When a Secret Kills (13 page)

2:04 A.M.

Colton escorted her into the hotel suite in downtown Columbia and shut the door, wincing as it clicked behind him. The sound reverberated through his aching head.

He got on the phone with Katie. “Were we followed?”

“No, not that I could tell. You took the long, winding route, backtracked, and double-checked. I’m carsick, but you’re good,” she grumbled.

“Glad to hear it. Take a Dramamine.”

“Your sympathy overwhelms me.”

He felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he hung up and told Jillian, “We weren’t followed.”

“Wonderful.” She looked relieved, then worried again. “And they’re sure Hunter’s going to be all right?”

“Absolutely. The bullet just missed him, but startled him enough he jerked the wheel and ran off the road. His phone slid up under the seat and he couldn’t get to it. But he was able to radio our route to the guys waiting at the mill.”

“But the shooter got away,” she muttered.

“Yeah, but at least we’re alive to regret that fact.”

“I’ve already thought about that.” She touched the white bandage on his head. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”

“Nope.”

She frowned. “But you were unconscious.”

“But I don’t have a concussion or at least if I did, it was mild enough that I don’t have any aftereffects. One of the benefits of having a really hard head, I suppose.” He was happy to see her lips quirk upward. “Doc said it was okay. I promise, it’s really not that bad. Trust me, I’ve felt worse.” He glanced around with satisfaction. He’d picked one of the nicest hotels in town. One with a two-bedroom suite—and a private hot tub in each room. His aching muscles begged him to hurry up and find the way to his. “Think this will work for you?”

She gave him a weary smile. “It’s lovely. Much nicer than I needed, but thanks.” Then she frowned and bit her lip. “I don’t even know how I’m going to pay you back. I have no credit cards, debit cards, cash. Nothing.”

“I’m not worried about that, Jillian.” He held up a hand to stop the rush of words he could see coming. “I know
you
are, but I’m not, I promise.” She snapped her lips closed and he said, “We’ll talk later after this is over.” He studied her for a moment, then stepped toward her. He settled his hands on her shoulders and was shocked at the tension he could feel running through her. “Do you ever relax?”

Jillian lifted a brow at him. “Not when I’ve just eluded an attempted-kidnapping-slash-murder and know that the guy could decide to strike again at any given moment.” She shook her head and grimaced. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder and hiding for the last ten years. I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

He tightened his grip into a gentle massaging motion. He didn’t want to hurt her, but her shoulders were bricks. She flinched when he pressed a little too hard on her right shoulder. “Seatbelt?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Not yet.”

His fingers moved to the base of her neck and lingered as he worked the muscles. Her forehead dropped to his chest and he closed his eyes at the memories and renewed feelings for her.
God, help me. Show me the truth. Give me the strength to do what I’ve got to do.

Jillian shifted and Colton opened his eyes to look down at her. The longing there nearly brought him to his knees. Her lips trembled and he lowered his head to capture them beneath his. She froze, then gave a soft sigh and kissed him back. And that was all it took. Old love mixed with new exploded through him and he knew, God willing, they would be together somehow. He wouldn’t survive losing her again.

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head. She opened her eyes and took him back ten years. That look she had now was the same one she’d given him when he’d told her he loved her and wanted to marry her.

Then she blinked and it was gone.

Regret, sorrow for losing what might have been, flowed through him.

But he thought she might have loosened up a fraction before she moved away with a nervous clasp of her hands. He almost smiled.
Don’t get cocky, man
, he warned himself. He was surprised to find his enmity toward her had disappeared and that he was no longer angry or bitter about her leaving. He even understood it now. He didn’t necessarily like it, but he understood it.

He fingered the straight dark brown hair and gave it a tug. “I miss your curls.” A strangled sound escaped her throat and he rested his forehead against hers. “I just want to help you, Jillian. Let the past be the past.” He paused, then said, “This may not be the time to bring this up, but . . .”

“What?” Curiosity darkened her eyes. The dark smudges underneath her lashes told him she needed to make her way to her room
and fall into bed. But after that kiss he couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think we can move forward from this point? Maybe see if we can build on what we used to have?” She froze, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. His heart hit bottom and he gave a humorless laugh. Maybe he’d moved too soon. Maybe he’d misread her. Maybe the kiss hadn’t meant as much to her as it did to him. “What? The idea’s that distasteful?”

Jillian’s eyes closed again and she shook her head as a red flush tinted her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, “not distasteful at all. Just—impossible.”

Ouch. That hurt. “Why?”

Tears coated her lashes. She opened her eyes and his heart nearly broke at the grief, the anger, the sheer helplessness he saw there. “Jillian?”

“It’s just not possible right now, Colton. Trust me on that, okay? There are things you don’t—” She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling as though trying to get a grip on her emotions.

He leapt on the two words that offered him hope. “Right now?”

She brought her hands to her face and swiped at the tears. “Yeah. Right now. Maybe we can talk again after all this is over.” A pause. “Assuming I’m still alive to talk about it.”

Colton reached for her in a sudden move that had them both wincing, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. “Don’t start thinking like that. You’ll be fine. We’ll figure this out. Hopefully tomorrow will add to the answers we got today.”

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away from him either.

Instead, he felt some of the tension start to finally leave her. His heart twisted and his blood hummed. Holding her close brought a rush of memories he was better off not thinking about. With an effort, he gave her a gentle shove toward the bedroom on the left. “Go get some sleep.”

He waited until he heard the click of the lock before he allowed
himself to give in to the weariness invading him. He also breathed a short prayer that whoever was after Jillian would have to take time to think of another plan before he struck again.

Because Colton needed time to recover and come up with a plan of his own.

A plan that would keep Jillian safe while proving his uncle’s innocence—or guilt.

Morning arrived before Jillian was ready. The memory of Colton’s words and their kiss simmered at the forefront of her mind. Oh how she’d wanted to promise him they could explore a future together, but she couldn’t. Not until he knew about Meg. And not until she knew that he wouldn’t consider Meg a mistake. The thought tightened her stomach into a knot.

Burying her face in the pillow, she did her best to ignore her protesting muscles, bruised shoulder, aching head, and spinning thoughts and return to sleep. However, the smell of bacon, eggs, and cinnamon tempted her enough to push back the covers, swing her legs over the side of the bed, and make her way to the shower.

Ten minutes later, Jillian dressed in a pair of denim capris and a pink T-shirt provided by Alexia. She rubbed the towel over her damp hair, then braided it. Her shoulders protested the movement and by the time she was done, she was ready for some ibuprofen.

A knock on the door startled her. Heart thumping, she told herself it was just Colton, but she couldn’t help her initial reaction. Jillian opened the door to find Colton, freshly shaven and smelling good. She swallowed hard. “Hey.”

“Morning.” His eyes glittered and she could see the memory
of last night simmering in their depths. Nervous, she waited for him to say something.

Instead, he swept a hand behind him toward a cart laden with silver-covered dishes. “Room service.”

“With a smile,” Hunter called as he stepped in from the balcony.

Relief swept through her as she pushed aside her crazy reaction and entered the living area. To Hunter, she said, “You’re really all right.”

He nodded. “Yep. Had a raging headache all night from cracking my head on the window, but it’s better this morning.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the guilt flaring. Maybe she should have left well enough alone and just stayed in California.

Hunter’s brows dipped. “It’s not your fault, Jillian. This is what we do.”

She nodded and bit her lip, not fully convinced. She couldn’t help kicking herself for being so emotional. This is what
she
did as an investigative reporter. Only usually her life wasn’t the one on the line. Or the lives of those she cared about.

“We’re working on a plan of action for today,” Colton said. “You want to join us?”

“Of course.”

“Grab some food and have a seat. Dominic’s on his way.”

Jillian uncovered the food and fixed herself a plate. She took a seat at the table and began to eat. For the first time in a while, she realized she was actually hungry. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked between bites.

Colton snagged a piece of bacon. “We’re going to do some interviews today.” He looked at his phone and frowned. “And I’m going to get ahold of my uncle.”

She shot him a look but kept her mouth shut. He knew where she stood when it came to Frank Hoffman. His lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything about it either.

He swallowed a sip of coffee, then said, “The plate was traced to a vehicle reported stolen about two hours before the attack on us.”

“Of course it was. What about the gun?”

“Ballistics has it. I’m still waiting for the report on that. My guess is it’s a street gun, purchased for this very purpose.”

“To kill me?”

“Yeah. It’ll be untraceable, but kept for evidence when we catch the guy. Might have some prints on it.”

A knock on the door had Hunter and Colton reaching for their weapons.

Each took up residence on either side of the door. “Who is it?” Colton asked.

“Dominic.”

Colton relaxed. He unlocked the door and stepped to the side. Dominic slipped inside and threw her a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she said.

Dominic looked at Colton. “I talked to Rick about twenty minutes ago. He said he’d been trying to call you.”

“I’ve been a little busy. What’s up?”

Everyone found a seat and Jillian leaned back against the soft cushioned chair to listen. Dominic said, “He had his night team work on the lake house evidence—go over your truck.”

Colton’s right brow lifted. “And?”

“First thing, he ran the DNA on that blood sample from the driveway. Said the person wasn’t in the system so until you have a suspect, we don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“Right. What else?”

“There were some fingerprints and we’re still working on identifying them and matching them up. That may take awhile. We’ve ruled out you and Jillian and most of the cleaning crew, but we’ve got a few more to go through.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Colton sighed. “He had gloves on.”

“Figures. Could have told me that little detail before we started working the prints.”

“Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Yeah, well, this is going to make it longer.”

Great. “What?”

“You had a tracker mounted right behind your license plate.”

Colton went white and stilled, muttered something under his breath. Then ran a hand through his hair. “So, that’s how he found Jillian at the lake house.”

“And found you last night.”

“When would he have put it on?” Colton asked. Jillian didn’t think he was asking the group, but rather thinking out loud.

“The fire,” she said. The thought came to her from nowhere, but she figured she was right.

He looked up at her and gave a slow nod. “I parked down the street out of the way. We got out and walked back to the scene.” Disgust filled his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t check for something like that.”

Hunter slapped him on the back. “No need to beat yourself up. You had no reason to believe he’d use you to get to Jillian at that point. Shake it off.” He looked around. “But we need to move. He may have followed you to the hotel at one point.”

“Fine.” Colton looked at Jillian. “Go pack and let’s check out.”

Dominic pulled out his phone, stood, and moved toward the door to quietly take a call.

“Okay, so at least we know we need to be sure to check for bugs and GPS trackers from now on.” Colton checked his phone, then looked at Hunter. “Did you get ahold of the dead medical examiner’s wife? Mrs. Benjamin?”

“Sure did. She’s expecting us in thirty minutes.”

“Great.”

“He what?” Dominic’s explosive question grabbed their attention.

Jillian saw the man’s face pale as he moved toward a chair. He sank onto it and closed his eyes. He reached up and rubbed them as he listened. Finally he said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He hung up and the silence in the room made Jillian’s ears hurt.

Dominic looked up and saw them staring at him. “Sorry. That
was Alexia. My dad’s had a massive heart attack. They don’t expect him to live much longer.”

“Oh no!” Jillian cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” He looked torn as he stood and walked toward the door. “I’m going to go to the hospital. At least for a little while.”

Colton jumped up and gave Dominic a man hug. “Get over there now. We’ve got this covered.”

Serena had told her a little bit on the phone the last time she’d called. The man had been a lousy father and abandoned his family at one point, only to land in jail a few years ago. Upon his release, he’d made his way to town last month only to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be in touch.” Dominic left.

Jillian watched as Hunter and Colton discussed plans to visit Gerald Benjamin’s widow. Plans that didn’t sound like they included her. “I’m going with you guys, right?”

Hunter looked up, the protest on his lips formed but not voiced. She glared at him and he backed down with a deferential wave at Colton.

“Jillian, you—”

She stood and planted her hands on her hips, and Colton sighed.

“Actually, you’ll have to. We can’t take a chance that the person tracked you here. Yeah. You’re going, but you keep silent and do your best to fade into the background, okay?”

Colton’s phone rang as he pulled to the curb. “Dominic?”

“Yeah, hey. I’m headed into the hospital, but I got a call on some information I’d requested and you need this before you talk to the widow.”

“What’s that?”

“Background on Benjamin.”

“You found something?”

“Something big. He had a large deposit made into his account two days after the governor’s car wreck was ruled an accident.”

“Whoa.” Colton blew out a breath. “Where did it come from?”

“A local bank. It was from the account of a Mr. Raymond Vance.”

“How large a deposit?”

“Fifty grand.”

“Any large sums going out?”

“Yeah. Fifty grand. To the hospital I’m getting ready to walk into.”

The money went to the hospital? Colton frowned. “What was the money used for? Did he have some big medical need?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll do my best to find out while I’m here.”

“Hey, you focus on your dad. I’ll ask Mrs. Benjamin about the money.”

Dominic agreed and hung up.

Colton stepped up to the door of the two-story house set in the middle-class neighborhood and rapped his knuckles against the freshly painted wood. Hunter and Jillian stood behind him. He had conflicting thoughts about bringing her along, but the truth of the matter was, he had no idea where he could leave her and not worry about her.

Within seconds, he could hear footsteps approaching.

The door opened and Mrs. Annabelle Benjamin questioned them with her eyes. “Detective?” Dressed in a black velour warm-up suit, she looked composed and classy.

“Yes, ma’am.” Colton held up his badge. “I’m Detective Colton Brady. This is Detective Hunter Graham and Jillian Carter. Could we speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, come in.” They stepped into the foyer and waited for her to shut the door. She turned right into the formal living area and motioned for them to have a seat. “Now the detective I spoke with on the phone was rather vague, just said it was about Gerald’s death. Could you be a little more specific?”

Colton leaned in. “We’re investigating a case and it’s led us to your husband’s death.”

“That was ten years ago.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took a deep breath. “Is there anything you can think of about his death that struck you as . . . odd?”

Her lips tightened and she glanced back and forth between Colton and Hunter. Finally her gaze landed on Jillian who’d been sitting quietly, apparently doing her best to obey Colton’s orders for silence and fading.

“Odd?” Her hands twisted together as she sat in the red-and-gray wingback chair. “Why do you ask? Ten years after the fact?”

Colton rubbed his chin. “We’ve recently come across some evidence related to another case that suggests his death may not have been an . . . accident.”

She narrowed her eyes as she leaned in with nostrils flaring. “I’ve said that until I was blue in the face. Why listen to me now?”

“Ma’am, we weren’t working that case back then and I’m sorry no one seemed to listen. Could you just go through it all with us? We’re listening now, I promise.”

Some of her defensive anger left her. “All right. Why not?” She stood and paced to the mantel to look up at the portrait hanging on the wall above. The man in the painting sat in a red leather chair behind a desk. He wore a lab coat, and the stethoscope around his neck looked like it belonged there. He had styled salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes that sparkled with gentle humor. “He was a good man with a tender, godly heart. We have three children, all grown now, married and with children of their own.” Sadness tightened the area around her eyes. “They’ll never know him or benefit from his wisdom.”

Colton thought he saw a sheen of tears in Jillian’s eyes before she looked down at the floor. Hunter, although not without sympathy, shifted as though he wanted to hurry the woman along, but Colton shook his head in silent communication to let her talk.

Mrs. Benjamin continued. “That’s what eats at me. That his grandchildren will never know him. He was only forty-nine when he died.” She took a deep breath and turned to face them. “Yes, he was allergic to bees. But he always carried his epi-pen. Why was it still in the cooler? The minute he felt the first sting, he would have gone for the pen. And yet the cooler sat by the chair, untouched.” She shrugged. “When I brought that up to the police, they didn’t seem concerned. I went to the captain. He said it could be that Gerald wasn’t near enough to get to the cooler. But I looked at the pictures of the scene. He was right in front of the chair, the cooler not more than three feet behind him. And where did the bees come from? That was Gerald’s favorite spot. He always kept the area sprayed so he didn’t have to worry about being stung. He loved the outdoors, but took precautions. And yet, a swarm of bees made their way to that particular area on that particular day.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“We didn’t know he had the area sprayed,” Colton said. “Did anyone else?”

“Just Conrad and Miranda.”

“The Pikes?”

“Yes. Conrad was his fishing buddy. They were supposed to meet that morning at 9:00, but Conrad got an email from Gerald asking him to wait a couple of hours before coming because Gerald had a last-minute autopsy to do.”

“Did he?” Hunter asked.

“Not that I knew about. When I questioned the hospital, they said there was one on the books, but Gerald never showed up.”