away, but he had already reached for the doorknob. “Keep your door locked and don't leave your room until I come and get you in the morning. I've talked to security and they are doubling their patrols at night until things are resolved. Outer doors are all locked. Let me come in and check your room just to ease my own mind.”

The room was the same way she'd left it. Cubby mewled his displeasure at her tardiness, and she picked him up, talking sweetly into his ear until he squirmed to be put down. Max checked the bathroom and made sure the window was locked. He returned, staring at her with strange intensity.

“Max, you don't really think Ancho would come here, do you?”

“I absolutely do.” He came close, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking as though he was going to kiss her again. She found herself yearning for him to do so, and her pulse fluttered for a moment until he stepped away. “Stay safe, Laney. You've got a race to run.”

“No, I've got a race to win,” she corrected.

He smiled, and she almost believed in that moment that that there could be a future in those blue eyes, the tired face, the wounded spirit that had carried such a burden for so many years.

“You have the heart of a lion,” he said. “Maybe if I'd had...”

“Had what?”

He looked down. “I've been thinking I gave up too soon. Let myself get hardened inside and rooted in what I've lost.”

She held her breath, not wanting to break the fragile thread of connection. “I know it was not easy for you to make me that little paper dinosaur. It brought back the grief you felt for your brother, and I know you did it for me.”

He sighed. “I would do anything for you,” he said, looking at her with such intensity his eyes blazed. “And that means coaching you to the finish line.”

Something in the words saddened her. Was it still about that finish line? “What will you do, Max? After I get there, I mean.”

They both knew if she did earn a slot, most of her coaching and training would be taken over by the U.S. team staff.

“One thing at a time, Laney, but you know wherever you're training, I'll be your biggest fan, even when I'm not there with you.”

She nodded, unable to trust herself with words.
Even when I'm not there with you.

He wished her good-night and waited outside in the hallway until she slid the bolt home.

The finish line. She felt as if she was closer than she'd ever been, but it would require an incredible effort to keep away thoughts of her father, Ancho and Diane. She prayed for a while, checked in with Jen and then listened to music on her iPod. At long last she put on her sweats and lay down. The morning would come soon enough. Somehow things never seemed as dire when the sun was shining. Still, she was glad for her night-light, which spread a tiny comforting glow in the darkness.

She was startled awake later. Had it been an hour? A few minutes? She was not sure. Blinking, she sat up trying to identify what had happened. It was three o'clock in the morning, her little travel clock told her. Her phone showed no evidence of a text or email. Bad dream? Possibly, but she could not remember what it might have been about.

Trying to force her brain to picture the driver of the white car had not helped at all. The memory remained stubbornly sequestered. It simply could not be Beth, not the girl she'd known for years, her teammate and compatriot. Sure, Beth was catty and man crazy, but she'd also offered to get Laney a new trainer and loan her some skates.

Laney got up and checked the door. Still locked. Chiding herself for paranoia, she went to the tiny dorm-size refrigerator and helped herself to orange juice. As she raised the cup to her lips, a shadow reflected off the glass and she realized with a flash of horror that she was not alone.

* * *

When his phone buzzed, Max put down the Winston Churchill biography he'd spent the past four hours trying to read. Part of him hoped it was a sleepless Laney so he could reassure himself with the sound of her voice. The other part, the trainer's part, wanted her to be getting a solid seven hours before the last day of serious training was to start.

“Max, it's Tanya.”

He straightened. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.”

He waited, but she did not continue. “It's pretty late.”

“I know, but I heard what happened to Mr. Peterson and I can't get it out of my mind. I think I should tell you about the skates.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don't want to be overheard talking or I'll be in trouble for breaking curfew. Can you meet me at the bridge?”

He should advise her against going out after curfew, but he had a profound sense that he needed to hear what she had to say. Immediately.

“On my way. Keep talking to me as we walk so I can make sure you're safe.”

Her hurried breaths indicated she was nervous, the squeak of what he assumed to be the door sounded softly as she let herself out. He made out her figure slipping through the night and in a few minutes she was there.

“Go ahead, I'm listening.”

She sucked in a deep breath and hunched into the jacket she'd thrown over her pajamas. “That day, right before we raced, I thought I saw...”

Seconds ticked by. “Tell me, Tanya, it's important.”

“I thought I saw someone messing around in Laney's gear, but it was dark and I might have been mistaken.”

“Who?”

“What if I'm wrong, Max? I could ruin a reputation and get myself involved with untrue accusations. My own skating career might be over.”

He forced a breath in and out, keeping his tone level by sheer will. “Please, Tanya. Hugh Peterson is dead and Laney might be next.”

There was a long pause.

“I saw Jackie Brewster with her hand in Laney's bag.”

Disbelief dumbed his senses as the name circled thickly in his mind. “Jackie? Why would she do that?”

“I don't know. That's why I figured I must have been mistaken.” Tanya chewed her lip. “Why would Beth's coach mess with Laney's skates?”

Because she was covering for her athlete, the girl she'd allowed to leave the scene of the accident. Beth had driven away and Jackie knew it.

“She grabbed the skate after the race and hid it. Later she gave it to Ancho to get rid of, and I stopped him before he tossed it in the lake.”

Tanya's face shone white in the darkness. “She could have killed Laney by messing with her skates, or another racer if she spun out of control.”

Max's stomach dropped to the snow. Or she could be going after an unaware Laney right now.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Laney's number. If she read him the riot act for awakening her, it would be balm to his ears. The phone went to voicemail. Perhaps she was sound asleep and didn't hear it. With her father in the hospital? He knew she'd be sleeping with the phone nearby. He took off at a hard sprint, heedless of Tanya, who gave a cry of surprise as he bolted past her.

Laney. Her sweet smile filled his consciousness. She would let Jackie in, of course, because she refused to see the worst in people. It was something very precious and God breathed, but at that moment it might condemn her to death. He could see the curtained window of her room, second from the end of the hallway. No light showed through the heavy fabric.

He pounded up the walkway, fumbling for his pass key. A hand reached out and stopped him.

“Problem, sir?” the security guard asked.

“I've got to get in,” Max panted. “There could be someone after Laney Thompson.”

He pulled out his phone. “Do you have her number? I'll call her.”

“I tried that. She's not answering.”

“All right.” The man spoke soothingly. “I'll go in and knock on her door. Which one is it?”

“Listen,” Max said, his voice hard and loud. “I'm her trainer, and I'm going in there, and you're gonna get out of my way.”

The man was big, muscular and almost as tall as Max. “I don't think that's a good idea, sir. We were told no one was to have admittance after-hours to the woman's dorm, no exceptions.”

Okay, he thought to himself. He used to be a man who didn't let anything get between himself and the finish line. He'd thought that man was gone.

Time to think again.

* * *

Laney whirled around, but she was too slow. Hands caught her from behind, and a piece of thick tape was slapped over her mouth. She kicked, but the person behind her swept her legs out from under her and she found herself on her back on the bed. More tape was applied to her hands.

Someone turned on the small lamp next to her bed and Laney gasped as Ancho's face swam in front of her.

She tried to jerk to her feet, but he stepped forward and threw her back on the bed. Laney had been scared plenty of times in her life, but nothing compared to the knife edge of fear that cut at her insides.

Ancho calmly opened a Ziploc bag of cookies and put them on the bedside table. Cookies? Was he crazy?

Ancho's mouth quirked cruelly in the dim light. “Killed by a cookie. I love it.” Ancho held the cookie up to Laney's face and the fear crystallized on the pungent smell of peanuts.

“You didn't realize they had peanuts when you took them to your room,” Ancho whispered, almost soothingly. “Stupid girl. You had an allergic reaction.”

No, no, no.

He peeled back a corner of the tape and pressed the cookie to Laney's mouth. Laney jerked her head away, lips rammed together.

“Oh, quit playing around,” Ancho said, grabbing Laney's head and holding it still while he forced the bite inside her mouth. She fought hard not to swallow, but Ancho pressed his hand over Laney's mouth and nose until she was forced to suck in a breath and with it, the cookie. Coughing and choking, she bucked against Ancho's hold.

There was a sound of the door opening. Someone to rescue her.

Jackie Brewster appeared at the bedside, eyes rounded in horror. “This is not right,” she hissed. “You were supposed to scare her, that's all.” She plucked at his hands, but he shoved her away. “You were supposed to make the car disappear. That's what Diane paid you to do.”

“I did. Didn't know the kid found the sharpening kit. And it's not my fault that skater girl here started to remember everything. I went above and beyond trying to persuade her to quit by putting the screws to her father and taking her for a ride in the Aston.”

Laney's thoughts reeled. Jackie knew? The flash of memory nearly blinded her. The two people in the car. Beth behind the wheel and in the passenger seat... Jackie Brewster.

Jackie's eyes darted helplessly, her voice a whisper. “I'm sorry. I really am. I never should have given Beth a sedative, but she was distraught. She ran out, got into that ridiculous car her mother had delivered for her birthday and crashed.”

Into us. And she left us. And you let her.

“I called Diane. She told us to drive it to his place.” Jackie gave Ancho a disgusted look.

“Too much jabbering,” Ancho snapped.

“This is not right,” Jackie said, reaching for the phone. “I won't let you murder her. It's gone too far.”

He dealt her a cruel blow to the back of the head that crumpled her to the floor, her hand still outstretched toward the phone as she fell.

No help. No rescue.

Laney forced herself into a calmer zone. Her only way to save herself now was strategy. Sense the weakness and take advantage of it, Max would say. She felt a longing overwhelm every pore, a deeply rooted need to see Max again, to laugh and live and celebrate life with him for as many days as God would give them. Fighting against every instinct, she forced her body to go still.

Ancho let go of her head, still crouched over her. He leaned down to peel the rest of the tape away, and that was when Laney made her move. With legs made of iron from hour upon hour of practice, she kicked out harder than any start she'd ever made. Her feet exploded into Ancho, knocking him over backward.

Still, he managed to get to his feet and cut off her escape path to the door.

Her throat felt itchy and her tongue thick and useless. She gasped for breath.

Ancho laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”