Out of Circulation (Hemlock Creek Suspense Book 1) (3 page)

Wheeling around the side of the apartment, she caught sight of a man in a black hoodie, loitering in front of the McClure house. Ace protectively stepped in front of Katie. When the man noticed them, he fled up the sidewalk. Ace broke into a sprint. "I'll try to catch him," he shouted.

She shivered, even though it was a warm August day. She prayed Ace would catch the stalker and wouldn't get himself killed in the process.

****

Ace hadn't kept up with his daily jogging since he'd been in West Virginia, so a sudden, unrelenting stitch in his side slowed him down. By the time he rounded the street corner, the hooded man had vanished.

Who was that guy and what was going on? No way his boss had sent in some kind of hit team, knowing Ace hadn't even finished the job yet.

Still, he had to get moving on his plan. His boss wouldn't tolerate heel-dragging. And in a way, these stalkers had already helped him—opening the door for him to step in as the McClures' bodyguard. Perhaps Katie, motivated by fear, would open up to him.

But that wouldn't be easy. He'd seen anger flash in Katie's eyes when he'd challenged her to admit she needed help. Yet she hadn't cracked. He probably should have focused his intentions on her sister Molly, who would have been more than willing to answer his questions without much effort on his part.

And yet something about the plucky redheaded librarian drew him. Maybe it was the genuine grief in her eyes as he described his childhood. Maybe it was the way she was different from other women, almost immune to his magnetism.

But Ace had to admit that he wasn't entirely immune to hers.

****

Mom met them at the door and listened as Katie told her about the stranger.

"Could have been nothing at all," Mom said. "Now you all come in here and get some lunch. You've been working hard."

Mom always looked for the best possible interpretation of any circumstance. Katie wished she'd inherited her mom's optimism, but instead she'd developed a tendency to suspect the worst. Then again, without that cautious instinct, she wouldn't have boldly shouted for everyone to hit the floor in the library, and who knows? Maybe she'd saved someone from getting shot.

Regardless, she determined to give things a cheerier spin when talking to Ace. The poor man probably thought she was one of those "mean girls" who had nothing nice to say to others.

Just as she was about to compliment the chicken salad on croissants, Ace piped up.

"Mrs. McClure, these sandwiches are wonderful. As good as any New York deli."

Mom smiled, pouring him a glass of sweet tea. He took a gulp, then unintentionally pursed his lips before slowly swallowing. Katie had to laugh. The debonair Yankee couldn't hold his sweet tea!

He coughed. "Excuse me, but could I have a glass of water?"

Mom looked befuddled. "Something wrong with your tea? I just brewed it fresh."

Katie silently refilled his glass with water as he struggled to explain. She tried to wipe the smile from her face but found it impossible.

"It's just...sweeter than what I usually drink. I drink unsweetened tea, black coffee...pretty bland stuff, really."

As Katie handed him the glass, he gave her a grateful look. She felt pulled in by those dark-lashed eyes, but briskly looked away. There was a hurt behind them she wanted to know more about. But he wouldn't be around long enough to explain, if the cops could just figure out how to track these men down.

The fact that the guy in the hoodie ran when he saw them was definitely suspicious, but should she tell the cops about him? They might think she was starting to see things, overreacting after the library incident and the home invasion. She decided to keep quiet, hoping it was just a random person loitering for a moment on their sidewalk.

At least they had Ace around.

****

The day slipped by quickly, with no further incident after the iced tea debacle. Ace had no idea that much sugar could be dumped in tea, and he couldn't figure out how anyone could get used to drinking it that way.

Standing next to an exhausted Katie as they surveyed her now-clean apartment, he felt a fresh sense of pride and accomplishment. He'd done something
right
. And yet his spying and snooping was so wrong. The price of freedom, he told himself for the hundredth time. Once he got done with this job, he'd never see his boss again.

But he would never see Katie McClure again, either.

Glancing at her, he was again surprised by how tall she was. Even as she drooped against the counter, taking the weight off her bad foot, he sensed her hurt ran deeper than an external injury.

"So...did you always want to be a librarian?" he asked.

She blinked rapidly, but didn't look at him. "No."

"You don't like your job?"

"That's not what I said." She brushed bangs from her eyes and fixed him with a weary look—one that was old beyond her years. "I like being a librarian. I'm good at it, and I love the people. But I had other plans. I wanted to be in the FBI like my dad."

He raised his eyebrows, unable to respond. Having done his homework, he was already aware that Sean McClure had been in the FBI and that he had died of an unexpected heart attack at the age of fifty-one. But a woman who wanted to choose an FBI career? He had never run into anybody like Katie.

She frowned at his incredulous look. "What? You don't think I could have done it? Back then, it would've been easy. I practiced shooting. I started taking judo when I was eight. I used to run five miles every morning. I could have done it, Mister...Doubter."

Her prickly exterior faded a bit, revealing a glimpse of a girl who'd desperately wanted to prove herself until her opportunity was snatched away. He lightly touched her arm and was surprised when she didn't recoil.

"I understand what it is to fail to meet expectations—those others put on you or the ones you put on yourself." He shifted his gaze from her teary eyes to the window, struggling to maintain his cool. "I'd better get going. It's already late afternoon."

She followed him outside. "Thank you. But wait—what if they come back at night?"

He had already thought of this angle, but was waiting for her to recognize it.

Fear darkened her eyes. "I know how to use Dad's gun, but haven't gone target shooting for a long time. Maybe...maybe you'd better stick around closer. You can stay in my apartment, if you'd like, since I've moved back over to the house for now. It would save you money, especially since we can't afford to pay you Manhattan wages. That way you could keep an eye out, if you wouldn't mind."

He shrugged, trying to hide his excitement at this inside opportunity. "Of course. It's a great suggestion that makes all kinds of sense. I'll run back to The Greenbrier and check out. I can pick up some food on the way back."

"Goodness, don't bother. Mom always makes enough to feed an army. She'd be happy to have you over."

As Ace slid into the Lexus, he adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced at his smug look. He felt like kicking himself. Faker. Liar. Worthless.

Granny's voice filled his mind. "God knew you before you were even born. Follow after Him and He will lead you on right paths."

That was his problem. He had stopped following God. He wouldn't know a right path if it rose up and punched him in the face.

But he was pretty sure it didn't look like this con-job he was pulling on the McClures.

****

After telling Mom about Ace's willingness to stay in the garage apartment, Katie trudged into her room and flopped on the bed. She wanted to go for a walk in the woods behind their house, but didn't dare expose herself to whoever might be lurking around.

When she was a teen, Dad had felled several trees to make a clearing in the woods. He surrounded the opening with honeysuckle bushes, forming a haven of sorts. Recognizing Dad's rare effort to build something lasting for his family, they had all pitched in, stringing Christmas lights from tree branches and setting up a fire pit to make it comfy.

Brandon had built a picnic table, and she and Molly had painted it blue. Now the table was covered in a blanket of leaves, sitting unused since last summer.

It always seemed enchanted, that wonderland showcasing not only the apple green leaves of spring, but the deep golds and russets of fall. When she lost herself in the woods, Katie always gained new perspective.

But now the thought of some man lurking around their home chilled her. What if someone attacked her? She couldn't run or kick. All the joy she used to take in developing her strength and skills had vanished right along with her ability to walk straight.

At least her room overlooked their woodland paradise. She gazed at the trees, fully clothed in summer green. Suddenly, she froze. The man with the black hoodie stood out against the natural backdrop, his binoculars fixed on her.

****

On his way to The Greenbrier, Ace's cell phone buzzed. He tapped his hands-free headset and his boss' rough voice nearly blasted his eardrum.

"You found anything yet?"

It was early in the game. Why was he already asking?

"Not yet. These things take time and finesse."

"You better finesse your way right into that stash, Ace. I tapped you for this job because I know how the ladies love you. It should be no problem to extract information from one of those girls."

"I know. I'm working on it." Ace felt like laying on the gas, but it was impossible to do that on these curving mountain roads. "By the way, you want to explain why there's another crew down here working on the McClures? Are those your people?"

Dead silence reigned. Maybe the wireless signal went out? He glanced at his phone. Still had bars.

"Are you
kidding me
?" His boss sounded like he wanted to punch something. Or maybe shoot something.

"It's no joke." Ace filled his boss in on the thugs' appearance at the library. When he mentioned the ransacking at the McClures, his boss lost all control. Ace could almost hear him spitting into the phone.

"You gotta get in there and find that money first. I'm betting Anatoly sent his men down. That Russian—" His boss launched into a string of profanities, some of which were even fouler than the ones Ace had heard in prison. He concluded with, "You'll have to watch your back. But you're finishing this thing. Or you'll be locked up again—I'll make sure of it."

Ace stifled a groan. He was too far gone now. Quitting wasn't an option. He couldn't leave the McClures exposed to those Russian mobsters, and there was no way he was going back to prison. All he had to do was find the stash and he could wake up from this nightmare. His boss' minions would probably settle things with the Russian henchmen once he handed the money over.

The 1.5 million that Sean McClure, FBI agent, had stolen from Anatoly.

He still found it impossible to believe that Sean had risked his family and life to make off with bank heist money. How had he worked it out? Why hadn't his FBI superiors discovered it?

In the years that had elapsed since Anatoly's heist, the mobster had doubtless grilled all his men about the theft, maybe bumping a few off along the way. And yet why had he only recently realized Sean McClure might have taken the money? What had tipped him off?

His boss continued, words tinged with a threatening edge. "I'm coming down in a few days. I want to talk face to face and make sure we understand one another."

After setting up a time and place, Ace hung up and groaned. Tonight he would search the apartment and maybe the garage. His boss had just shortened his timeline. Showing up clueless and empty-handed wouldn't go over well at their meeting.

When he parked, he noticed a text had come through from Katie. She must have gotten his number off his business card. He stared at the screen.

Katie:
Hoodie Man in woods. Do I call the cops!?!

The text had been sent seven minutes earlier. He texted back, choosing his wording carefully in light of Katie's obvious fear:

Ace:
Is he still there? Don't worry. I will be there soon. Just stay inside.

Her reply came quickly:

Katie:
He's gone now, from what I can tell. I have the gun. Mom is working on supper. I didn't even tell her.

He smiled and texted back:

Ace:
Good girl. I'll be there soon. Will knock five times.

At The Greenbrier, he raced into his yellow-wallpapered suite and began snatching clothes from drawers and tossing them into his open suitcase. As he packed up his bathroom things, he met his own deceitful eyes in the mirror. Had Sean McClure been like him, trapped in an impossible situation? Or had he willingly opened Pandora's box when he decided to steal heist money from a Russian mobster?

Didn't matter. Ace would find the money, if there was money to be found. If not...

He hated to think what Anatoly's men might do to the McClures.

****

Katie trailed behind Ace as he combed the woods. Dad's lightweight Sig felt natural in her hands. She had to make time to go shooting, to remind herself of the weight of the trigger pull and the feel of the gun's slight kick. But even now, she was confident she could hit her target, should the need arise.

She was impressed how methodically Ace searched for Hoodie Man. When he finally pronounced the woods abandoned, she took a deep breath of air, trying to slow her shallow breathing.

She dropped onto the picnic table bench, carefully placing the Sig on the bed of leaves in front of her. Ace followed suit, sitting across from her.

He took a long look at her, scanning her face intently. Was he staring at all her freckles? A blush crept up and she propped her face in her hands to hide it, leaning on the tabletop.

Thankfully, he took the hint and glanced up at the sky instead. "Storm moving in, I think."

"For a city boy, that's pretty astute. Usually I can smell them coming."

He grinned. "I remember sticking a hand between our window bars, catching raindrops before they hit the pavement. It does actually rain in the city, you know."

She laughed. "I guess it does."

His focus casually shifted to her lips. When his eyes met hers, they held some kind of unasked question.

Her sister would have rushed to fill the silence, joking and flirting. But she wasn't Molly. And so she waited.

The hush continued, stretching interminably. Finally, he broke it.

"So your dad was FBI, right?"