Person of Interest (A Celeste Eagan Mystery) (10 page)

“Do you want the absolute truth?” He reached forward and touched the tips of my fingers with his but didn’t try to hold onto me.

I was so very thankful for the contact. “Um, how about seventy-five/twenty-five.”

“A little iffy. There’s a bomb strapped to the undercarriage of your car and it appears to have a motion trigger. The slightest movement could set the thing off.”

“I wanted seventy-five percent optimism.”

“It was.”

“O-okay.” The tears made the sneezing potential flee. My nose was too stopped up to do much of anything. “What’s going to happen?”

“They’re clearing the area as we speak. There was another funeral going on at the far side of the cemetery as well as Jones’s.”

“And then?”

“Once the area is secure, the bomb squad will snatch you off the car and see what happens.”

Another officer called to Muldoon and he stood.

A half sob, half hiccup caught in the back of my throat. “Muldoon. Shaw.”

“Yeah, babe.” He leaned toward me.

“Do me a favor. If things don’t...” My voice shook. I took a deep breath. “Please make sure Paige knows how much I love her.”

“I’ve seen you with her. Trust me, she knows.”

“Promise me.”

“I will. But we’re gonna try damn hard so that I don’t need to.” As he turned to walk away, the device started beeping.

“Shaw, what’s that? Why’s it making noise?” From my vantage point I could see the light blinking wildly.

Muldoon dropped to the ground next to me again. People scrambled around us. He looked up at me. “Change of plans.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “Y’all get back. Get back. We’re going to have to move her now.” He squatted in a sprinter’s stance. “Look at me, Celeste. When I count to three, I’m gonna grab you up and run like hell. Got it.” He took hold of my elbows. “One, two—”

“Shaw, you can’t—”

“Three.” Muldoon hauled me up on my numb legs and flush up against him, then dragged me across the parking lot.

It lasted an eternity as I waited to feel shrapnel and pain shoot through my back. It was almost anti-climactic when we landed in a heap, then were covered by heavy blankets. Muldoon wrapped me up tight against him, covered me with his very own body. No one had ever protected me so well. It sparked every little-girl rescue fantasy I’d had when I still thought a man could make the world right. Granted they were more of making a boring old life more exciting. Never once had I dreamt of a car bomb—be careful what you wish for.

His heart pounded wildly against my shoulder as he tucked me under him more securely.

We waited. And waited.

No kablooey.

His heavy, warm breath rustled across my forehead. I will admit, I snuggled closer to him, let his strength just envelop me. I needed that moment, to myself, surrounded by him to let my heart come out of hummingbird range.

After what seemed like a few minutes—but really it could have been seconds or hours, I didn’t know, I was so out of sorts—I said, “You can let me up now.” My muffled voice only wavered a little.

If he said anything, I honestly couldn’t say. Everything from my knees to my eyelashes quivered with the adrenaline rush. He rolled to his side, taking me with him, and pushed aside the blanket. Several hands reached in and helped us to our feet, then guided us farther away.

Muldoon stood in front of me and cupped my face in his huge hands. “You okay?”

“Someone put a fake bomb under my car.” It was more or less a statement. Not a question.

“Celeste, look at me.” Muldoon’s grip tightened on my face ever so much.

I shifted my attention to his blue gaze surrounded by dark, sooty lashes. He had gorgeous eyes. Eyes women would long to have focused solely on them.

“Celeste?” Muldoon shook me slightly.

“What?”

“God, you sure do manage to get in the middle of it, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth to tell him not on purpose, but a deafening, hot blast stopped any and every cognizant thought. I slapped my hands to my ears to try and close off the painful boom as Muldoon grabbed me and yanked me back to the ground underneath him again.

Just as quickly, the sounds dissipated. Car parts—my car parts—rained down on us and all the emergency personnel in the lot. An acrid stench filled the air. I tried not to breathe too deep.

“My car blew up.” The mantra repeated over and over in my head. And maybe aloud. I can’t really say for sure what I said—I was in the throes of a meltdown as whatever parts of me hadn’t been shaking before took up the scared-shitless shimmy.

Muldoon shook nearly as badly as I did. We sat up and glanced at what was left of my little sedan. I wasn’t sure how my insurance agent was going to take the news.

Shaking my head to clear the bells, I looked at Muldoon. His hair fell across his forehead. When I reached out and pushed it back, my hand came away a little moist. I glanced at the dripping digits. Something red coated them. My gaze snapped back to his forehead where a huge, nasty gash slashed sideways up into his hairline. “You’re bleed...”

Chapter Nine

“Celeste, can you hear me?”

I heard him, whoever he was. It sounded like he was at the end of a tunnel—with a sweater over his face, voice all woolen and muffled.

“Celeste?”

Pain radiated from my biceps. “Yeow.” My eyes fluttered open to see a strange man standing over me. “Did you pinch me?” My words slurred like it was three-dollar Appletini night. “Why would you do that?”

The young EMT—I finally got a glimpse of his nifty uniform—smiled down at me. “Sorry. Didn’t have time to grab the smelling salts.” He flashed a penlight in my eyes. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

“Why? Did you lose your calendar?”

The man frowned. “Checking for a possible concussion, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? That’s what you call old women. I am not old. Do I look old to you? Actually don’t answer that, you look like you’re about twelve so to you I just might be.” Such an odd conversation to be having—somewhere outside. Not that I was completely sure where outside we were, but I could feel the breeze across my face. A pungent odor permeated the air. A bonfire? I doubt it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone to a bonfire.

All sorts of commotion blotted out the ambient noises. Should that be a clue? I closed my eyes again to consider the possibilities.

“Ma’am? Celeste, I need you to work with me here.”

I cracked an eye open and gave the young man my best withering look—with one eye open. Call me
ma’am
again, will he?

“She didn’t hit her head. It was the b-l-o-o-d,” Levi said from somewhere over the EMT’s shoulder. “Made her faint.”

“Levi. What are you doing here?” As I asked,
here
came screaming back to me. My car. “Are you okay?” I struggled to sit up. The horrendous explosion echoed in my ears. Little-bitty pieces of sedan had sailed across the parking lot. Shrapnel caught Muldoon. “Where’s Muldoon? Is he...” My throated seized.

“Detective Muldoon is getting taped up.” The EMT went through a battery of questions—all of which I answered truthfully—well mostly—with a minimum of sarcasm. I mean really, if I lied about how woozy I was, how was he to know? I didn’t want to be poked or prodded any more than was absolutely necessary.

When he finished, I finally got to get up off the hard cement parking lot. Levi rushed over and hugged me until I couldn’t breathe. “Oh my gawd, I thought you were a goner. When it blew...” Tears laced his words. He kissed the top of my head four or five times, making so much noise several eyes darted in our direction.

“Making a scene.” I pushed at him.

“I almost lost you. I can make as much of a scene as I want.” He gave me one last—louder than the rest—smack square on the mouth and loosened his death grip on me. He did not however relinquish all hold of me as he kept my hand tucked in his.

It was my first chance to get a good look at the area. My car—what was left of it—was pretty much on top of the car in the next slot. Was it too much to hope that the little red Mercedes belonged to Naomi? Probably bad karma to even think it so I shook away that little bit of hope.

Several cars in the vicinity had charred sedan parts sticking out of them. Several fire trucks, three ambulances, six squad cars along with news vans crowded the edges of the lot. Yellow crime scene tape wrapped its way around a perimeter.

A handful of gawkers graced the other side of the tape. I thankfully didn’t see Colin or Naomi. Julia Jones was talking animatedly to the woman beside her, feathers floating around them. A few other teachers stood next to her. The algebra teacher held his cell phone out. Recording my adventure for the next faculty meeting?

I turned my back on the entire scene and found Muldoon walking toward me. “Are you okay?” I asked at the same time he said, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” we both said.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. “I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t been here...” The tears I’d been holding back fell in buckets. And buckets. Muldoon held me close and rubbed my back, all the while muttering calming words. When my shudders and sobbing ratcheted down to mere sniffles, he let go of me.

“Did they check you out? Do you have a concussion?”

Heat flamed my cheeks.

“She faints at the sight of blood.” Levi was more than happy to drop that little foible any chance he could get. My ass was almost blown to Dallas and he thought my hemophobia was funny.

Muldoon’s eyebrows rose, then he flinched and reached for the white dressing.

His wound all covered, I was good to go. I gently touched my fingers to his forehead. “Does it hurt bad?”

“Not too. Couple of butterfly bandages.” Someone called to him and he glanced over his shoulder. “If you’re up to it, we need to ask you a few questions.”

“I guess. Sure.”

He guided me toward a squad car. “Detective Bush will debrief you on what happened before and after you discovered the bomb.”

“What? Why can’t I just talk to you?”

“We need someone who can be objective.”

He likes me
. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “You can’t be objective?” I wonder what the waiting period was after nearly getting blown up before asking someone out.
Gaw
. I had no business thinking of my lackluster dating life and how Muldoon could make up a lot of distance in that race.

“No.” He rubbed at the tape on his bandage. “Not when I was part of the rescue.”

And with that, I was left at the gates again.

He was part of the rescue. How did he always manage to stay so distant from a case, victim or a crime? I guess it was his job. I was just part of another case, part of the job, not a potential lust connection. Maybe I did need to get checked out a little more thoroughly. I could have a concussion. I tenderly fingered the bump on the back of my head. It could explain the delusions of chemistry between the detective and myself.

Detective Bush, short, stubby and not the least bit attractive—not that it mattered—stood by his car waiting to escort me down to the station. Without so much as glancing back at Muldoon, I slipped into the backseat of the cruiser and was driven to the Peytonville police station so I could be subjected to a new round of questions.

Wonder if they’ll name a wing after me.

* * *

It was early evening by the time Levi finally dropped me off at home. He’d had one of his employees swing by with his car as we were left to hoof it when my sedan exploded. He’d offered to stay with me, keep me company, but I needed some alone-time to sort through my thoughts.

I’d spent the better part of three hours going over, and over, the morning and up through the bombing with Detective Bush. Then I’d gone around and around with my insurance agent, who didn’t believe me the first ten minutes of our conversation. Once I started spouting off the phones numbers for the police and fire departments and who he needed to contact, his demeanor sobered. And as I feared, my premium was going to blow up as high as my car had.

I wanted to use the rental car option in my policy, but the insurance agent was hemming and hawing. I got the impression he wasn’t going to approve the claim; I was a sudden liability. And I couldn’t just go out and rent one. I had no current driver’s license. It was in my purse. Unfortunately, it had been destroyed in the blast. Along with the rest of the contents of my wallet: all my credit cards and bank card. Poof. Gone. My cell phone and my two favorite Clinique lipsticks were also disintegrated. My car keys and house keys had been blown to kingdom come, too. Not that I had a car to go with it. Thankfully Levi had a spare set to the house. He’d run out and had copies of the house key made while I was at the station.

Did I mention what a good friend he was?

Once home, and alone, I plopped down on the sofa, kicked off my scuffed shoes—my two-inch black mock-crocodile wedges were not meant to outrun explosions—and propped my feet up on the coffee table. The home phone rang for the umpteenth time since I’d walked in the door. Thank goodness for voice mail. One reporter after another wanted a statement or comment. Their pestering was nothing compared to Detective Bush’s grueling line of questioning, which I had no choice but to answer. The reporters, I didn’t have to tell squat.

When it rang again, Colin’s number popped up on the caller ID. I didn’t really want to speak with him either, but he could be calling about Paige. I snapped up the receiver next to me. On a sigh I answered, “Hey, Colin.”

“Finally. I’ve been calling—”

“I was otherwise busy, as I’m sure you know.” I rubbed my left temple. Since the bombing, the ringing in my ears had lessened and some of the Eau de Burnt Car had dissipated, but a low pain radiated from my skull and I thought of a campfire every time I sniffed.

“Your car exploded.” Just a statement. No question or demands for answers.

I rolled my eyes. “Can’t get anything by you.”

“You see why I’m keeping Paige with me?”

I could picture him standing there: legs spread shoulder-width apart, the phone to his ear with one hand, the other smashed on his hip. It was his coaching stance—minus the phone-to-his-ear part, of course. Which doubled for his mad stance, disappointed stance and his are-you-gonna-eat-the-last-slice-of-pizza stance. Not to mention his I-told-you-so-stance. He didn’t like to mix it up.

I should be pissed, but I was too tired to argue—plus he had a valid point. “Did you want something?”

“Are you okay?” His voice softened. “I mean really okay?”

Did I tell him the detective all but accused me of planting the bomb myself? Bush hadn’t come out and said it in so many words, but his line of questioning led that direction. Did I tell Colin I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into and was scared of what was to come next? Did I confide in a man I used to share all my secrets with? A man who now had a new confidant and would not, could not, do so in return.

“I’m okay,” I said finally. “A little frazzled but otherwise okay.” For the most part it was true—physically. No point in worrying him with anything more than the obvious issues—being on a suspect list and my car blowing up. I didn’t need to unburden myself that bad. He couldn’t help me any more than I could help myself. As long as he kept Paige safe, that was all that mattered.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. “Paige wants to speak with you.”

I closed my eyes. “Did you tell her?”

Colin huffed. “It was all over the news.”

I should have known.

Paige got on the phone. “How are you?” She was a little breathless. “Was it incredible when the car blew up?”

“I’m good, sweet pea. It wasn’t near as exciting as the news made it sound.” Which was a total lie and I didn’t even know what they’d said. But unless someone stood that close to an explosion, there was no way to do it justice. “How is it at your dad’s?”

“Colin is fine, but Naomi...” She sighed. “I will be glad when their relationship runs its course.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Please don’t say that around Naomi.”

“I would never be so callous.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” I removed the clip from my hair. My carefully coiffed hair hadn’t withstood the blast. When I’d gotten a good look at myself at the station, I was a cross between the Mad Hatter and Medusa. Thankfully a young, female police officer had taken pity on me and given me a clip from her desk.

I’d had a beautiful leather-tooled clip in my purse. And we know how that turned out.

“I should go.” Paige lowered her voice. “Naomi cooked dinner and is waiting beside the table. If she doesn’t stop trying to frown like that, her Botox will wear out.”

I knew it
, I wanted to shout, but all the fire and fight faded away. “I love you, sweet pea. You be good for your dad.”

“Love you, too. Stay out of trouble, please.” Most kids would be on the receiving end of that comment.

We hung up and the phone instantly rang again. “I’ll be careful, I swear.”

“Sounds like it’s a little late for that.”

I dropped my feet to the floor and sat up. “Mom. Hi.”

“You’re in an explosion and questioned by the police and you don’t even bother to call.” The woman tsked through the phone.

“How did you...”

“Your cousin taught Dad and I how to watch news feeds from Dallas on the internet.”

“Damn Lucy.” It wasn’t bad enough she’d tell on me any chance she got when we were kids, now she was getting me in trouble from nearly five hundred miles away.

“I knew I’d see you on there one day. What happened? What are you subjecting my granddaughter to down there?”

I’d rather take Bush’s questioning over my mother’s any day. I was a full-grown woman with a child of my own and she could still make me feel like an awkward teenager who didn’t have enough sense. “Paige was nowhere near the explosion. It happened at Principal Jones’s funeral.”

“What kind of people do you associate with?”

You have no idea.
Apparently no one did. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, of course you are. If anything terrible had happened, that good-for-nothing ex of yours would have called.”

“If he called, he’d be good for something then, right?” I’d defended Colin to my mother so many times, it had become second nature. Not that he’d necessarily needed or wanted to be defended—then or now—but it was habit. “Well, look at the time. I’ve gotta go. Give Daddy a kiss for me.”

She was still yammering away with some outrage or another when I hung up. I’d have to remember to call Daddy in the morning when my mother was up at one of her clubs.

Until then, a hot bath and a glass of wine would do the trick. I eased up from the chair and dragged myself into the kitchen. I’d just poured a very generous helping of merlot when the doorbell rang.

I’d told Levi to leave me be. I love him, but come on.

I stomped to the door, wineglass in hand. “What?” I hollered when I snatched the door open.

A man wearing a pair of jeans and a starched green button-down shirt took a step back. “Celeste Eagan?” He looked only a couple years younger than myself despite his boyish freckled cheeks. He ran a hand through his short-cropped sandy-blond curls.