No Chance in Hell (4 page)

“Who?” Dalton asked. “Never mind. You mean Kay.”

“That’s who I said.” Nate shook his head and ended the call.
 

Marcus had learned long ago that some things never changed, and Kay’s grandfather and Nate were going to call her by her full name regardless. Out of habit, Marcus turned to speak to Diablo before letting him out. The seat was empty. “Feels odd not having my dog with me.”

“I promise he doesn’t miss you.”

“No shit. He’s getting more petting from Kay than you do.”

“As if,” Nate snorted, getting out of the SUV.

Marcus stopped and scanned the property. He counted three gardeners working on the landscaping. The grass was lush and freshly cut, the hedges trimmed, and knock-out roses lined the exterior. He and Nate joined Chris, who had waited on the sidewalk with two uniformed Plano police officers.

“This is me, here on the corner.” She unlocked the door. “Come in.”

“I’ll speak with these officers,” Nate said, showing his identification.

“Thanks.” Marcus introduced himself and Chris. After a brief discussion between Chris and the cops, Marcus followed her into a large entryway.

“What now?” Chris asked.

“You give me the two-dollar tour. When Nate and the officers come inside, we’ll stop so you can answer their questions.”

“Make yourself at home.” Chris extended her arm, indicating he should go ahead of her.

The open floor plan allowed him to easily see the front and back doors. Her decor was a little bleak compared to the lush exterior of the property. Shining hardwood floors reflected the overhead lighting, making the area bright. A brown leather couch was flanked by two brown easy chairs. A smattering of pictures hung on the wall. In a word, he’d describe her place as nondescript. Not at all matching his initial impressions of her.

Except for one particular painting that caught his attention. Hung under a wall-mounted light and over the fireplace, it was a really nice copy of the Mona Lisa.
 

“This is amazing.”

“It’s all I have left of my sister. Lord only knows where she got the money to buy such a good reproduction.”

He understood that Chris would treasure something that reminded her of her sister. Over time, memories fade and hurts heal. It was good to have something tangible to hold on to.
 

Marcus moved through the space. Her living area was neat and clean. He explored downstairs and upstairs. One room housed a queen-size bed with a plump white comforter spread across the foot. The faint hint of citrus filled the space, reminding him of Chris.

Of everything he’d seen, her scent in this bedroom and the print in the living room were the only things he could tie to Chris. The answer hit him. She’d filled the place with inexpensive furniture in case she had to move quickly.
 

Across the hall, he found a second bedroom. The room was quite different from the rest of the town house. A lone desk sat against the wall. A secretary chair and one file cabinet made up the furnishings. On the floor were two cardboard boxes and a number of unframed canvases. No curtains. Stark white blinds covered the windows. No niceties. No luxury, but warmer and more lived in than the rest of the place. He wanted a closer look at the artwork.
 

“You’re an artist? May I?” His hand hovered over the first canvas and waited until she nodded. He dropped down on one knee and carefully looked through the stack of artwork. She painted in watercolor. He was no expert, but the portraits of women standing in open fields were great. The ones depicting nature—trees covered with green leaves, flowers growing under bright sunlight—really caught his attention. A weathered barn nestled in a field of yellow wheat was his favorite.
 

“Not anymore. I don’t know why I haven’t trashed them. Since Chelsea’s murder, I haven’t had the desire.”

“It would be a shame if you didn’t keep it up. These should be on display in an art gallery.”

“Thank you. I’ve been trying to write Chelsea’s book. Even though there is no happy ending, if it keeps one person off drugs and out of prostitution, it will be worth it. But the killer has to be brought to justice or there’s no end to the story.”

“It’s a nice tribute, but it must be difficult.”

“More than I can say. There are so many unanswered questions that I keep writing myself into a corner. It’s a lot harder than I anticipated.”

“Once we find her murderer, maybe you’ll get those answers.” Marcus finished his inspection, and then followed her to the front room. “You’ll need to speak with these guys.” He motioned to the officers waiting in her living room. “Nate and I will look around the outside. I can tell you now that your security system needs updating.”
 

“Do you know somebody?”

“Yeah. I’ll get the installation expedited.”

Marcus and Nate walked outside and did a close inspection of each access to her house. They found no broken windows or locks.

Nate stopped on her front steps and shook his head. “Bastard had to bypass the security system. But how’d he get inside?”

The two officers walked out. Their notebooks were closed and out of sight, leaving Marcus to believe they were satisfied. He and Nate thanked them.

“You go ahead,” Nate said. “I’m going to take a second look around.”

Marcus joined Chris inside. “They weren’t here long.”

She sat in a big easy chair. “You think they believed me?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” The doorbell rang. “You expecting someone?” Marcus asked.

“No.” She stood and started toward the door. “It’s probably Nate.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Marcus reached out and caught her arm. “I’ll get it. You stay behind me.”

She tilted her head and glanced down at his hand. When she looked up at him, a deep scowl pulled her eyebrows together. “Please don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I had no intention of blindly opening the door and exposing myself. I fully intended to let you do it.”

“Sorry. Automatic reaction.”

“No.” Chris caught his arm as he had hers seconds ago. “I apologize. I’m a little nervous. I thought by using my mother’s maiden name, I’d have more time to figure out who he is.”

The doorbell rang again, and Marcus let the subject drop. He leaned down and looked through the peephole. Nate towered over a young man whose eyes were wide and mouth was moving rapidly. In the kid’s hand was a large floral arrangement.

“Delivery boy and Nate,” Marcus said over his shoulder. He opened the door. “Come in.”

“No, thanks. I’ll just drop these off and be gone.”

“We insist.” Nate rested his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Who sent the flowers?”

“How would I know?” The kid pushed his words out with attitude. “I just deliver them. Maybe you should check the card.”

Nate didn’t release his grip. “Good idea.”

“Who are you people?” the kid demanded.
 

“Investigators,” Marcus answered, allowing the kid to fill in the rest. “Were you at work when the order came in?”

“Yeah. My mom took the call this morning.”

Marcus pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his hip pocket and slipped them on. He took the flowers from the young man, set them on the coffee table, and then unpinned the small envelope. “You want to come look?” he asked Chris.

She took a step back and shook her head. “You look. I already know who sent them.”

He opened the flap and slid the card out far enough to read aloud, “Thinking about last night. Can’t wait to see you.”

“No signature?” Nate asked.

Marcus shook his head. “Nope.”

Chris backed even farther away. Her lips were pulled into a thin line.

“I need to speak with your mom. Where do you work?” Nate asked the young man. “And what’s your name?”

“My family owns Fergus Florist. Call her. The number’s on the envelope, ask if her son’s name is Derek. She’ll tell you.”

“This isn’t about you. Give me the address,” Nate said.
 

Nate wrote down the address and then escorted the scared young man out the door. He paused. “Marcus, you good here until I get back?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait.” Chris picked up the vase and carried it to Nate. “Toss these in the dumpster or take them to your wife, but please don’t leave them here.”

“Will do.” The door closed behind Nate.

Marcus turned just as Chris melted onto the couch. Her eyes had turned a chilling deep blue.

“I knew it. I felt his eyes on me this morning when I walked to my car.”

“We need to move you someplace where we can better protect you.”

“I’m through running. Let him come. If he thinks I won’t kill him, he’s wrong.”

“I’m not talking about running. It’s being smart. Won’t do you any good if I find him after you’re dead.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Chris. She studied him for a minute, making him feel like a bug under a microscope. “You don’t sugarcoat anything, do you?”

Chapter 3

     
Chris listened to Marcus’s husky voice while he spoke with the security company. He ordered door and window alarms. He insisted a panic button be installed next to her bed. His voice was firm and knowledgeable when he requested an expedited installation.
 

A calm settled in her chest. Not that it meant she could let her guard down, but she was beginning to understand Dalton’s faith in the people at Lost and Found. Something about Marcus gave her a sense of security. She respected how he spoke to her and not at her. His soulful brown eyes seemed to miss nothing, yet, at the same time, revealed nothing.
 

It didn’t hurt that he was so easy on the eyes. His broad chest almost invited her to rest her head against it. But it was his self-confidence, the manner in which he carried himself, that gave her hope. Nobody in their right mind would go up against somebody his size.

Marcus ended the call just as the doorbell rang again. Chris immediately reached for her purse, seeking the comfort of the pistol grip in her hand. In floor-covering strides, he crossed to the door. After checking to see who was there, he glanced at her and winked. Her heart fluttered as he opened the door. An odd reaction to his innocent gesture.

She gave herself a mental head-slap. Now wasn’t the time to find him or any other male attractive. They had a job to do. One that would take a clear head.
 

Nate Wolfe had returned. His dark blue eyes seemed to always be on alert. He carried himself with authority, just as Marcus did.

Dalton had mentioned the Lost and Found group had been friends since college. Even with the online research Chris had done before seeking their help, she’d been unsure until she’d met the team. Marcus, Nate, and one other member she hadn’t met, Ty Castillo, were all ex-military.

A vague description had piqued her curiosity. Had she hired men trained in black ops? “Did you learn anything from the florist?” Chris prayed that Nate had gathered useful information.
 

“I spoke with the owner. The order came from an 800 number. She remembered the voice was male, and she gave me the credit card information. Kaycie’s trying to get a line on the owner.”

“You have the capability to gather that kind of data?”

“As licensed PIs, we can. Nate invested in state-of-the-art information systems. He and Kay are the best at digging up information,” Marcus answered. “Kay has good contacts with the Dallas Police Department, too. Then there’s Dalton, if we need him.”

“His help would be great, but can he get involved?” His connection with Lost and Found was apparently personal. Having him for a friend had to be an asset.

“As long as it’s not in an official capacity, I don’t see a problem,” Nate said.
 

“What’s next?” Chris tried to hide her anger at herself. She should’ve sought help sooner. Damn that she hadn’t been braver and smarter.

“Since Chelsea’s killer keeps close tabs on you, it’s possible we’ve already drawn his attention. If he figures out you’ve hired protection, he could bolt, which we don’t want him to do. Our job is to catch him, not drive him away.” Marcus sat next to her on the couch. “If we chase him off, he’ll just come back when we’re gone.”

“I agree,” Nate chimed in. “Other than the flowers showing up at your home, has he contacted you?”

“No.”

“But he wants you to know he’s around.” Marcus rubbed his temple. “You need continuous protection.”

“But how?”

Marcus smiled, and her heart did that fluttery thing. “We’ll take Nate back to the office. When I bring you home, I’ll park outside. Being inconspicuous will be hard during the daytime, but after dark when your neighbors have come home, I can blend in fairly easily. One of us will be nearby twenty-four/seven. When you leave home, I’ll follow. Most of the time, you won’t know we’re around, but if you go places that require us to be closer, you’ll have to introduce us into your circle of friends.”

“Like I told you, my ‘circle of friends’ is made up of my Little Sisters and the abandoned dogs at the rescue shelter.”