No Escape (23 page)

A smile twitched the edges of her mouth. No matter what happened in the world, pets had a way of keeping anyone grounded. Her cats didn’t care about the box or Smith. They cared that she was here, ready to feed them and scratch them between the ears.

It wasn’t until her hand was inches from the door that her smile vanished. The door was closed and locked, but Jo had the strong sense that something was off.

She drew back her hand as if she’d happened upon a rattler ready to strike. She checked the door again. Locked. She thought about Rucker. He had a key as she had a key to his place. Just in case. Her mother had a key. Both had access. Both could have stopped by.

She dug her cell out of her purse and called Rucker. The phone rang three times and went to voicemail. Greta was barking, but he wasn’t there. ‘Rucker, this is Jo. When you get a second, call me. Just double checking. Were you in my house today?’

Instead of sliding the phone back in her purse, she kept it in her left hand as she unlocked and opened the door. There was no reason to call the cops. The door was locked. There were no signs of trouble. She had a feeling. Calling the cops would not only make her appear foolish but would lead to hours of unnecessary waiting and questions.

Atticus meowed loudly from inside the house. He sounded agitated and upset. ‘Damn it.’

Clutching her phone, she entered the house and flipped on the lights. The place looked as she’d left it, not a vase or pillow out of order. And yet the sense that someone had been in her house nagged her. ‘Atticus. Here, kitty, kitty.’

Atticus meowed again and this time she heard scratching from the hallway closet. She moved carefully toward the door. ‘Atticus.’

Meow
.

She drew in a breath and yanked open the door, ready to dash back out the front door. Instead of an intruder she found her fat, yellow tabby glaring up at her, clearly beyond annoyed. He sauntered out of the closet, brushed against her legs and meowed his displeasure all the way into the kitchen.

Jo stared at the closet, wondering how the cat had gotten locked inside. ‘Did Rucker or Mom close the door on you?’

She flipped on all the lights as she made her way into the kitchen, Atticus following. She found her cats sitting by their bowls staring up at her. They weren’t meowing and acted as if they’d been fed. But not sure, she doled out food from a bin into their bowls.

As she watched the trio eat, clearly unharmed, she shook her head. ‘I must be losing my mind.’

She dumped her keys and purse on the kitchen table and with cell phone still in hand moved down the hallway, her gaze still sharp for anything out of place. Nothing was out of place. Could she have been so careless this morning when she’d left? She had been rushed. Frazzled. Maybe she had locked Atticus in the closet. She shook her head. No, she always did a head count of the cats. It had to be Rucker. If he’d gotten an emergency call from the vet hospital, he could easily have raced out of here half-cocked.

She crossed the threshold to her room. Her bed was made as crisply as the moment she’d left it this morning. Nothing was out of place.

Chalking this all up to her day, she changed into sweats and a T-shirt. Back in the kitchen, she dug a frozen dinner out of the freezer and tossed it in the microwave for eight minutes. Her stomach grumbled. As she waited for her meal to cook, she opened her laptop. All the questions that Smith carried within him were gone. Robbie. Her paternity. The identity of the unexpected victim.

She thought about her mother. Could there be a connection to Smith? Was she lying?

They’d have met thirty-three years ago. She’d been living in Austin and would have been a junior at Hanson High School. Jo opened the computer file on Smith she’d set up when she’d been doing her dissertation. In the file was a detailed time line of the man’s life. She’d done a painstaking search of his life. There’d been some gaps but for the most part she’d re-created most of it.

Thirty-three years ago. Where had he been substituting? She scrolled through the spreadsheet. There was nothing for September, but in early October he’d been hired as a long-term sub at … Hanson High School.

Jo felt the air rush from her lungs.

Her mother and Smith had been at Hanson at the same time.

A chill raced down her spine and she stood. She paced the kitchen. Needing fresh air, she crossed to her front door and stepped outside.

Again she thought about the uneasy feeling she’d had when she’d arrived home. She ran her finger over the lock, wondering if there’d be a nick or a glitch indicating that someone had broken into her house. But the wood was as smooth as it had been when she’d had it installed last year.

‘Call me back, Rucker. Tell me I’m being paranoid.’ God, she was losing her mind. Lord knows there was enough to distract and agitate her these days. Cases. Clients. Her mother. Smith. There were a lot of reasons to feel out of sorts. ‘Let it go, Jo.’

As she turned to go back in the house, she dialed her mother’s number but stopped when the whisper of a warning brushed her neck. Later, she’d wonder what made her look down. She’d wonder how her gaze so easily found the flutters of folded yellow gum paper in the mulch bed by her front door.

Slowly she knelt, leaned over into the bed and picked up three pieces of paper. They were yellow gum wrappers. Dayton’s brand of gum. Neatly folded into squares, as he liked to do. Had he been to her house?

Crushing the paper in her fist, she scanned the interior of her house, too terrified to enter. She dialed 9-1-1.

Tuesday, April 16, 10:00
P.M.

The officer came out of Jo’s house, his face grim. His swagger coupled with a chagrined look stoked her annoyance. Now that her nerves had calmed, the wrappers seemed a paltry reason to panic and call the police. She was annoyed for being a Nervous Nellie, as her grandfather used to say. Irritated that it was late and she’d lost so much time.

The officer stopped and hooked his thumbs in his belt. ‘Dr. Granger, there is no one in the house. All the windows are locked and all the doors are locked. I checked the closets and the attic crawl space. There is no one, and by the looks, no sign of an intruder.’

‘But I found the wrappers.’

‘Gum wrappers. You said it belonged to a man you interviewed. Dr. Dayton.’

‘That’s right. He’s a person of interest in his wife’s disappearance and I’ve seen him around town several times in just the last week.’

‘Has he threatened you in any way?’

‘No. Nothing like that. But the wrappers by the front door … I know he was here.’

The officer had bagged the wrappers, but had made no promises. ‘Ma’am, anyone could have dropped those wrappers. A mailman. A deliveryman.’

‘I had no deliveries. And there were three wrappers, as if someone had been standing here for a time.’

He sighed. ‘Ma’am, I can’t find anything in this house or around it to prove there was an intruder.’

Several of her neighbors peeked out their windows. ‘How do you explain the cat locked in the closet?’

He hooked his thumb in his gun belt. ‘Cats crawl into closets all the time. Easy to be in a rush and close the door on them.’

She shook her head, annoyed at his logic.

He sighed. ‘Ma’am, I didn’t find anything in your house other than three annoyed and vocal cats. We’ve already put extra patrols in the area, but I could step it up more for a day or two.’

The officer believed she was being silly. That she was scattered. Emotional.

And if she were to examine the pure facts, she couldn’t blame him. She looked a little crazed standing here in her sweats.

She shoved a shaky hand through her hair. ‘I look like a crazy woman.’

Her comment eased some of his tension. ‘Not crazy. And we’re here to take care of trouble.’

She looked toward the open door. ‘I’ve never been so foolish, but maybe there’s a first for everything.’

‘Like I said, we’ll step up patrols in the neighborhood. Try to keep an eye out.’

‘Thanks.’ She held out her hand and he accepted it. ‘I appreciate your help.’

He touched the brim of his hat and moved past her toward his car. Her gaze on the open front door, she moved slowly toward her house. Once a place of safety, the space cast a tainted aura.

She went inside her house, closed and locked the door. Atticus came out from under the couch and rubbed against her. He meowed his annoyance as the other two cats scooted out from under the couch. ‘I don’t like having the police in my house any more than you three. Believe me.’

Her cell phone buzzed with a new text. She flinched, surprised she still clutched it.

The text was from her sister. Jo glanced at the subject line.
On a date!!
A smile tugged the edge of Jo’s lips. Ellie had had a rough go since her divorce.

Another text followed and this one had an image attached. Jo opened the text and saw a picture of her blond, beaming sister sitting next to the man. She recognized the man instantly. It was Dayton.

‘Damn it!’ Her hands trembled as she dialed Ellie’s number. The phone rang twice before going to voicemail. ‘You’ve put the phone on silent. Call me when you get this.’

The first meeting with Dayton could have been considered a happenstance. But a second and then a message from Casey at the bar. The wrappers. And now a date with Ellie. It all added up to stalking.

Calling the police again wouldn’t be effective. What was she going to say? Her sister was on a date? Who could she call?

She needed a friend.

Someone that believed her.

She dialed Santos’s number.

Brody was in his office going through the collection of birthday cards Smith had sent to Jo. He’d bought a card for each of her birthdays starting at age twelve and going all the way up to her thirtieth birthday. In each he’d written a note detailing how proud he was of her accomplishments. Some included pictures of her taken from some distance. One included a picture of a woman Smith claimed was his mother. He’d included the picture in her sweet sixteen card. The black-and-white had been taken forty years ago and scribbled on the back was the name
‘Rachel’
and the note,
‘You remind me so much of her.’

Brody studied the image, searching for resemblances to Jo. There might have been some likeness but nothing definitive to make him take note. The bottom line was that Smith believed he was Jo’s father.

A knock on his door had him looking up to find Santos standing in his doorway, his cell phone in hand and a frown on his face. ‘Guess who called me?’

Brody tore his gaze from the card. ‘Not in the mood for games.’

Santos moved into his office, not put off by Brody’s foul humor. ‘Dr. Jo Granger called me. She was trying to sound cool and collected, but she’s rattled.’

Brody’s gut tightened as he rose. ‘Where is she?’

Customary good humor had vanished in the wake of worry. ‘At home. She thinks she’s got a stalker.’

‘What?’

Santos had the look of a man who itched to take action. ‘Dayton. Remember him?’

Brody paused. ‘Sure, he was implicated in his wife’s disappearance.’

‘Jo interviewed him last week. Dayton’s defense attorney hired her firm for an analysis of his psychological makeup. Her report wasn’t favorable and since their only official meeting he’s been showing up.’ He detailed the sequence of events including the date with Jo’s sister.

Brody reached for his gun in his side drawer and holstered it. ‘And she called you.’

Not me. You.

‘She called the local PD first who came and did a search of her house. They offered to patrol her neighborhood more.’

Brody shook his head. ‘I’d already ordered more patrols in the neighborhood. Dayton is in his midthirties, right?’

‘You’re thinking about Smith’s apprentice.’

‘Do we have a profile of Dayton’s past?’

‘He’s a dentist. Went to dental school and undergrad in Texas. He moved to Texas when he was sixteen, from Tulsa.’

‘Foster care? Gaps in his past?’

‘None local police found. No red flags as far as Smith is concerned.’

‘That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.’ Brody grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slid it on. ‘Why’d you come to me? I can see you want in on this.’

A dark smile curved the edges of his lips. ‘Jo’s a great gal, and I’d like nothing better than to track Dayton and school him on some manners. But I don’t poach.’

Poach. Santos believed Jo belonged with Brody. Brody could deny the claim on Jo. He could insist that the past was the past. That what they had was a mistake. Over.

But he didn’t. There might not be much between Brody and Jo now, but that was something he’d planned to fix.

Santos took his silence for indecision. ‘But if you don’t consider it poaching I’ll move in on her faster than you can blink.’

Brody met his gaze, a half-unfriendly smile lifting the corner of his mouth. ‘I’d hate to beat you to a pulp.’

Santos’s gaze sparked with amusement and challenge. ‘You sure could try.’

‘I’d whoop your ass.’

‘Not on your best day.’ His lips flattened. ‘If you hurt her, I will beat your ass to a pulp.’

‘Understood.’ Brody picked up his hat.

Satisfied for now, Santos said, ‘I’ll ask around about Dayton. See what else I can find out.’

‘I want to know all there is to know about this son of a bitch.’

Brody couldn’t drive to Jo’s fast enough. The urge to protect her was primal, and he didn’t question it.

When he rang her bell, he listened to her hurried footsteps and the scrape of the chain against the door. A moment’s hesitation told him she was looking through the peephole.
Good. Be careful.

Her expression was grim when she opened the door. ‘Brody, what are you doing here?’

He’d mucked up their chances good between them back in the day. Going forward he’d do some serious digging to get himself out of the hole he’d dug. ‘Santos told me you called.’

She folded her arms over her chest. ‘I called him. Not you.’

He searched the front porch, looking for signs of an intruder. ‘He told me you called.’

She wore loose-fitting yoga pants, a tank top and no shoes. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. ‘Why would he do that?’

He met her worried gaze. ‘You gonna let me in or not?’ No sense getting into the winning her back part. Right now he suspected she’d slam the door in his face if he did. ‘I want to hear all you have to say about Dayton.’

She hesitated and pushed open the screen door. ‘Thanks for coming.’

He removed his hat and stepped into the house, which was as neat as it had been the last time he’d been here. ‘Where are the Three Musketeers?’

That coaxed a smile. ‘Scattered in their favorite hiding spots. They are not happy about the upset to their routine.’

‘Neither are you.’ Without her heels the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. And without makeup she looked younger and more vulnerable. He could see now that she wore both like coats of armor, and it wasn’t lost on him that she’d answered the door without both because she’d expected Santos, not him.

‘Can I get you a coffee? I put a pot on, and it should be ready.’

‘That would be great. Been a long day.’

He followed her into the kitchen. She’d already pulled out two mugs. For her and Santos. He didn’t dwell on what might be or what had been. He focused on what he had in front of him. And right how he had Jo all to himself.

She poured the coffee and without asking splashed a bit of milk in the cup before handing it to him. ‘Good and hot.’

His gaze lifted from the cup to her. ‘You remembered.’

Frowning, she shrugged. ‘I didn’t even think.’

He sipped the coffee. It tasted good.

She held up her cup. ‘You remember how I take mine?’

He arched a brow. ‘You’re asking if a twenty-one-year-old remembered how you took your coffee?’

She smiled. ‘A stretch, I know, but I thought I’d ask.’

Brody laid his hat on the table. ‘I never claimed to be the most observant kid unless it had to do with baseball.’

She sipped her coffee black, a fact he’d not forget again. ‘You were always like a laser on the ballfield. I was surprised when you gave it up.’

‘The Marines made sense. I’d finished up school. We had a baby on the way, and I could count on a steady paycheck and benefits.’

Her gaze dropped to the coffee as she swirled it. ‘I didn’t mean for you to give up baseball.’

‘I’d expected us to talk about it once you finished exams. But you lost the baby.’

‘And it all fell apart.’ A furrow formed between her brows as she absorbed the information. ‘Then the Marines, DPS and the Rangers.’

‘That’s exactly right.’ He nodded toward the kitchen table and when they were both seated he said, ‘Life can throw a curve, but sometimes that’s just fine.’

‘I suppose.’

‘What did you do after I saw you that last time in the hospital?’

‘Mom insisted I move home. I thought about quitting school after. Mom put me to work in the salon. Two weeks in the shop of setting perms and doing comb-outs and I was at college registration.’

‘Suppose she knew the right motivation to get you back to school.’

Jo frowned. ‘I never thought about it that way. But I think you’re right.’

Silence hung between them before he said, ‘Tell me about Dayton.’

Jo leaned her elbows into the table, cradling the mug in her hands. She injected no drama and several times admitted she’d thought she was being paranoid, but when she’d seen the picture of her sister on a date with Dayton, she’d called Santos.

Santos.

Not again. Brody was the man she needed to call going forward when trouble rode up. ‘Santos is digging into Dayton’s business right now.’

She shook her head. ‘Dayton is clever. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.’

A smile lifted the edge of his lips. ‘I wish I had a nickel for all the smart guys I’ve locked up. I’ll nail Dayton.’

She arched a brow. ‘You sound pretty sure about that.’

‘I am.’

‘You can’t say for sure how it will go.’

‘We might have been married back in the day, but you don’t know me well now. You’ll learn that when I make a statement I back it up. Don’t you worry. Consider Dayton taken care of.’

She stared at him a long moment. ‘I’d like nothing better than not to worry.’

Brody had failed Jo once badly. And now he wanted to right that wrong. He wanted to protect her. Touch her. ‘I will stop Dayton. Trust me.’

She lifted her gaze to his, and he saw the doubt. Carefully, she set down her coffee cup. ‘This isn’t such a great idea.’

For a moment, he thought she’d peered into his mind and read his thoughts. ‘What isn’t a great idea?’

She dropped her gaze to her cup as if carefully considering and weighing the words. ‘I can take care of myself, Brody. I don’t need your help.’

‘I want to help.’

She drummed impatient fingers on the table, as if trying to restrain emotions she didn’t want released. ‘I called Santos for a reason. You should have let him come here tonight.’

A growl rumbled in his chest as he set his cup next to hers. ‘Why him?’

‘Because he’s a friend. Because I trust him.’

‘You don’t trust me?’

Delicate brows rose. ‘I did once. And’ – she attempted a smile – ‘it didn’t go well.’

‘I fucked up. In my ham-fisted way I tried to fix it. I didn’t. Now I want to make it right.’

She tilted her head. ‘Your being here is about paying back some kind of debt to me?’

‘Sure. In part. I also care about you, Jo. I don’t want to see you hurt.’